Aroma Cucina

Be Careful What You Wish For

Did you ever have a job that you absolutely hated?  But you needed the job, so you held your nose and did the work? One summer, I worked for an ‘allergist’, or that’s what doctor called himself. He was a racist crackpot, who was probably scamming Medicaid. Every person who walked in to that office got the same diagnosis and treatment. Maybe something else was being sold behind his closed office door. I didn’t know, didn’t care, I just desperately needed that paycheck.

Chris Cosenting came to #MAD4 to tell us about his nose-holding job. Turns out making a deal with the devil that is 'reality' TV can almost kill you.

Chris Cosentino, first and foremost is a respected chef, from the recently closed Incanto to his about to open Cockscomb restaurant in San Francisco. He is a champion of seducing people to love offal. And a bona fide celebrity thanks to “Chef v. City” and “Top Chef Masters”.

In what sounds like a chef's wet dream, he won Top Chef Masters Season 4, and then signed on with the Food Network to do a season of Chef v. City.

[Disclaimer: I know nothing about “reality” food tv. I had to do a marathon watch to be able to write this post responsibly, and now I don’t know how to clear those images from my mind. People were wildly cheering as the four chef contestants choke down the most junk-laden hot dogs on the planet. Who wants to watch chefs eat like this? Clearly, there are plenty of people, and that’s their choice. It’s cooking as entertainment and that’s that.]

 

Cosentino’s motivation was simple: he needed to earn a living, or as he put it, “put braces on my kid’s teeth”.  He’d had a taste of celebrity chefdom, so maybe this did seem like a good idea and a way to promote his restaurant and his style of cooking.

Cosentino hadn’t seen the finished show until it went on the air. To celebrate the airing, he invited some friends to watch along with him. As he watched, his heart sank. “This is not who I am.” He didn’t understand how he’d gotten himself into a situation where he was trashing other chefs. He didn’t understand how he wound up having disgusting food gorging races, where the food is not honored but is just a prop to revolt and entertain the audience. “I’m not a quitter. I had a contract. I had to fulfill the contract.” So, he kept going. Eating massive quantities of chilies until he finally collapsed with third degree alkaline burns in his colon.

He didn’t get rich from TV. He didn’t get more patrons to his restaurant. In fact, his restaurant lost customers because they thought he’d become a sellout.  What did happen, is that he was very sick and it’s taken the better part of year just to be able to eat a tomato again. “I’m an Italian chef and I can’t eat a god damn tomato?”

It’s easy to understand why Cosentino is drawn to TV. He’s good at it. He’s charming, charismatic, enthusiastic, and quick with the comeback.  He did a one episode wonder called “Time Machine Chef” that is so bad, it’s good in an Ed Wood sort of way.  On one hand, you have to wonder; didn’t he read the pilot? Didn’t he have the sense to stay away from the project? But look who is standing there with him on stage…Dave Arnold, Nancy Silverton. These are serious, respected culinary people, so someone was a good a sales person. (Don’t’ get me started on the announcer girl’s outfits. Who dressed her? She looks like Barbie-Gone-Wild meets Annie Oakley.)

Then he made another pilot, called “Chef Unleashed”. It’s as real as it can be. Cosentino goes to Texas and the Broken Arrow Ranch to shoot, field dress and then cook his kill. Anyone who eats meat should watch this. But, it didn’t get picked up. This actually was reality TV and no one could handle it.

 

Cosentino’s talk at MAD was raw and emotional. He was telling his peers that he wasn’t a sellout, he’s still a chef, and the reaction was amazing. People were on their feet cheering him on and letting him know he is a very well respected member of the community.

Later that night, at the after-party, Cosentino and his gracious and down to earth wife, Tatiana Graf, sat at our table. He was warm, generous with his beer, and relieved. When I asked his wife how she held it together during that session, she replied that it’s what Chris needed to close that chapter in his life.

Well then. Good on you Chris Cosentino and Tatiana! Everyone is looking forward to the opening of Cockscomb in San Francisco sometime later this year.   And I know he said, “Be careful what you wish for.”  But I bet everyone is wishing this new restaurant will be successful and that’s nothing to be afraid of.

 Thank you Chef Chris Cosentino for sharing your story at #MAD4.

What is cooking in a mad, mad, mad, mad world?

What happens when Rene Redzepi and his merry band of pranksters bring together a gaggle of chefs and culinary people to talk about “What Is Cooking”? It becomes a MAD affair!

MAD is a  community of thoughtful people who care about food and the impact the restaurant community can have on how we eat. Every summer they erect a giant red circus tent and hold an annual conference in Copenhagen. This year, I got to go and it was inspiring, whimsical, heart wrenching and good fun.

I also have to confess; I have a complete crush on Rene Redzepi. He’s completely human, humble and approachable. I imagine he’s quite intense in the Noma kitchen, but this is as it should be when you have the number one restaurant in the world. On the second morning, he greeted every single attendee with a good morning kiss and a hug and that gets my vote for keeping it real.

Picture this opening moment: lots of people riding high on the excellent coffee that was served in the breakfast tent. It's a cacophony of conversations, photos, greetings and meetings all going on at top volume. And then we’re told to head to the main tent.

You shuffle into one of the entrances and now you try to find a seat on the bleachers but it’s really dark and your brain is being blasted by LOUD heart thumping rock music. It’s the kind of music that tattoos your brain for the rest of the day.  On your seat is a tote bag that has the program of the day’s speakers, but it’s too dark to read it, so you’re still wondering what’s going on. (Note: To keep us all speculating, the list of speakers was kept top secret.)

