Food in Rome
Delicious superstitions (Speck-wrapped salmon in pomegranate sauce)
A few years ago I’d easily walk under ladders, didn’t freak out when I accidentally crossed glasses when toasting and when I spilled some salt well, I just cleaned it up. But here in Italy, where superstitions run rife, I’ve noticed some changes in my behavior.
Not that I suddenly started to believe in supernatural causation after I do or don’t do something. I find myths and old wives’ tales highly amusing, but my no-nonsense nature prevents me from finding any consolation in them. However, I hate to step on toes, especially since I’m a minority. I decided to learn about the most common superstitions when my umbrella almost (by accident!) opened in a bar and I got yelled at. Rome blogger Eleonora Baldwin gave a great introduction a while ago, but I keep hearing new things every day. Who knew hearing a cat sneeze brings good luck!
Actually, if something is supposed to bring good luck, I’m all for it now, especially food-wise. If it doesn’t help, it doesn’t hurt and at least I ate well! Last week at the market an elderly signora told me pomegranates are supposed to be on the holiday table as they bring good luck. I knew they were considered lucky in Turkish culture (the seeds represent prosperity and money), but in Italian too? After a quick search I discovered this ancient fruit symbolizes long life, eternal youth, fertility, offspring and luck in love.
Wow, good thing I love to cook with pomegranates. They will be on the new year’s table together with the mandatory lenticchie con cotechino (lentils with traditional pork sausage) bringing money and good fortune, so we got everything covered for the new year ahead. Happy 2012 everyone!
Speck-wrapped salmon in pomegranate sauce
I meant to use bacon or thinly sliced smoked pancetta for this recipe, but when I couldn’t find that I decided to go for the nothern Italian speck. It’s nice and smoky, and has enough saltiness to balance out the sweetness of the sauce.
- 1 decent-size salmon slice per person
- 2-3 thin slices of speck, pancetta or bacon per salmon slice
For the sauce:
- 4-5 tablespoons pomegranate molasses (look for Turkish ‘nar ekşisi’ or Iranian ‘Rob-e Anar’)
- Seeds of 1 pomegranate
- Pinch of chilli pepper
- Salt to taste
Preheat the oven to 180 °C (350 °F).
Lightly wrap every piece of salmon in 2-3 slices of speck. Heat olive oil and sauté every slice carefully over high heat for 4-5 minutes on each side. Place in a baking pan, cover with tin foil and bake in the oven for 10-15 minutes.
Add the pomegranate molasses to the sauté pan. Stir over high heat, add a couple of spoons of water, a pinch of chilli pepper and salt and about half of the pomegranate seeds. Let it reduce to a velvety sauce. Reduce heat, add the rest of the pomegranate seeds (keep a few on the side), add the salmon and warm for another 2-3 minutes. Serve on heated plates and sprinkle with remaining seeds.
Picture: stock xchange (pomegranate) and Luis Herrera (salmon dish)
The non-Italian food club (Mole duranguense)
What is that trick our minds play that we always crave what we can’t have? In Rome, food lovers’ paradise, I keep finding myself on the lookout for great non-Italian food. And I’m not the only one.
A couple of months ago at a party, my friend Luis mentioned he once carried a hefty iron tortilla maker in his hand luggage, from his native Mexico to Rome. Other friends immediately jumped at him: “Can you make us burritos?” And so he did, in a 4-course dinner that blew our minds. Weeks later I was invited over at Hande’s to have German food and most recently I organized an Indonesian dinner. I jokingly dubbed these nights “The Non-Italian Food Club”.
When a cab driver recently stated that Roman food is the best in the world I couldn’t say no. Just because he wouldn’t let me. Clinging to your traditions is a fantastic thing, because a lot of people including myself reap the benefits from unbending rules. But how many times do I have to say that ‘different’ doesn’t mean better or worse?
From a young age I was exposed to a variety of cuisines. Traditional Dutch food was only remarkable in the hands of both my grandmothers. My mom cooked a mean curry one night and a bouillabaisse the next. Obviously I followed her example. And then my horizon expanded even more during my stint in New York. Having great food at your fingertips 24/7 is exhilarating!
