Vegan Jam Tart with Spelt Flour

Living here day by day, you think it's the center of the world. You believe nothing will ever change. Then you leave: a year, two years. When you come back, everything's changed. The thread's broken. What you came to find isn't there. What was yours is gone. You have to go away for a long time... many years... before you can come back and find your people. The land where you were born. But now, no. It's not possible. Right now you're blinder than I am.
~ Philippe Noiret, Cinema Paradiso

Always yours is that friendship, the new one and the eternal one of the past; yours is the taste of bread and the red color of autumn. Yours are the people who get older, the solitude of the forest, the gloom and silence of the night; still yours are the stones, the trails and the comfort of the moon; yours is the soft kindness of the meadows, the sunset and the darkness of those days.
And the words, withered between the cracks of indifferent walls, the frozen phrases, tired by now, the angry and unexploded thoughts, more and more faded with time.
Coming back makes everything a bit nicer; you blow the dust away and discover how much tenderness there was in the innocent dreams of distant dawns. Mornings are still cold, but beautiful in October; things, slow and always the same, speak a familiar language yet a different one.
Coming back you wonder how long it took you to figure it out, or if it's true that we've all changed a little.




Vegan Jam Tart
with Spelt Flour
for a round baking pan of 9" diameter

spelt flour 250 gr
type O flour 210 gr
corn starch 50 gr
baking powder 12 gr
lemon 1
cane sugar 200 gr
olive oil 60 gr
rice bran oil 60 gr
rice milk 125 gr
salt 1 pinch
jam as needed
powdered sugar to serve as needed

In a bowl mix the flours with cornstarch, baking powder, salt and lemon zest. Make a well in the center and add sugar, olive oil, rice oil and milk. Start mixing the ingredients with a fork, and then knead with your hands until you get a homogeneous ball. Cover with plastic wrap and let stand in refrigerator at least 30 minutes.
Roll out 3/4 of the dough and place it in a round baking dish, greased with oil or lined with parchment paper. Prick the surface with a fork, then spread the jam over it (for me this one here, thankyouverymuch) and bake at 350 for 30-40 minutes until the tart crust gets golden brown. Allow to cool, and if you like, dust with powdered sugar before serving.
w.v.<3

Focaccia with Figs, Onion and Walnuts

This is my alternative to darkness, fear, nostalgia, pride, sadness with no destination, the rain, the uncertainty, unanswered questions, expired passports, grammar mistakes, Texas, the camping out for the latest iPhone, the latest iPhone, songs by Pupo, headache, heartache, knee bruises, tight shoes, high-heeled shoes, fur-lined shoes, November, answering machines, pale tomatoes, sauce stains, cold feet, watered down coffee, overcooked pasta, withered flowers, Wi-Fi with password, train strikes, pizza with pineapple, D in the report card, a sold out show, the end of the book, queues at the supermarket, rosé wine.
Two figs and a focaccia and let's not talk about it anymore.




Focaccia with Figs, Onion and Walnuts
for two baking dishes of 8x12 inches

For the dough
type O flour 500 gr
lukewarm water approx. 275 gr
fresh brewer's yeast 10 gr
salt 10 gr
olive oil 1 tablespoon

For the toping
red onion 1
sugar 1 tablespoon
walnuts 1 handful
fresh figs 10-12
salt, pepper, olive oil as needed

The dough is the same that I used here, the recipe comes from the Simili sisters, do I need to add anything else?
In a bowl, dissolve the yeast with some of the water, add a little bit of flour, 1 tablespoon of olive oil, salt, and then the remaining flour and the rest of the water in two batches, alternating them and always beating the dough. Place it on the work surface and knead for 7-8 minutes, put it back in the bowl greased with oil, and let it double in size (it'll take about two hours).
Place it back on the work surface, divide the dough in half, form two loaves and place them on the baking dishes lined with parchment paper. Let them rest for another 15 minutes, then flatten them with a short rolling pin and the palm of your hand until they cover the bottom of the pan almost completely. Let rise for 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, peel the onions, slice them thin, season with a tablespoon of olive oil and a tablespoon of sugar, salt and pepper, and roast them for a few minutes under the grill. Cut figs in half and coarsely chop the walnuts.
Spread the figs and the onion on the surface of the focaccias. Push the tip of your fingers into the dough, forming deep imprints until you touch the pan, drizzle with 3 tablespoons of olive oil beaten with 3 tablespoons of water, and plenty of salt. Let them double again (this will require about an hour and a half). Bake at 390 for 25-30 minutes. Ten minutes before they're ready, sprinkle with the walnuts kept aside.
w.v.<3

