Posts Tagged ‘Vegetables’
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).
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.
