Dinner for snowbound Easterners

Our good friends, the Graefs, lost power during the storm and still don’t have any, so we asked them over for an Italian meal last night.  What fun to entertain the desperate!  They are so amenable.

For the first course I served pasta ai broccoletti made with Chinese broccoli. A big difference was using whole wheat penne because it was too snowy to go buy orecchiette. They were good! Whole wheat pasta is much changed for the better.

As a second course I served the chicken pate’ from Wednesday with a basil sauce and a lovelyleek sformato that is as easy to make as it is good and looks way more difficult than it is.  I wonder why it’s so long since I made that? Oh yes, the diet.

For dessert we had a parfait made of layers of fruit and whipped cream with a wine sauce that eg made from a Washington Post recipe. That stuff is great. It takes the mundane to superb.

Basil Sauce

a small bunch of basil, leaves removed
2 cloves peeled garlic
1/2 teaspoon salt
juice of 1 lemon
2 eggs
1 cup extra virgin olive oil

Put everything into a tall, narrow container in the order as written. Plunge a stick blender in and turn iton, pulling it slowly up, rocking slightly side to side. Taste for salt and add some if necessary. This is also good on boiled eggs, salad and even a quicky pasta.

Don’t freeze and keep eating Italian food.

Mythical fruit

Yes, it really did take all this time for the edit page to re-open!

So, what’s mythical about the pomegranate or melegrano? Acording to the Greeks, Persephone was the daughter of Demeter and Zeus, a union of enormous import to Earth. Demeter was the goddess or growing things, of what earthlings need to live. One day her beloved Persephone was abducted by Hades and taken away to his reign in the underworld, and there she pined while her mother grieved. Demeter grieved so terribly that she no longer caused the warmth and potency that grew crops and the Earth began to decline. This so bothered the gods that Zeus told her that she could recover Persephone from the underworld as long as Persephone had not eaten while she was there. When she was found, however, it proved that she had eaten six pomegranate seeds, and so Zeus allowed her to return to Earth for six months of the year and be taken away to Hades the other six months of the year. When she is with us, her mother provides spring and summer, and when she is gone Demeter’s grief creates autumn and winter. Sad to think my winter problems are all because of a fruit.

They offer no explanation for Hawii.

When I was recently visiting in Civita Castellano, I walked every morning at 8:10 with Matilda and Ben. One day Matilda took me to her ceramics studio, where in the garden there are a kiwi vine and a pomegrante tree. I have never liked kiwis until I tasted these vine ripened ones. What a difference!

I learned that pomegranates tell you when they are ripe by splitting. The ones in the shops are never split. As you can see, Matilda’s are. I made a very quick and easy dish from them, only partly because pomegrantes are so beautiful. I don’t have a photo of it because I was away, but it’s not hard to imagine how anything might look with those ruby seeds scattered across it.

Chicken with Pomegranate
for 2 servings

4-6 chicken wings, large sections cut apart and tips discarded
2 cloves garlic sliced
extra virgin olive oil
1 or 2 pomegranates, depending on the size… these were small

Heat the oil in a covered frying pan and over moderate heat, saute the garlic and chicken until blond. Salt and pepper, lightly. Add half the pomegranate seeds you plan to use and cover. Cook over very low heat until the chicken is thoroughly cooked. Uncover and add the rest of the pomegranate seeds. Taste and correct for salt. Toss and serve.

Daytrip to the Valnerina and beyond

Last autumn I went all the way to Castelleuci on a cold and drippy autumn day, and I stood, wind whipped, at the edge of the world among the cloud factories.

I’ve just gone again, but not so far this time. The weather this time was one of those early autumn days that are so perfect that even I can forget briefly that winter follows. We stopped at Norcia at last, but we did lots of things along the way. Not potato buying, mind you, that still has to be done on spite of my going specifically to buy potatoes.

Start now, enjoy later

This will start to be good about Christmas. It isn’t something you can whip up because unexpected company is arriving, you have to make it ahead and keep at it and after a couple of months it’s always ready to make dessert.

My enormous sealable jar became empty after a three year stint as a plum soaker. I bought a fifth of aged Cuban rum that is just too old and too rummy for my taste. I had a lunch party and lots of leftover fruits from it. It was magic. Everything pushed my pointy little head towards Rumtopf.