For the large immigrant population Rome has, the city boasts surprisingly few non-Italian restaurants. I’m not saying ethnic food, cause as mentioned in this article recently, is there such a thing as ethnic food? And besides, I mean ALL non-Italian food, whether it be Dutch, Scandinavian or Pakistani. Anyway, if you’re brave enough to venture out to one of them, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment most of the time. There’s a handful of half-decent Korean places, some Indian restaurants, Middle-Eastern maybe. But most of it is kind of bland.
I’ve set myself on a mission to find the best non-Italian eats in Rome, even if it means wielding through a lot of crappy food. My brave friend Katie already found a good number of them, including favorites as Mesob or Shawarma Station. But what about great Mexican? Or outstanding French cuisine? In the mean time, I hope there’ll be many more of these unforgettable home-cooked dinners!
Mole Duranguense de la abuela Elvira
This is a tried and tested recipe of Luis’s grandmother Elvira. ‘Mole’ is the general term for ‘sauce’. The best known version is ‘poblano’, containing chili peppers, chocolate, shredded turkey and some other 100 ingredients. This family version from the Durango region ‘only’ has 9 (excluding those used for the broth).
- For the broth: 1 onion, 2 garlic cloves and a bunch of fresh green herbs such as bay leaves, marjoram, thyme and so on.
- 3 chicken breasts
- 10 red ancho chilis
- 1 green plantain (peel included)
- 10 almonds
- 4 tablespoons sesame seeds
- 3 cm cinnamon stick, ground
- 3-4 slices of toasted bread
- 1 flour tortilla (browned in a frying pan with a bit of cooking oil)
- 1 ½ tablet of Oaxaca chocolate (alternative: 150 grams of 80% cacao dark chocolate)
In a large pot, bring water to a rolling boil, add roughly chopped onion, garlic, and fresh herbs and add the chicken breasts (whole) after a few minutes. Reduce the heat, and let the chicken boil until done. (This method is pretty common in Mexico, even so that it says ‘cook the chicken the normal way’ in the recipe). Remove chicken and set aside.
Slice the ancho peppers in half, remove the seeds and soak them for 20 minutes or so in some of the warm broth.
Slice the plantain horizontally (including the peel!) and fry the slices in a bit of cooking oil until golden.
Soak the almonds and the sesame seeds in a bit of warm water. Drain and place in a food processor, together with the chilis, cinnamon, the bread (in small chunks), the tortilla, and the plantain. Process until the paste has a velvety texture.
Add this paste to a heavy-bottomed pot, and, over low heat, add the chocolate piece by piece. Keep stirring slowly until you have a thick homogeneous sauce. If it’s too thick, add a few tablespoons of broth. Add salt to taste.
Shred the chicken breasts with a fork, add the shreds to the sauce, stir for about 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and let the mole stand for 1 to 2 hours. Reheat before serving.
We served the mole with a slice of fried plantain, refried beans and saffron rice.
Picture courtesy of Gina Tringali.
Rome-antic dinner for one (vanilla risotto with orange and cardamom caramel)
I hardly ever feel lonely and I surely feel far from desperate. But I have to say, being single in the city of love completely sucks some times. Exactly because being alone and being perfectly fine about it is seen as a gross anomaly in Italian culture. And boy, do they rub it in.
Ah, l’amore!
In the birthplace of San Valentino, public displays of affection (so-called PDA’s) are everywhere. Couples, no matter their age, are walking hand-in-hand, stealing kisses, sharing a gelato. And of course, enjoying romantic vistas together. Lovely. But why do these über-romantic spots seem to be off-limits if you’re not in due?
I deliberately break the unwritten rules when I visit the most romantic spots in Rome by myself. Yes, my Italian friends, you heard it well: ALONE. After a week of hard work, I love to buy a few mignons at Cristalli di Zucchero. Delicate, petit, a perfect treat for one. I take them to the Giardino Degli Aranci, a perfect garden with orange trees and postcard panorama’s. Parco Savello, as is the official name, seems to be out of bounds for the solo visitor, but I can’t care less.