And then the music stops. The crowd settles in and grows quiet.

A man and a woman in a kimono walk onto the stage.

Without saying a word, the man pours flour into a shallow red bowl. He adds water. He begins to knead the dough with the familiarity of someone who knows how to listen with his hands.

In absolute silence. 

Within moments, he’s got a viable ball of dough and he moves to a table-top where he rolls out the dough.

In absolute silence.

He picks up a knife and lovingly slices the noodles. (And here there is a collective gasp of knife-envy from the audience because it’s the most beautiful noodle knife cutter we’ve ever seen.) The noodles are dropped into boiling water, then tossed in cool water, drained and finally arranged on a plate that rests on a serving tray. 

In absolute silence.

The beautiful woman in the kimono glides forward into the audience and offers an audience member the tray to taste the noodles. She returns to the stage, retrieves the other tray and again offers the noodles.

In absolute silence.

 It was a moment of pure, peaceful, prayerful zen. A moment that encapsulated all that is cooking: the prep, the saving of every scrap of left over flour, the attention to detail and finally the offering of food. This was a chef’s way of saying grace. Thank you Chef Rai. (Restaurant Sobatei Rakuici in Niseko, Hokkaido, Japan).

 Then our leader, Chef Redzepi, steps out into the spotlight and the tent goes MAD. [Update: Link to MADfeed's video of soba master Tatsuru Rai.]

 

I’ve always cared about cooking; it’s who I am, but I struggle to find the words. The people who spoke at this festival found their words and told their stories.

It’s my honor to share with you some of their tales over the next few weeks. Today I’ll leave you with this nugget of wisdom  given to us by Chef Jeremiah Tower.  Here's what Elizabeth Taylor told him,  “When the going gets rough, put on your lipstick, pour a cocktail and get on with it.”

 Amen, sister. #MAD4

 

Never Forgotten: Locanda al Gambero Rosso

 It was a bittersweet dinner at Locanda al Gambero Rosso. A restaurant we’ve loved, that we’ve called our favorite in the whole world, will shut the lights and shutter their doors at the end of August. Our hearts are broken, but we are looking forward to the next chapters in the lives of Giuliana, Moreno, Michela and Paolo.

Being in the kitchen, for very long hours, day after day, will take its toll on anyone and Giuliana and Moreno have chosen to take a well-deserved break from the demands of running a restaurant.

We were honored that Moreno sat and talked with us throughout our dinner. We’ve always felt a strong connection to this delicious man who is so tied to the history and flavors of his area.

Moreno is a master forager, whose knowledge of the fields and woods in his area is unsurpassed. What Giuliana knows about how to finesse every bit of flavor out of these foraged bits makes her truly a Master Chef.

Long before terroir and foraging became trendy, people were combing the steep, rugged hills around San Piero in Bagno looking for something edible. It was survival foraging, not an enhancement to a plate, but something to keep going for another day.

Now, the term ‘cucina povera’ conjures up images of warm bean soups lovingly ladled into big soup bowls. The reality was much, much harsher. A daily diet of hoarded beans or chickpeas, the foraged greens and maybe a speck of precious meat grows monotonous day after day after day. Its not romantic, its sustenence.

And now, one of our most treasured links to this history is about to change.

Of course we asked, why are you closing? Can’t someone continue in the tradition of Gambero Rosso?  Moreno shook his head and said, “Italians don’t care anymore.”  This is something we’ve heard him say before, but this time it was said with such sadness and resignation that we asked him to explain.

 He said  ‘cucina povera’ is something that people want to forget, they are embarrassed by this history. In a parallel fashion, it’s something we, as first or second generation Amercians, can understand. Our grandparents emigrated to the US and wanted their children to assimilate, so out of embarrassment they chose not to teach them their native language, but let them speak only English. And so, subsequent generations lost a significant chunk of their culture.  

Moreno, we think things are more positive than you imagine. The pendulum is swinging back as more and more people are looking to cherish and honor their roots.

People are encouraging Giuliana and Moreno to publish a cookbook. We say YES! We want a way to hold onto what you’ve painstakingly learned; we want a record of all the flavors, the history and the love you put into every dish you served.  I’ll never make the famous zuppe dell’erbe the way you do, but every time I do make my version of it, I honor you.

Great opportunities await. Michela and Paolo will lend their fine sensibilities and sense of discovery to a new venture in Forli, with Giuliana and Moreno consulting...when they feel like it!

As the diners left and the night grew late, the feeling in this joyous restaurant was a determination to keep the spirit of Gambero Rosso alive. The battle cry as everyone was leaving was the same, “A Forli!", so we will travel to Forli to see the new adventure. In bocca al lupo!

 

 

 

 

Pass the Prosciutto - Just in time Holiday Potatoes

What's in a name? that which we call a ham
By any other name would smell as sweet.*

Ham.  Prosciutto. Prosciutto crudo. Prosciutto cotto. Prosciutto di Parma. Prosciutto di San Daniele. Iberico. Seranno.  Confused yet? It’s all pork, but that’s like saying wine is just grape juice. This post is sponsored by Prosciutto di Parma and the fine folks at Honest Cooking, and what a tasty post!

One of my first trips to Florence, I saw a man being served a plate of nothing but prosciutto. I thought that was crazy. Who would want a plate of just one thing? Silly me. A fine plate of nothing but exquisite, hand-carved prosciutto is the stuff dreams are made of.