Focaccia with Grapes and Rosemary

A wise man once to the question "Who or what are we?", answered: we are the sum of everything that has happened before us, everything that has happened before our eyes, everything that has been done to us; we are every person, every little thing whose existence has influenced us or which we have influenced with our lives; we are everything that happens after we no longer exist, and what would not have happened if we had never existed.
~ From the movie Almanya - My family goes to Germany
Yasemin Şamdereli, Germany 2011


When was the last time I saw you passing by, tanned and seductive, wearing those freckles and the wonder for life? I still remember your black hair, tied together against the wind, your colorful floral dress, fresh of summer and ingenuity, and your sandals already tight and from other times.
I was leaving towards the North, to chase a wealth that we had never had: a job that would last tomorrow, the security of a future, warm hands, two pennies and fatigue. I was looking for you in my mind, so beautiful in your twenties, while I slowly savored the sadness, so heavy and shiny, that September day that I left.
Two generations consumed among people who didn't really belong to us, who were looking at us awry and indifferent, between cold and foreign colors and horizons, strong perfumes yet devoid of memories. My father, locked up in his pride, never talked about it; the past was almost a shame that he seemed to have left behind, and yet it was all still there, asleep in the silence of his dark and sad eyes: the carts pushed by hand during harvest, the rise with the baskets on the shoulders, the grape must, the barrels, the bare feet and the cheer.
To me, sunsets and long summer days were enough: I'd close my eyes and I'd find the faces, I'd listen to those voices already distant and I'd feel alive again within the memory of their warm smiles. But tell me now, girl of that time, tell me now how your life went. I came back today among my poor people, hunting for what I can't find anymore. Roads, trees, houses and streams, everything always the same, and then, why so different? The stones, the streets, the names and the squares, I've cradled them inside, I've polished, protected and loved them in the sweet shell of my fantasies; I pretended they were my happiness, yet now that I'm so close, I don't recognize them anymore.
I brought you this flower as a gift, the red rose that I'd never given you. Only you, girl of that time, now that you're gone forever, only you are here for me to stay, that laugh with the eyes open and that life that was not.




Focaccia with Grapes and Rosemary
for 8 people

flour 400 gr
fresh brewer's yeaast 20 gr
water approx. 225 gr
salt 1 pinch
Concord grapes 1 kg
sugar, extra virgin olive oil, rosemary as needed

Dissolve yeast in lukewarm water and knead with flour, salt, 3 tablespoons of sugar and 3 tablespoons of olive oil until you get an elastic ball, smooth and homogeneous. Place in a bowl, cover with a cloth and let rise for about 1 hour and a half.
In the meantime, arm yourself with holy, holy patience, rinse the grapes and remove the seeds. (Yes, sorry).
Spread 2/3 of the dough on a greased pan lined with parchment paper, spread 2/3 of the grapes on top, sprinkle with sugar and finely chopped rosemary, and then drizzle with a little oil. Cover with the rest of the dough, fold and seal the edges, and then spread the rest of the grapes on the surface, dress with 2 tablespoons of sugar and a little oil. Bake at 360 for about 45 minutes.
If you wish, sprinkle with powdered sugar.
w.v.<3

Pappa al Pomodoro (Tomato Bread Soup) with Grilled Eggplants, Black Olives (and Feta)

ma è meglio poi un giorno solo da ricordare
che ricadere in una nuova realtà sempre identica...

but it's better a single day to remember
than falling into a new reality that's always the same...
~ Francesco Guccini, Sirocco

It was a warm evening in August, the wet and deserted city populated only by tourists in love, tired old men and cats in search of masters. The two of us sat on the river bank to fiddle with our gaze; we were waiting for the wind and for something to change.
You had asked me to go back there, to that outdoor table where I looked at you the first time, tanned and shy with your veil of lipstick. Stifled by useless memories and legitimate fears, words and sentences remained suspended, motionless in the air dense of silence that had been gathering between us. There were one man and one woman too many, two lives already started and too big of a morality.
It was a warm evening in August, that night when we let ourselves grow up. We were still in love with each other in our own way, yet we no longer loved each other.