I just sit there on a bench, soaking up the sun and slowly indulging in bignè alla crema or pan di spagna alle mandorle. The entire city is my companion. If I feel extra Rome-antic, I peek through the keyhole of a large gate, which makes Saint Peter’s appear as if it were framed in rose bushes (definitely the worst-kept secret of the city).
I walk home and cook something for myself. Usually dinner is dessert, just because I can. I set the table with a napkin, poor a glass of wine, light a candle and enjoy my company.
I discovered this caramel ‘by accident’, when I was making a spice mix for mulled wine and left it on the stove too long. It’s a perfect sweet companion for the delicate vanilla risotto.
Vanilla risotto with orange and cardamom caramel
Serves 1 romantic soul including nightly leftovers
For the risotto:
- 2-3 cups whole milk
- ½ vanilla pod
- 2 tablespoons butter
- 1 cup arborio rice
- 2 tablespoons sugar
For the orange caramel:
- 1 cup fresh orange juice
- zest of 1 orange
- 3 tablespoons sugar
- 2 cardamom pods, crushed
- 1 piece cinnamon bark
You can prepare this rice pudding risotto-style entirely with whole milk, but I prefer switching to adding hot water at some point, because I don’t like it too milky.
Bring milk to a boil, remove from heat. Add vanilla pod and let it soak for 3 minutes. When soft, slice pod open lengthwise, scrape out seeds and add pod and seeds to the milk.
For the caramel, heat orange juice in a small saucepan with orange zest, sugar, cardamom pods and cinnamon bark. Bring to a boil and let simmer for 15-20 minutes until reduced to about one third. Sieve and let reduce further until liquid caramelizes and thickens. Be careful not to brown the caramel too much. Set aside.
In a heavy-bottomed pot, melt butter over low heat. Add the rice and stir about minute, until all kernels are coated. You shouldn’t let them brown. Bring heat to medium and add about half of the milk. Stir frequently, this will get the starch out of the rice and eventually produce a velvety substance. Slowly add milk when the previous liquid has been almost cooked away. Continue with hot water or more hot milk if necessary, on a slow simmer for about 17 to 20 minutes. The rice grains should be cooked but still firm. Add sugar and taste: the risotto shouldn’t be too sweet. Let the rice stand for a few minutes, then serve in a bowl and drizzle the orange caramel over.
Pictures again made by Luis, my ‘stylist-slash-photographer’. I loooooove your pictures, guapo!
Making whole foods sexy – the Italian way (Linguine di farro al sugo di broccoli)
I can’t help it, when I think about whole grains and beans there’s always a bunch of dancing hippies in the image as well. Strange, because I hadn’t even been born in the seventies. But my childhood health store memories left their imprint.
In the early eighties, my dad followed a strict macrobiotic diet to battle rheumatism and he often took me to one of the few organic grocery stores in town. I hated it. I hated the penetrating sour smell, I hated the harsh lighting and endless wooden shelves, I hated the grey complexion and dull hair of the dungaree-wearing customers.
But most of all, I hated the food.
One bite of their bread felt like a steady rock in your tummy. The meat alternatives like seitan and tofu were awfully spongy, the germs of the brown rice got stuck between your teeth and worst of all, the ‘good for you’ candy was really good for no one.
Today it’s a bit more cheerful at organic and health food stores, but to say that they’ve had a complete make-over is an exaggeration (there are exceptions, like Marqt in Holland and of course, Whole Foods). A walk down the aisles is still a trip down memory lane. Please producers, update your packaging!
I’m always trying to eat wisely but I don’t need my food to remind me all the time how healthy it is for me. Spaghetti that takes forever to chew, beans that make your mouth dry, crackers that leave your palate gritty. Ugh.
Now that I’m training for the Paris marathon I’m extra careful with what I eat. Die-hard runners have advised me to eat lots and lots of protein-packed beans and good carb grains like buckwheat or spelt. And it’s surprisingly easy. Being in Italy helps. Here, legumes are not ‘health food’, they’re just food. At any market you’ll find an abundance of all sorts of dried beans, and the sheer sight of them makes me happy.