Since I took this photo I have added dried apricots. My peaches will be ripe in a few days and I will add lots of those. Through the autumn as fruits get rarer I will probably add more dried things, like those giant white grape raisins from Chile or currants and figs. The only things that should be added only outside the jar are citrus or other super juicy fruits.

It’s just fruit, brown sugar and rum. Every time you add fruit, add more brown sugar and rum, too. Don’t make it too sweet because you can always make it sweeter but it’s hard to make it less sweet.

I can serve this over plain cakes, panna cotta, custard, creamy cheeses, ice cream — who knows what else? I’ve already tasted it and it’s good!

Winter Pies

If you have a freezer you have great fresh food for winter. This is not the kind of freezing one can do in the top of the fridge because it takes up some important room and the fridge freezer doesn’t stay cold enough to keep food very long. If you don’t have a freezer, then you’ll have to drop by some day for pie, I guess.

The first thing you have to do, of course, is get fresh fruit in season. For me right now that’s blackberries, because with the unusual rains we have had this summer, they’re big, juicy and sweet. Paola and I went picking with a couple of teenagers (who went eating) just Thursday, and we each picked about 1 kilo of fresh berries. Paola went home and made jam then ate all of it the next morning! How? I haven’t a clue how anyone could eat almost 3.5 pounds of jam. I did the following. The instructions are generic and apply to all fruit pies, I believe. Our local peaches, both yellow and white, will be ready soon and I’ll do the same thing with some of them. Apples would be next. Maybe I’ll even get enough raspberries to do one. The recipe may vary, but the process won’t.

I washed and then carefully checked the berries. It didn’t take very long, but considering what I found in there, it was an important step. I let them drain for a while in a metal sieve colander.

Into the bowl went 1 kilo or about 4 cups of berries, and then a cup (210 g) of sugar, a pinch of salt, half a teaspoon of cinnamon and 1/4 cup (33 g) of flour went in on top. It all got tossed around until they were coated as you see in the photo above.

I then lined a pie pan very generously with aluminum foil.

In go the dressed up berries and on top about 1-1/2 tablespoons of butter in pieces.

Fold the foil up and over and seal very carefully with double folds. That’s it. Put it in the freezer and the next day you can get your pie pan back. There’s no need, once it’s frozen solid, to sacrifice a container.

When winter gets too heavy for words and August seems only a dream, have some friends over for supper. Make an ordinary recipe for a two crust pie crust and line that same pie pan with the appropriate amount. Unwrap the frozen filling and put it into the crust, then top it just like you would if it were fresh, sealing well and cutting holes in the top for steam. Bake as you would a fresh pie, adding some time for the thawing. How much time varies from fruit to fruit, but the crust should be golden and the filling should be bubbling with juices in the middle of the pie.

American pies are so different to European tarts and crostate that they make a treat that’s both appreciated and a conversation piece. There’s no piece for either of us today, but check back in a few months.

Apricot glaze for cheesecake

I am an apricot idiot. I never lived any of the places where you could be sure of getting good ones, and bad ones are just bad. I bought them in shops and found them to be tasteless, sour or mealy about 90% of the time. And on top of that, they were never cheap.

The flash photo actually shows the transparency better

I’ve been slow to appreciate Italian apricots for those reasons, and those reasons exist here, too. I think the percentages are better for good ones here, because they don’t have to travel so far. The best were under Amelia’s tree where they grew, so that’s a clue.

I’m invited to a party tonight to which everyone will bring something. I’m bringing cheesecake, having learned that in my experience all Italians love cheesecake from first bite. I used the recipe from this earlier post but before even starting it I decided to glaze it using whatever fruit I found in the street market. I was spoiled for choice, but picked apricots based on the sworn word of a cute Pugliese boy that they were sweet, juicy and ripe, and that as a matter of fact he had eaten them for breakfast that morning. You’d think by now I would know not to depend on the word of a cute boy, but I’m hopeless, apparently.

At least they weren’t mealy or tasteless. They were sour. Some were even hard despite rosy cheeks. It meant that I didn’t use as many raw slices as I might have and that there was no alternative to cooking these fruits. Vabbè.

