domenico's baked apples

When you’ve got a house full of cooks, it’s hard to know what to blog about first. Evan is visiting and Mona (from the Rome Sustainable Food Program at the American Academy in Rome) came up to Todi with her interns, Miles, Lizzie, Giovanni and David. They arrived with a van full of food and, well.....all I can say is thank god we had started up the pizza oven ahead of time.

Even Domenico was caught up in the cooking frenzy. Yes, that would be Domenico who sort of knows how to cook an egg. But with everyone making pizzas and lamb right and left, the next thing I knew he was making baked apples in the pizza oven.



The apples came from our own tree, and I am pretty sure they are from a tree that we planted in 1995, an Annurca. We had  more fruit than usual this year, since we had a very rainy spring. But apples are kind of boring to make jam from. Apple jam? Somehow I can’t get that excited about it.

So, I was very happy to see Domenico working away at the apples. Of course he had some expert help. Evan was very restrained, and didn’t take over, but gave some judicious advice regarding jam. But, this is definitely Domenico’s recipe.



Domenico’s Baked Apples. 
8 Apples


1/2 cup apricot jam 
1 cup brown sugar
black concord grapes 
Core each apple and cut away some of the skin on the tops.
Fill each apple cavity with as much brown sugar as you can force in, then top with a spoonful of jam.
Top each with a few grape, sprinkle with sugar and pop in your wood burning pizza oven until done (or a 180c/350f oven)
To serve, top with a bit of heavy cream.

ham & cheese risotto

Ok, I know ham and cheese risotto sounds weird. But bear with me.

As you know, I’ve been cooking with the goodies I brought back from the Salone di Gusto last week in Torino. And as you also know I loaded up on things like beans, lentils, various salami and - yes - chocolate. My husband, Domenico, is another story. He was on his own quite a bit at the Salone, while I was interviewing chefs and artisans and attending various workshops. Even though I told him we didn’t need more ham and cheese, that is always what seemed to make it into his bag.

He was particularly attracted to the ‘foreign’ section of the Salone. This is where all the non-Italian countries had their wares on sale. This means I now find myself with a pantry full of things like English bacon and Swiss cheeses. (and palm oil and peanut butter from Uganda, but that’s a future post).
So, when deciding what to make for dinner tonight I opened the fridge and there was all this bacon, asking to be used - and quickly - before it went bad. And a few smallish pieces of quite good emmenthal and gruyere.
 
Also, I have to add that it’s gotten cold in Rome the last few days, so risotto sounded like a good idea for many reasons.

While I usually make vegetable-based risotti, I remembered a dish I used to make back in the early 90’s. It was risotto made with a sherry called Soledad that Lungarotti produced for a few years. It was very fashionable for a while, in certain circles in Rome, but then just sort of disappeared. I guess because Lungarotti stopped making sherry.

I decided to recreate it, with a few changes. Instead of prosciutto cotto, I had the canadian bacon. And of course the parmigiano was turned into gruyere and emmentaler. Forget the sherry, I just used some pinot grigio I had in the fridge.

Even though I had some great rice I bought at the Salone (more on that later) I decided to be a good housekeeper and  use up what I had in my pantry first. I had recently bought a box of mixed grains: rice, oats and kamut. I decided that at the very least, we would be eating healthy whole grains, buried under all that buttery ham and cheese.


Ham and Cheese Risotto
serves 4

400 gr of mixed grains (feel free to experiment, or use arborio rice to be more traditional)
1 small onion
3 slices canadian bacon (or ham)
1 Tablespoon olive oil
2 Tablespoons butter
3/4 cup white wine
1 cup grated cheese (high quality emmenthal or gruyere)
3 cups of broth*
1/4 tsp nutmeg

In a pot large enough to hold the risotto, warm the olive oil and add the bacon, which you’ve cut into 1/2 inch size pieces. Let it cook for about four minutes, and then remove and set aside with a slotted spoon.
Add 1 Tblsp. of the butter to the pot, and add the finely chopped onion.
When softened, add the rice and stir for about four minutes, until the rice is really coated with the buttery onions.
Add the wine, and cook until it has evaporated.
Slowly add the warm broth, about a half cup at a time, until the rice or grains are tender.
Lower heat and add the grated nutmeg and bacon. Stir well.
Add the grated cheese, a bit at a time, stirring so it melts.
Turn off heat and add other Tablespoon of butter. Stir well, and serve top with fresh black pepper.


*One of the secrets to great risotto is, of course, using good broth. But one of the secrets in my house, is that I almost never have any on hand. Who does really? I certainly don’t use the nasty little Knorr cubes, but I do use powdered vegetable broth that I get at the organic store.

lentil soup

Ok, it’s begun. I’ve unpacked my bags and started to cook with the goodies I bought at the Salone del Gusto. Of course, we’ve already made a big dent in the things that take no preparation: cheeses, salami and chocolate have provided meals since I got back. But last night I finally got back in the kitchen.

