Archive for July 2010
Something holy (Fritelle di Zucchine)
She is angry and she has every right to be. On her lap a bowl with a lousy few rice kernels, the little girl with matchstick arms and legs is crying her huge eyes out. Her gripping portrait is on all the trams and some buses in Rome, and next to it in black bold letters it says: “I’m mad as hell and I can’t take this anymore.”
The visual is a not-so-subtle reminder that there are currently 1.02 billion people in the world going hungry and it is maddening indeed. FAO estimates that this number has never been greater at any time since 1970, when these statistics became available. The problem is especially hard to stomach since there is enough food to nourish the entire planet.
In a city where food is so omnipresent, and truly lies at the core of its identity, the portrait for the 1billionhungry campaign troubled me. Food is almost holy here, but at the same time, as Gandhi phrased it, “there are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.”
For those who are feeling equally uncomfortable I can suggest watching the TED talk of agricultural scientist and thinker Dr. Louise Fresco. She is not one of the romantic, yet naïve advocators of ‘slow’, small-scale organic production, because she claims that if we want to feed the world we’ll need mass-production, albeit with environmentally sound methods. But we should still honour smaller producers and traditional practices. Although we hardly ever have an idea where our food comes from, we should never take it for granted, she says. “Food in the end is something holy. It’s not about nutrients and calories, it’s about sharing, it’s about honesty, it’s about identity.”
And that’s what it is. Even if we have more than enough of it, food should never be taken for granted. I thought about this as I bought these beautiful zucchine romane, Roman zucchini. I got them from Fausto at the Esquilino market, a knowledgeable vendor and producer who owns a farm not far from Rome. It gave me a sense of connectedness knowing where these vegetables came from. And in the form of fritters, they were a feast. Almost holy. So make some, take a bite, chew, swallow and count your blessings.
Fritelle di Zucchine (Zucchini Fritters)
For 12-15 fritters
- 5 small or 3 large zucchini
- 1 large onion, finely chopped
- 2 tablespoons olive oil, plus oil for frying
- ½ cup sultana raisins
- ½ cup pine nuts
- 1 cup coarsely grated Parmesan
- 3 eggs, lightly beaten
- ½ tbsp dried sage
- 1 cup all purpose flour
- salt and black pepper
Coarsely grate the zucchini and transfer to a sieve or colander. Sprinkle with 2 teaspoons of salt, toss and set aside for about 30 minutes.
In a skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil and fry the onion over medium heat until soft and lightly browned. Set aside. Soak the raisins in 1 cup of water for 10-15 minutes and let them drain. In a small skillet, lightly toast the pine nuts, shaking the skillet frequently. Place them on a plate to cool.
Squeeze the zucchini firmly to remove any excess liquid (push down using your fist) and pat dry with a paper towel.
In a bowl, mix the zucchini, onion, raisins, pine nuts, Parmesan, eggs and sage. Sift the flour into it and mix well. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Heat a film of oil in a large skillet until it sizzles when you drop a small amount of batter in. Working in batches, make a few fritters by pouring in the batter, about 2 tablespoons per fritter. Flatten them with the back of a spatula. Gently turn them over once they start firming up in the middle. Cook for another 4-5 minutes over medium heat. They should be golden on both sides.
Drain on paper towels. Serve hot or at room temperature.
Mi sto squagliando (Roasted red beet soup)
It’s bloody bloody hot. Mi sto squagliando! I recently learnt how to say ‘I’m melting’, but also learnt that again, like so many other Roman expressions, it has other (more explicit?) meanings. Of course. But I guess in the situation of a nasty, overheated me it’s pretty clear that I mean to say that I cannot stand it! I’m happy as a clam here in Rome, but the heat is just a bit much, thank you.
With temperatures going over 30 degrees C (90F), Roman apartments basically become stoves. I sit very still, working with my head right next to the fan. The slightest physical exertion instantly produces a light film of sweat, sticking my clothes to my skin. Yuk.