Pappa al Pomodoro*
with Eggplant, Black Olives (and Feta)
for 4

day old Tuscan bread 200 gr
ripe tomatoes 800 gr
garlic 4 cloves
tomato paste 2 tablespoons
eggplant, small 1
black olives 1 handful
crumbled feta 2-3 tablespoons
salt, pepper, olive olio, vegetable broth, basil as needed

Slice a shallow cross into the bottom of the tomatoes and place them in boiling water for a few minutes. Peel them and pass them through the mill. Cut bread into cubes. Sauté garlic cloves, peeled and lightly crushed, in a little olive oil, add a few basil leaves, and then the bread. Sauté for about 10 minutes until it takes on a beautiful amber color. Add the tomato puree, tomato paste (optional), salt, pepper and stir well. Cover with broth and cook over medium-low heat for about 30 minutes until the bread is reduced to a puree.
Meanwhile, cut the eggplant into slices, grill them on both sides and cut into small cubes. Pit and coarsely chop the olives. Serve the pappa al pomodoro garnishing each bowl with grilled eggplant cubes, a handful of chopped olives and a sprinkle of crumbled feta.
It goes without saying that feta is not approved by the vegan police. So then just forget it, and voila, wv <3, lunch is served.

*Room for a small self-celebration: the recipe above was published this month in the Corriere della Sera, in the section Racconti di Cucina (Tales from the Kitchen), along with three others of my recipes with tomatoes as the main star.
If you're curious, you can find the link to the newspaper's archive and read the main article of that page here. And in this regard, as if it were the night of the Oscars, I want to thank all those who have shown me great affection and who have posted and reposted the photo of the page on my facebook wall. Thank you!

Tuscan Bread

Negli angoli di casa cerchi il mondo
nei libri e nei poeti cerchi te...

In the corners of the house you're looking for the world
in the books and the poets you're looking for yourself...
~ Francesco Guccini, Another Day Went By

Take a summer afternoon. Fresh and quirky as the afternoons hooded with fog on the North Pacific, or those pissed off with rain in August up in the mountains. Take a dough of ancient times, lazy but exciting as a poker match on a wrinkled, flowered tablecloth. Add the tenderness of a freshly baked loaf, and that scent so similar to the loaf that they used to give you at the corner, in those fantastic sunny mornings when you had the time to slide in front of the counter for 100 Liras worth of Coke-shaped candies.
Fresh bread, jam and a violent layer of butter were the perfect world, when you really believed in God, and you imagined Him smiling and walking around the clouds, although maybe He got a bit sad if He happened to look down here. You were able to inhabit the stars and the planets with your imagination, arguing with your classmates over the ownership of Alpha, Beta, and the Pole Star, as well as a share of Saturn and the absolute dominion over Jupiter. And everything would last forever, the house on a tree, the daisies, the board games, bread&nutella and the afternoon tea. Because it was easy to take each other by hand and slip into the night, without thinking what it will be, where it will be, tomorrow.


Short note: I'm pleased to announce that this recipe is part of the August 2013 issue of Threef, a photography & food magazine; it's a special issue dedicated to Time, the time that passes, that stops or that you dream of, and also the time that never comes back.
If you weren't judge me biased, I'd recommend you browse it, because it's really worth it. But I won't say anything, because I'm not biased.




Tuscan Bread*
for 1 loaf

Starter
fine ground flour 300 gr
water 180 gr
fresh brewer's yeast 5 gr

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl until the dough is well blended, but working as little as possible. Cover and let rise at room temperature for 20-24 hours.

Second Rise 105 gr
fine ground flour 100 gr
water 50 gr
fresh brewer's yeast 2 gr

Dissolve the starter and the yeast with the water and knead briefly with the flour, then cover again and let rise for another 20-24 hours.

Dough
fine ground flour 250 gr
water 150 gr ca
fresh brewer's yeast 2 gr

Place the flour on the work surface, make a well in the middle, then crumble in the center the fresh yeast and the starter. Dissolve with water and when you get a well-blended mixture, add the flour and knead by hand, working as little as possible. Shape the dough into a loaf, push it down and lay it vertically in front of you. Lift one edge and fold it toward the center, place your thumbs on the folded part and press until you reach the surface of the table below. Keep folding in the same direction until you completely roll the dough. Place it on a kitchen towel, well dusted with flour, with the fold underneath, dust with more flour, wrap it with the cloth, squeezing a little and sealing it as if it were a package, and let it rise for at least half hour. When ready, there will be cracks all over the surface. Sprinkle some flour on the back of a tray, grab the towel and position the bread on your forearm, then transfer it on the tray placing the fold underneath without any abrupt movement. Slide it on a baking stone or a baking sheet already hot, bake it in a preheated oven at 430 for 10 minutes, then lower to 350-375 approximately for 40 minutes.