As I mentioned already, I had a strong attraction to legumes in Torino. Since this was a relatively last-minute menu, and I had no time to soak beans, I opened up a bag of lentils. I’m not sure why, but so many people think you have to soak lentils. You don’t. Ever. I don’t know where this misconception comes from. Any ideas?

I bought six kinds of lentils at the Salone, none of which I’d ever had before. Some of the most famous lentils in Italy are grown near our home in Umbria, and come from Casteluccio. Of course I didn’t buy these since I can get them any time. Instead I bought the much more exotic Lenticchie di Ustica.

Ustica is a tiny Island off the north coast of Sicily. Most Italians - including me - know the island since it is the infamous site of an unexplained (read: conspiracy) plane crash in the early 80’s. Who knew they also produced some of the smallest lentils I’ve ever seen. Actually, they are the smallest lentils in Italy.

Turns out there is a reason I had never heard of these lentils. Up until three years ago they were painstakingly picked and ‘shelled’ in a process that took forever.  Slowfood recognized the uniqueness of this type of Lentils and placed them on their ‘protected’ list (Presidi). Now, finally, the three families that produce these lentils have modernized just enough to be able to slowly begin to export them of the island. 

So, how to cook them? My ‘go to’ recipes for lentils is Marcella Hazan’s Lentil Soup. I was all ready to whip this up, when I read the tiny label that was attached to the bag. It turns out that it was a recipe for Zuppa di Lenticchie Usticese. I love it when ingredients come with instructions! 

Zuppa di Lenticchie Usticese

500 gr. Lentils from Ustica
3 Tablsp Olive Oil
1 onion
2 cloves garlic
8 cherry tomatoes
1 zucchini
1 potato
300 gr. fresh spinach
salt and pepper

Chop onion and garlic and place in large pan with oil. When the onions begin to soften, add chopped zucchini and potato, cut into small cubes. Stir for 5 minutes, then add the spinach, which you have cut into strips roughly. Add the lentils, stir and add water until it covers the lentils by about an inch. Add salt and pepper and cut up tomatoes and bring to boil. Let simmer until lentils are done. If they absorb all of the water, add some more. The cooking time depends on the size of your lentils. The Ustica lentils - being so tiny -cook in about 40 minutes.

When serving top each bowl with a grating of fresh parmigiano and a drizzle of olive oil.

my mother's clothes - jeanette montgomery barron

I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write about My Mother's Clothes, a wonderful book by my friend Jeanette Montgomery Barron. The only excuse I have is that it came out right before I started my blog. But this evening was the last night of a show of photographs from the book, at Bomba, in Rome and so it seems the right time to talk about it. While it's too late for you to see the show (which was beautiful) you can still enjoy the book.

The book is exactly what the title says: photographs of Jeanette's mother's clothes. As her mother was slowly succumbing to Alzheimer's, Jeanette began to photograph her cherished wardrobe. She used these images as a way to reconnect with her mother and  with her quickly fading past. The vivid still lifes would spark memories that lay hidden, bringing together mother and daughter one last time.

I had the great luck to follow Jeanette on her path as she photographed the shoes, dresses, coats and even empty perfume bottles her mother had saved over the years. She brought suitcases with her back to to Rome after her visits with her mother in Atlanta. I saw the clothes as they lay lifeless on the couch or bed, then transformed by Jeanette's lens and eye into the moving portraits that capture her mother the way nothing else could.

When I saw the show today it was like seeing old friends. Partly because  I have poured over the book so often. Each time I saw a print hanging on the wall it seemed almost as if I was seeing a familiar piece of clothing from my own history. But there was also another reason they seemed so familiar.  Although my mother had a completely different wardrobe - and is still very much alive - she lived in the same era.  As I walked through the show I could almost smell the  scent of Norell  that filled the house - over forty years ago - as she got dressed to go out.

My Mother's Clothes
Jeanette Montgomery Barron
All of the above photos are by Jeanette Montgomery Barron.

women for women benefit: crisis in the congo

I'm going to take a minute to stop talking about my time at the Salone del Gusto to write about a charity benefit I attended yesterday. I am happy to support various causes, but rarely make it to the parties associated with them. However I made the effort yesterday since I was invited to support Women for Women by good friends Vicki and Joie, who run the extremely useful website In Rome Now. I knew if they were behind it, I was going to support it.

Vicki gave a wonderful and moving speech about what Women for Women does. To summarize, from their website: Women for Women International believes that when women are well, sustain an income, are decision-makers, and have strong social networks and safety-nets, they are in a much stronger position to advocate for their rights. This philosophy and our commitment to local leadership builds change and capacity at the grassroots level.

Makes sense to me.

Women for Women are currently focussing their efforts in the DR Congo, where women are being used as weapons in the tragic war that is going on there. Millions of women and children are the victims of torture, mutilation and sexual violence. By supporting Women for Women, you can help them regain some semblance of the kind of life you and I take for granted. You can donate here.

