One of the very best seafood for grilling has got to be the octopus. It has incredible flavor, it is a pleasantly chewy but not tough—when properly prepared—and it crisps up beautifully under the grill’s intense heat. There’s a good reason why it’s a favorite summertime dish all around the Mediterranean basin.

Unlike most other seafood, octopus needs some precooking before it is ready to grill, but otherwise it is as carefree as grilling gets. No worries like finny fish about it falling apart on the grill. Just let it sear on both sides and serve!

Ingredients

Serves 4-6 people

For the pre-cooking:

• 6 baby octopi
• 1 lemon, cut up
• A few sprigs of fresh parsley
• A couple of cloves of garlic
• Salt and pepper

For the marinade:

• Freshly squeezed juice of 2-3 lemons
• A good pour of olive oil
• A pinch of oregano
• Salt and pepper
• A pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)

Directions

Step 1: Pre-cooking: Simmer the baby octopi with the other ingredients in enough water to cover for about 15 minutes. (If using mature octopus, double the pre-cooking time.) Let the octopi cool in their liquid.

Step 2: Marinade: Drain and cut the octopi up into 3 or 4 pieces, leaving the tentacles intact. Place the octopus pieces into a bowl with the marinade ingredients. Mix well and let rest for 30 minutes or so.

Step 3: Grilling: Get your grill nice and hot, as hot as you can. Sear the octopus pieces until golden brown, about 3 or 4 minutes on each side. Brush the pieces with the marinade from time to time

Step 4: Finishing and plating: Take the octopus off the grill, and put them back in the bowl with the marinade. Mix once to coat all the pieces, then plate the octopus, pouring the remaining marinade over everything. Serve immediately with lemon wedges.

Notes

Octopus can be found at better fish mongers. I found a package of frozen baby octopus from Thailand in my local supermarket, and they were excellent. Baby octopus is a better choice for grilling, as it is quite tender and only requires a few minutes pre-cooking. But you can use ‘grown up’ octopus as well, just extend the pre-cooking.

Octopus are best grilled using a vegetable grill pan or grate so the small pieces don’t fall into the fire.

Octopus goes particularly well with potatoes, in particular patate al forno (Oven Roasted Potatoes), which I now realize I’ve never bothered to blog on. I’ll need to rectify that glaring omission right away!

Related articles

• Polpetielli affogati (Baby Octopus Simmered in Tomato Sauce)
• Vongole alla brace (Grilled Clams)
• Astice alla griglia (Grilled Lobster)

We all know that spinach is full of iron and other good stuff, but it has an undeserved reputation for being … blech. I’m not entirely sure why, but I suspect it has something to do with the school cafeteria spinach I remember from my childhood, stewed within an inch of its life and left on steam tables for hours. Or perhaps it has to do with that 60s classic, canned creamed spinach. Yum… not.

Fortunately, these days, we have much better choices. Most supermarkets carry small-leaved ‘baby spinach‘, which is much like the spinach you will find in Italy and France. It has a wonderfully delicate flavor and cooks up in no time. And even old-fashioned, mature, dark green, crinkly spinach can be turned into something delicious if you treat it with respect.

This recipe will work perfectly with either variety, with some differences in technique. In this Roman dish, the spinach is laced with raisins and pine nuts, a classic combination in Italian cooking. As for so many leafy vegetable dishes, you cook the spinach ripassati in padella (sautéed), only this time the fat is either lard (the traditional way) or butter (for modern palates). I really like cooking in lard, as it gives savor and contrast to the sweetness of the raisins. Garlic is optional—I usually prefer to leave it out.

Ingredients

Serves 4-6 people as a side dish

• 1 kg (2 lbs.) spinach (see Notes)
• 3-4 heaping spoonfuls of lard, or butter, or a combination of butter and olive oil
• 1-2 cloves of garlic, slightly crushed (optional)
• 75-100g (2-1/2 to 3 oz.) raisins, softened in hot water for a few minutes and drained well
• 75-100g (2-1/2 to 3 oz) pine nuts
• Salt and pepper

Directions

Heat the fat over moderate heat in a large casserole able to contain all the spinach. If using the garlic, toss it in as the fat in heating up, and remove it as soon as it begins to color and give off its aroma.

If using pre-washed baby spinach: Add the raw spinach directly  into the casserole.  No need for liquid; the vegetable will steam in its natural moisture.  Cover the casserole and let the spinach cook down. It will reduce enormously, down to a mere faction of its original bulk. Uncover and turn the spinach as it cooks, turning it in the fat so it is well covered all over.

If using mature spinach: Wash the spinach well to get any grit out. (If the vegetable is very gritty, you can soak it in a large bowl of cold water.) Then trim the leaves off their woody stems. Pre-cook the trimmed leaves in salted boiling water for a five minutes or so, drain immediately and run the spinach under cold water to stop the cooking. Squeeze out the liquid from the spinach and chop it up roughly.  Add the chopped spinach to the fat in the pan, turning it over to impregnate it with the oil. (No need to cover the spinach.)

