Cicoria alla Materana

Matera-style Greens

Southern Italy has a way with vegetables.  They take fresh, simple ingredients and turn out a flavorful dish that allows the real taste of the veggies to come through.  Everything seems to burst with freshness there.  I have enjoyed a few variations of this cooked greens dish; some cooks like to add pancetta or a diced tomato to the mix so feel free to jazz it up at will.

Chicory is a popular cool weather vegetable there but harder to find in the US.  I substitute chard or mustard greens, or even spinach on occasion.

*Wash a bunch of greens and boil them in salted water for about ten minutes.  Drain well.  Set aside.

*Slice an onion and mince a clove of garlic.  Saute on low heat until tender and golden; you want to bring out the sweetness of the onion.

*Add the cooked greens to the pan and combine well.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper and a dash of red chile flakes. 

*Add about 1/2 cup of chicken or vegetable broth.  Partially cover and simmer until the broth is mostly evaporated.

*Sprinkle in about 1/4 cup grated pecorino cheese and grind some freshly-cracked pepper into it; serve.

Buona!

Roasted Sausage and Potatoes

La salsiccia con le patate al forno.

This is a great cool-weather meal where the simple flavors of each ingredient meld to make a delectable dish. 

In Basilicata (or southern Italy in general) it is made with lucanica, a regional sausage that could date back to the ancient Lucanians, or maybe the Greeks who inhabited that area of Magna Grecia.  In Greece there is still a similar product called Loukanika, but it is unclear which came first.  Either way, it is delicious, and it turns out just as good when using vegetarian sausages, too.

1 pound potatoes (I like to use the small red potatoes)

a handful of cipollini onions* (or - even better - half a jar of lampascioni if you can find them)

4 Italian sausages

salt and pepper

1/2 cup white wine

peperoncino flakes or chile oil, optional

olive oil

Clean the potatoes and halve or quarter them, depending on the size.  Put them in a baking dish and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Cut the baby onions in half and mix them with the potatoes.  If you are able to use lampascioni, drizzle some of the oil from the jar over top, otherwise drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and mix well to coat.  Sprinkle or drizzle on peperoncino or chile oil if you want a spicy dish.  Lay the sausages on top, pour the wine over it all and cover.  Bake at 400 for about 35 minutes.

Obviously, this is a versatile dish and the flavors can be changed based on the type of sausage you use, or the spices you may want to mix in (such as garlic and rosemary).

*Peel the onions quickly and easily by immersing them in boiling water for about 20 seconds.  When cool enough to handle, the skins slide off.

Photo credit goes to cobalt. 

Ragu Lucano

In honor of National Pasta Month, I'm posting one of my all-time favorite recipes.  It hails from Lucania, or what is now called Basilicata, in southern Italy, where my roots are planted on a rocky mountain top.  In those high altitude peaks, sheep are still an everyday sight, so lamb plays an understandably important role in the region's cuisine.

Ragu Lucano is just the basic "Sunday sauce" that you will find there, but makes use of lamb in a small quantity in keeping with the area's poor past; it is, simply, cucina povera that tastes like a rich man's dish!  In this area they call that type of cooking "la zuppa del Re", or the king's soup, meaning you take a humble dish and make it seem fit for royalty.

I've made this (and seen it served there) with chunks of boneless lamb, but also cooked with the bones just to give the flavor without any actual meat pieces (making it very economical).  I have made it with leftover pieces of roasted lamb, too.

1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
red wine - about 1/2 cup
1 carrot, cut into 2 or 3 large pieces
1 celery stalk,cut into 2 or 3 large pieces
a small quantity of lamb - chunks of leg meat, stew bones, or roasted lamb
passato di pomodoro (tomato puree) - about 2 cups
vegetable or beef broth - about 1/2 cup
2 or 3 fresh sage leaves, minced
a small branch of fresh rosemary, minced
salt and pepper

In a saucepan, saute the onion and garlic until soft.  Add the wine and cook a few minutes to reduce.  Add the rest, stir and bring just to the boiling point.  Reduce heat, cover, and simmer it for 1 1/2 hours, stirring occasionally and adding water or broth as needed.