After Vicki spoke, she invited two Congolese women to speak to us. Instead, they sang three songs , in their native language. They are Catholic and explained that the words to all of their songs were expressing the same basic message: they are asking God to help them, since no one else can or will.

world pasta day - pepper pasta recipe

Since I live in Italy, every day is pasta day. But the folks at Oldways Preservation and Trust reminded me that today is actually World Pasta Day. I first celebrated pasta with them back in 2004, when they held the Healthy Pasta Meal Conference here in Rome. At the time people were going a bit crazy in terms of hating the dreaded carbohydrate. Atkins was at its height and the latest food craze blamed everything on poor pasta.

But hey folks, remember the Mediterranean Diet? People in the Mediterranean have been eating carbohydrates, combined with fruits, vegetables, legumes and olive oil for 1000’s of years. And living a healthy life while at it. Well, I knew this, but it took Oldways to bring the situation back into focus, by bringing together scientists, nutritionists and food authorities to preach the benefits of a healthy pasta meal.
 
Here at our house we usually eat pasta once a day, either at lunch or dinner (usually dinner). If you think that sounds boring or fattening, it’s neither. While we certainly enjoy heavy dishes like lasagna and ravioli for special occasions, the pasta I make at home every day is more likely to involve copious quantities of vegetables. Sometimes, as in this recipe, I do use whole grain pasta, (Melissa Clark just wrote an excellent piece on this option) but I am just as likely to use a high quality regular pasta like those by Cavalieri or Faella.

To keep things healthy I usually tip the scale in favor of vegetables. In other words, I use less pasta and more veggies. Italian recipes usually call for 100 grams of pasta per person. I often cut this back to as little as 50 grams. When mixed in with a hefty amount of vegetable-based sauce, you still get a satisfying plateful of goodness.

Pepper Pasta
serves 4

I used a mixture of red and yellow cornuto peppers in this dish. You can use any red or yellow pepper, but I think green ones don’t work well in this recipe

6 Peppers
1 large leek
1 fresh hot pepper
4 cloves garlic
1 Tablespoon olive oil
4 anchovies
1 cup broth
parsley
200 grams of  whole wheat penne

Heat olive oil in a large saute pan, large enough to hold both peppers and pasta later.

When warm, add leeks, which you’ve cut into 1/2 size rings.
Let cook until softened, about 8 minutes.
Add hot pepper, garlic and anchovies, and stir until the garlic is fragrant (2 minutes)
Add red and yellow peppers, which you have cut into 1/2 pieces.
Let the peppers cook at low heat until very soft. If things are getting too dry, you can add a bit of broth.

In the meantime bring a pot of water to boil, add salt and boil the pasta till al dente. Drain pasta and add to pepper. Heat the two together, adding anywhere from 1/3 to 1/2 cup of the broth, so that it is not too dry. Top with parsley and serve.

 

bicerin

I'm on the train, headed back from the Salone del Gusto to Rome. After four full days spent eating, drinking, learning and meeting some incredible people I'll have lots to write about in the next few weeks.

As I've said, I've done this Salone thing many times in the past. Up until this year, I've always managed to find the time to spend at least one morning away from the Salone, visiting Torino. One of my usual stops is at Bicerin, Torino's most famous - and my favorite - cafe'. Founded in 1763, the cozy, wood-paneled rooms are where you go when you want to drink the drink that they invented: The Bicerin.

The bicerin is a heavenly concoction of strong espresso, bitter chocolate and heavy cream. I've never figured out why it hasn't become famous anywhere else. You'd think a quick shot of chocolate/coffee/cream would be on everyone's top ten list? But no, I've only ever seen it in Torino.

Sadly, this year the Salone and Terra Madre was so big, and I had so much to see, do and eat that I never made it into town (except for dinner, more on that later). But, happily, Lavazza had set up a big pavilion at the Salone where I was able to have a perfect bicerin. In fact, this was the very last thing that entered my mouth before leaving the Salone. Not a bad send off.

Bicerin

Bicerin carefully guards their recipe for making the perfect bicerin. But, given the fact that there are really only three ingredients, you can play around and figure it out. Here is my version:

Make very strong espresso, any way you prefer. ( I have to admit that I am partial to my Nespresso machine these days, and use Ristretto.)

Heat 1/4 cup heavy cream. Be careful not to let it overheat.

Grate 3 Tablespoon of the best semi sweet chocolate you can get, and slowly stir it into the cream until it is smooth .

Take room temperature heavy cream and whip it just a bit, until it starts to thicken. You don't want it to be whipped cream, just thicker than liquid.

Heat a glass espresso cup by pouring hot water into it and then dumping it out.

Add 2 oz of hot espresso.

Add 2 oz of cream chocolate mixuture.

Top with a generous dollop of cream.

You don't want to mix, but layer. That's the point of the glass cup. It's pretty.

hanging tomatoes at the salone del gusto

At the Salone del Gusto I always discover new things from places I’ve never been. That’s not surprising. Raisins from Afganistan? Snails from Campania? But one of the things I love about the Salone is the chance to find out more about the things I already know about.