Now add the raisins and pine nuts to the spinach. Season with salt and pepper. Let the spinach simmer gently over moderate heat for, say 5-10 minutes, until the spinach is perfectly tender and the flavors have a chance to meld. If there is juice left in the pan, raise the heat to high and let it cook off. The spinach should moist, but not wet.

Serve immediately.

Notes

There’s not too much to say about this dish—it’s really straight-forward. The only real tricks lie in the kind of spinach you choose to use, as indicated above, plus the fat you prefer to use. Baby spinach usually comes pre-washed and dried and ready to cook—a real godsend. Mature spinach usually has at least some grit caught in the wrinkly leaves or concave stems; better to wash it well, just in case. I don’t think the grit is likely to kill you, but it is unpleasant to bite into. (Trust me on this one…) You can also use defrosted frozen spinach (even Ada Boni endorses it!) as if you were using pre-cooked mature spinach. And, yes, defrost it, even if the package says you don’t have to, and squeeze the spinach dry. If it hasn’t been pre-chopped, then do so before adding it to the pan.

The measurements given to the raisins and pine nuts, by the way, shouldn’t be taken too seriously. Many Italian recipes just call for a ‘handful’ of each, and I usually just ‘eyeball’ it, adding as much as I feel like. Just make sure there’s enough so you can get a bit of raisin and pine nut along with each bite of spinach.

You can successfully make spinaci alla romana ahead of time; for a fresher taste, stop right after adding the raisins and pine nuts and leave the final simmer until just before you’re ready to serve.

Related articles

• Spinaci ripassati in padella (Sautéed Spinach)
• Mock puntarelle alla romana 
• Uova alla fiorentina (The Real Eggs Florentine)

Don’t know about you, but I love cheese. Just about any kind. In our house we tend to eat more cheese during the cool winter months, but the arrival of warm weather doesn’t mean we give up cheese altogether. Far from it. Rather, aged cheese tends to give way to fresh cheeses like ricotta and—especially—mozzarella.

I will never forget the first time a true mozzarella in its production zone (Campania and southern Lazio). It was a revelation: a moist, soft but springy texture and a creamy taste with just a slightly tangy aftertaste (the sign of a true mozzarella di bufala, made with the milk of water buffalo). Sadly, real mozzarella does not travel well; even in Rome, just a few kilometers to the north, it was hard to find mozzarella that tasted as good as it did on its home turf. Don’t ask me why.

In this country, much of what is sold as ‘mozzarella’ is rubbery and tasteless, and, if you ask me, even ‘artisanal’ mozzarella is generally nothing to write home about.  (One exception, the legendary Joe’s Dairy in New York, recently closed its doors.) Perhaps some day I’ll find a truly delicious mozzarella made locally, but in the meanwhile, the imported variety is well worth seeking out, especially if you want to eat your mozzarella uncooked, say in an insalata caprese.

Mozzarella in carrozza, literally “mozzarella cheese in a carriage”, is one of the rustic glories of Neapolitan cuisine. It’s a kind of savory French toast, or a kind of grilled cheese sandwich, only fried. Like either of these cousins, it’s rather easy to make. And very flexible, which is why this recipe doesn’t give much in the way of measurements—just keep going until you use up your bread and cheese. Count about 1-2 sandwiches per person as an antipasto, more if you’re hungry or using the dish as a piatto unico. The great thing about this dish is, you don’t need the best quality mozzarella di bufala to get acceptable results, although, of course, the better the cheese, the tastier the dish.

Ingredients

• Bread, preferably slightly stale, crust removed, cut into evenly shaped sliced (see Notes)
• Mozzarella cheese, sliced
• A bowlful of milk
• A bowlful of flour
• A bowlful of beaten eggs, seasoned with salt and pepper
• Olive or vegetable oil
• Salt
• Lemon wedges (for garnish)

For the anchovy sauce (optional):

• A tin or jar of anchovy fillets
• A good pour of olive oil
• 1-2 garlic cloves, finely minced
• A few sprigs of parsley, finely chopped

Directions

Take the slices of bread, then place a slice of mozzarella cheese between two of the bread slices to make a sandwich. (Make sure that the mozzarella slices are smaller than the bread slices, so that you have a good 1/2in/1 cm margin around the slices, to prevent the cheese from oozing out as it melts during cooking.)

Fill a large skillet with the oil, enough for a semi-deep fry, about 2cm/1 inch deep. While the oil is heating up,  set up your ‘assembly line’:  Line up the milk, flour and seasoned beaten egg, each in separate bowls, preferably right next to the frying pan. Have a grate at the ready for draining the sandwiches after they’re fried. Here was my set up:

Dip each mozzarella sandwich, on both sides, in the milk until nice and moist, then in the flour, then in the beaten eggs seasoned with salt and pepper, making sure the bread is well impregnated with the egg. Then fry each sandwich in the oil over moderately high heat until golden brown on each side—a few at a time so that you don’t crowd the frying pan. As the sandwiches are done, transfer them to the rack  while you fry the rest.

When they’re all done, sprinkle the sandwiches with salt and serve immediately.