*I took the recipe from the infallible bible of the Simili Sisters, Pane e Roba Dolce (Bread and Sweet Things). A must-have for all food fanatics and food bloggers out there, bakers and not, since the dawn of time.

Veg Ragù (Meatless Meat Sauce)

Many months and years went by (gulp!), and dozens of posts, recipes, jams, focaccias, canning, pizzas and cakes since that day when I made the most classic of meat sauce for the last time; and also since I committed this other sin for the purpose of the blog, about which I now refuse to talk.
I know that this improper, heretical new entry, and vegan (!), more than one person will refuse to call it ragù, but who am I to blame? Obscurantist controversies don't really suit me, and in my resume, I confess, I too can boast a past as culinary fundamentalist, which, however, used to give me quite a few migraines in this stars-and-stripes land dominated by the horrors (or strokes of genius) of fusion cuisine. So today, of the restrictive philosophy of the days when I used to believe only in buffalo mozzarella, San Daniele prosciutto and pachino tomatoes, I decided to keep only the (semi-)fundamentalist ethics of pizza, whereby the combination pineapple&ham (otherwise known as Hawaiian pizza) to this day gives me intestine hives.
I digress, as always, but this is basically one of the subtle pleasures of a self-managed blog...
Ragù, we were saying. These days I've learned that the word comes from the French ragoûter, that is to say "whet your appetite". So, technically, even what I'm now submitting to your sacrosanct criticism, is a ragù with all the trimmings. Because it really whets, with its expanded fragrance and the ruby red color that will stick to your ladle.
And I call it ragù because it must be made with no rush on Sunday morning, or in the peace of a whole available afternoon; and because it contains within itself the same thick and reassuring idea of when you were six and used to come back home after school, knowing that you'd to find the table already set, and ten to one there'd be pasta with tomato sauce for lunch.
Be patient if this time the meat ran away; and who cares if I can't settle the culinary fundamentalists; it'll mean that I won't invite them for lunch, but then, I don't think they'd like to sit on the floor anyways. Or, to make up for it, I'll call it poor boy ragù, or better yet poor girl ragù, to show off my English and encourage a little compassion.
But take a piece of bread and dip it in while it's hot, and then tell me if by any chance it wasn't worth the effort.



Veg Ragù*
for 6 people

onion 1
carrots 2
celery 1 stalk
green olives 50 gr
raisins 120 gr
salt-packed capers 25 gr
double concentrated tomato paste 2 tubes
red wine 1/2 glass
fresh parsley and basil 1 bunch each
olive oil, salt, pepper, red chili pepper, water as needed

*I grabbed the recipe from the famous folder Forum Cucina Italiana, but I hadn't saved the name of the author, I apologize. If anyone knows who he/she is, do tell. Thank you for your understanding.

Finely chop the onion and sauté for a few minutes in a little olive oil. Add carrots and celery cut into small cubes and cook for about 10 minutes.
Meanwhile chop (you can do it also with a food processor, or rather, better with a food processor) olives, raisins, and capers rinsed from their salt. Add them to the vegetable mixture along with plenty of minced parsley and basil, red chili pepper to taste, salt (a little) and pepper. Stir and cook for a few minutes, then add the tomato paste diluted in red wine and a little bit of water. Cook the sauce to medium-low flame for about two hours, stirring occasionally and adding some water if it boils down too much.
Use it as usual, in the classic sandwich with meat sauce, still hot, or as a sauce for the pasta shape that suits you best: rigatoni, penne, mezzi rigatoni, mezze penne, smooth or ribbed, maccheroni, spaghetti, shells or fettuccine. Long live pasta, long live meat sauce, the veg one even more!
w.v.<3

Mesciua - Italian Bean Soup

Dear diary, I am happy only at sea, on the way from one island I just left to another one I have yet to reach.
~ Nanni Moretti, Dear Diary