For instance, there are these incredible tomatoes we always eat in when we go down to Bari (Domenico is from Bari). They look like cherry tomatoes, and they sell them in the markets all summer long. But if you pop one into your mouth you’ll find they have a very tough skin. Very intense flavor, but tough, tough skin. Well, at least that’s what I did the first time I saw one. Then my mother-in-law enlightened me. “Those are for cooking!” Well, how was I supposed to know?

But actually, she wouldn’t consider cooking with them until much later in the season. In winter in fact. How to these little gems make it to Christmas and beyond? Any Pugliese wife wouldn’t be caught dead without a string of pomodori appesi hanging in her kitchen. Just pull a few off and you’re ready to go with your Cime di Rapa Stufate.

So now, whenever we go down to Bari I always come back with a long string of these pomodorini. But I always wondered how they stayed together in their little bunches. I know that they used thread to do it, but the mechanism escaped me.

Yesterday at the Salone the mystery was revealed. Watch these women (in local costumes no less) string up these tomatoes. I’m glad I took this video since there hands were moving so quickly I could barely see what they were doing. It’s almost like they are crocheting or knitting them together. Watch closely or you’ll miss it!



Rape Stufate
1 kilo of Cima di Rape (broccoli rabe)
8 pomodorini appesi (or cherry tomatoes)
3 Tablspoons olive oil
1 clove garlic

Wash and clean the broccoli.

Put olive oil in a pan large enough to hold all the vegetables. Add garlic and tomatoes. Let cook a few minutes. Then throw in the broccoli. Add a bit of water, just enough to help wilt the vegetables (about 1/4 to 1/2 cup). Add salt.

Cover and let cook till quite tender. Up to half hour.

To serve lift out of their liquid. This dish is served as a first course in Puglia.


**Even though the liquid left in the pot is not considered part of the dish, I always save it for myself and slurp it up before doing the dishes!

buying beans at the salone del gusto

The Salone del Gusto is huge. I mean multiple football fields huge. I remember the first time I came, sixteen years ago, I was overwhelmed. Now it is four times as big.

Even though I make plans in my head how to see as much as I can, and absorb (yes, that means eat) as much as possible, I have come to realize that my subconscious takes over, and leads me in certain directions.

Somehow this year I have a blind spot for olive oil. In past years I’ve toured around the fair with my friend Ari Weinzwieg. Since he imports olive oil for his store, Zingermans, we usually manage to drink and taste and sip our way through any region that is produces olive oil. This year Ari isn’t here, and I can’t begin to care about tasting oil. Don’t ask me why.

All I know is my eyes - and stomach and head - are fixated on legumes. My husband Domenico is arriving today. He knows I’ve been here three days already and wants to know what I’ve bought so far. I’m sort of scared to say that somehow I’ve managed to pick up over 7 kilos of beans of various shapes and sizes. (he’ll be doing the heavy lifting on the way home)

Why beans? I’m not so sure. They certainly are beautiful when uncooked. All shapes and sizes. But also their cultivation takes a certain commitment. Many of the legumes at the Salone are semi wild, like those little wild peas above. Their harvest is back breaking work.

Also, while the cheese and salami guys (they always seem to be guys) are able to just whack off a chunk and give you an immediately seductive taste, things are more challenging for the bean ladies (and they do all seem to be ladies). They stand there by their piles of beans, and when you show some interest they head to the back of the stand where they have a terracotta pot simmering on a hot plate. They spoon out tiny cups of hearty soups that you can imagine feeding their families by the fire back home.

I guess it’s that sense of home and place that is making me load up on beans. I’m off again today, in a few minutes, for more wandering at the Salone. I know I’m sure to buy yet more beans. But that’s ok. Domenico is arriving. With another suitcase.

thursday at salone del gusto: some favorites

 

I just spent the last 8 hours wandering through the Salone del Gusto and so far only managed to work my way through about 1/4 of the stands. It's 7:30pm and believe it or not, I'm actually hungry. But before I run off to dinner I'll post a few of my favorite images from today. The provolone above is as big as it looks. Everyone seems to bring the biggest possible things to the Salone.

Here are some gorgeously wierd red eggplants. Yes, eggplants, from Basilicata.

 

Isn't this the cutest bag you've ever seen? It's full of bread from Matera.


 

Love the color of this celery, which is pink and come from....I can't find the card about this in my pile of stuff! But isn't it gorgeous?



These little boxes contain tubes of white truffle paste. I love the old fashioned box, full of tubes of paste!





Off to dinner....more tomorrow. (sorry about the formatting. Blogger is doing weird stuff)

torino - salone del gusto

I usually don’t try to blog while I’m on the road, since I’m too busy doing the fun stuff that I’ll be writing about later on. But this week I’m going to try to find the time. I’m on the train now, headed up to Torino for the Salone del Gusto and Terra Madre. For those who don’t know, these are the two big Slow Food events that take place every two years. If you’re reading this blog, chances are are already very familiar with Slow Food, the organization founded about 20 years ago by Carlo Petrini to protect and promote local food cultures and traditions. From a tiny group in Piemonte it has grown to a world wide political powerhouse with over 100,00 members.
 