As a legacy of poverty, most regional cuisines excel in making simple foods sexy. For decades, nonna’s and mamma’s have cooked and served cannellini, fave, lentils or orzo and mixed them with some delicate funghi, a few cubes of crisp pancetta or shavings of parmigiano. And of course, always topped with a good glug of the virginiest extra virgin olive oil.
I recently found these linguine di farro (spelt pasta). Mixed with a velvety sauce of ricotta and broccoli, it’s as sexy as super healthy can get.
Linguine di farro al sugo di broccoli (Spelt pasta with broccoli sauce)
Serves 2
- 200 gram linguine di farro (spelt pasta or any other whole grain pasta)
- 1 broccoli crown (about 300-400 grams)
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 garlic clove, minced
- 1 small yellow onion, diced
- 1 cup ricotta (about 150 grams), grated
- 1 small handful of pecorino romano
- 1 small handful of pine nuts
Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil for the pasta.
Cut the broccoli into small florets (about 2 cm), also peel and cube the stalk (if you like)
In a medium sauté pan, heat olive oil over medium heat and add garlic and onion. Soften for 5 minutes, be careful not to burn them.
In a small sauté pan, toast pine nuts over low heat. Toss frequently. Again, be very careful not to burn them. Once golden brown, transfer to a plate.
Steam or boil the broccoli in little water until done. This should take about 5 to 7 minutes. They’re done once you can easily stick a fork in, but the florets shouldn’t be falling apart. Drain and set aside.
In a high hand mixer cup or large bowl, blend ricotta, pecorino and two thirds of broccoli to a fine paste. Season with salt and freshly grated pepper.
Add the pasta to the boiling water and cook for 5-7-minutes until al dente.
Over low heat, add broccoli paste to the onion and garlic. Stir and liquify with a few tablespoons of the pasta water. The sauce should still be thick, but not pasty.
Add the pasta, mix well. Add the remaining broccoli florets. Ladle into two bowls, sprinkle with pine nuts, a bit of grated pecorino and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. Serve immediately.
Picture courtesy of Luis Herrera. Thanks again, Luisito!
A pasta diet? (Pumpkin and amaretti ravioli with sage butter)
Not only have I neglected my blog recently, I’ve also been slightly lax about my physical state. A lot of travel and little exercise left me feeling puffy. And wouldn’t you after being spoilt (read: stuffed) with naan, kebab and kulfi in Pakistan, embarking on a four day pig-out at the gastronomic lollapalooza Salone del Gusto, and doing a ton of empirical research for a book on Dutch fries (with mounds of mayonnaise or kebab meat)?
I decided to have a few sessions with a personal trainer who would help me kick my butt back into shape. Not that I’m aiming for a ‘body machine’ because you know what they say about never trusting a skinny chef, right? Same applies to a bony food writer.
The first session, my trainer made me sweat and curse like a Neapolitan sailor (he’s good!). He also handed me a sheet with dietary advice to follow. One glance was enough to know this diet was doomed. I mean, Italian food is great, fantastic, wonderful, but I’m just not a big fan of the everyday stuff.
The diet prescribes three ‘fette biscottate’ with jam for breakfast (pieces of prefab toast with a cardboardish aftertaste) or one cornetto, the Italian version of a (sugary) croissant. If I have these things I’ll find myself plundering the fridge at 11 am. I prefer the first meal of the day to be a bit more substantial. Lunch is 75 grams of pasta with ‘sugo poco elaborato’, which literally means ‘little elaborated sauce’. A simple tomato sauce of some sort, or just a little oil. I hardly have pasta, just because I rarely find ordinary pasta dishes very thrilling. When I do have pasta, I want it to be ‘molto elaborata’.
So I stayed off the carb champs all week, but made a very special Saturday night version. My roommate and I are getting better at making our own egg pasta, an activity that requires four hands and lots of energy. By kneading, rolling and working the dough through the machine, you’re burning more calories than you’re about to consume. Excellent diet food!