What exactly is prosciutto?

It’s the hind leg or thigh of the pig. The word ‘prosciutto’ is derived from the Latin words ‘pro’ (before) and ‘exsugere‘ (suck out moisture).  Bonus point!  You know you’ve always wondered how to say ‘moisture sucker’ in a way that sounded totally cool, scientific and could be used in a game of Latin Scrabble.


Back to prosciutto.  Traditionally made in winter months, the hind leg is rubbed with a salt and fat mixture, with the salt drawing out the remaining blood and moisture. This takes about two months, then the salt is removed and the meat is left to hang for another period of time. And yes, mold matters when you are curing meat.

This is basic prosciutto crudo, or cured 'raw' prosciutto.  Prosciutto cotto is cooked ham, and is the ham you get in delis. You have to specifically ask for prosciutto cotto otherwise the default is prosciutto crudo.

The other variations like Prosciutto di Parma, di San Daniele, Iberico or Seranno indicate where the meat was cured and each have their own set of rules & regulations.

Prosciutto di Parma is one of the best known, and with good reason. It’s a DOP product, or “Protected Designation of Origin”. This means there are complex rules about breed specifications, where the pig is raised, what it eats (those lucky Parma pigs get to eat the whey from Parmigiana cheese making, but not more that 15 liters a day!), how big it is when slaughtered, no nitrates or additives, only sea salt etc.

This all means that each of these types of prosciutto have very different textures and flavor profiles. Prosciutto di Parma is silky, medium salty and has a bit of a nutty finish.  Prosciutto di San Daniele is softer, silkier, maybe even a touch sweeter. Iberico ham comes from Spain and is oily and unctuous.

In Umbria, our local prosciutto is more rustic. It’s harder, saltier and an umami bomb. They are all delicious, but it’s our prosciutto of choice in melon season.

However, we aren’t in melon season. It’s holiday season. That time of year when you are either entertaining, or being entertained and you need to bring something delicious to the next party.   
Here’s a simple and delicious way to make potatoes. If you use little red potatoes and a chopped parsley as a garnish, it will look extra holiday perfect.

Red Potatoes & Crispy Prosciutto di Parma
Small Red Potatoes
Prosciutto di Parma (1/4 slice for each potato)
Grated Parmigiana cheese
Robiolina or Robiola cheese (it’s a soft white Italian cow cheese)
Salt, Pepper
Finely chopped parsley as a garnish (optional)

This recipe is completely scaleable, which means that it can just as easily be made for two people or twenty people. Figure on 1-2 small red potatoes per person.

You can buy Prosciutto di Parma in packages with the ham already sliced, or at the cured meat counter where it will be sliced for you. My preference is always to have it freshly sliced, but you go with what you can find! And I specifically like Prosciutto di Parma for this dish because it is not overly salty or oily.

Preparation
1) Preheat the oven at 400F/204C. You want a hot oven.

2) Clean the potatoes with a soft scrub brush under running water. Do not peel.
3) Boil the potatoes in salted water with a good glug of red wine vinegar. (A glug is a unit of measure that means you pour the vinegar while saying the word glug: finish the word, finish pouring). The vinegar helps the potatoes from falling apart as they boil.
4) Cook the potatoes until they are soft and the tip of a knife easily slides into the potato. About 15 minutes depending on the size and freshness of the potato.
5) Drain and let the potatoes cool until you can handle them, then slice in half, lengthwise. If you are using large potatoes, cut into large bite size bits.
6) Layer a baking pan with parchment paper (optional). The pan or dish should be big enough for all the potatoes to lie flat in one layer.
Spread an even layer, about 1/4”/6 cm of the robiola cheese on the parchment paper,
7) Wrap each potato half in a piece of prosciutto. Lay the wrapped potatoes in a single layer on top of the cheese. Generously sprinkle with grated parmigiana cheese. Wrapping each piece of potato, instead of draping the ham over the top means it will be much easier to serve at the table. Just in case you were thinking about taking a little short cut.
 8) Bake in a hot, preheated oven until the prosciutto begins to brown and turn crisp. Approx 25 min.  Serve piping hot.  Using the parchment paper means you can lift the whole finished dish right out of the baking pan and directly onto a serving plate. And the baking pan isn’t full of stuck-on cheese....The dishwasher in the crowd will love you forever.
     If you are transporting this dish, assemble it and finish baking at the host’s house. The potatoes are cooked, so you are simply heating and crisping the top.

Onion Variation: In case you can’t find robiola cheese, you could substitute a bottom layer of sauteed onions, lightly tossed with heavy cream. What you want in the dish is a creamy, flavorful base for the potatoes.

Fennel variation: Cut the fennel into bite size bits and use it instead of  the potatoes. Plan on baking the dish about 40 minutes to roast the fennel.

*Left over bits of Prosciutto di Parma?

What good luck! Just eat it and you only have to share if you feel like it.

*You could finely chop he prosciutto and saute the  bits to make crispy crunchy prosciutto shards that taste great sprinkled on just about everything, probably even Cheerios.

*You can add it to your soffrito.

*Saute  a bit of chopped prosciutto and onion, add it to your roasted brussel sprouts, and finish the whole dish with the tiniest drizzle of good maple syrup.


Happy Holidays!

*Apologies to William Shakespeare, and Juliet for corrupting her verse to Romeo.

Follow Parma Ham on Twitter for a chance to win $50 worth of the world's most famous ham. Click on the banner below to participate. This post is a collaboration between the blogger and Parma Ham.