I was lucky enough to attend the very first Salone, 16 years ago. My friend Evan Kleiman and I were toying with the idea of collaborating on a book of regional cooking. The minute the press release dropped into our mailboxes, we knew we had to go.

I’ve tried to go to as many times as possible since then. The Salone takes place every other year, (with off years celebrated in nearly Bra with Cheese.) Those first years were full of discoveries, especially about Italian foods. I still remember seeing a crowd of colleagues huddled around one stand. What was the excitement? Lardo di Collonata, which no one had heard about. We all went back home and wrote about this amazing cured pork , and today not only is the tradition not dying out (which it was in danger of doing) but the artisans are hard pressed to keep up with the demand.
 
Six years ago Terra Madre was started, to coincide with the Salone, and this is the first time I’ll be attending. Terre Madre is an incredible meeting of farmers and food producers from around the world. Closed to the public, this is the chance for far flung working farmers, educators and chefs to brainstorm about the way the world feeds itself, and how they can make it more sustainable, healthy and living system.

So what will I be doing this week? Eating for sure. The lion’s share of the Salone is a huge market place full of delicious food from all over the world. And learning. There are workshops and tastings on everything from craft beers to establishing vegetable gardens in schools. I’m going to one dinner where three African chefs will be cooking, and to another with a chef from Iceland.
 
And yes, I’ll be eating out each night, so there will be a Torino restaurant list in the future. I’m also going to try to make it to the original Eataly. Stay tuned.

winter squash soup

I guess looking great photos of pumpkins is - to foodies- what cute kitten photos are to the rest of the world. I got so many wonderful comments when I posted about pumpkin risotto the other day. And most of them were for the photos, not the recipe. So...thank you! In fact, thank you so much, here’s another.

I think it’s hard NOT to get great pumpkin photos this time of year. The farmers markets in Rome are groaning with all sorts of wonderful zucche. Speaking of which. In Italian zucche stands in for just about any winter squash. I was talking to my sister earlier, about pumpkin soup recipes, and she kept insisting she didn’t use pumpkin. The problem was that I was using the word ‘pumpkin’ to mean any old zucca: butternut, acorn...whatever. 

We had ten people for dinner on Sunday, and so I decided to make soup. Soup’s so much easier with guests, instead of pasta - which involves at least some last minute prepping. With soup, you just heat and serve. 

I’ve made versions of this soup over the years, and always play around with the ingredients. Sometimes, to make it rich, I add cream. If I’m feeling like something Asian, I’ll add a can of coconut milk. Last Sunday I was feeling very traditional, so kept the seasonings to  a minimal. Just a touch of coriander, and then lots of ground ginger to give it zing. 

As you can see from the still life above, I used a bunch of different pumpkins. Or rather, winter squash. Or zucche. Whatever. 

Winter Squash Soup

Serves 12

3 Butternut squashes (or the equivalent of other types of firm, orange sweet squash)

olive oil

2 liters of chicken broth

1 Tblsp Butter

1 Tblsp olive oil

2 leeks

1 small onion

2 tsp ground coriander

4 tsp ground ginger

salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 180c/350f

Quarter the squashes, or cut them into large wedges. Place on a baking sheet, and rub them with olive oil and sprinkle with salt.  Roast until tender, about 45 minutes, and edges start to brown.

Take out of oven and let cool. 

In large soup pot heat butter and olive oil. Add sliced leeks. Let cook until softened, about 15 minutes.

Add flesh of squash, scooped out of the shells. It doesn’t matter if it’s a mess, it will all get pureed later. Stir around a bit, so the flavors mix.

Add broth and bring to simmmer, and let cook for about 15 minutes.

In small frying pan heat another Tblsp of olive oil, and add onion, chopped and coriander and ginger. Let the onion cook fast, browning a bit, and stirring. Put in the soup and stir.

Puree the soup with an immersible blender. Taste for seasonings. 

The soup is such a pretty color, it’s fun to garnish it. I used swirls of yogurt and roasted pumpkin seed oil, which gave it a nutty taste. A bit of good balsamic would work too, as would a dollop of marscapone (my sister’s idea).

biscotti: hazelnuts & cookbook

My husband Domenico is very generous when it comes to gifts. He has given me my best jewelry and certainly all of my techno- gadgets. But where he really shines is bringing home the bacon. Literally. He’s an architect, so whenever he travels he usually comes back with delicious bounty. Last week, he only traveled as far as his office, but he came home with about 2 kilos of hazelnuts.

They weren’t just any hazelnuts, of course. These ones came from the hazelnut center of Lazio: the area just around Viterbo. Domenico’s assistant, Emanuele, is from a small town in that area, and brought a sack full into the office. Called ‘nocchie’ in the local dialect, the nuts are pretty big for hazelnuts, and incredibly fragrant. Last year the nocciole romane finally got their DOP label. You can read all about them here (in Italian) and see some videos of the hazelnut harvest.