Mozzarella in carrozza is traditionally served just like this, perhaps with lemon wedges on the side. But I like to gild the lily by serving them with a bit of anchovy sauce: you empty a tin or jar of anchovies with some olive oil in a saucepan over moderate heat. Stir until the anchovies have broken up and are sizzling, then add a tablespoon or so of water. The anchovies will almost instantly form a smooth sauce. Add finely minced garlic (a garlic press works well here) and parsley. Stir once, then remove from the heat. You can spoon this sauce on top or around the sandwiches or, since anchovies can be ‘controversial’, in a sauceboat for those who want it.

Notes

As mentioned, this is a dish that will transform even supermarket mozzarella into something quite edible. Fresh mozzarella made with cow’s milk is definitely a step up, albeit still a bit rather bland. For either option, the anchovy sauce will help add interest. Best of all, use imported mozzarella di bufala, if you can find it. It’s available at better Italian delis, upscale supermarkets like Balducci’s, and, believe it or not, at Costco, where they sell Garofalo brand which, they say, is flown in overnight from Caserta. (I got that tip from a friend who worked at the Italian embassy.)

Best quality mozzarella tends to be rather runny, so let the slices drain for a minute or two and pat them dry before using them. And whatever kind of mozzarella you buy, be sure to serve the sandwiches soon after they’re cooked. Even best quality mozzarella tends to harden disagreeably if melted and left to cool too much.

As for the bread, good quality sandwich bread (called pan carrè in Italian), should work fine and is used by many Italians. Personally, I like homemade or artisan round breads for their firmer, chewier texture. Speaking of which, bread that is a day or two (or more) old works very well. In fact, it is likely that this dish (like French toast) was invented to make good use of stale bread. A firm texture is what you need—if the bread it too fresh or too soft, it may fall apart when dipped in eggs and milk. When using loaf bread, the slices are typically trimmed and cut into triangular wedges. If using a rustic loaf, you can use a cookie cutter to cut rounds out of the slices, or simply cut them with a knife into squares.

The mozzarella sandwiches are traditionally fried in olive oil, and it really is the best way to do it. But you need not use your best extra virgin olive oil for the task. In fact, ‘pure’ olive oil, perhaps enriched with a good pour of extra virgin for flavor, work well at less cost. In a pinch, canola or other vegetable oil will do fine, although again, what you lose in flavor you should make up with extra seasoning.

The dish is easy to make, if a bit messy. The only tricky part is making sure the sandwiches don’t fall apart in the frying process. Besides using the right kind of bread, make sure not to overstuff the sandwiches with cheese. If you do, the slices of bread will not make contact and adhere one to the other. Then you need to make sure that the egg—which will bind the bread slices together—impregnates the bread. To do that, you can even leave the sandwiches in the egg for a few minutes before frying. Then allow the sandwich to fry until golden brown before turning it over:this will ‘set’ the egg. Finally, turn the sandwiches carefully, using a flat spatula and a fork or spoon to support the sandwich as you turn it. Then let it cook thoroughly on the other side.

There are various ways to dip the sandwiches. The ingredients are always the same: milk, flour and seasoned egg. But some recipes call for mixing the egg and milk together: you dip the sandwich in the egg and milk, then in the flour, then back in the egg and milk. Or, you can actually mix all three ingredients to make a kind of batter—or pastella, as they call it in Italian, in which you dip the sandwiches. See which way suits you best.

There are some variations. You can add an anchovy filet on top of the mozzarella as part of the ‘stuffing’ or you can add a slice of ham. In either case, omit the anchovy sauce, which would be redundant in the first case and discordant in the second.

Mozzarella in carrozza is usually thought of as an antipasto, but I find it satisfying enough to serve as a piatto unico, or one dish meal, or as  a savory snack. Follow it with a green salad and some fruit. Accompany with a robust wine, either white or red.

Post scriptum

By the way, if you have leftover beaten egg, don’t throw it away: Add a few spoonfuls of any leftover flour, then add some grated cheese (either Parmesan or pecorino) and some chopped parsley, together with a good grind of pepper. Fry this very loose batter in the olive oil. You’ll wind up with some free-form egg fritters that might not be very pretty, but are really tasty.

Related articles

• Insalata caprese (Tomato, Mozzarella and Basil Salad)
• Angelina’s Fried Vegetables
• Pizzette fritte (Little Fried Pizzas)
• Calzoncini napoletani (Neapolitan Fried Turnovers)
• The Campania’s food and cuisine (naplestourguide.wordpress.com)

Fettuccine «Alfredo» has a unique place in the multifaceted world of Italian cookery. The dish is famous in America and hardly known in Italy, but it is actually Italian, not Italian-American, at least originally. It was invented by Roman restauranteur Alfredo di Lelio, who—the story goes—invented it to suit his pregnant wife who had lost her appetite for most foods. He later introduced the dish, modestly named after himself, into the menu of his restaurant on via della Scofa in 1914. Some years later, in 1920 he famously served it to American film stars Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks, who were visiting Rome on their honeymoon. And the rest, as they say, is history. His fettuccine «Alfredo»—really just a richer variation on a perfectly everyday dish, fettuccine al burro—became a hit in the States.  Lucky Alfredo hit the proverbial jackpot, making oodles of money from his famous noodles as a veritable parade of Hollywood movie stars trapsed through his establishment, along with lots of eager, well-healed tourists.