I've read that mesciua was born from the sea, between the Ligurian coasts, a poor man' soup put together with those grains that the longshoremen’s wives could gather from time to time on the docks, as treasures unwittingly fallen from the slits of the bags, worn out by time and travels.
I imagined a thick soup, with the poor and robust flavor of the land, the waves and the adversities, and the incisive scent of memories and hope.
I saw a woman with slender, well groomed hands, black hair and a scarf around the neck, wandering every day through the streets of the port to take a vain look between the cries of the people, waiting anonymously for a lover. I thought of a man overboard, with tanned arms and fatigue in the veins, with eyes following the stars and boredom for a friend; I saw him feeding himself with waves, loneliness and false freedom.
I watched the woman leave, with her scarf around the neck, away from the coast and from the sound of the wind, to go and get lost among unfamiliar people, languages and scents. I felt her nostalgia, moist and dense like vapors from the kitchen; I felt it taking shape after years in the improbable taste of this mixture of grains left in the bottom of the pantry. I looked into her eyes, dark and sad of melancholy, and I listened to the vivid silence of her regret. I wished that on the bottom of the dish she could find an answer to her questions, I wanted to give her the smile and the comfort of memory; instead I saw her crying in front of this soup, so far and outspoken, living memory of a summer sky, a love never lived and a land never forgotten.
I had a dream and I wrote it down this way, on a winter evening; and I dedicated it to all the travelers of the world, with their fate on the open sea, their thoughts on the ground, and their heart between two shores.





Mesciua
for 4/5 people

dried garbanzo beans 200 gr
dried cannellini beans 200 gr
wheat berries or farro 100 gr
olive oil, salt, black pepper as needed

The night before, soak the beans separately, covering them with water, and let them sit for about 8 hours. Drain and rinse, then put garbanzo beans and wheat berries in a large pot of lightly salted cold water, bring to boil and simmer for about 1 hour and 1/2. Put the cannellini beans in a separate pot, cover with cold water and cook for about 1 hour. Add them with some of their liquid to the garbanzo and wheat berries, season with salt and cook for another 15 minutes. Season each plate with a bit of olive oil and plenty of freshly ground black pepper.
Refrain from parmesan cheese, according to the experts it would be a heresy!

Melon Gazpacho with Prosciutto and Mint

What can I say? We can talk about figs as much as you like, but in my opinion nothing beats the pairing melon&prosciutto. It's an invention so brilliant that I wish I had thought of it myself, one of those things so peacefully just that make you stop looking for reasons. A perfect match, like popcorn at the movies, snow on Christmas Day, or pizza by the slice in an afternoon by the sea. Like Ovaltine before a ski race. And if that were not enough, melon&prosciutto has the scent of summer, but of the one yet to come, that summer of the mind that's always full of dreams and expectations, with all its shooting stars, its trips to the north of the world, and its love stories stolen to the logic.
And I hope you already know all this from experience, because really... raise your hand if you've ever eaten melon&prosciutto, stark as it was invented, without feeling at peace with the world.

And I wanted to. I'm serious. I really wanted to stay calm and eat two slices of melon in peace, wrapped in so much goodness just as God intended. But for the benefit of the blog and of the whole humanity, I decided it was my duty to make an exception. So I gave in, and I started smashing and blending the melon with great fun, and messing up prosciutto with as much pain. Yet if they call us foodbloggers there must be a reason.
Tested for you. And now don't put up any resistance.


Melon Gazpacho
with Prosciutto and Mint
for 4 people

melon, net 1 kg approx.
yellow peaches 3
lemon 1
shallot, small 1/2
balsamic vinegar 2 tablespoons
Parma prosciutto 3-4 thin slices
salt, pepper, extra-virgin olive oil, fresh mint as needed

Cut melon and peaches in pieces, and blend them with great fun along with lemon juice, balsamic vinegar, a small piece of shallot, a pinch of salt, and a little bit of water. Keep the gazpacho in the fridge until ready to serve.
Meanwhile heat some extra-virgin olive oil in a heavy skillet, and despite the great pain add the prosciutto slices, cut in pieces, cooking them on both sides until they are crisp. Dry them on paper towels, then chop them as small as you like.
Serve the gazpacho, garnishing each plate with some of the prosciutto, chopped fresh mint, and a sprinkling of black pepper.

Chickpea and Rosemary Frittatas

... did you see how it rains,
feel how it's coming down
and you were saying that it had stopped raining...
(L. Cherubini, Piove)

The fat is in the fire. Dismantled heart, weakened bones, and twisted guts. Lovers to the core. And when the fat is in the fire - damn it - there is no going back.
Don't call it focaccia (... uh... I think I owe you some kind of explanation here: the recipe comes from this delicious book, bought used for $2; one of the most surprisingly well-chosen purchases of my glorious career as foodblogger, except for the fact that in the book these round things here, the subject of my daily post, they are called focacce; but NO!!!, I cannot do this, I just cannot accept it, and I know that among you are those who understand...).
So don't call it focaccia. Because it's a frittata. And it's done. The fat is in the fire.