So, these nuts are great and I was so happy to get them, but......they come in shells. That’s the thing about nuts. The shells. Which is why I so rarely make the effort to bake with nuts since by the time pre- shelled nuts hit the shelves, they have so often gone rancid. (and no, there are no Trader Joe's in Italy).

Since last Sunday was sort of overcast and gloomy, I decided an afternoon spent shelling wouldn’t be so bad. Also, I had another excuse to get at those nut meats: Biscotti. No, not just the cookie, but the book. My friend Mona Talbott’s new book, Biscotti, is finally out! Mona heads the Rome Sustainable Food Program at the American Academy. The cookbook, gorgeously photographed by Annie Schlecter, is the first in a series that will cover soups, salads, pastas...everything eventually. And all profits from this slim, elegant little book goes directly to the RSFP.

There is an entire chapter on nut cookies. This comes as no surprise, since Mona uses mostly local ingredients, and there are nuts-a-plenty around Rome. But Mona is also at an advantage when it comes to nuts. She has a lot of help when it comes to cracking those pesky shells. The RSFP is not only about providing sustainable, local, healthy food. It is also about creating community. And what better way to instill a sense of togetherness at the Academy than sitting around a table cracking nuts?

So, after an hour of community building around our own kitchen table I was finally ready to bake. I chose Biscotti alle Nocciole (Hazelnut Butter Cookies) from the book. But I had so many nuts, cracked and ready, I decided to make another recipe as well, but this time from Mona’s mentor Alice Water’s book, The Art of Simple Food. I love her biscotti recipe and always play around with the ingredients. This time I slipped in hazelnuts (surprise) and bitter chocolate, as well as the zest from a Meyer lemon from the terrace.

I’ll be working my way through the rest of Biscotti in the next few months. And I’ve already ordered a dozen copies since a) it’s gorgeous, b) it’s surprisingly cheap and c) all the money goes towards one of my favorite causes. So, order your copiesAcademy, and I’m sure Mona would be happy to sign them. And the Friends of the Academy will be hosting a book signing/ cookie tasting in December (so join the Friends group now! so you will be invited) But if you are reading this and are my best friend and/or sister or mother, just know, I’ve already bought a copy for you for Christmas. right away. If you are in Rome, they are for sale up at the

Biscotti alle Nocciole


Hazelnut Butter Cookies
(from Biscotti, by Mona Talbott and Mirella Misenti)
Yields 36 cookies

36 whole hazelnuts
200 g/ 7 oz hazelnuts
225 g./1 2/3 cups flour
1/2 tsp cinnamon
pinch of salt
225 g./ 1 c. plus 1 tbsp butter
140 g./ 2/3 c. + 1 tsp sugar
60 g/ 3 tbsp sugar for coating

Preheat oven to 150 c/ 300 F

Spread shelled hazelnuts on a sheet pan and toast for 10 minutes, or until the skins begin to split. While nuts are still warm, place them inside a clean tea towel. Gather the towel into a secure bundle and roll the nuts in a circular motion to loosen and remove some of the skins. (**My skins never came off. I think because the nuts were so fresh. Didn’t seem to make a difference)

Pulse the toasted hazelnuts in the food processor until coarsely chopped.

Sift the flour, cinnamon and a pinch of salt in a medium sized bowl.

Cram the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the flour mixture and work the dough until it is even and smooth. Gently fold chopped nuts without over-mixing. Cover and put in refrigerator for 30 minutes.

Remove dough and form it into 36 small balls. Transfer cookies to sheets lined with parchment paper, leaving 2.5 cm/ 1/4 inch between cookies. Place 1 whole nut in the center of each cookie. Sprinkle with sugar,

Bake for 12 minutes, until golden brown.

Let cool on cookie sheet a bit, since they are very fragile when they come straight out of the oven.


Chocolate Hazelnut Biscotti
(adapted from Alice Waters, The Art of Simple Food)
Makes about 40 cookies

Preheat oven to 350F

1 cup whole hazelnuts
1 cup chopped chocolate or chips
2 1/4 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp freshly grated meyer lemon zest (or lemon or orange)
3 eggs, room temp
1 cup sugar

Toast hazelnuts for 5 minutes. Let cool.

Sift together flour and baking powder. 

In another bowl combine eggs, sugar and zest. Beat until ribbon forms. Stir in flour until just mixed in. Gently fold in chocolate and nuts.