If you want to experience a bit of culinary history, you can visit Alfredo’s restaurant still today—there are actually two now, the second one is down the via della Scrofa at the piazza Augusto Imperatore (home to the ruins of Emperor Augustus‘ mausoleum and his ‘Altar of Peace’, or Ara Pacis, one of the most intact and, to my mind, most beautiful pieces of Roman architecture still in existence). You can try Alfredo’s famous fettuccine in their birthplace, surrounded by other tourists, if you’re willing to pay the dizzying prices. During my years in Rome, we lived not too far from Alfredo’s, and passed it almost on a daily basis. It was one of those places where you would pass by and never hear Italian spoken—an oddity even in fairly touristy places. I didn’t know a single Italian who had ever set foot inside, and neither did I, in the ten years I lived there.

In any event, this venerable dish is very simple and easy to make if you have the right ingredients—real, freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese, best quality butter and fettuccine, ideally homemade, of course, but good-quality store-bought egg pasta will do just fine as well. It may come as a surprise to some readers, but Alfredo’s original recipe does not call for cream; that was added when the dish crossed the ocean to America. In the original version, the cheese is mixed vigorously with the pasta and a bit of the water in which the pasta is cooked, forming a creamy consistency without the actual cream, sort of like that other Roman pasta dish, cacio e pepe. I like both versions of the dish, but it’s really worth trying the original recipe. It has a purer taste and, if not exactly dietetic, is rather lighter than its American cousin.

Ingredients

Serves 4-6 persons

• 500g (1 lb.) of  egg fettuccine (if you’re making homemade, use 5 eggs)
• 250g (1/2 lb.) butter, preferably of the cultured “European style” type
• 250g (1/2 lb.) freshly grated imported parmigiano-reggiano cheese
• Salt, to taste
• A grinding of fresh pepper (optional)

Directions

Put a large pot, filled with water, on high heat. While the water is heating up, melt the butter in a skillet over very gentle heat, making sure that the butter just melts without coloring at all. Turn off the heat.

When the water comes to a boil, add a good pinch of salt and the noodles. Cook only until quite al dente, typically 2-3 minutes for store-bought fettuccine, a bit less for the freshly made kind.

Now drain and transfer the fettuccine to the skillet. Add a pinch of salt and mix vigorously with a fork and spoon, or with some long tongs. Add a handful of cheese and a ladleful of the pasta water and mix again, then more cheese and mix, until the cheese has been used up. Add a bit more pasta water if and when needed—the cheese should melt into a smooth, creamy sauce. It should not be at all watery, but the pasta should be ‘loose’ and slither around the pan easily.

Serve the fettuccine immediately, with additional grated cheese for those who want it. While not part of the original recipe, a fresh grinding of black pepper would not be amiss.

Notes

Some recipes call for making this dish off heat, in a warm bowl, but I like using a skillet. It keeps the pasta warm, and is more forgiving if you happen to add a bit too much pasta water, for example, you can cook it off. It also keeps the pasta nice and hot. But make sure the heat is very gentle, or the sauce will ‘fry’ and lose its creamy texture.

If you want to make this dish “American style”, just add a good glug of heavy cream to the butter and let it reduce until it reaches a ‘saucy’ consistency. Otherwise, the recipe is identical. Well, that is, the classic American style dish. These days you can find just about anything made “Alfredo”, sometime sans pasta… but let’s not go there…

All you need: fettuccine, butter and real parmigiano reggiano…

Besides the imported parmigiano-reggiano cheese, if you can find imported European cultured butter, which has richer flavor than ‘sweet’ butter, that’s all to the good. For this evening’s dinner, I actually found some butter from Parma, which naturally made a perfect match for the cheese. And the noodles, of course, need to be best-quality as well. If you’d rather not make them yourself at home, the De Cecco brand puts out some very nice fettuccine at a moderate price. Cipriani also makes excellent tagliatelle (a thinner version of fettuccine) but at twice the price. On the other hand, avoid the rubbery stuff they sell in supermarkets as ‘fresh’ egg pasta. I find it has terrible texture and a funny taste.

Related articles

• Tonnarelli «cacio e pepe »
• Tagliatelle alla crema di asparagi (Tagliatelle with Asparagus Purée)
• How to Make Fresh Egg Pasta
• The Varieties of Italian Cooking

This elegant but easy dessert is a kind of dressed up version of Angelina’s humble pizza dolce. The basic recipe for this ‘pudding’ calls for just ricotta, eggs and sugar, and it’s perfectly delicious at its simplest. But, if you like,  you can add various the fillings and toppings according to the season and your whim. Let your creativity run wild!