Apricot Glaze

1 or 2 fresh apricots depending on size, sliced
1 cup/125 ml water
2 soupspoons (or more) sugar
1 heaping soupspoon cornstarch

Put the apricots and water in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer until soft and cooked through. Put through a sieve or a foodmill to get a smooth puree. Not whizzing them in a food processor means you dont need to peel them. Allow to cool completely.

In a similar small saucepan, mix the cornstarch (Maizena) and sugar. Gradually stir the apricot puree into it, stirring to avoid lumps. Taste and add sugar if needed. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to minimum, and stir constantly for one minute. Remove promptly from the heat.

Arrange whatever decorative pattern of fresh fruit on top of the cheesecake, and spoon this glaze over it all. This glaze is not meant to be hard and rubbery. I hate those commercial glazes that do that!

The rose I made by peeling a large apricot in one single strip, then rolling it into rose shape. Once glazed it stays and it will not turn brown.

The funny thing is that last time the cake cracked very severely down the middle. I can think of many reasons it did that, but it’s impossible to be completely sure it won’t happen again, so half my reason for glazing was to cover any ugly cracks and the other half was to make the dessert richer and prettier for my friend’s party. So this time it didn’t crack at all. I put that down to the fact that the oven cooled slower and that I didn’t crack the door as directed during the cooling hour. Your mileage may vary.

Anyway, I think it will be good even though I did minimal tasting, because the smell almost drove me to leave the house and bay at the moon.

Leftover eggwhites?

When you make Zabaglione, there are eggwhites leftover.  An ambitious person can make any number of things from them, including many beautiful silver or white cakes.  A lazy person can make meringues.  I am actually not the meringue person in this family.  eg whips them up as easily as other people scramble an egg.

This is what I made when I stumbled over that bowl of three eggwhites a while back.

3 egg whites
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar (or a single drop of lemon juice)
a few grains of salt
1 cup/210 g sugar

You can make as much or as little as you want, just keep the ratios correct. Make sure your bowl and beaters are scrupulously clean because a tiniest bit of oil or fat, even if it is from the atmosphere, will prevent your meringue from rising up and astounding you.

Everything should be at room temperature. Beat the eggs with the salt and cream of tartar (or drop of lemon) until foamy, then slowly add the sugar while continuing to beat. It will grow and grow and mound up like a veritable Alp. You have to stop occasionally once it is really mounding to see if when you pull the beaters up a peak forms. If it does, does the top stay pointed, or does it flop over? Beat until it stays pointed.

It’s easiest by far to use baking paper or parchment to bake these. Lay it on a baking sheet and using a spoon (or a pastry bag if you like) form little nests. Depending on the size you will be able to make 6-8 of them from 3 eggwhites.

Slide them into an oven heated to 275°F/135°C and bake for an hour. Turn the heat off and leave them at least 2 more hours.

What you see above is simply strawberries spooned into a meringue shell do that the juices seep into it, then whipped cream on top of that anf more strawberries used to garnish the top. Simple but pretty and an easy to make ahead summer dessert. It’s equally good using any of summer’s soft fruits. It’s the tart for he who doesn’t want to make pastry.

Perhaps even more astounding is using the shell to hold ice cream, homemade usually preferred, and then covering it with a fruit coulis or sauce. I recall having such a day dream in Georgetown with French vanilla ice cream and warm rhubarb sauce. Yes.

Zabaglione first: life is uncertain

It’s still full-on strawberry season, so it makes sense to have them for dessert while they are still all that they should be. There are so many delicious ways to serve them, simple, elaborate, country style, sophisticated metropolitan style. I pulled out an old Italian friend yesterday. Oddly, although I have a special pan for making zabaglione in frightening quantities, and I brought it nack to Italy with me ten years ago, and although I made it often enough in the United States, I hadn’t made it even once in this Italian kitchen. That seems strange.

Zabaglione (pronounced dzah-bahl-lyoh-nay) is a standard recipe you don’t need to mess with. It has three ingredients and stretches and shrinks as easily an anything I have ever seen. The recipe is expressed in a ratio and that ratio works every time exactly the same. It’s cooked over simmering water in a double boiler/bain marie/bagno maria. You can make it well ahead and cool then chill it, or you can like I did make it last moment and chill it quickly over ice water.

