Aroma Cucina

Orto Report

 It took us almost a week to get over to inspect ‘our’ orto. I think we were simply afraid to look. In case you don’t know or remember the whole saga of how we wound up as serfs working a garden in the center of our medieval village: click here.

This year, our first order of orto business was to check in with Signor Bruschi and make sure that he was still agreeable to us working the orto. He seemed quite pleased that we wanted to continue the gardening and he went on to explain what should be planted immediately: tomatoes, beans and salad. He was offended when we suggested adding fresh soil; it was as if we were saying his soil wasn’t good enough. He did say that he would walk by frequently to explain how things should be done. I do believe he is quite enjoying being the land barren and us being the serfs. Seems to me it’s a perfect symbiotic relationship. So with Bruschi dispensation, we headed over to peek at our orto. The last time I worked the garden was in November and I had my precious plot of cardoons that I had hopefully bedded down for the winter….and lo and behold…. I have happy, healthy cardoons in the orto! Surprise, surprise I also have a bumper crop of celery, some parsley (most of it has bolted, but there is some that is salvageable), a bit of fennel and some bitter greens. I’m happy to report that although the stinging nettle is growing nicely, it’s not as pervasive as last year. Thanks god. The little steps that Libby and I built are nearly overgrown and will need reinforcing.
But overall, it’s not too bad.
 Jeff and I did a walk around surveying what needs to be done immediately and what can wait until May when the rest of Montone Orto Societa arrives. Clearly we need our own weed whacker to keep things manageable, so we rationalized a trip to Il Mulino. The mulino is the town grain mill, nursery, gardening store, where you can find beekeeper supplies, wine making things, hunting garb, great rubber boots, olive oil and on May 9th it will be rabbit day and you can buy all the rabbits you need. So you can certainly understand the attraction of a trip to the Mulino.

Turns out the object of our desire is called a decespuliatore. What a marvelous word, it simply rolls off the tongue with the ease of a fly stuck to fly paper. You want to say it ten times fast, you want to practice it under your breath, you want to simply point at the silly weed whacker and take it home, but things are never that straightforward in Italy. There is only the floor model decespugliatore that is in our price range, so the good luck is that we won’t have to assemble the decespugliatore, the bad luck is that we won’t have the benefit of an instruction manual. The good luck is that the decespugliatore-maestro will not let us take the machine without first testing and demonstrating it. The bad luck is that we won't be getting out of the molino any time soon.
Of course this process involves finding adequate floor space, rounding up the necessary 3 or 4 men to make the machine minion because no machine can be turned on with less than 4 men present, then there is a long discussion about the type of fuel to be used, the container it should be stored in, etc. etc. Now, bear in mind that rarely does the machine minion actually agree on the steps needed to turn on any machine. OK, we’re all set and then the decespugliatore-maestro starts yanking on the cord that starts the engine, but nothing is happening. Again, Again, nothing. At this point, I realize the safety switch is turned off and I have to figure out a delicate way to mention to the maestro that he might want to check that orange switch. A flick of the switch, a few tugs and we are now the proud of owners of a functioning decespugliatore. Unfortunately, its still wet and raining so we are going to have to wait for the sun to come out before we can whack any of those weeds, but at least we know we are armed and ready.
So last night we celebrated with a little bounty from our winter orto. I made some lovely cardoons with parmigiana and sautéed bitter greens and it felt good to eat the fruit of our labor and to dream about the orto to come.

Couscous and Kindness

Last summer I took a photo of the little kids that live on our block. As with all things in Italy, things take time and it wasn’t until this past week that we were able to give them  copies of the photo.   Later that day there was a meticulously written note telling us that we would be getting a plate of couscous on Sunday. At different time we would run into our little friends and they would keep reminding us of the couscous to come.
Lo and behold on Sunday, a bit before lunchtime, our bell rings and Ysamine, Rima and MiMi are at our door offering us a plate of Algerian style couscous. How wonderful! Being young and curious they asked to see our house and as soon as they saw my desk they explained that they were artists and demanded (most politely, but firmly) paper and pens and Rima and Yasmine proceeded to draw us pictures of little blonde princesses.  Of course I’m wondering why these young Muslim girls are drawing pictures of little blonde princesses, but that’s a discussion for another day.