Ingredients

Enough to make 6 individual servings or one large pudding

• 500g (1 lb.) ricotta cheese
• 100g (3-1/2 oz.) caster sugar
• 3 whole eggs plus one egg yolk
• 1 heaping spoonful of flour (optional)

Optional fillings and flavorings:

• A drizzle of rum, sambuca or other liqueur
• Candied fruit
• Chocolate chips
• Almonds, peeled and crushed in mortar

Optional toppings:

• Powdered sugar
• Chocolate shavings
• Ciliegie sciroppate (Cherries in brandy)
• Strawberry coulis (see below)

Directions

If your ricotta is a bit lumpy or runny, let it drain for a good 20 minutes in a sieve and then press it through the sieve.

Separate the 3 eggs, adding the yolks to the ricotta and reserving the whites. Add the extra yolk to the ricotta along with the sugar and (if using) flour. Mix all these ingredients together until well amalgamated. If using, add one or more of the optional fillings and flavorings to the ricotta mixture, incorporating them very well.

Whip the egg whites until they are quite fluffy and stiff. The whites should retain its shape and stand up by themselves like this:

Now add the whipped whites to the ricotta mixture. Fold the whites very gently into the mixture with a spatula, scooping the mixture from the bottom in a circular motion like so:

until you have a homogenous, fluffy mass like this:

Now grease the inside of a large mold (or individual molds—see Notes below) with butter and add cover them in breadcrumbs, shaking the mold around so that the breadcrumbs adhere and cover the inside surface completely. Turn the mold over and shake out any excess breadcrumbs.

Now add the ricotta mixtures to the mold, making sure not to overfill it, as the mixture will expand considerably as it cooks.

Bake the mold in a moderate oven (180C/350F) until the mixture is set and browned at the edges, about 30 minutes for individual molds, 45-60 minutes for a single large mold.

Let the pudding cool completely. Unmold it by flipping it over onto a baking tray, like so:

Serve your budino, if you like, with one of the suggested toppings.

Notes

A lovely spring topping for this budino would be a strawberry purée, also known as a coulis. To make this purée, simply simmer together trimmed strawberries, sugar to taste and the juice of one lemon for about five minutes, until the berries are very soft.

Blend the strawberries until you have a perfectly smooth ‘sauce’.

Like many popular recipes, there are multiple variations you can try. The number of eggs varies enormously among recipes; Ada Boni, calls for only one egg and one extra yolk for this amount of ricotta, for example. Not all recipes call for whipping the eggs whites, which gives the pudding a firmer consistency. Not all recipes call for flour—Boni calls for a few spoonfuls of semolina flour, cooked with water into a thick paste. And, of course, the amount of sugar can vary according to your taste.

There are also different sizes and shapes of molds you can use for this recipe: A medium sized charlotte mold works well for a single budino, although you can use a loaf pan or bundt mold as well. For individual budini, you can use little ramekins; a muffin tray is quite convenient if you’re making a batch. Even easier, you can bake the budino in a pie plate or ceramic ramekins and serve it without unmolding.

Related articles

• Angelina’s Pizza dolce 
• Sformato di finocchi (Fennel Sformato)
• Pasta con la ricotta (Pasta with Ricotta Cheese)

I love chicken, but I find it a shame that so many people overlook all the other edible birds out there: duck, goose, turkey, pigeon, guinea fowl, Cornish hens and—last but not least—quail, just to name a few. Most of these can be hard to find these days, as supermarkets have, for the most part, succumbed to the tyranny of the chicken. Still, turkey is easy enough to find (it’s well worth seeking out even when it’s not Thanksgiving!) and you can sometimes find one of the other birds, if not fresh then frozen. And thank heaven for the internet, where D’Artagan offers quail and other ‘gourmet poultry’ online.

Small birds like quail or Cornish hens are especially suited, to my taste, for light, elegant meals. Quail don’t offer a lot of meat, but they have a wonderfully delicate taste. And if you can’t find them, a small Cornish hen will work in any recipe calling for quail, including this one: quail braised in white wine with young spring peas and pancetta. The peas lend their sweetness and the pancetta it savoriness. Quail is a lean bird, but slow, moist heat keeps it nice and juicy. The peas are braised along with the bird, for enough time for them to cook and absorb the wonderful juices. There’s no real sauce, but if you take a bit of bird, pancetta and peas with each bite, and you won’t miss it.

Ingredients

For 6 persons

•  6 quail or 3 Cornish hens, split down the middle lengthwise
• 100g (3-1/2 oz) pancetta, cut into cubes
• 3-4 cloves of garlic, lightly crushed
• Dry white wine
• 500g (16 oz) peas, frozen or fresh and shelled
• Olive oil
• Salt and pepper

Directions

If using the Cornish hens, split them down the middle, through the breast bone and down through the backbone, then lay them on their sides, skin side up, and give them all a good thumping with the bottom of a skillet to flatten them out.

In a sauté pan or braiser large enough to hold all the birds in a single layer, sauté the pancetta gently in olive oil until the fat is translucent. Raise the heat and add the birds and the garlic. Brown the birds nicely on both sides. Season them with salt and pepper on both sides, turning all the while in the oil. Then add a splash of white wine.