When it has simmered and reduced, pull out the carrot and celery pieces.  Remove the bones, if any, and pick off any meat.  If using meat chunks, you may want to shred them.

Serve with freshly cooked cavatelli or orecchiette (traditional pastas for that area) or the pasta of your choice.  Top with freshly grated pecorino cheese.

National Pasta Month!

Well, I don't know how the inauguration of this month-long event slipped by me, but I just discovered that October is National Pasta Month!  Not that I really need an excuse to eat more pasta; I don't know if it's possible to eat *more* of it than we already do ;)

But it certainly warrants a mention and a few recipes in its honor, don't you think?

To kick it off, we broke out the hand-crank cavatelli maker that I ordered from eBay.  The little macchinetta is a classic, conceived by an Italian immigrant to Cleveland, Ohio who started the Vitantonio Company and built a business of providing pasta-making products to the Little Italy community. 


It's a very simple contraption:  you make up the pasta dough, roll it into ropes, and feed it into the machine while turning the handle.  Out pop perfectly-formed cavatelli, ready to to be boiled and topped with sugo!

My cousin Celia turned me on to this little gem; she has become something of a cavatelli collector.  Her dad has a real beauty, one of the original cast iron oldies, still in perfect working condition.

Yesterday was the first trial run for our newly-acquired macchinetta.  It performed very well, I'm happy to say.  Cavatelli transport us right to the Motherland, as it is one of the most common pastas found in Basilicata.  They are made from farina di semola, hard durum wheat which is milled more finely than the semolina flour you usually find in the US, salt and water.  It's not an egg pasta.

What is your favorite pasta type or shape?

Pepper Poppers

One of the things I enjoy about la cucina del sud (southern cooking) in Italy, is that they are willing to take things up a notch on the spicy scale. We love Italian cuisine but around Ascoli Piceno, the faintest hint of heat and they are crying "pizzica!" (It stings!)

Not so down in the mother land. They will sprinkle peperoncino on pasta and drizzle chile oil on veggies. They also make these nice little appetizers called peperoncini ripieni di tonno, which I just call pepper poppers. They are so popular you can find them readily available in jars, preserved in olive oil.

They are a tantalizing taste blend of spicy cherry peppers stuffed with tuna. Don't let the strange combo put you off; believe me, they'll get you addicted so you'll be...well, popping them one after the other!

Pepper Poppers

1 jar hot cherry peppers, drained

1 can tuna, packed in olive oil

1 tsp. capers

1 tsp. anchovy paste or 1 or 2 anchovies from a jar (trust me on this, okay?!)

1 clove garlic

about 2 TBSP fresh parsley

In a food processor or blender, combine everything except the peppers, processing until blended and almost creamy. Spoon the filling into the peppers.

That's it! It's almost *too* easy, but it's so delicious. The saltiness from the capers and anchovies blends well with the tuna, while the zing from the peppers makes it all come alive.

One variation I sometimes make is to make it a little more decadent by adding about a tablespoon of cream cheese. It gives it a velvety texture and tones down the heat a little, if you're serving to wimps!

Polpettine di Ricotta

In Basilicata sheep speckle almost hillside, tended by a shepherd who is accompanied by several wooly dogs. They provide a timeless, pastoral image - as well as lots of delicious pecorino cheese. "Pecorino" literally means little pecora, or sheep, and is used to denote cheese made from sheep's milk. There are many varieties depending on the producer and region.

At the agriturismo we recently occupied for a two weeks' stay, the owners make several types, including "normal" slightly aged cheese, long-aged hard cheese for grating, and a unique variety all their own, pecorino with walnuts (delicious!). They also produce excellent sheep's milk ricotta, which we enjoyed plain, stuffed into ravioli, and tucked inside a sweet breakfast cake.