Lunchtime was a delicious affair as we sat and enjoyed our couscous and our growing friendship with our little neighbors. What good luck we have!

Spring in a Bowl

Ciao Italia!
We made it. We are back in our Montone home where the air is clean, I hear birds instead of cars, and we’ve been to the farmer’s market. It’s still a little early in the season so there wasn’t an abundance of produce but it is fava bean, pea and artichoke season so I can’t really complain.

Here’s a very quick pasta sauce that takes advantage of the peas and fava beans.

¼ cup of fresh peas
¼ cup of fresh fava beans
½ thinly sliced medium onion
2T butter
2T olive oil

Soft egg pasta or bowties or a mild cheese filled ravioli.

Shuck the peas and set aside. Shuck the fava beans, which is not as easy as shucking peas. Steam the fava bean pods for a few minutes, then release the beans from the pod, then peel back the thick outer layer on the bean until you have the small, bright green inner bean.

Put your pasta water on to boil. Combine all the peas, fave and sliced onion in a small saucepan, add the butter and olive oil and set on a low heat. You want to barely poach the vegetables.

Cook your pasta. Toss with the sauce and you have a fresh taste of spring in your bowl.

Good-bye City Life!

The good-bye season is at end; we’ve said good bye to our US friends and family. It’s so hard to say good bye over and over, it makes us realize what we are leaving behind. We love you all and didn’t get to see enough of you, but that will have to hold us over until we gather around a table again.
We are humbly grateful for all the wonderful friends we have, those who share the good times and the bad times. We will be thinking of you as we sip our first cappuccino in Rome tomorrow morning.
Hey, do you think we can twitter from Montone??

Hawaiian Roast Turkey Dinner

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Stop! I bet you are picturing a slab of turkey with a pineapple ring on top, and what you should be picturing is the big island of Hawaii where there is a significant population of wild Rio Grande turkeys.   Although turkeys are native to North America there are reports of feral turkeys on the Hawaiian Islands dating back to the late 1700’s, however the current population was boosted by a large influx of turkeys wild caught in Texas and shipped to 6 of the Hawaiian Islands from 1961-1963. 

Jay Cassell, our dear friend and respected editor of Field & Stream magazine was invited to go to Hawaii on a turkey hunt. And, what good luck! He got a turkey! And what better luck, he asked me to cook it and serve it on Saturday night.   Wild turkey is delicious and while it wasn’t the first time I’ve cooked one of Jay’s birds, this was a bit more challenging because it came back from Hawaii as a boneless and skinless breast. Wild game is much leaner that domestic birds so the trick is to keep the meat as juicy and flavorful as possible.  This can be accomplished with brining and larding. Brining essentially means soaking the meat in a cold salt solution. There are two factors at work during a brining session: diffusion and osmosis.  Diffusion occurs when the turkey is submerged into the salt bath and following the laws of science, moisture and salt (the brine) will travel to areas where there is less moisture and salt (the meat). The meat will actually absorb moisture into its cells through osmosis and the salt causes the proteins to unravel and form a sort of sticky web that actually traps moisture and flavor.  A very basic brine is simply cold water and salt in a ratio of 1 quart of water per pound of meat and roughly 115 grams or 4 ounces of salt. The reason I’m giving you the salt by weight and not by the cup is that kosher salt takes up more room in the measuring cup because of its bigger crystals, table salt is finer and denser so a cup of kosher salt is equal to one half cup of table salt. That’s another reason why I keep saying that a scale is an essential tool in the kitchen, so you don’t have to stress about converting salt volume based on crystal   size, and besides it looks cool when you take out the scale. You want the meat immersed in the brine and kept at about 40 degrees F; allow about 1 hour of brine time per pound of meat.

I like to add some seasoning to my brine so I usually add dried herbs such as rosemary, thyme, and a good handful of peppercorns.  This part of brining is completely subjective, so use whatever flavors you enjoy.  Many brine recipes call for sugar but this is optional as the salt does the lion’s share of the actual work of breaking apart the meat proteins.

Larding is just what it sounds like, you are adding fat. In this case I used bacon. You can’t go wrong with bacon.

Remembering our friend Kevin’s delicious mango stuffed turkey breast I thought a little mango sauce would be perfect for our Hawaiian bird. This recipe should also very well with a whole chicken breast just in case you don’t have any wild turkey hunting friends.

