Panettone, take 3

While the cooking adventures have not stopped, we've been rather remiss over the last few months about putting up a post. Clearly, though, this year's panettone experiment deserves a bit of reflection.

This is the third year we've attempted panettone. Perfection has yet to be achieved, but we have learned from mistakes along the way. In take 1, I was doubtful about the large amount of yeast called for and reduced the amount added over-enthusiastically. Result? Extra dense panettone. In take 2, we made the largest of the loaves way too big. Result? Takes forever to cook and is nearly impossible to hang upside down to cool (split in half by its own weight when we hung it from skewers poked through the middle).

Unfortunately, in take 3, while I added plenty of yeast, the dough didn't rise as well as I was hoping. So in spite of my best efforts, this year's panettone was still slightly more dense than ideal. But, we did manage to find the proper paper panettone molds this time, which made it much easier to make loaves of a reasonable size and to hang them. While panettone molds are no where to be found in Italy (everyone I spoke to in kitchen stores thought I was insane for attempting to actually make panettone), for some reason they're readily available in the States (perhaps because american bakers are more brave? or perhaps because we're more insane...depends on your point of view I suppose).

As always, hanging the panettone upside down to cool was a bit of a trick because the candied fruit made the bread quite heavy. But between chopsticks, dish towels, and string, we managed to hang it over night without mishap. Now, the reason to hang panettone upside down is to prevent it from falling as it cools. Given this panettone didn't have much falling it could do since it didn't rise as much as it should have, the hanging may have been pointless. But it is the most entertaining part of panettone making, so why pass it up right?

The other change in this year's panettone was making our own canditi. Perhaps because I didn't look until after Christmas, I couldn't find any candied citrus in the store, so we bought lemons, oranges, and a pomello and candied the rinds ourselves. They came out pretty well but were messy to work with because we couldn't get them to dry out properly (the level of humidity here in Portland is impressively high). And so in addition to coaxing the dough to rise better next year, my other planned improvement is making the canditi a few days ahead of time in hopes that they become more firm and less sticky before they need to be used.

While the end result was a bit too dense (and possibly slightly over cooked), the flavor was excellent again. And, the left-over panettone makes for some amazing french toast!

Simple Pasta (tomatoes and breadcrumbs)

So we've been doing a lot of pasta with toasted breadcrumbs, which I'll do a post on sometime in the near future, but first I wanted to share a variation on that + pasta al pomodoro we made recently.  We've been getting the first good tomatoes of the year in from Sicily in the last few weeks, so I wanted to highlight their flavors while contrasting the textures between the tomatoes and the toasted breadcrumbs.

I started out by mixing the diced tomatoes with chopped chives, marjoram, oregano and thyme, then setting them to macerate in olive oil and a small amount of red wine vinegar while the pasta cooked.  We usually do breadcrumb pasta spun towards a fairly international place, but for this I went very Italian:  minced pancetta and garlic with salt and pepper which was lightly browned in olive oil before the crumbs were added and toasted.   When the fettuccine (an egg based version using a mix of 00 and semiola flour) was finished cooking it all got tossed together and served (without parmigian, which the breadcrumbs made unnecessary).

Ribollita

Ribollita is arguably the soup of the Tuscan winter.  It's the winter version of the Tuscan Ur-Soup: stale bread with stuff.  In this case, sofrito, kale, tomatoes and beans (at a minimum).  Feels a bit weird talking about it now, after a week of sunny weather in the new month of April, but we actually made this and took all the pictures when it was dark and cold, started a post then failed to finish it for, well, a while.

Red Onions are the heart of the Sofrito

Winter food: bitter greens and Oranges

I have fond associations with bitter greens and winter – kale, while I love it, is mostly just an ornery, tough alternative to lettuce in the summer but in the middle of winter it may be the only green vegetable around and the bitterness which may have been mildly interesting during the warmer months screams of vitamins which the body would really like, right now, thank you very much.  Most of the bitter greens we grow in the states (kale, collard greens) are tough and desiring of long cooking times to break down the toughness, sauces to mitigate the bitterness, or both.  Puntarelle is a bitter winter green that looks (and tastes) like a cross between a head of romaine lettuce and a bunch of dandelion greens.  It has somewhat more body than lettuce and is much more bitter, but not quite as bitter as dandelion greens.  Long cooking times would be a pretty effective way of turning it into a disagreeable pile of mush.

Whole wheat herb bagels

One of the things Americans traditionally miss dearly (and crave desperately) while living abroad is bagels. That and peanut butter (which for some unexplainable reason becomes much more desirable in countries where it can only be found for absurd prices in import stores). And thus, you might think that I have taken to making bagels because after awhile living in Florence I just had to have some and couldn't get them otherwise. Surprisingly, not the case. Its not that we aren't big fans of bagels or don't eat them relatively regularly while in the US. And its not that we aren't picky about them. Actually, the summer before we moved to Florence we had quite a lot of excellent bagels (day-old of course, because they come much cheaper that way) from the Humble Bagel Co. in Eugene. If you're wondering why, the inspiration for the bagels came from winning one of those nifty bagel guillotine things (and a whole flat of ripe mangos--the prize we were really excited about) at bingo night shortly after arriving in the state. We figured as long as we had accidentally acquired a new and unnecessary kitchen gadget, we might as well put it to good use. Hence the bagel eating.

Varriations on a Theme: Carbonara

Everyone appears to know about spaghetti alla carbonara these days, but I'd never heard of it before coming to Italy.  It belongs to the general class of 'bachelor foods' whose Italian name I've forgotten and is distinguished by its quick cooking time (you can make the sauce while you cook your pasta) and the dubious quality of including all the major food groups.  In this case pasta, meat and egg.  And I think that every person out on their own for the first time should know how to make it, because spaghetti alla carbonara is really quick, cheap and good.

The classic version is roman (as in from the city of Rome, not from the empire) and goes like this:  Start your pasta water.  Heat olive oil in a pan with a pinch or two of crushed red pepper and a chopped/crushed clove of garlic.  When the garlic starts to turn brown, take it out and put in some diced guanciale (or pancetta, if you're feeling inauthentic and posh, or bacon, if you happen to be feeling Anglo-Saxon).  Grate some pecorino romano (or parmigiano -- see above).  When your pasta is finished cooking drain it, put it back in the pot and pour the oil/pepper/meat over it, crack a raw egg in and stir vigorously, adding the cheese as you have time.  The heat of the just cooked pasta (and olive oil) should cook the egg, leaving you with a wonderfully rich creamy sauce.  If it looks like you just made scrambled eggs in your spaghetti you didn't stir fast enough.  Garnish with more cheese and crushed red or black pepper.  Enjoy.

Consider the Olive

... Stuffed, in this case.  We just got back from a trip to le Marche (the province) and one of the more puzzling and enticing dishes we encountered was Olive Ascolane -- i.e. olives in the manner of Ascoli Piceno (where we were staying at the time).  These large mild green olives are stuffed with a mixture of white meats and wine, then breaded with a mixture of bread crumbs and Parmesan and deep fried.  What astounded me about them was the harmoniousness of it all (and the success of the breading, but that may have more to do with my failures than their success).  Crispy deep-fried crust flowed into meaty olive into, well, meat and then the rather huge bowl we had been served was inexplicably empty.  I didn't get any pictures (but if your curious, they look like breaded junior golf balls), but we'll have to try making them soon, so some photos should be forthcoming.