Cover the pan and lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Let the birds braise for about 30 minutes, turning them from time to time. If you find the pan is drying out, add a bit more wine or water as you go.

If using fresh peas, add them about halfway through; if using fresh peas, add them about 5 minutes before the end.

Optional: If you like your skin brown and crispy like I do, remove the birds from the pan and run them under a hot broiler for a few minutes, until nice and golden.

Serve the birds on a bed of the braised peas.

Notes

For this Sunday’s dinner, I couldn’t find quail at the local supermarket so I used some small Cornish hens, and they were perfectly delicious made this way. If using quail, you can stuff them with a bit of pancetta and a few rosemary leaves and a peppercorn or two, for extra flavor.

The dish can also be made in rosso—with a tomato sauce—by adding a small can of tomatoes, crushed with your hands as you drop them into the pan, right after the wine. You could also go in another direction entirely: substitute shallots for the garlic, use butter instead of olive oil (or in combination) and add a good pour of heavy cream at the end, letting it reduce to a saucy consistency before serving.

Related articles

• Pan-Roasted Quail with Chanterelles
• Piselli alla romana (Roman-Style Peas)
• Seppie coi piselli alla romana (Squid Braised with Peas, Roman-Style)
• Buy quail online (D’Artagnan.com)

Spring is a special time of year. There’s nothing that lifts a body’s spirits quite like the green shoots and gentle sun of spring. And then there’s the wonderful produce that starts to appear in our markets—tiny peas, artichokes, slender green asparagus, fava beans in their hefty pods, plump strawberries… Even in this age when you can get just about anything in any season, it still warms my heart. There is nothing like the taste of those first tender asparagus that appear in the spring. Between them and artichokes, I’d be hard pressed to say which I like better.

Asparagus makes for a great antipasto or second dish, but it can also serve as a delicious condimento for risotto or, even better in my opinion, pasta. We’ve already seen how to make asparagus lasagna—a fabulous if effortful dish. Here’s a quicker way to enjoy asparagus and pasta, something you can whip up in no more than 30 minutes tops (assuming you’re using store-bought pasta). For this dish, and most others, I prefer the thin ‘pencil’ asparagus. They don’t need peeling and have a more delicate flavor than their thicker cousins, but you can make this dish with either variety.

Ingredients

For 4-6 servings

• Fresh egg pasta made with 4 eggs, cut into tagliatelle or 4 ‘nests’ of store-bought tagliatelle

For the sauce:

• 2 bunches of fresh asparagus
• 250 ml (1 cup) of heavy cream
• 50g (2 oz) butter
• Salt
• 2 shallots (optional)

Grated parmigiano cheese

Directions

If using fresh egg pasta, roll it out very thin and cut it using the fettuccine/tagliatelle attachment of your pasta machine.

Trim and (if using fat asparagus, peel) your asparagus spears. Boil the asparagus in well-salted water until it is perfectly tender (not crisp-tender), about 5 minutes for thin asparagus, perhaps 7 for the thicker variety. (Test for doneness with a paring knife.)  Cut off the tips and reserve, putting the tipless spears into a food processor with the heavy cream and a pinch of salt. Process until you have a perfectly smooth purée.

In a wide skillet, melt the butter. If using the shallots, sauté them gently for a minute or two. Add the asparagus purée and let it simmer for just a few minutes, until it has warmed and slightly reduced. Turn off the heat.

Now boil your pasta in well-salted water until al dente. For freshly made egg pasta, just drop it the boiling water and let it come back to the boil. If your pasta has been rolled really thin, that should be enough. If not, you can let it go for a minute or two longer, no more. If using store-bought tagliatelle, follow the instructions on the box.

While the pasta is cooking, sauté the asparagus tips with a nut of butter, just long enough for them to absorb the butter and warm up. Do not let them brown.

When done, drain and transfer the pasta to the skillet, along with a small ladleful of the pasta water, and mix it well with the asparagus purée over low heat. Let the pasta absorb the purée until it is well coated but slight quite slithery. You can add more water if things feel ‘sticky’.

Serve with the sautéed tips on top, either in individual warmed plates or in a communal bowl for the table, with grated parmigiano on the side for those who like it.

Notes

Here’s a tip for some extra flavor: Boil your pasta in the water you used for the asparagus.

The asparagus purée sauce is also very nice with short, stubby pastas like penne or, better yet, its little sisters, pennette.

Another version of this dish has you sauté chopped asparagus in butter, tossed then with the pasta and grated parmigiano. It’s also wonderful, a bit lighter and even easier than this recipe. But the taste of puréed asparagus in a butter and cream reduction is something you really should try at least once. Trust me on this one..

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Salsa verde, literally ‘green sauce’, is a quick, parsley-based raw condiment, intensely flavored with garlic, anchovies, capers, a dash of vinegar and, if you like, a pinch of hot red pepper, all bathed in fruity olive oil. It  is a culinary cousin to other such sauces like the Sicilian salmoriglio or the Argentinian chimichurri and the Spanish mojo verde. It most often used as an accompaniment to boiled meats, but it has other uses as well. Hard-boiled eggs go particularly well with a drizzle of pungent salsa verde. It take only minutes to make, but the beautiful result is bound to impress, even at the fanciest of occasions.