Brine for about 1 hour as each breast weighed about a pound or less. (You, of course caught on to the math: 4 breasts = 4 pounds, does not = 4 hours in the brine because you are brining each individual breast.  But you knew that, right?)

Roughly chop up 1-2 mangos and 1-2 cloves of garlic. Combine in a roasting pan large enough to hold the breasts.

Portion the mango mixture into 4 parts and wrap each breast around the fruit.  Add a thick slice of bacon on top of each breast. Roast at 350 until done (about an hour, check for doneness with a probe thermometer).

Remove the breasts, cover and let sit for 10 minutes while you finish the mango sauce.
Pour the roasted mango bits and all the pan juices into a saucepan; reduce the mixture until it is a fairly thick sauce. I had a lot of juice so I need to reduce the mixture for a good 10 minutes. Puree with a stick blender; add a tablespoon of light cream and 2 ounces of cognac.

Slice, serve, smile and pretend you are dining on the big island of Hawaii. Thank you Jay! It was a great dinner with great friends!

Happy Pesach

 

It’s Passover season and time for my annual rant. Disclaimer: I grew up getting all new clothes for Easter Sunday and I’d trade my Easter basket peeps for licorice jellybeans. I married into a Sephardic Jewish family and over the years I’ve learned how to make a Seder dinner. And I’ve mastered how to make matzoth balls, but these are itsy bitsy little tiny matzoth balls, and you need hundreds of them. These Sephardic style matzoth balls have walnuts in them and are served in a walnut broth, which makes for a tasty soup. This year I got some weird matzoth meal that was pre-salted and after rolling the first 500 hundred balls, I tasted one….pure salt! The whole batch had be tossed and I had to start over. What are another 500 balls when your family is coming over for dinner?

Then there are the ‘prassa’ or leek meatballs. The original recipe I was given, from my precious Sephardic Passover cookbook that has notes in my mother-in-law's handwriting and now in my handwriting, calls for the leeks to be cooked 3 different times. First you boil them, then you fry them, and then you bake them.  Any leek flavor or nutrient was eliminated somewhere between step 1 and 2.

The only dish made quickly is the haroseth, which is a combination of raisins, apple, walnuts and wine. Which brings me to the point of my rant, what’s up with having to eat matzoth? The significance of matzoth is that the Jews were being exiled from Egypt and there wasn’t time for the bread to rise so the Jews invented unleavened matzoth. With all due respect, I could have made 12 loaves of bread in the time it took to make these Passover dishes and to clean up the mountain of pots and pans required. It’s a good thing I love tradition and my family so Happy Pesach to one and all.

Salt War Simmering in NYC?

Our NYC Mayor Bloomberg has decided that we eat too much salt. Our Dear Leader has our best interests at heart and is mandating a nationwide movement for restaurants and food processors to cut the amount of salt they use by half regardless of the conflicting scientific information currently available.

That distant knocking sound you hear is my head beating on the wall. Foie gras, trans fats, a  proposed tax on soda and now it is salt's turn to be caught in the cross hairs. We are talking about half-baked, poorly researched concepts that mutate into being accepted truths. I get it, the government wants us to eat well so that we won’t get sick and then we won’t notice that we don’t have any health care. Thank you very much but leave my salt alone. I have visions of clothing designers installing secret salt pockets into the cuff of a shirt, you look like you are passing your hand over the French fries, but you are actually salting them perfectly. 

I once toured the inner sanctum of the DeCecco pasta factory in Abruzzo, Italy and was flabbergasted to learn that pasta that is imported into the United States must be vitamin enriched with niacin, ferrous lactate, thiamine mononitrate, riboflavin and folic acid. Being a confirmed cynic, I assumed the legislation was passed due to the efforts of The Niacin and Ferrous Lactate Lobby, but now I’m more concerned about where does DeCecco get that stuff and couldn’t I have just have my pasta with wheat and water like everyone else in Italy?  I’ll throw caution to the wind and take my chances with riboflavin deprivation.

We always joke that the word “Umbria” translates as “land of meat and salt”. They like their food SALTY and it takes some getting used to, but generally speaking the Umbrians aren’t obese, they have a higher life expectancy than someone in the US and they actually seem pretty happy with their food.

