The Seven Fishes

Returning to Cosa Bolle, I'd like to start out by apologizing for placing East Hampton in Connecticut in the last issue, rather than in New York, where it belongs. And next, a few words about the holidays. Every year about this time I begin to get requests for the "Seven Fishes Dinner." Requests for specific menus and the symbolisms behind the dishes; to be frank they put me in something of a quandary, because even though many parts of the Peninsula (especially in the South) celebrate Christmas Eve with a fish-based dinner, the menu's not that ridged: On the one hand, what's available varies from place to place, and consequently so do the dishes; on the other, the wealth of the people preparing the meal also has an impact on what's served -- as the authors of Altamura Antichi Sapori point out, in their town the well-to-do enjoyed roast capitone (eel), while the less fortunate made do with baccalà. For that matter, the symbolisms woven into the meal vary from place to place. I've been told that the seven course meal draws its inspiration from the Seven Virtues (faith, hope, charity, temperance, prudence, fortitude and justice), but there are also thirteen course meals that are inspired by Jesus and his 12 Apostles. And there are places where there is no special Christmas Eve dinner -- Central Tuscany, and, I would expect, parts of Romagna, for example: Artusi, who grew up in Romagna and lived in Tuscany for much of his life, provides menus for a number of religious holidays including Epiphany and the beginning of Lent, but doesn't say anything about Christmas Eve. Just Christmas day, which is meat-based. Hanukah is in a way easier to discuss -- the festival commemorates the miraculous oil that kept the sacred flame of the Temple alight for 8 days following the victory of the Maccabeans over Antiochus of Syria in 165 BC, and consequently tradition calls for foods that are fried; among other things, in Italy this means Precipizi, which closely resemble and are quite likely related to the Struffoli Neapolitans make for Christmas.

Marriage in Italy

Moving in a radically different direction, Penny recently wrote to say that her daughter will be getting married in Florence this June, and asked if I could suggest restaurants for the wedding and reception dinner. When Betty and I married 13 years ago we had our reception at Villa Viviani, a Renaissance villa half-way up the hill to Settignano overlooking Florence. Very nice, but we haven't had occasion to return since then, and though the view will still be beautiful I would want to check on the food before recommending it, as things can change dramatically. The solution? Talk to someone who works in the field, and I suggested Chandi Wyant, an American who got married here last year. She enjoyed the experience so much that she has set up a company to help others plan their marriages in Italy, dealing with the bureaucratic formalities as well as all the other details that must be seen to if things are to work the way they should. She also helps plan honeymoons! (And holiday stays.) If you want to get married here now is the time to start laying the groundwork, so if you're interested, check out her website, http://www.sogniitaliani.com.

Carchiola con Broccoli Rape

Turning to food, another person wrote:

My father, about fifty or sixty years ago made a very peasant, very delicious dish called pizza minestra. I can only remember that he probably used Savoy cabbage for the minestra and that the polenta wound up in a very large pancetta greased cast iron skillet. He cooked it on top of the stove, he put a hole in the middle of it with his finger, covered it and when the bottom was very brown, almost burned, (the pieces of which we would fight over) he turned the whole large 'cake' and browned the other side. When it was cooked through it was very thick and dry. He would then break it into pieces and put it in with the cooked greens. HELP! I have been thinking about this for years, have tried it twice and maybe it's one of those things that the memory is better than the reality. But mine was not very good. On the other hand, perhaps you know what I mean. Would it help to know my Dad was raised in Ferrazzano, outside of Campobasso?

It does help to know he was from Ferrazzano, and more importantly, from Basilicata. Though I haven't found a perfect match, I have found a dish called Carchiola con Broccoli Rape, which sounds quite close. It calls for:

• A pound (500 g) finely ground corn meal
• Boiling water
• A pinch of salt
• 1 pound (500 g) broccoli rabe
• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• Salt and pepper

Begin by preparing the dough: make a mound out of the cornmeal on your work surface, add a pinch of salt, and then hot water, a little at a time, until you obtain a smooth dough.

Wash the broccoli well, chop them, and sauté them in the oil for a few minutes with the garlic, seasoning them to taste with salt and pepper.

At this point you have a choice:

a) Ottavio Cavalcanti says to roll out the dough so it's about 3/4 of an inch thick (2 cm) and grill it over hot coals (one could also make do with a 450 F (225 C) oven, ideally on a pizza stone). When the polenta dough is cooked (he doesn't say how long, but I'd figure 15 minutes at the most) break the cornbread into pieces and serve them with the broccoli.

b) Alessandro Milinari Pradelli says to roll out the dough, lay the cooked broccoli in the middle of it, and then fold the dough over it, making what is essentially a cornbread calzone, which he says grill over the coals until it's barely browned, and then slice and serve. He doesn't say how thin to roll the dough, though I'd go with the 3/4-inch, and again, I think one could do this in the oven, especially on a pizza stone.

A printer-friendly version of this recipe.