And take note of this method for making hard-boiled eggs—rather than boiling them until done, they are brought to the boil, simmered for only a minute or two, then tightly covered and left to cook by residual heat. This gentle cooking makes for a perfect eggs every time. No more rubbery whites or green-tinged yolks!

Ingredients

Serves 4-6 as part of a buffet or antipasto spread

• 6 eggs
• A dash of white vinegar

For the sauce:

• 10 sprigs (or so) of fresh parsley, stems removed
• 2-3 cloves of garlic, peeled
• A heaping spoonful of capers, drained and rinsed
• 4-5 anchovy fillets
• A dash of white wine vinegar
• Salt and pepper
• A pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)
• 3-4 cornichons (optional)
• 250 ml (1 cup) of olive oil, or as much as you need to reach the right consistency

Directions

 To hard boil the eggs: Put the eggs in a saucepan with enough water to cover them by a good 3 cm/1 inch or more and (if you like) a dash of vinegar. Bring the eggs to a boil, then lower the heat to a simmer. Let the eggs simmer for a minute or so. Turn off the heat and cover the pan with a tight-fitting lid. Let the eggs rest, covered, for 10 minutes or so (for medium eggs), 15 minutes for large or extra large eggs. You can let them rest for a few minutes longer if you want very firm eggs; personally, I like my yolks to have just a smidgen of runniness at the center.

When the eggs are done, drain them into a colander and run them immediately under cold water. Let them cool a bit before peeling them under running cold water. Made this way, they should peel quite easily, just crack them gently against the side of the sink and rub the shell off with your fingers as the running water carries the shell away.

Meanwhile, you can make your salsa verde: Place all the ingredients, minus the olive oil, in a food processor. Using the pulse function, chop them all into a fine mince. Then turn on the processor and pour in the olive oil, until you have reached a nice, ‘saucy’ consistency. The sauce should be thick but loose enough to be pourable. Taste for seasoning. The sauce should be very piquant; add more salt or pepper or other seasonings as suits your taste.

Cut the hard-boiled eggs in half using a wet slicing knife. Arrange on a plate and drizzle the green sauce over and around them. If you have some left over, you can serve it separately at table—it’s so delicious that guests often want more on their eggs.

Notes

Capers come either pickled in brine or dry and salted. In the States the pickled variety is much more common, even if the salted kind are said to be finer. But for this dish, either will do fine. If you do use the pickled variety, go easy on the vinegar.

Similarly, anchovies come as fillets packed in oil or whole, dry and salted. Again, the salted variety has finer taste and texture, but the most commonly found oil-packed kind are fine to be use here. The salt variety, which can be found in better Italian delis, should be rinsed well and filleted by hand, which is actually very easy to do. You can  literally just pull the fillets off the center bone with your hands, under gently running water.

Salsa verde has a fair number of variations. It is not uncommon to mix in some crustless bread or the yolk of a hard-boiled egg to thicken the sauce. Personally, I like it unthickened, but since you’re making eggs anyway you can always make one extra and add the yolk to the sauce if you like. I also go very easy on the vinegar, and often I don’t use any, especially if I’m using capers and/or cornichons, which already add enough acidity for me. Anyway, take the ingredients and measurements as a guide, and feel free to vary them as you like. This sauce is very customizable. That’s the beauty of it.

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Today is Pasquetta, or ‘Little Easter’, known in English as Easter Monday. A holiday in Italy and much of Europe, folks traditionally take to the roads to drive out to the countryside and enjoy a fresh air picnic. In Campania and elsewhere, one favorite item in the Pasquetta picnic basket is the pizza rustica, literally ‘rustic pie’, a savory concoction of flake pastry crust with a filling of eggs, cheese and cured meats. It’s a kind of simple country cousin to the more elaborate casatiello, the ne plus ultra of Easter pies. The pizza rustica is much better known abroad, and is much appreciated by Italian-Americans.

The only part of this recipe that’s a bit tricky, at least for non-bakers like myself, is the crust. This version of the pizza rustica uses a crust made from a pasta sfoglia, usually translated into English as puff pastry, made from flour and lard, mixed with just enough water to bring things together. It needs careful handling—not too much kneading, which would develop the glutens and produce a tough crust. And the high fat content means the dough needs to be kept cold or it will quickly become unworkable. Having said that, it’s not as difficult as it may sound. Hey, if I can do it, you can.