I think Dear Leader Bloomberg has gone too far and I’m drawing a line in the salt. Leave my salt alone and go work on some other stuff to get the city back on its feet.

  

Thoughts and Prayers

Our thoughts and prayers are with the people of Abruzzo. What a horrifying event. If you would like to contribute to the reconstruction cause, the Italian American Museum is collecting donations on behalf of the earthquake victims.

To everyone who called and mailed, Montone is fine.  Some people felt the rumble and some did not, but we all appreciate your love and support.

The Last Word

It’s a cocktail, not a final pronouncement.
John Deragon, mixologist extraordinaire, at PDT introduced me to this cocktail, and it’s ethereal, you can’t quite put your finger on its complex flavors, its like gazing at a young girl who has knowing eyes.

Simple enough recipe: equal parts gin, Green Chartreuse, Luxardo Maraschino and fresh lime juice. Shake hard. Rest. Shake hard again and serve.

I’ve resisted buying Chartreuse because a) its expensive and I’m not even talking about the superior quality VEP  b) my cabinet has no more room  c) what else can you do with it?  But, it was on sale, so what the heck.

I read the label and it turns out Chartreuse is made by the Carthusian monks; the ones that are featured in the elegant film “Into Great Silence”.  The original formula for this ‘long life elixir’ was given to the French monks in 1605 and allegedly contains 130 herbs, flowers and secret ingredients. Eventually the recipe makes its way to the Grande Chartreuse monastery in Voirion, France where it takes a little over 100 years to tweak the recipe into something palatable. The monks get into trouble and are kicked out of France in 1793. They are allowed to return, in 1838 they develop a yellow, sweeter version of the original and in 1903 the French government seizes the distillery and kicks the monks out and into Spain. Local townspeople from Voiron buy up shares of the distillery send the shares to the exiled monks and they come back into France. It seems the monks are living illegally in France when in 1935 a mudslide destroys the distillery. The French government sends an army corps of engineers in to restore the distillery and lifts the ban on the monks who are still happily involved in making Chartreuse.

What a story! Why do the French keep kicking out the Carthusians? They seem to be pretty quiet, as in very, very quiet, so why the expulsions? Mystery and history in a bottle, a perfect combination to contemplate while sipping this long life elixir.

Kickin' it old skool: Chicken Cacciatore

Last night, I don’t know why, I just had a hankering for chicken cacciatore, the tomato-ey chicken braise that was popular along with cheese fondue, celery boats with crème cheese, Jell-O ambrosia and pretty Braniff air stewardesses.  (If that wasn’t a trip down memory lane, then google up the word stewardess. And once upon a time the pretty stewardesses brought you a hot meal on an airplane, and you got to eat it with a real knife and fork.  Who knew that was the Golden Age of air travel??)

I decided to do a little searching and see what sort of history I could dig up on chicken cacciatore. Most recipes are kind enough to explain that cacciatore means hunter in Italian, but that’s about the only thing they agree on. With mushrooms, without mushrooms, red wine or white wine or no wine, peppers show up in most recipes, as does oregano. A nice woman named Sara has a YouTube video on how to make the dish, which is all well and good, but the best part is the comments where everyone has ‘their’ own correct way of making the dish. Which come to think of it, is actually a very Italian point of view. However the guy that insists that you must never, ever brown meat in olive oil, well, that’s just wrong.  Dictionary reference.com says that its chicken cooked in the Italian way. Good to know! Narrows down just about nothing. It was actually pretty entertaining to see all these references spout off about ‘authentic’ recipes, which just goes to show you that some dishes belong in the general public domain, and that’s ok.

My take on the origin of the dish is that it probably was made with rabbit, hare, pheasant or any other unlucky game animal, unless the hunter got confused and started shooting the animals in his courtyard. Mushrooms would have been added in the fall, which also coincides with hunting season.  Peppers probably got added to the recipe when the game turned into skinned chicken breasts.

If it’s suddenly chic, or PC to know the source of your food, shouldn’t you be curious about the origin of the recipes as well?

And just for the record, I’ll probably make this again the next time I have a craving for celery sticks and cream cheese. It’s good, but there are better things to be done with chicken legs.

My ‘authentic’ recipe is available upon request. OK, now who is thinking about the joys of Jell-O ambrosia??