 

Kung-Fu-Zen-Grasshopper Cooking or How I Learned to Banish the Recipe

I've been having a problem with the whole concept of recipes.

How do you read a recipe? I skim it for ingredients, look at a pretty picture of the finished dish and I’m pretty much done. Unless it’s a particularly complicated technique, or a combination of ingredients that I can’t imagine going together, because let’s face it, you usually combine some ingredients and add some form of heat and that's it.

If I actually have to follow a recipe, it tethers me in a way that I don’t enjoy. I check, recheck, double back and question. What kind of onions? A cup of thinly sliced white onions will be a lot more onion than a cup of chunky red onions.  Those onions get added to the dish when? It makes me not trust my own instincts or wonder if the recipe author has a thing for lots of onions.

Cooking from a recipe reminds me of my reliance on Google Maps. Seriously, I could be the brand ambassador, I’m addicted to The Bitch. That’s what we call the voice that tells us when to turn right or left. There’s really no reason to be snarky and call her The Bitch because she’s always polite and never cops an attitude like that iPhone snark Siri.  But, in our car, or on our bike, she is The Bitch and she usually gets us where we are going.

So why is a recipe like The Bitch? Instead of relying on my own instincts or sense of direction, or learning landmarks, I abdicate control and let her tell me exactly what to do. Recipes do the same thing, you give up control.

Fine. Easy for me to say. I’ve spent years in the kitchen, I’ve trained in professional kitchens. So, yeah. I have it easier.  But that doesn’t let you off the hook.

It’s time to banish the recipe as GPS and tune in to the Kung-Fu-Zen-Grasshopper (c)
technique of cooking. It is time for us to cook in the ways of our ancestors, by using our senses. (Yeah..I’m having a moment....indulge me, ok?)   It is also time to cook in the modern way, which is so, like, totally, about self-indulgent self-pleasuring by making exactly what you want.

Kung-Fu-Zen-Grasshopper Technique:

Cook by sight.

If you see smoke, chances are something is burning. When the shrimp turn red, they're done.


Cook by sound. Sizzling means the pan is hot; water boiling over and splashing on the stove top has a special sound that should cause an immediate spike in blood pressure and a high speed jog to the stove. Risotto is the best way to learn to cook by sound, if you hear a sizzle, add broth immediately.

Cook by smell. The pungent raw onion smell giving way to sweetness. Garlic, chili and olive oil will make a gentle sizzle, the smell tells you that everything is going just fine with this dish.

Cook by touch. A rare steak will yield gently when pressed. A raw steak feels like mush. A well done steak is a tragedy and it feels like a piece of wood.

Cook by taste. Stick your (clean) finger in the sauce. Or use a spoon, I don’t care, just taste it. Recognize that early taste before the sauce has time to come together, and remember that it takes some time for the salt to dissolve and for you to taste it. Most of the time you should taste every ingredient.

Cook foods in season. Why do you think processed food is so consistent? The manufacturers spend big bucks and do research to eliminate all the variables of fresh food. Every can of Pringles will taste the same. Every package of DeCecco pasta will taste the same because they source and blend the wheat to be sure it tastes exactly like the last package you bought.

There is no way that a recipe, even one repeatedly tested, can be accurate in your kitchen. Freshness, temperature, variety, even atmospheric conditions are all going to affect your cooking and the finished dish.

I want to taste summer in my tomatoes, autumn in my truffles, winter in my root vegetables.  

We still had tomatoes on the vine in our orto when Jeff tore out the stalks to get the bed ready for winter. The late season tomatoes weren’t getting enough sun and tasted like ..well...like store bought tomatoes. The season was over even if the plant didn’t know it.   
It takes a certain leap of faith, practice and accumulated knowledge to cook in the Kung Fu-Zen -Grasshopper style, but eventually you’ll be able to Keep Calm & Cook.

And here, either to jog your memory or introduce you for the first time to the 1970‘s Kung Fu TV series with David Carradine.

Bon’apetito Grasshoppers!

50 Shades of Salt

Let me see a show of hands. Are you a sweet or a salty person? Potato chips or gelato? And for the smug amongst us who are voting for umami..sit down. That’s a story for another day.

I’m salty. I’ll take a good pickle over a pastry anytime. Which is a good thing because living in Umbria, you better like salt.

Good sea salt is about 20 cents a kilo in Italy, so we
 use it with wild abandon. You can pour an entire kilo onto a baking sheet to roast a fish and not blink a parsimonious eye.  Which also means you can take salt for granted, and not pay attention to all the flavor possibilities. 

When I was in cooking school in Italy, our Sicilian chef brought over some of their renowned sea salt. He boasted that it actually has the ‘highest possible salt content’ of any salt in the world. And when we tasted it, we all agreed...it was salty. What a revelation.

Then I started seeing the word: selmelier. It’s like a wine sommelier, only for salt.  Could there actually be a trend at restaurants to provide a selmelier to help you choose your salt. Really? I still can’t decide if the post was a spoof or not; can you imagine a gorgeous man in a sleek black suit handing you a salt menu and asking if you would like some assistance this evening? No, me either.

Am I sounding like a ‘gourmet salt’ skeptic? Why, yes, I do believe I am. Just pairing those words makes my ‘you-are-a-sap’ marketing alarm go on full alert.

