Food in Rome
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).
Pranzo di Ferragosto (Basil, Lemon & Ricotta Dip)
An OOO (Our Of Office) reply for Rome would be something like: ‘I’m sorry, but we have completely shut down for the month of August. See ya on September 1st. And I really can’t care less where you shop, eat out or get information in the meantime. Bye!’
It’s not true that Rome shuts down for Ferragosto, because it already has. It’s EMPTY.
I’ll always associate Ferragosto with the hilarious Italian food movie, Pranzo di Ferragosto. Main character Gianni, a middle-aged bachelor, lives with his demanding elderly mother in Rome. On a blistering hot day, he finds himself stuck in the city with her and four other golden girls. He’s supposed to prepare them a traditional pranzo, a festive lunch, for which he manages to get some fish right out of the Tiber river. The geriatric quintet drives him nuts, and, in utter despair, he downs one glass of white wine after another. But in the end, they do find solace in each other.
Ferragosto is the holiday to commemorate the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, but it has pagan roots as well. Traditionally it was a day to celebrate summer and the end of hard work in the fields. I didn’t make a sumptuous meal this Ferragosto, but something Simple & Summery. With lots of basil and lemon, flavors that epitomize the season.
Basil, Lemon & Ricotta Dip
Try to use the freshest ricotta you can find. I used ricotta di pecora, sheep’s whey ricotta, which has a stronger flavor than cow’s. When you grate the lemon, use only the yellow part of the rind, the white pith can be quite bitter.
- 1.5 cups ricotta (about 300 gr)
- zest of 1 lemon, grated
- 1 big handful of basil leaves, finely chopped
- 1 handful of parmesan cheese (1/2 cup), grated
- 1.5 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
In a large mixing bowl, combine the ricotta, lemon zest, basil and parmesan cheese. Don’t add all the lemon juice at once, but taste as you go. The dip shouldn’t be too tart. Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste. Spread the dip on crostini and serve.
Working up a sweat (watermelon salad with ricotta salata and black olives)
The palestra is a wondrous phenomenon. For one, working out is a rare pastime in Italy, so if you tell someone you regularly work up a sweat in one of these Italian gyms you can expect some raised eyebrows. And I agree, because exercising in these dingy, noisy locales is not exactly my idea of fun either. Frank Bruni’s calls them “perfunctory setups” with “meager scatterings of equipment” in his hilarious memoir Born Round.
But who needs state-of-the-art machines, if exercising is only secondary to the entire purpose of the palestra? First and foremost, you go to the gym to socialize. In Bruni’s gym, patrons would just lean against the machines,“monopolizing it without attempting anything more physical than the arching of an eyebrow. La Roman members did this all the time, provided that the weight machine in question afforded them a good view of other patrons and vice versa.”
Haha, so true! Where in Holland (or anywhere else) people turn on their iPods and do their thing, here it’s like a dance, in which the participants show off, stare and comment. Without ever getting too sweaty, of course. When you see one person doing bench presses, there’d be at least five bystanders delivering feedback. It’s loud, chaotic and actually quite entertaining.
But since there is hardly any air-conditioning, I prefer breaking into a sweat running around the Villa Doria Pamphilj park. Even though it means getting up at six am. I keep on exercising, because it keeps me sane, but the Italian mentality reminds me not to overdo it. Sometimes I decide to just idly sit in that park. What I like so much about Italians is that they never ever feel the need to justify indulgence. As a result, exercise is not linked with guilt. The way it should be. Work out if you want to, but treat yourself whenever you feel like it. It’s about finding a balance, and I love it!
This salad is especially refreshing after a workout, but not necessarily so. It’s quite healthy, fresh and has many interesting, clean flavors. The saltiness of the ricotta salata and the olives go fantastically well with the sweet watermelon. Dig in and enjoy! And please go for seconds, if you feel like it!
Insalata di anguria con ricotta salata ed olive nere (watermelon salad with ricotta salata and black olives)
Serves 4 (as a side dish)
- 1 small red onion, thinly sliced
- ¼ watermelon (about 3-4 cups)
- 1 cup pitted black olives
- 3-4 big handfuls of rucola (ca 50 grams)
- 2 tablespoons thinly sliced fresh mint
- ½ cup salted almonds, coarsely chopped
- a big handful of ricotta salata (salted dry ricotta cheese, which you can substitute with any salted hard cheese), coarsely grated (about ¾ cup)
- Juice of ½ lime (3 tablespoons)
- 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
- fresh ground black pepper
If you want to mellow out the taste of the red onion, soak the slices in ice water for 30 minutes before adding them to the salad.
Cut the watermelon into cubes (1 inch-2,5 cm), remove the seeds (didn’t your mom tell you you would grow a watermelon plant inside?)
In a large salad bowl, combine the watermelon, onion, olives, rucola, mint, almonds and ricotta salata. Add lime juice, olive oil and freshly ground black pepper to taste and toss carefully. Refrigerate for 10-15 minutes to let the flavors blend nicely. Add another drizzle of olive oil if you’d like. You can also add a bit of salt, but the ricotta salata should make the salad salty enough.
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!