Ingredients

For the crust:

• 5oog (1 lb) flour (see Notes)
• 250g (1/2 lb) lard (or butter)
• Salt, to taste
• 100 ml (1/2 cup) tepid water, or enough to form a ball

For the filling:

• 350g (12 oz) ricotta 
• 5 medium eggs
• 350g (12 oz) mozzarella, cut into small cubes (see Notes)
• 150g (5 oz) prosciutto and/or salami, cut into small cubes (see Notes)
• 100 g (3-1/2 oz) grated Parmesan cheese (or a mixture of Parmesan and pecorino)
• Salt and pepper

1 egg, plus a few drops of water (optional)

Directions

Step 1: Making the pasta sfoglia:  Place the flour and the lard in a large bowl. Mix them together with your hands, squeezing the lard through your fingers until it is well incorporated into the flour, forming little grains that will look a bit like moist sand:

Now begin to add the water, mixing this time with a spatula, until the flour has come together. Use your hands to form the dough into a ball:

Wrap the dough ball with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to chill for about an hour.

Step 2: Making the filling: Put the ricotta and eggs into another large bowl. Mix them well until you have achieved a smooth custard-like mixture:

Now add the other cheeses and cured meats, mixing them into the ricotta and egg mixture with a spatula until the mixture is homogeneous. The mixture will have stiffened up quite a bit:

If you’re still waiting for the dough to chill, place the filling in the fridge too, covered with plastic wrap to keep it moist. (Both dough and filling can wait for several hours, or even overnight, if you like.)

 Step 3: Assembling the pizza rustica: When the dough ball is well chilled, take it from the fridge and unwrap it. Flour your working surface (if possible, it should be marble or granite) and your dough ball, too, to prevent sticking. Take about 2/3 of the dough, flour it well on all sides and form it again into a ball, and flatten the dough ball out a bit with a rolling pin:

Now take the rolling pin and roll out the dough into a fairly thin (but not paper thin) disk, turning the dough with each roll to ensure it comes out as evenly round as you can manage. (No need for perfection here…)

Now you need to place the dough into a pie plate—but whatever you do, don’t try to move this delicate dough with your hands! Instead, roll up the dough with your rolling pin:

Now, using your rolling pin, transfer the dough onto a pie plate and unfurl it on top of the plate, making sure it covers the entire plate by a good measure. Press the dough down into the plate to make a shell, like so:

Cut off the excess dough that hangs over the edges of the plate. Now place all the stuffing into the shell:

Now you have two choices: you can roll out the remaining dough into another disk, to use as a cover for the pie OR, as I like, you can take a little more time and effort to make a lattice top. For the latter, roll the remaining dough out into a long, rectangular shape, then using a pastry wheel, cut the dough into long strips. If you’re hand isn’t too steady (like mine) you can use the rolling pin as a guide:

Now lay the strips over the filling in a cross-hatch pattern. Take up all the remaining dough and roll it out into one long strip. Twist that last strip so it resembles a cord and use it to create a trim all around the edge of the pice plate. You  should wind up with a pie like this:

Finally, if you like, take one more egg, add a few drops of water and beat them together well with a fork. Then brush this egg wash all over the surface of the pie. This will help the surface to brown and develop an attractive sheen.

Step 4: Baking: Place the pizza rustica into a moderately hot over, say about 190C/375F for an hour or so, until the filling is cooked through and the top is nicely brown. If you like a browner crust, you can raise the temperature for the last 15 minutes or so, using the convection setting if you have one.

Let the pie cool for 20-30 minutes before eating. The pie can also be eaten at room temperature which, to my taste, makes it even better. When eaten warm, the filling will be rather creamy and your slices a bit messy, if very tasty:

When eaten cold, the filling will firm up quite a bit and the pie can be sliced very neatly, perfect for an Easter Monday picnic:

Notes

The crust given here is my personal favorite. It is savory and flaky and delicious. It is not really true puff pastry, however, which involves incorporating the fat into layers of dough to produce a truly ‘puffy’ result. It is more like a more homely pie crust. Another version of the dish, however, is made with a dough made from flour and egg with only a bit of butter or lard for enrichment. It makes a firmer but less friable crust, better some say for eating cold although I would disagree. Some recipes also call for adding sugar to the crust, which, of course, makes it sweet. The contrast of sweet crust and savory filling intrigues me (some pasta timbales are made that way as well) but, not having much of a sweet tooth, I haven’t tried it.

The filling always begins with the egg and ricotta mixture, but from there you can add the cheeses and cured meats you like. Smoked provola is a common addition and provolone (not too aged) would also be nice. Older recipes, including the first written recipe for pizza rustica, from Il Cuoco Galante, an 18th century Neapolitan cookbook by the illustrious Vincenzo Corrado, calls for fresh sausage, cooked and sliced.

Besides it role in a picnic, you can serve pizza rustica as part of an antipasto spread for Easter dinner itself, just like we did…

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Folks,

My cyber-friend Chiara Giglio has done us the honor of featuring Memorie di Angelina today on her lovely blog, La voglia matta. You may remember Chiara from my post on la jota triestina. She hails from Trieste but (I just found out) her father is also from Campania, the region of Italy where Angelina was born. No wonder we’ve become virtual bffs! I’ve been following Chiara for some time now and you’re always sure to find something delicious on her blog, so do check it out.

You can find Chiara’s lovely profile on your humble correspondent  here.

Happy cooking!
Frank

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