Cooking on pink Himalayan salt blocks was all the rage a few years back. At least among those people whose hearts beat faster when a new trend comes along. Anyone have a sous vide machine collecting dust in the cupboard?
Frankly, I thought it was just a gimmick until we went to dinner at the Antica Osteria restaurant here in our piazza in Montone. That’s where I had my eureka moment: the pre-seared steak comes to the table on the bloody side of rare, sizzling on the hot block of salt. It continues to cook while it sits on the salt, absorbing some of the salt, but also ensuring that each subsequent bite is warm.

As soon as we got back to New York, I bought a nice slab of Himalyan salt and we’ve been happily experimenting with all sorts of meats and fish on the salt block.

Then we went to Barcelona and for some reason, the idea of buying smoked salt was irresistible.  I got home and thought, well now what do I do with it.  It’s a flaky, warm amber colored salt, and as our American friend Bert said, it smells like Maypo. Y’all remember Maypo, right? For those of us who are younger than Moses, Maypo was a kind of sweetened oatmeal that was supposed to taste like maple syrup.  Not, that I’m old enough to remember....

I started crunching a bit of this smoked salt on potatoes. Instead of just a pinch, you take some between your fingers and gently grind the flakes, so the diner gets tiny bits of salty surprise.  It was divine on the last of the good tomatoes from the orto. I was using it anywhere that might benefit from a little crunch of salt and in my mind, that meant just about everywhere.

My reverse salt snobbery was beginning to dissolve.


This past Sunday, we went to Pietralunga for their annual white potato and truffle festival. It was pretty quiet this year, no nearly nude Brazilian dancers, no pizza throwing contest, just a stand up comedian telling political jokes. Blame it on the ‘crisi’; guess it was just too expensive for elaborate entertainment this year.

One of the market stands was full of spices and for me that is pretty much like giving a cat catnip. It’s not easy to find spices in Umbria, it’s simply not part of the culture. Plenty of fresh and dry herbs, but exotic spices just never made it over  the Appenines from ritzy Venice to our humble hills.

There was an entire salt section, with enticing colors and shapes. I immediately reached out to touch the black flaky one labeled “Sale Nero di Cipro”. I needed to know if the flakes were brittle and crunchable or rock hard tooth crackers.  And just as immediately, I was loudly told “Non toccare!”..don’t touch!   So I had no choice but to buy some of the salt so I could feel it. The verdict: deliciously crunchable.

The salt comes from the island of Cyprus and gets it’s black color from vegetal carbon. It’s used extensively in alternative medicine for the abundant mineral properties. This sale nero doesn’t have a particular flavor, but it does have eye-catching color and crunch possibilities.

We tried it on a risotto Milanese with peas and it tasted good, but more importantly, had a great crunch, which was a nice contrast with the soft rice. Unfortunately, it is not color fast...so be warned!

The other salt to catch my fancy was the “Sale dei Papa” or Pope’s Salt. It comes from Cervia, which is south of Venice, between Ravenna and Rimini on the Adriatic coast of Italy. It’s called a ‘sweet salt’ and it really does have a certain sweetness to it. The official explanation is the salt is harvested and sun dried in the ancient manner, using the local sea water, which produces a salt that is not bitter like commercial salt.  I’ve also come across it as “Sale dei Doge” and it seems it was quite popular among the rich food snobs of the mid-1400 to 1500’s.

It has a ‘wet’ consistency, tending to clump and it does taste sweet-ish. It would probably be good in a recipe like salted caramel or on a fruit sauce with roasted meat. As always, half the fun is in the experimenting.


Have I come full circle and embraced ‘gourmet salt’? Maybe not full circle, but let’ s just say I’ve come to respect the salt and to recognize the power it could have in finishing a dish.

Online source for salt in Italy: L'ErbaVoglio Franfra

Souce for reliable info regarding salt: Mark Bitterman's Selmelier's Association

The Mediterranean Del Verziere Lifestyle Diet

17,300,000 search results for Mediterranean Diet on Google, in 0.19 seconds.  Apparently the search for immortality, and a tasty life are especially intriguing when combined with vegetables, and olive oil.

Recently I was looking for a restaurant recommendation in the Tuscan seaside town of Porto Stefano, and the Trip Advisor review (always a source of wonderment) said, “My girlfriend wanted to try The Mediterranean Diet so we went to this restaurant...blah, blah, blah.”  

Now, it’s The Mediterranean Diet...in capital letters.  Honey, it’s not a menu item, it’s a lifestyle.

The Melis family, smack in the middle of the Mediterranean, on the island of Sardinia,  is confirmed to be the oldest group of siblings in the world.   The village of Campodimele, outside of Rome, is declared to be “The Village of Longevity.”  And right here in Montone, some of the most beautiful women are in their 70’s and 80’s.

Sure, everyone eats fish, not so much meat, nuts, a lot of vegetables and pulses, all doused in olive oil.  And they all attribute their longevity to belonging to a community and staying active and engaged. Personally, I feel the wearing of head to toe black might also have something to do with it, but that’s just a hunch.

Introducing our version of the Mediterranean Diet; it’s called the Del Verziere Lifestyle diet!  If followed properly, it will lead to an increased level of personal satisfaction and well-being, maybe a longer life, and possible weight loss. If residing in Montone during the month of August, it is to be regarded as an endurance marathon, which can lead to a certain blogger taking nearly a month off to recover.

Cliff Notes Catchup: Del Verziere is the name of our rione or neighborhood in Montone. It literally means the rione of vegetable growers. In August we have our major festival, which means weeks of rehearsals that last until 1:00 am, working in the tavernas until you are about to drop, and the intense JOY at winning the Palio this year. 