Ravioli di zucca e amaretti con burro e salvia (Pumpkin and amaretti ravioli with sage butter)
A northern-Italian pasta classic, this dish combines sweet pumpkin and amaretti biscuits with the mildly bitter tasting sage.
Fresh pasta (please look here for the technique, I normally use 3 whole eggs, 400 grams flour (di grano duro), a pinch of salt and a little bit of lukewarm water)
- Small pumpkin
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 tablespoon fennel seeds
- 100 grams grated parmesan cheese (and some for serving)
- 5 amaretti biscuits, crumbled
- Pinch of nutmeg
- 50 grams unsalted butter
- 10 sage leaves
- Freshly ground black pepper, salt
Preheat the oven to 180 °C (320°F). Cut up the pumpkin (remove seeds) and cut the flesh into chunky cubes. Place them in an oven dish, sprinkle with fennel seeds and olive oil and bake for 40-50 minutes, until the flesh is soft. Let cool slightly and scoop out the flesh with a spoon.
In a bowl, mix pumpkin, parmesan cheese, amaretti, nutmeg, a pinch of salt and some black pepper. Mash with a fork to a smooth purée.
Dust the work surface with flour. Roll out the dough into 2 mm sheets. Cut out round or square shapes with a glass, cookie cutter or a special ravioli cutter. Scoop a teaspoon of the puree on half of the shapes and place the other halves on top. With your fingers, gently but firmly close the ravioli. Use a bit of water or some egg yolk to make sure the filling is completely sealed in, for you don’t want it to escape while boiling the pasta.
Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Gently add the ravioli to the boiling water and cook for 3-4 minutes. Meanwhile, slowly melt the butter in a skillet until foaming. Add the sage leaves and fry them for just a few seconds. Remove from heat.
Drain the pasta, but keep 1 or 2 tablespoons of the pasta water and add it to the butter. Add the ravioli, toss gently until all pasta is coated and serve. Serve immediately, with some freshly grated parmesan and black pepper.
Fette biscottate picture. Pasta picture courtesy of Luis. Grazie!
Happy Eid! (Aloo methi)
Today it’s Eid el-Fitr, also in Rome. In most neighborhoods you probably won’t notice anything different, but since I live in the most multicultural area of the city, you can feel it in the air. Eid is the feast to celebrate the end of Ramadan, the month in which Muslims are prohibited from eating, drinking, and smoking from dawn until dusk. I can only imagine their happiness.
Every day, wafts of all sorts of cooking scents enter through my window. But today, it’s been non-stop and the aromas appear to be more exotic. Oh, how I wish I’d been invited to one of those celebration dinners. For Eid, Muslims prepare the most wonderful and elaborate dishes. Nihari, haleem, biryani, rasmalai, baklava, the names itself make my mouth water.
Italy is very conservative, food-wise (and in many other ways), so I had the hardest time finding ‘exotic’ spices like ginger, coriander and turmeric in my old neighborhood. No longer! The best feature of this neighborhood is the Esquilino market, where you can find absolutely anything you desire to spice up your life. I couldn’t be happier.
I prepared a methi curry for lunch today. This is a curry of boiled fenugreek leaves and potatoes. Quite bitter, I’d say it’s an acquired taste. You can also use spinach, which makes it a lot milder. The right dish to prepare in anticipation of my upcoming trip to Pakistan at the end of the month.
Aloo Methi (Fenugreek and potato curry)
- 100 gram methi leaves
- 3 large potatoes
- 2 tablespoons olive oil olive oil
- 2 teaspoons garam masala
- 1 pinch ground chilli pepper
Soak methi leaves in warm water for 20 minutes. Rinse thoroughly and drain the water. Cut potatoes in cubes of 2-3 centimeter. Heat olive oil. Add potatoes and salt to taste and cook for 15 minutes. Add methi leaves, garam masala and 1 cup of water. Mix and cover. Cook until the potatoes are soft. To soften the bitter flavors, you can add heavy cream to taste (2-3 tablespoons).