On a parchment-paper-lined baking sheet, form the dough into two 3-inch wide loaves, about 3 inches apart. Smooth the loaves with damp hands. Bake for 25 minutes, or until golden. Let cool for 10 minutes. Lower the oven temp to 300 F. Cut the cooled loaves into 1/2 inch thick cookies and place cut side down on 2 baking sheets. Cook for 10 minutes, turn over and bake for 10 more minutes.

the perils of raising a foodie

Last week I published this piece on The Atlantic Food Channel. I'll print the piece below, in case you didn't see it. But it's worth visiting the web site, to see the comments. I have to say, I was pretty shocked how worked up people got about something I thought was a pretty light-hearted look at raising a child in a foodie household. What do you think of the piece? And what do you think of the comments?
The Perils of Raising a Foodie
October 12, 2010
The Atlantic Food Channel

The other day there was a great piece on the Atlantic Food Channel by Lesley Freeman Riva, " A Foodie Parent's Biggest Worry: Can My Teen Feed Herself?" It got me thinking. Like Lesley, I am a foodie. And like Lesley, I have a daughter, Emma, who can barely be bothered to pour herself a glass of water.

But it's not that daughter I'm worried about. Emma, a senior in high school, will (God willing) head off to college next year. I know she will somehow get by: Since she doesn't care that much about food, she will always find something to eat. Even though she's been brought up on guinea hen, farro, and heirloom tomatoes, she's just as happy with Chicken McNuggets or a handful of Cheerios.

No, it's my other daughter, Sophie, that I am worried about. Sophie is the one who inherited the foodie gene. She has just left to attend university in London and the calls have already started. "Do you realize how much fleur de sel costs?!" "Where I am supposed to find fresh mozzarella?"While other mothers are baking brownies and chocolate chip cookies to fill care packages, I'm looking up the regulations for shipping guanciale.

I worry about Sophie getting enough to eat simply because she refuses to make do. Like me, Sophie has low blood sugar, so when she gets hungry she goes slightly mad. Does she grab the nearest pretzel/apple/bag of potato chips to bring her hormones back to normal? No. She would rather suffer till she makes it to the farmers' market to pick up a week's worth of perfect plums.

She realizes she is borderline obsessed, and that none of her other friends are like her. And whom does she blame? Her mother, of course. I was the one who dragged her to the Salone del Gusto every other year, where she explored things like ricotta forte (ricotta aged until it reeks of ammonia) andcollatura (the liquid left after curing anchovies). Before she could walk she was already eating fresh sea urchins at the pier in Bari.

Of course, Emma was also along for the ride. Emma ate—and also enjoyed—her fair share of tripe. Emma was there when we sampled bootleg grappa in a hidden attic in Lazio. And Emma likes nothing better than to slurp up sea urchins by the sea in Puglia. So why does one daughter turn foodie, while the other turns down the supermarket aisle more travelled?

Sophie didn't just inherit the foodie gene from me. She also—unfortunately? —likes to be in control. This means it is Sophie who is already cooking for friends in her "flat." And it was Sophie who figured out where she and her buddies would eat every night of their recent vacation in Greece. While she complains about the responsibility of being the one to make sure her friends are eating, and eating well, she also realizes that she is converting people to a whole new world.

So should I worry that Sophie will find herself at school with the offerings of the cafeteria and local fast food joints just too horrid to contemplate? Not really. You see, I've got the care package already taped up and ready to go. So at the very least she'll have a chunk of 36-month-old Parmesan cheese to nibble on when her blood sugar dips.

fun with funghi {salad}

My dad was in town the other day, and called me up for lunch at the last minute. Not so surprisingly we went to Piperno’s. This has been my father’s haunt for just about forty years, since we first lived in Rome in the '70s. So, after four decades of going to the same restaurant, you’d think there’d be no surprises, right?

“Did you see what they have?!” my father asked as I sat down. Knowing my father - and the restaurant - I expected to see a 3 kilo spigola (seabass). But, for once, it wasn’t fish my dad was getting excited about. There were heaps and heaps of mushrooms!

Fall is always funghi time in Rome. But there are good years and bad years. This year, for whatever reasons - rain? sun? the moon?- the mushrooms are particularly good and plentiful.

At Piperno’s they had a huge platter of porcini, but also the much rarer ovoli. Ovoli are some of the strangest looking mushrooms you’re likely to see. They are egg- shaped (hence the name) and bright dayglo orange on the outside.

Our lunch? An obscenely big portion of ovuli salad, followed by perfectly grilled porcini.

I’m not sure why, but there isn’t a huge variety of mushrooms on offer in Rome. Porcini when they are in season. And sometimes ovoli, for a few short weeks a year. Lately I’ve been seeing chanterelles, but even oyster mushrooms are hard to get.

Today, on my way to lunch at Dittirambo (which, I have to say, was not great) I stopped by Campo dei Fiori and saw these on offer. 

Did you notice the price on the ovoli. 90 euros a kilo!!! Yes, that $60 a pound. I think truffles might cost less.

Where are all these mushrooms coming from? Well, that’s the mystery. The vendors always say they are from the countryside just outside of Rome. But for a while now I've heard people saying they come from Romania. I’m not sure why that is supposed to be bad, but the way people say it make it sounds like they might as well be frozen. I’m lucky because in my neighborhood, at the Calabrian store on Via dei Serpenti, they always have fantastic dried porcini, and - in season - big fat fresh ones, as well as crates of galinelle.