Chickpea and Rosemary Frittata
for 6 frittatas of about 7" diameter

chickpea flour 90 gr
eggs 3
milk 240 ml - 1 cup
olive oil 1 tablespoon
fresh rosemary 2-3 sprigs
salt, pepper, butter as needed

Whisk the eggs in a bowl. Add the flour a little at a time, always whisking and trying to avoid lumps. Incorporate oil, milk and chopped rosemary. Season with salt and pepper.
Melt very little butter in a small crepes pan of approximately 7" diameter. Pour in just enough of the mixture to cover the bottom, and cook for a couple of minutes until set. Flip the frittata using a spatula and cook the other side for slightly less than one minute.
Repeat for the remaining frittatas, until you run out of mixture. Serve hot ot warm.

P.S: to tell you the truth, I wouldn't even call these frittatas, as they really are too thin to qualify as such. They are little round things. Infused with love and rosemary. Things so damn round and complete that everything else doesn't count anymore.

Tuscan Kale Soup

Or else ... how Tuscan kale and I became friends for life.
Because this soup is incredibly simple, just the way I like it, one throws everything in the pot and then happily forgets about it for a few hours; because this dish says winter, yet is able to bring a ray of sunshine in a dark and drafty kitchen (mine); because the ingredients are humble and even a little trivial, but if you put them together and cook them properly, they marvelously acquire a whole new meaning; because Tuscan kale is black, bitter and very hard, but if you have patience... well, ... just try for yourself and let me know :-)


Tuscan Kale Soup
for 4-5 people

Tuscan kale 2
dried Borlotti beans 60 gr
potatoes 2
tomatoes 3
celery 1 stalk
carrot 1
onion 1
fresh thyme 2 sprigs
olive oil, salt, pepper, country bread as needed

The night before, soak the beans in a little bit of water.
Finely chop the onion, carrot and celery and then sauté them in a large pot with few tablespoon of olive oil; after a while add diced tomatoes, thyme and potatoes, peeled and cut in small pieces. Cook for few minutes, and then add kale leaves, washed and cut into strips, the drained beans and 2 liters of cold water. Season with salt and pepper and cook covered for about 2 or 2 and 1/2 hours.
Serve the soup over a layer of bread slices, with a little bit of olive oil and no cheese. For the vegan inside of you.

The Apple Cake

Here I go again dreaming, here I go again.
Having a good time baby, wish you were here.
Thinking about you baby, it feels like you're near,
And you can't do a thing, to stop me...
(Chris Isaak, Can't Do a Thing To Stop Me)


Sometimes things happen that distract you, you don't see that yet another year is slipping away, nor the 78 blog-free days that are going with it. But sometimes other things happen that put you back on track. Like an apple cake, the Christmas tree, Lucio Battisti, or some birthday wishes.

It was my first cake ever, we were 9 or 10 year old, messing around in the kitchen during summer afternoons, we had the same dreams about our future, but different ideas on boiled rice.
It's one of those memories we must go back to, the kind that makes you feel good right away, a long hug, welcoming and delicious.

And in the end it doesn't matter whether or not it's been the first that ever came out of your oven: apples, cinnamon and sugar, and eternal gratitude to the apple cake.

Apple Cake
for a round cake pan of 9" diameter

butter, room temperature 125 gr
sugar 125 gr
vanilla 1 teaspoon
eggs 2
lemons 2
flour 200 gr
corn starch 50 gr
baking powder 6 gr (2 teaspoons)
salt a pinch
milk (or buttermilk) as needed
apples, medium size 3
sugar, cinnamon, powdered sugar as needed

Beat butter until creamy and gradually add sugar, vanilla, eggs, grated rind and juice of one lemon, and salt. Sift together flour, baking powder and corn starch, then gradually add them to the butter mixture. Add a little bit of milk (buttermilk for me... sorry but my foodblogger soul and the need for tenderness forced me to make a change on the original), until the batter is soft enough (about half a glass).
Peel the apples and cut them into wedges. Line them with a fork, and mix them with sugar, cinnamon and lemon juice.
Pour the batter into the baking pan, previously greased and floured, and arrange the apple slices on top.
Bake at 360 for about 45 minutes until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let the cake cool off on a wire rack and serve dusting it with powdered sugar.