While we're on the subject of Borccoli Rape, Luigi Sada says, in "La Cucina Pugliese", that in the Leccese section of Puglia it's custom to start off the Christmas Eve dinner with Rape Nfucate (fiery rape) and focaccia. To prepare them, you'll need:

• 4 1/2 pounds (2 k) broccoli rape
• Half a water glass of vinegar
• 1/3 (100 ml) cup olive oil
• 3 cloves garlic, crushed
• Half a glass of white wine
• Hot pepper
• Salt

Wash the broccoli well and chop them, together with the tender leaves (discard tough stalks). Sauté the garlic in the oil until it is lightly browned, then add the washed broccoli and cook over a brisk flame; when the water from the washing has all evaporated and the dish begins to dry out, add the wine, vinegar, salt to taste, and hot pepper too. Mr. Sada suggests, in "La Cucina Pugliese", a half a pepper, though you may want more if you're a fan of hot foods.

Mr Sada simply describes the focaccia as a quickly cooked flat bread without saying how to make it. You'll find the recipe for focaccia alla salvia will work if you omit the sage.

A printer-friendly version of this recipe.

The Last on BSE (For Now)

I've gotten a couple more questions regarding Mad Cow disease and its human variant; one person wanted to know about risks associated with rabbits and poultry, while another asked about milk. Assuming that the rabbits or chickens eat what they're supposed to -- greens, seeds and whatnot, they'll be fine. Problems can only arise if they're given contaminated animal-based feed, and this means that if you go with organically raised or free-range animals there shouldn't be any risks. Milk is something nobody has mentioned, and I sincerely hope that someone has tested it to make sure it's safe. In terms of the scandal in general, despite the protests of Germany and a couple of other northern countries with large dairy industries the EEU has banned the use of all animal-based feeds for the next six months. After which, despite Italian protests, they'll be allowed again. This is, frankly, loony -- the scare is crippling the Continent's cattle industry because consumers have stopped buying beef for fear of getting contaminated meat (if butchers don't sell, slaughter houses cut back and the animals stay in their barns, thus squeezing the farmers too); readmitting animal-based feeds will do nothing to restore consumer confidence and people simply will continue to avoid beef.

L'Abbazia di Santa Giustina -- Unexpected beauty in the Fog -- and Why Barbera & Nebbiolo

Winding down, last week I was invited to the presentation of the current vintages of the Viticoltori dell'Acquese, the cooperative winery of Aqui Terme, an area in the province of Alessandria (Piemonte) that's best known for Brachetto, a sweet sparkling red wine that's a very nice alternative to Asti. They also make other things, however, including a fine Moscato, an impressive unoaked Barbera, and Statiellae, a Dolcetto d'Acqui that's one of the best Dolcetti I've enjoyed in quite a while. All well worth looking out for, and all all the more impressive because they're made by a cooperative, rather than by somebody whose name goes on the label. Some of the merit undoubtedly goes to Donato Lanati, one of the more respected Piemontese enologists (he's also a professor of enology at universities in Piemonte and Tuscany), but just as much belongs to the people tending the vines. In presenting the wines Mr. Lanati neatly explained the popularity of both Nebbiolo (the grape used to make Barolo, among other wines) and Barbera in Piemonte: Unlike some other varietals, wines made from them keep well. This doesn't mean so much today, but farmers used to raise a variety of crops on their lands, and this keeping ability meant that the farmer could press the grapes, set the must to fermenting, and then go out to plant the winter wheat, without having to worry that he'd find vats of vinegar when he next had time to worry about the wine (say in a month or so). Why? In Barbera's case the wine is acidic enough that it will inhibit the growth of the bacteria that transform wine to vinegar, so it remains stable. Nebbiolo, on the other hand, is extremely tannic if left on the skins, and tannins are a natural disinfectant. Again, the bacteria don't get going, and the farmer has something to drink during the winter. This was much more important in the past than it is now, because wine used to be one of the major sources of calories for the rural population. People could and did starve if the grape harvest failed.

The presentation was held at Santa Giustina, in the flatlands outside Alessandria: desolate flatlands shrouded in a grayish mist that floated over the fields and swallowed the trees. Imagine my surprise when I reached the place and beheld a spectacular Romanesque basilica! The Abbey was founded during the rule of the Longobards, before the year 1,000, and subsequently became an important outpost of the Benedictines; the original church, which has elegant Paleochristian floor mosaics of the kind one also finds in Rome, became the crypt of their church, while a large monastic complex grew up around the building. The monastery changed hands several times over the centuries, and following the Napolenic suppression of 1810 the church was transformed into a grain elevator. In 1863 it was bought by Senator Angelo Frascara, and when his descendents began stripping away whitewash in the 1950s they found beautiful frescos, many that have fascinating graffiti scratched into them, some of which might even be Renaissance in age. The Senator also transformed part of the monastic complex into an extremely elegant villa with beautiful Romantic gardens, which is now used to host conventions, wedding receptions and so on. Visitors to the church are welcome, and if you call ahead you'll probably also be able to wander the grounds and perhaps visit the public sections of the villa. To reach Santa Giustina, take the A 22 highway to the Alessandria Sud exit, and then follow signs for Acqui until you reach the turnoff for Sezzadio (to the right); you'll also see signs for the Abbazia. For information about the Villa, see http://www.villabadia.com. It's difficult to imagine a more unexpected pretty stopping place.

Last thing: This time's proverb is Calabrian: Amaru chi lo puorcu nun s'ammazza ce 'e vide e li desidera i sazizzi. Unhappy and bitter is the man who doesn't kill the pig [i.e. doesn't have one to kill], because he can see the sausages, but can only desire them.

A presto,
Kyle Phillips
Webweaver, About Italian Cuisine

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