And yes, I do bring the dried ones back to the States as Christmas presents. I am pretty sure it’s not allowed, but....well, they make great presents. Ask my sisters.

Insalata di Ovoli 
serves two

4 Ovoli (or, if you’re with my dad at Piperno, just let the waiter pile them up on your plate)
1 celery stalk
1/2 lemon
great olive oil
salt and pepper
parmesan cheese

Ovuli are never cooked. Their delicate flavor would disappear with heat. This salad is delicate and the best way to enjoy them.

Gently brush any dirt off the ovuli.

Slice thinly, lengthwise and place on platter.

Slice celery as thinly as possible, and scatter over top of mushrooms.

Squeeze lemon juice over, and drizzle with olive oil. Add salt and pepper and toss gently.

Using a sharp knife of vegetable peeler, scatter some parmesan shavings on top.


Insalata di Spinaci e Gallinelle serves four as appetizer
4 cups of young, small spinach leaves
2 cups galinelle mushrooms
2 tablespoons pine nuts
1/4 cup, plus 1 tablespoon olive oil
2 Tablespoons lemon juice

Carefully wash the spinach, removing any tough stems. Dry completely and place in bowl.

Brush dirt off mushrooms and quarter each one lengthwise.

Heat frying pan large enough to hold all the mushrooms.

When hot, add pine nuts and stir until lightly toasted. Set aside the nuts.

In same pan, place 1 tablespoon of olive oil, and heat. When very hot, add mushrooms. Try to avoid stirring for the first few minutes. Shake the pan to toss the mushrooms. They should be cooked enough after about 5 minutes.

Add salt and pepper.

Toss spinach leaves with olive oil, lemon juice and salt. Toss.

Add pine nuts, toss.

Place salad on individual plates and top each with still warm mushrooms.


a little mushroom dictionary 

italian / english / latin
porcini / porcini / boletus edulis
galinelle/ chanterelle / cantharellus cibarius
ovoli /ovoli / amanita caesarea

pumpkin risotto

My friend Laura is the hostess with the mostess. She has a gorgeous home in Umbria, which just keeps getting more and more beautiful and comfortable every year. (It's all over my recent book, Italian Rustic). Even though we have our own home not so far away, we always jump at the opportunity to stay at Laura's. She the kind of hostess who always makes sure there are fresh flowers in your room, and a pitcher of water by your bed. Fluffy towels and bath robes make it seem like staying in a five star hotel.

monday morning minestrone {soup}

It's Monday morning and - since we were away for the weekend - the fridge is looking pretty bare. I know I'll have to make a run to the market at some point today. But…it's raining, I'm lazy and…well, it's Monday. There should be an easier answer to lunch.
 
Our apartment is pretty small, so our medium sized fridge in the kitchen has a smaller sister out in the hall, where I tend to store vegetables. Since it's not the fridge that the family opens a million times a day, it tends to stay pretty cold, so the veggies last longer. So I decide to see what's hiding out there, although I'm pretty sure there's not much.
 
As it turns out there is plenty. And plenty I've forgotten about. Two lonely peppers left over from the 3 kilos Domenico brought back from Piemonte three weeks ago. A couple of carrots. Two fat leeks I picked up god knows when. And I small head of lettuce that is surprisingly perky.


 
The big surprise was a plastic bag full of wild greens i had bought last week at the farmers market but never used. Borage, chicory, dandelion greens, even some chard I think.


So before I head down to my office for the day, I chop up everything, knowing it will be ready for lunch. My mom calls this 'clean out the fridge soup.' I call it Monday Morning Minestrone.

monday morning minestrone
3 Tablespoons olive oil
1 onion
3 cloves garlic
1 small hot pepper
2 fat leeks 
1 red pepper
1 yellow pepper 
2 carrots 
1 big bowl full of greens 
1 small head of lettuce
2 cups of canned tomatoes 
parsley 
salt

Heat olive oil in a big soup pot, and add chopped onions.
 
Finely chop garlic and hot pepper, add to onions. 

Let this cook for about 8 minutes, to fully flavor oil.
 
Chop carrots, leeks and peppers into bite size pieces. Add to pot.
 
Wash and drain greens and lettuce. Chop roughly and add to pot.
 
Add canned tomatoes, salt and parsley.
 
Add enough water to cover and cook slowly for about an hour. When it's finished cooking, use an immersible blender for a couple of seconds, just to thicken up the brought a bit. You still want it chunky.
 
Taste and correct for salt.
 
Of course you can play around with ingredients. As I'm writing this I realize I completely forgot to add an old piece of parmesan rind which would have been perfect. I also forgot about adding an potato. My friend Sienna always seems to have pesto in her freezer, which I know would be a great addition.

Serve with crusty bread if you have it (if it's monday and you haven't been shopping yet, just use crackers). Top with a drizzle of olive oil and a grating of parmesan.