Pasta e Ceci (Pasta and Cickpeas)

After tasting this, someone wanted to label it An Ode to Rosemary (to each their own PR...). For me it's even more: a memory of home, an essential staple on the Christmas table, the aromatic reliability of flavors and affection.
One of those recipes that doesn't hide anything, and we like it this way, naked, simple, and without any makeup: a little pasta, and lots and lots of chickpeas.

Pasta e Ceci
for 6-7 people

dried chickpeas 500 gr
garlic 2 cloves
rosemary 1 sprig
parsley 1 sprig
vegetable bouillon cube 1
cherry tomatoes 8-10
wide egg noodles such as fettuccine 1 handful
olive oil, salt, pepper, chili pepper, parmigiano cheese as needed

Put chickpeas in a large bowl, cover with water and allow to soak overnight. Drain, put them in a pot, cover with more water and bring to boil. Cook slowly until tender, skimming occasionally and adding more water if necessary (it will take about 2 hours).
When chickpeas are done, add garlic cloves, peeled and cut in half, bouillon cube, salt, pepper, a little olive oil, the herbs tied together with twine, and cherry tomatoes. Let simmer for another half hour, then add pasta, broken in small pieces, and cook until al dente. Discard the herbs and serve, sprinkling each plate with a little bit of grated parmigiano cheese and chili pepper to taste.

Soft Focaccia From Bari

"Focaccia in Bari is prepared by mixing wheat flour, salt, yeast and water. The result is a fairly liquid batter that is poured into a round baking pan, seasoned with olive oil, fresh tomatoes, and olives, and then baked in the oven. And because the mixture is liquid, pieces of tomato and olives sink into the dough, creating and filling small, soft holes, which become the best part of the focaccia. It is eaten warm but not hot, wrapped in a piece of paper, coming out of school, at the beach, for dinner or lunch (or as a snack or even at breakfast, but this is stuff for experts): fast, cheap and deliciously greasy.
Focaccia is one of the best things in the world. I refrain from saying that it is the best thing, to keep a minimum of perspective and to avoid the parochial ravings. There are the thin and crunchy ones, the tall and soft, those with the addition of potatoes or rosemary and many other variations. But the real focaccia is the one with tomatoes, olives, charred edges and nothing else. It should be paired, if possible, with a nice bottle of very cold beer. If you really want to enter the realm of high cuisine, the supreme pleasure is warm focaccia stuffed with thin slices of mortadella. Mortadella, when sliced thinly, coming into contact with the warm and fragrant crumb, releases a scent that makes the salivary glands go crazy.
Unlike many good things, which are often scarce and expensive, focaccia, in Bari, is found wherever there is a bakery. Which is everywhere, and everybody can buy it.
Focaccia, in Bari, is a metaphor for equality and one of the few symbols (among them, worthy of note are raw mussels) in which people from Bari recognize their collective identity.
A few hours earlier, Paolo had said that what he missed the most was the smell of focaccia".

(G. Carofiglio, Neither here nor anywhere else, one night in Bari)


Soft Focaccia from Bari
for two round pan of 10" in diameter*

The Starter
type O flour 80 gr
lukewarm water 60 gr
fresh yeast 1 g (a small piece)

The Dough
semolina (durum wheat) flour 1 kg
lukewarm water 800 gr
olive oil 30 gr
fresh yeast 15 gr
salt 20 gr, 4 tablespoons
cherry tomatoes, cut in half 1 kg
black olives, weighted with the pit 400 gr
olive oil for the pans, salt, oregano as needed

Getting hooked on focaccia's recipes - and the one from Bari in particular - is taking a dead end street. Tall, thin, wheat flour, semolina flour, with olives, without olives, with potatoes, without potatoes. Variations are endless; a quick googling is enough to understand that you wouldn't get out of it alive. Especially if you've never been in Bari, if the sea for you has always been only an interlude, and - even worse - if few years ago you moved to the other side of the world, where the Mediterranean and its aromas have become a metaphor of undefined contours.
For this reason, I've decided to rely upon an original recipe signed by the Simili sisters, which - besides being of secure outcome - also frees me of any liability. And there I rewrite it below, exactly as it is recited in the Bible in their book. Roll up your sleeves and knuckle down, because this focaccia, whether or not from Bari, really kicks ass!