Needless to say that heavy cooking is out of the question. After a recent market expedition I found a beautiful bunch of beets and decided it was time for some borscht. Doesn’t the name itself send chills down your spine? Borscht is originally a Ukrainian cold soup, but popular in most Eastern European countries. The idea of eating something from these regions I find strangely cooling, too.
For my take on borscht, I roasted the beets in the oven (during which you have to make sure to get the hell out of the kitchen!). Roasting brings out a sweet, rich flavor in them, where boiling leaves them tasting too earthy, I think. You spice the borscht up with a pinch of peperoncino macinato (ground chilli powder) and some fresh ginger. For sweetness, add some orange juice and a bit of maple syrup. Yes, nicely refreshing, now, where’s the ice-cold vodka?
Roasted red beet soup with oranges and ginger
About 3 bowls
- One bunch of small beets (about a kilo)
- Extra vergin olive oil
- 1 medium-sized onion, chopped
- 2 small garlic cloves, minced
- 1 cube (1cm2) ginger, minced
- zest of 1 orange
- pinch of chilli powder
- 1 cup vegetable broth
- Juice of 3 oranges (or about 1 cup)
- 1 tbsp maple syrup
- Salt and pepper, to taste
- 3 tbsp crème fraîche
Preheat the oven to 200 0C (375 F). Cut of the greens off the beats, scrub them clean and place them on a large sheet of aluminum foil. Drizzle with olive oil and fold the foil over, creating a closed pouch. Roast until tender. Depending on the number and size, this should take 30 to 45 minutes. Remove them from the oven and let them cool enough for you to peel them with your fingers. Cut them into large cubes.
In a large skillet, heat 2 tbsp of olive oil over medium heat and sauté the onion for about 3 minutes, add the garlic, ginger, orange zest en a pinch of chilli powder and sauté for another minute. Add beet cubes and broth, bring the liquid to a boil and let it simmer for 10-15 minutes, or until the beets are extremely soft.
Use a hand mixer or transfer the vegetables to a food processor, add orange juice and purée to a smooth, velvety mass. Add maple syrup and season with salt and black pepper or some more chilli powder, until you find it sweet, salty or spicy enough!
Serve at room temperature or chilled, add one tablespoon of crème fraîche to each bowl right before serving.
Today I feel orange (Orange, fennel and anchovies salad)
I can’t help but feeling very happy for ‘our boys’ today. And I don’t even like soccer! I guess this collective happiness is contagious. Yesterday I watched the game with my roommates on a big screen at Villa Borghese, one of Rome’s stunning city parks. Surrounded by these typical Roman, towering pines, under a pitch-black sky, it was quite a surreal experience. With lots of hog-wild Dutchies in exuberant orange attire, of course, but there was a surprisingly large Italian crowd rooting for the Dutch team as well.
Today, I spotted dozens of orange T-shirts on the street. I guess the Italians do like the Dutch! It inspired me to create an orange salad for lunch. I believe this dish originates from Sicily, and it’s actually eaten during the Winter there, when oranges are in season. For the occasion I make an exception and bought exported navels from South Africa, actually quite appropriate given the context. You mix thin slices with fennel (finocchio in Italian and I won’t even go into its connotations), olives and marinated anchovies. It is light, sweet, salty and cool, the ultimate refreshment on a sultry day!
Orange, fennel and anchovies salad
(Insalata di arance, finocchi ed alici)
- 2 juicy navel oranges
- 1 large fennel bulb
- 10-12 marinated anchovies, cut in half
- 15 black olives
- <2 tbsp Extra vergin olive oil
- Fresh black pepper
Peel the oranges and remove all the pith. Slice them as thinly as possible, catching the juice on a plate. Trim the fennel (keep the green fuzz for garnish) and slice it evenly.
On a large serving dish, arrange the orange slices and the fennel, then distribute the olives and the anchovies. Drizzle with olive oil and remaining orange juice. Add fresh black pepper to taste. Garnish with a few fennel leaves. If the oranges are too sweet, give your salad a good squeeze of lemon.
The pictures are courtesy of Anne-Mie. Thanks!