It also means strengthening bonds with our fellow actors, kitchen workers, tech crews, and everyone else involved in putting on this festa. Jeff and I are extras in the spettacolo, so we don’t have to go to rehearsals until about two weeks before showtime. And when you show up for rehearsals, it’s like a family reunion. The kids are growing up, even getting married, others are new grandparents, and there is the passing of the torch to the next generation to continue the tradition of writing and producing original theater pieces.

This year was particularly interesting. We have a sizable Muslim population for a small town. They come from Tunisia, Albania, Algeria, or Morocco and it isn’t easy for them to assimilate in a town dominated by the Catholic church;  where wearing stiletto heels and alluring outfits is part of an Italian woman’s DNA.  
This year, a bunch of the young Muslim ragazzi participated in the festa. Adam had a starring role in our spectaccolo. The young girls who live on our street played gypsies, and peasant girls, and then had to run back and change into serving wench outfits at the taverna. Rehearsal schedules had to be worked around Ramadan.  As we stood around at these night rehearsals, Jeff talked with Adam’s father about the similarities between Tunisian and Sephardic cooking.

You see where I’m going with this, right? Suddenly, all of our lives were a little bit richer as we learned more about each other, we pulled together as a team and we survived the festa. Now the Muslim girls weren’t outsiders in the event....they were WINNERS, and they knew their contribution was valuable and meaningful.  The judges gave us high marks for having people from ages 5 to 84. And every single one of us are a little bit stronger and healthier for being a part of this delicious community.


The Del Verziere Lifestyle Diet goes like this: eat fresh food instead of prepared food, preferably food from your garden, drink red wine, put olive oil into everything, and volunteer for anything that will keep you engaged in your community.  And ladies, you should also learn how to walk in high heels on cobblestone because if you can do that, you can live to be 100...with great legs and a firm behind.

Lots more Del Verziere pictures here!

North Festival: Finnish Food In All Its Glory!

SPONSORED POST

“Experience the cuisine that changed modern cooking.” It seems as if the entire planet has gone mad for Nordic cooking and any chef whose name has an O with a line through it. Even NYC will be having it’s first North Food Festival October 2-7, sponsored by the marvelous folks at Honest Cooking.

Kalle from Honest Cooking asked his contributing authors if they would like to write a sponsored post about Nordic food. I thought this was a great idea as it would give me a chance to delve into the uber-hot world of Nordic cooking.

My post assignment came in...I’m to write about Finland. Cool!

With visions of moose tartare, elk sausage and a side of reindeer steaks sizzling over a fir needle fire, I headed directly to Google where my fantasies came to a screeching halt.

“The worst food in the world.” -Jacques Chirac, former president of France, 2005
"I've been to Finland and I had to endure the Finnish diet......” - Silvio Berlusconi, 2001

Wait a minute...how can that be? Foraging for berries and mushrooms, a love of potatoes, pickled everything especially fish, sour rye bread, pea soup, lots of licorice and of course, cardamon. How could that be anything but delicious?  This wouldn’t be the first time I thought Berlusconi might be mis-guided.

Granted half of the country is above the Arctic Circle, which cuts down on the growing season, but I was willing to bet there was still some good cooking going on.

It was time to dig around and find out what was going on in Finland.

The area that would become Finland had inhabitants dating back to around 9,000 BC, right after the last big Ice Age. Sweden annexed Finland in the 13th century, and it remained Swedish until 1809, so much of the culinary heritage is heavily intertwined with Swedish cooking.  It also came under Russian rule for awhile, but not long enough to significantly influence the cuisine.

If anyone is going to survive that far north, they have to learn the basics of food preservation pretty quickly: salting, pickling, and curing meats and fish. I have to imagine freezing would have also been an easy way to preserve food.

Curious tidbits:

• Traditionally, peas are eaten on Thursday. Those would be dried peas in a soup. Because Finland went along with the whole Catholic no meat on Fridays ban, they decided it was important to eat peas on Thursday. I know. Made no sense to me either, but after the third or fourth time I came across this info, I came to accept it. In time, you will too.

 

• Finland is the number 2 consumer of candies in the world. Sweden is number 1. Seems that Sweden decided it would be in everyone’s best interest to only eat candy one day of the week. Saturdays became a free-for-all candy-heaven day.  The Finns also like their licorice, sweet or salty, it just needs to be licorice. I have to say, I think you need to grow up with salty licorice to actually like the flavor. It’s very confusing to have salt and licorice on your tongue at the same time.

 

• Potatoes are very, very important to the Finnish soul. Every Finnish blogger mentions potatoes, and dunking them into melted butter.  What could possibly be bad about that? Sometimes the butter even has chopped chives.

 

• Yes, the Finns eat moose, reindeer and elk, but mostly they eat pork. And despite Finland's proximity to the North Pole and Santa Claus, they would never, ever, eat Rudolph, Dancer or Prancer.
  

 

• Finland consumes nearly half of the world’s cardamon. India consumes the other half. But think it about....there’s a few more people in India, which means those Finns really like their cardamon.  When asked, “Why cardamon of all things? It’s crazy expensive and a pain in the neck to get the seeds out of the pods.”  All fingers point to Vikings bringing the pods back from Constantinople and you know how those wacky Vikings love anything exotic and luxurious (like coffee and chocolate, which are also important to the Finnish soul.)