One evening she made polpettine di ricotta (meatballs, but without meat) as part of their antipasto plate. They were fried in oil then topped with a rich, long-simmered tomato sauce. She said they are also traditionally served in a soup, demonstrating the local flair for maintaining the region's cucina povera (peasant's cooking) dishes. The ricotta balls, once fried, are placed on top of a thick slab of bruschetta, which is made from local, hearty semolina bread. Two or three ladlesful of broth (either chicken or vegetable stock) are poured over top. A sprinkling of freshly grated hard pecorino cheese and the soup is ready to serve.

Polpettine di Ricotta

1 1/2 cups fresh ricotta
1 egg
1/3 cup finely grated parmigiano cheese
1 TBSP flour
1 TBSP fresh, minced parsley
salt and pepper to taste
extra flour
olive oil/oil for frying

Put the ricotta in a bowl and break it up with a fork, fluffing it. All all the other ingredients and, using your hands, dig in and blend it all together well. Roll the dough into balls about the size of golf balls.

Lightly coat the balls in flour then fry in hot oil, placing them on paper towels to drain. Serve hot.

You can serve them as stated above - drizzled with sauce or in the soup. They are also good as is, with just a sprinkling of coarsely-ground pepper on top. They can also be drizzled with pesto, with truffle sauce, or creamy mushroom sauce.

Bitter Bulbs

While visiting la famiglia in Basilicata, my cousin's wife broke open a jar of home-canned treats packed in olive oil. They had a slightly bitter bite, similar to radicchio but with a hint of orange peel. When we asked, "ma cos'e? Cipollini?" she smiled slyly and proudly replied, "no, they're not onions, they're lampascioni."

Lampascioni look deceivingly like baby onions, but they're actually the bulbs of a type of hyacinth. Melina forages for them in the countryside and then brings them home, soaks them in white wine and with orange peel to remove some of the bitterness, then packs them in jars sott'olio, literally, "under olive oil". They're actually somewhat addictive.

Lampascioni are common around southern Italy, but I've never seen them in the stores here in Le Marche. They are often served as part of the antipasto plate, but Melina gave me a quick and simple recipe that turns them into a delicious side dish, too.

Here it is, according to her verbal instructions:

-Peel and chop some potatoes. (It's always understood that you'll know how many you'll need.)

-Drain the jar of lampascioni, and quarter them all.

-Put the potatoes and lampascioni in a baking dish and mix together. Sprinkle generously with salt and pepper, then drizzle on a good deal of olive oil.

-Bake it for about 30 to 40 minutes, stirring it up occasionally., until the potatoes are tender.

If you happen to find these tasty tubers, grab a jar and give them a try.

Cavatelli con Polpettine

Or, pasta with a meatball sauce. While the American version of spaghetti and meatballs doesn't really exist here in Italy, I did happen to see this down-home dish in a country restaurant in remote Basilicata, which is where my family came from. Cavatelli is one of the preferred regional pastas, along with orecchiette, widely used in that area. They are short little things, sort of like curled- up flower petals, and pick up delicate sauces pretty well. The meatballs are not the giant variety we're so familiar with, but instead little nubs...more like marbles than balls and it really is more like a meat sauce than pasta with meatballs. This is a nice, feel-good dish for the winter doldrums.

Polpettine
about 1/3 pound of ground beef or veal
1 Italian sausage link (spicy is preferred in Basilicata, but whichever variety you like)
about 1 tbsp chopped parsley
salt and pepper to taste
a handful of breadcrumbs
1 small egg

You'll also need...
Extra virgin olive oil
about 1/4 cup chopped onion
a clove of garlic, minced
red wine
meat or vegetable broth
pecorino cheese

Mix everything together, combining well. Use a small amount to form into little marble-sized balls, setting aside until all the meatballs are formed.

In a large heavy-bottomed skillet, heat a couple tablespoons of olive oil. Add the meatballs and brown them. This may have to be done in two batches. When all the meatballs are lightly browned, add a little more oil to the skillet if necessary and saute the onion and garlic, stirring well until softened but not too browned. Add the wine and deglaze the pan, then add the broth, returning all the meatballs to the pan. Partially cover and simmer for about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, boil the cavatelli until cooked al dente (about 8 minutes). Drain and put in a serving bowl. Pour the meatballs and sauce over top, then gently combine.