This is what I made for two servings. That is three egg yolks, three level tablespoons of sugar, and six level tablespoons of Marsala wine. It happens that Marsala is quite cheap here, but I find it very useful in the kitchen and I would keep it around even if it cost twice as much, which it may where you live. It is a fortified wine, so it will literally last generations if you don’t get around to using it up, but if you use it the way you might ordinarily use sherry, it will soon disappear.

So that’s the ratio: 1 egg yolk, 1 level tablespoon of sugar and 2 level tablespoons of Marsala. Once memorized, you will be able to pull up in Mongolia and make Zabaglione for 2 or 200. It’s very useful with stale cake, all fruits pretty much– well, maybe not watermelon– brownies, fruit tarts, use your imagination.

Just put all the ingredients in a heatproof bowl, whisk them together, then put the bowl over simmering water and whisk continually for 10 to 15 minutes until the sauce is heated all the way through and is slightly thickened. It will never be firm like a pudding, because it has only yolks in it, but then it’s served over, under or inside things. When mine was cooked, I threw out the simmering water and replaced it with a tray of ice cubes and water in the same pan. I whisked the Zabaglione over that until it was room temperature.

I had cleaned and sliced strawberries first thing in the morning and then left them to macerate a bit with some sugar at room temperature. The dish was well covered so as not to attract ants which always come with the berries.

When I was ready to serve, I took two old fashioned glasses of deeply cut crystal and spooned them one-third full of berries. I divided the Zabaglione between the two then added more berries for color. We ate them while sitting on the river bank watching Max fish. Remember Max? He’s back!

An illustrated story about why I weigh

There was a very lively discussion (that’s how polite people describe the godawful mess of insults and putdowns often a part of newsgroups) recently on a food and cooking group about whether it is easier to measure or to weigh. I come down firmly on the side of weighing.

I don’t really care how anyone else cooks, but I consistently teach weighing while at the same time providing recipes that work both ways. I’ve almost ten years experience by now of doing both at the same time, and I’ve become so convinced that weighing is easier that I have scratched in the weights on the ancient USA cookbooks I hauled over the ocean, at least for those recipes I actually use.

I decided to create a recipe that I could photograph step by step showing how it works.

Hot Plum Cobbler

That’s my dish ready to eat, steaming hot.

Lemon Curd: low carb style

Lots of people are going to say, “That’s not lemon curd because lemon curd isn’t opaque.” And those people are right if they aren’t on a diet. That’s what lemon curd looks like when made with Splenda. That flakey stuff they use to make it measurable also takes away that gemstone clarity the British spread for bread offers. Of course toast doesn’t figure in my days right now, but after searching high and low for a lemon dessert without corn starch or flour, it was this or nothing. I don’t mind, however, because it makes a great dessert with minimal carbohydrates.

I’ve made two recipes now. The first one was a bit too tart, the second not quite tart enough. Both are intensely lemony, however, and so I pick recipe number two because the butter didn’t granulate when it was chilled. I might just add a bit more lemon juice next time.

Lemon curd
makes about 1.5 cups or 12 fluid ounces

3/4 cup in volume of Splenda (weights won’t work for this)
3 large eggs
grated rind of two lemons
juice of 2 lemons
3 ounces/85 g butter (6 tablespoons) cut into bits

I make this in a double boiler, or really, in a stainless steel bowl over a pot of simmering water. You don’t have to, but it is easier if you do.

Put the Splenda, the eggs, the lemon rind and the juice in the cooking bowl. Use a whisk to thoroughly blend them. Add the butter bits. Put the bowl over the hot water and start whisking. The eggs cook at the warm surface, so be sure to get at those surfaces very well. It takes only a few minutes to get to heat and to start thickening, so keep whisking. As it thickens, occasionall pull the whisk through the lemon curd. When the whisk leaves a trail, it is done. Remove the bowl from the hot water.

Empty out the hot water and fill the pan with cold water and ice cubes. Put the curd over it, and whisk it until it is room temp. This seems to prevent the butter becoming grainy. Refrigerate, covered, until you need it. Well, no one actually needs lemon curd, but if you taste it, you’ll think you do.

This is just lemon curd and Splenda whipped cream layered in a wine glass. It was good. Very good.