Posts Tagged ‘Summer’
Thumbs up for Corsica (Italian-style Fiadone)
One piece of advice if you ever want to visit Corsica (and trust me, you want to): never go without your own wheels. Local buses are an absolute nightmare. They run infrequently, if they run at all.
When L. and I visited this wonderful island a few weeks ago, we got stuck more than once. The nearest beach from our first camping was an 8k walk. Having lugged all our stuff there, we just didn’t have the energy. Another camping was right next to a paradisal white-sand-crystal-water-type beach, but after lazing there for a day we felt languid. We tried hiking to the nearest town, but turned halfway because we didn’t want to end up as road kill.
What to do? L. stuck her thumb out. Just like that. I had never hitchhiked before and felt a strange resistance to do so. But it was broad daylight and we weren’t at some ghastly highway exit. Two minutes later, a lady stopped and gave us a ride up. She had lived in Cervione her whole life and was proud to show us around. In the town we met more warm folks: a vendor of local products who let us taste the entire store, a harmless drunk who asked us if we didn’t find the Corsican men the most beautiful in the world (not really), the staff at the family restaurant. After a simple but copious meal there, another lady offered to drive us back.
Sometimes, being at a disadvantage works in your favor. Through our autostop adventures we learned a lot about the island, the customs and the food. Corsicans are proud people in general, but especially smug about their food. In the mountainous areas they have lived an isolated and rugged outdoor life for centuries. The cuisine of medieval days still exists: lots of hearty stews and soups to keep warm. Wild boar, salamis and other charcuterie, and dried cheeses to pull through winter. And of course, chestnuts and hazelnuts in abundance. These nuts were and are used in fritters, souffles, beer and well, in mostly everything you can think of. I bought this little jar of salinu, a mixture of hazelnuts (90%) and salt (10%), which is like sprinkling fairydust over veggies, cheese and omelets.
Brocciu is also ubiquitous. It’s a whey cheese, like ricotta but coarser, and tastier. The Corsicans use it in dishes both sweet and savory. Fiadone is a sweet dessert, often doused with liquor. I created an Italian version with ricotta and used a bit of limoncello to sweeten it up.
Italian-style Fiadone
Serves 4
- 4 eggs
- 125 gr sugar (about ½ cup)
- 500 gr brocciu (or ricotta) (about 2.5 cup)
- grated rind of 1 lemon
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 2 tablespoons limoncello (lemon liquor)
Preheat the oven to 220 degrees Celsius. Beat the eggs with the sugar to a fluffy, pale yellow mass. Beat the ricotta in, together with the lemon zest, lemon juice and limoncello. Pour the mixture into four buttered ramekins or 1 large buttered baking dish. Bake in the oven for 20-25 minutes, or when a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean. Placer under a broiler for the last 2 minutes (keep a close eye on it!) to brown the top layer a bit.
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.
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.