Speaking of cardamon, one of our favorite things to eat during ski season is ‘biscuit’. Our Finnish ski buddy Kevin makes his grandmother’s recipe for ‘biscuit’ (it’s really a braided loaf of sweet breakfast bread, but we’ve stopped trying to explain this to Kevin, and now we also call it biscuit. When Kevin bakes biscuit the entire hallway smells divine and we are on our best behavior for fear he won’t share with us!)

Grandma’s Finnish Biscuit
Ingredients:
Dry yeast, 2 pkgs
2 cups + 1 tsp sugar
1/2 lb butter
1 quart milk
4 eggs (including 1 egg for the egg wash on top of the loaf)
2-3 tsp ground cardamom
1 1/2 tbl salt
10-13 cups of all purpose flour

Directions:
Combine the 2 packages of yeast, with ½ cup warm water, 1 tsp sugar and let it stand until double in volume.
Melt ½ pound of butter in 1 quart of milk (do not boil), let cool.
Combine 3 beaten eggs, 2-3 tsp ground cardamom, 1½ tbl salt, 2 cups sugar and the yeast mixture in a large bowl.
Add the flour until the mixture thickens, kneading as you go, until it is no longer is sticky.
Cover with a cloth, and let rise in a warm spot until double in size (about 1 hour).

Divide the dough into 4 or 5 parts.  Divide each part into thirds, roll and braid.
Place in greased bread pans.  Let rise again for approximately one hour.
Coat top with whipped whole egg.  Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes.  (375 degrees and 60 minutes at 8000 feet)
Best enjoyed toasted and buttered!


Want more Finnish? And who wouldn’t?

For more insight into the heart of Finnish food, this is from a local with a very distinct point of view. 

And for a great over view of the evolution of Swedish-Finnish-Nordic food, Magnus Nilsson‘s article, "The History and Culture of Swedish Eating from the StoneAge to the 15th of April 2013 (Or Unknown Future)" in the #3 issue of Fool Magazine is droll, entertaining, and educational. Don’t know about Fool Magazine? Well, you should. One of the best, and quirkiest food magazines around.

I’m sorry we won’t be in NYC for the NorthFood Festival...but if you are in the area, make sure to go!   Who knows? Berlusconi & Chirac may even show up to eat their words! 

Learn more about Nordic cuisine at the NORTH Festival 2013 in New York City. This post is a collaboration between the blogger and NORTH Festival 2013.

Water, Water Everywhere and All of It to Drink: Bring Back the Town Wells

A funny thing happened last fall, maybe even in the middle of the night. We woke up one morning  and there was a “Casa dell’ Acqua” in the Montone parking lot over by the elementary school. And another one had sprung up in the nearby town of Umbertide.  When you live in Umbria, you get used to certain things: horrifyingly bad roads, spotty internet, wonky electric, and now, no bells in town. The story is always the same: no money and a fatalistic shrug of the shoulders. So when something new and shiny shows up, everyone notices.


The Casa dell’ Acqua is machine that dispenses fresh, filtered, cold water, in either the still or bubbly variety for 5 centesimi (a nickel!) a liter.  In a country that is addicted to mineral water, it is said to be the world’s largest consumer of bottled water, and where the ubiquitous plastic bottle sits on the table at every meal, this is nothing short of revolutionary. 

So why does Italy go through 6 billion bottles of water a year if  there is nothing wrong with Italian tap water?  One theory is that because we pay for water, this is a way of thumbing our noses at the municipalities. Ha! We won’t give our comune money, we’ll give it to the grocery store, bottle producer, and transport company instead!  Really? I’m more willing to believe that we are willing victims of good marketing.  If I say, “San Pellegrino”,  your mind says “Oh, pretty green bottle, Italy....water good.” Hats off to Evian who taught us all that it's chic to pay a few bucks for a bottle of water.

Now, before you brand me with the H for hypocrite, because I admit we’ve bought a swimming pool’s worth of bottled water, I’ve always been a little leery of our pipes.  It’s a medieval village, you know, built right around the time that lead pipes seemed like a really good idea. And we’ve got a fair number of ‘off’ people in the village, which always makes me wonder about their drinking habits. Bottled water is also super cheap; a euro or so for a 6 liter pack. That doesn’t mean we didn’t feel guilty.

About a year or so ago, we started seeing restaurants using a water system where you got a cool carafe of water instead of the plastic bottle. I got all excited and tried to track down a company that would set one up for us at home, but could never find one interested in residential set ups.

Then the Casa dell’ Acqua shows up and life changes. Literally. Life changing. People now go to the town “well”. Most times there’s a little line, which means good opportunities for conversations and gossip.  I bring along some extra change because someone always needs something and the machine doesn’t make change. Which also means you have the possibility of getting free water if someone puts in twenty cents and only takes 3 liters. Jeff hit the jackpot the other day, someone must have put in a whole euro because we got about 8 liters for free! See, one of life’s better moments.

However, as you know, life is not always fair, which is why the people in Umbertide get a liter and a half for their nickel and we only get a liter. But, they have longer lines than we do, so I guess it evens out. 

I was in our grocery store the other day and noticed that the real estate usually set aside for bottled water had shrunk. Instead of ten palettes of bottle water, there were six. So, I guess it’s catching on. 


If the stubborn Italians, can ban smoking indoors, become recycling fanatics, use re-useable shopping bags, then I think there is hope for the rest of the world. (Kicking the Berlusconi habit, now that’s another story...)