Top with freshly grated pecorino cheese.

Here is another version (in Italian), this one from Puglia.

Peperoni Cruschi

On recent forays into the Motherland of Lucania (the region of Basilicata, which locals still refer to by its ancient name) I became quite enamored by the local delicacy of peperoni cruschi. The dialect name is paparul crushk, a word that sounds more German than Italian to my ears, but spells delicious whatever way they prefer to pronounce it. The strings of peppers that one sees hanging in the sun to dry are not as fiery as you might think. While they do like the piccanti variety, those are distinctly smaller and not revered as highly as these babies. The longer red peppers are, in fact, a variety of sweet peppers that are strung up much like the chile ristras so common around New Mexico, left to harden in the southern sun.


Once dry they are carefully removed from their stems and fried in extra virgin olive oil, tended to carefully so as not to scorch them. They are then served as an antipasto, and delicious they are, too! Sweet and smoky at the same time, the crunchy treats compliment the local cheese and prosciutto nicely.

Once they are fried, the peperoni cruschi are also crumbled and added to sautéed breadcrumbs then sprinkled over pasta, such as the locally-loved orecchiette.

Back to the hot chile, the slender pods are also dried, but are then preserved in a unique way. They, too, are fried in extra virgin olive oil and then crumbled. They are put in a jar and then the oil used to fry them is poured over the top. Simple, but it infuses the oil with spice as well as the unusual smoky-hot flavor. It is drizzled on cavatelli, on roasted potatoes, and on the local semolina bread.

We just returned from a trip to Basilicata; my cousin there went knocking on doors to rustle up some strings of peperoni for me to bring home. They are drying, but when they're ready I'll fry some up and add some photos.
c 2007 Valerie Schneider

A Menu To Remember

A couple of weeks ago we traveled into remote Basilicata accompanied by two cousins. It was an astounding trip in many respects, not the least of which because we connected with distant family members there in my great-grandfather’s hometown. Michele and his wife Milena, generous and welcoming, treated us to a feast the likes of which I had never experienced before. This was a meal to remember which lasted for three and a half hours. We sat and dined for three and a half hours! Such gluttony! I felt like we’d stepped into the film, Big Night (a worthy rental if you’ve never seen it). Platters laden with food arrived constantly. It was amazing! So, without further adieu, here is the menu.

Prosciutto and coppacolla. Grilled veggies delicately seasoned. Anchovy-stuffed hot peppers that put a fire into even my mouth, a seasoned New Mexican chile-eater. Air-dried sweet peppers that were fried to a crisp in olive oil. Another type of prosciutto and a seasoned lard (the only piece of food that day that I didn’t care for), cured sausages laced with fennel. Olives, three cheeses, and semolina bread. And that was just the antipasto!

Out came a heaping bowl of cavatelli, the pillowy-soft pasta melt-in-the-mouth delicious, topped simply with those air-dried peppers, breadcrumbs and peppery olive oil. More forks and a bowl of ravioli, the ricotta cheese having been made that morning “or last night at the latest,” Melina informed us, slightly laced with mint and the lightest of tomato sauces. More forks and a huge platter of stewed lamb over top of oven-roasted and perfectly seasoned potatoes. All of this was, of course, accompanied by home-made wine and bottles of water that came from Monte Vulture, probably the food item that traveled the longest distance to reach our table. More forks and I was about to roll out of my chair when Michele assured us it was simply for fruit, not a heavy dessert. “Just fruit” was an enormous platter of the most beautifully arranged, luscious produce that it should have been placed on a banquet table in front of a dignitary. I later realized that we were considered the dignitaries, the American family come to Basilicata.

Cousin Rose reminisced throughout the meal, as each plate brought a childhood memory and her face showed the joy of it all. We reveled in these dishes, which sound so simple but were so utterly delicious, I’d make the trip again in a heartbeat just to taste the goodness of those items.
Read more about the trip in my monthly column on Slow Travel and on my 2 Baci blog.