Posts Tagged ‘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)
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!
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!
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!