Imagine.... a Casa dell’Acqua on Spring St. in Soho in NYC. It would be fabulous!! (Any mayoral candidates listening??  We could have a Wet Weiner Water campaign.....sorry, I just couldn’t help myself...must be the heat)

Summer Elegant Italian Parmigiana

In the US, ‘parm’ comes in four generic flavors: chicken, veal, meatball, or eggplant. Usually heavy, goppy and greasy, it’s an overweight distant relative of the sleekly elegant Italian parmigiana. Think Jersey Shore versus the Amalfi Coast.
In Italy, a parmigiana is made from vegetables like eggplant or zucchini, or even combined with some potato. It can be a light main course, or a contorni (vegetable side dish).  In the summer, a parmigiana served at room temperature, along with a chilled white wine, is pretty much the perfect hot weather meal.

Warning: This recipe is all about the prep and it’s not insignificant. You should figure on 45 minutes to an hour to fully assemble the parmigiana. Make it in the morning, before the kitchen gets hot, make plenty of it, and freeze any leftovers. If you’re going to make a mess in the kitchen...go big...‘cuz you have to clean up the same amount if you make parmigiana for two or for ten!

Eggplant Parmigiana (6-8 servings)
2-3 medium eggplants
1 medium onion
1 stalk of celery
2 cloves of garlic
1 liter of pureed tomato
A lot of fresh basil
2 cups of grated parmigiana
1 egg
Olive oil, sunflower oil, salt, flour, cornstarch


Thinly slice the eggplant and rub each slice with a small amount of salt. These slices are about a few millimeters thick. Remember...stiletto elegant, not running shoe chunky!

Stand the slices on end in a colander and let the slices drain out their excess water. How long should they sit? Long enough for me to head over to our orto (vegetable garden) to get the basil, feed the town cat Niccolino, and take a few pictures because the garden looks really good...so, about 20 minutes. Leave the colander in the sink or in a bowl because it’s surprising just how much water will drain out of the eggplant slices.


While the eggplant is doing its drippy thing, it’s time to make the sauce. Finely chop the onion and celery and gently sauté them in a little olive oil for a few minutes. Add the pureed tomato sauce, garlic and basil. 

You should never cut basil with a knife because the basil will turn black where it has touched the blade; you are supposed to rip the basil into small pieces. But, let’s get real...standing there ripping basil into little pieces is either great anger management therapy, or a waste of time if you are going to be cooking the basil in a tomato sauce.
I roughly chop the basil and toss it into the sauce. Simmer on low heat for about 20 minutes or until the sauce thickens and loses that ‘raw’ tomato taste.

Another warning: this sauce makes the kitchen smell amazing. Resist the urge to eat it right out of the pot...well, ok, you can eat it out of the pot, but then you’ll need to make some extra.

Here comes the fun part, frying the eggplant. This is actually the most time consuming part, so put on some good music and prepare yourself to stand at the stove for the next twenty minutes.
Combine equal parts flour and cornstarch in a flat dish or on a cookie sheet. For 2-3 eggplants you’ll need about 3/4 cup of each.

Dredge each slice of eggplant in the flour mixture, shaking off any excess flour. Don’t rinse the salt off of the eggplant slices; unless you’ve gone hog wild with the salt; most of it will have dripped off and there is no salt added to the tomato sauce.

Heat the sunflower oil in a large, deep, flat bottomed pan. You want enough oil in the pan to allow the slices to float in the oil. You may need to add more oil as you go, but do so in small batches so you don’t dramatically lower the frying oil temperature. You want the oil to be around 350F/180C before you start frying the slices. Use a thermometer, don’t guess. If the oil is too cool, the eggplant drinks up the oil like it was water in the desert and you’ll get soggy slices. If the oil is too hot, you’ll scorch the slices instead of crisping them.

Fry the slices until you see a little bit of brownage on the edges. Turn once and fry until the slice is a light golden brown. Think elegant eggplant chips, not sodden slabs. Drain the slices in a strainer over the sink. This is the best fried food tip I will ever give you. Don’t bother with layers of paper towels to soak up the grease, just use your colander. You're welcome.
OK, sauce is done. Slices are done. You are in the home stretch now.

Lay out your mise en place di parmigiana: grated cheese, the egg, sauce, slices and a baking dish lined with parchment paper. Heat your oven to 350F/120C.

Ladle a small amount of sauce into the baking dish and spread it around using the bowl of the ladle...just like you’ve seen the pizza guys doing it. Add a layer of eggplant, a thin layer of cheese and keep building the parmigiana, but you don’t want more than 4 or 5 layers. Use a bigger baking dish if you need to, but don’t build higher!

But, what about the egg, you ask? You’re going to use it for the top layer of sauce. Add a ladle full of sauce to a small bowl, break the egg into the sauce and whisk until thoroughly blended. If the sauce is still bubbling hot, do this step quickly so that you don’t risk scrambling the egg instead of blending it.

For the top and final layer of the eggplant, add the tomato/egg sauce, cover with cheese and congratulate yourself on a job well done.

Bake in the oven until it is brown and bubbly, approximately 30 minutes. Let it cool in the pan and then use the parchment paper to lift it out of the pan and onto a serving plate. Parchment paper is a wonderful thing.

Voila, you have just made a proper, elegant Italian eggplant parmigiana! For variations, use whatever you have in abundance in the garden but you only have to salt and drain the eggplant.  Enjoy! Buon apetito and thanks to Kate for giving me a push to write down the recipe!!