The starter:
Mix the ingredients in a bowl, cover and let rise for 18-24 hours.
The dough:
In a large bowl, dissolve the yeast and the starter with half the water, and mix well; add a little flour, salt, and then begin to beat. Combine the remaining ingredients, alternating flour and water and continue beating vigorously until the mixture "boils" (that is, until you see large bubbles forming, that will break immediately) and the texture of the semolina flour is dissolved (about 10-15 minutes). The dough should be very soft. Cover the bowl and let it rise for 30 minutes.
Pour some oil in each of two baking pans, put your hands in covering them completely; grasp half of the dough and roll it while suspended, keeping it in one hand while the other collects the dough that's falling from the side, inserting it underneath in the middle, and transferring everything from one hand to another.
Don't worry if at first the gluten is relaxed and the dough comes down very quickly; after two or three manipulations the gluten wakes up allowing you to work more comfortably for two to three manipulations. Place this ball in the greased pan and repeat with the second half of the dough. Let it rise for about two hours, then cover the surface completely with tomatoes and pitted olives, taking care not to press down, otherwise you lose the rising gas and the focaccia will be less soft. To avoid this unfortunate circumstance, pinch a little dough by lifting it up, then put a piece of tomato or olive underneath. Sprinkle with salt [and oregano, I'd like to add ], drizzle with oil and bake at 450 for 25-30 minutes.
Remove from the pan few minutes after it's baked and place it on a baker's rack.

*I halved the quantity, obtaining one round pan only. I prepared the starter with the quantities described above, but then I used only half of it for the final dough, which I've made with half the quantities transcribed here.

Macco di Fave (Dried Fava Bean Puree)

Here, I say it: I'm with the minimalist for minimalism. And when it comes to minimalism in the kitchen, I just go into raptures. Yes, because recipes that start listing more than the three or four ingredients humanly acceptable make me really sick, striking some sort of culinary terror, and awakening in me two opposite temptations:
a) the unnatural and deceptive desire to run for cover to the nearest take-away, to please my laziness;
b) the need for a bowl of plain white rice (even without parmigiano cheese!), to accommodate the aspiration to the ethereal purity of the lonely hero.

I realize that starting a food blog was not really a great idea. True, I have a soft spot for colorful salts and flours made from mysterious grains, and over time I've collected an embarrassing series of powders, spices and other rather enigmatic concoctions (all that being edible material, ça va sans dire), not to mention bowls and pottery on sale, redundant cutlery and trendy gadgets. Still, if it was for me, I'd post spaghetti pomdoro 304 days a year, reserving the approximate 52 Sundays for gnocchi (always strictly with tomato sauce), and the remaining 9 days for the surprise dish. An effective blog, indeed.

Therefore, you can imagine my joy when I tried this phenomenal macco di fave, in my to-do list from time immemorial: the linearity of a minimal dish meets the vanity of a post. A perfect combination. In my dream blog, macco found its way all of a sudden, winning as many as 8 of the 9 surprise-dish days. Because to be more minimal and more delicious, I think it's really difficult.


Macco di Fave
(Dried Fava Bean Puree)
for 4-5 people

dried, peeled fava beans about 1 lb.
olive oil, salt, pepper, water as needed
garlic 2 cloves
wild fennel, chicory, kale, dandelion, rapini, mustard greens
(or some other green stuff of choice)
one big bunch

Soak the beans in a bowl of water overnight. The next day, drain and cook them over medium-low heat in a large pan, barely covered with water. Cook until the beans are tender and begin to come apart, skimming when needed, stirring occasionally, and adding more water if necessary. If you’d like, you could also add a carrot and a celery stalk to the cooking water, or start by sautéing a sliced spring onion in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil, but I preferred to stick with the most proletarian version out there: fava beans, fava beans, absolutely fava beans, with the sole addition of a good pinch of salt near the end. When the beans are tender, reach for the evergreen immersion blender in the cupboard, and puree until creamy, adding oil little by little until you get a smooth texture.
In the meantime, wash the greens (in my case it was some Russian kale, a kind of purple kale, slightly sweeter and less pungent, something I didn't even know until the day before yesterday, to be honest); remove the tough ends and cook them gently in a large saucepan with an inch of water. Drain, remove excess water and sauté them in a pan with a little olive oil and the garlic cloves, peeled and cut in half. Season with salt and pepper.
Place the macco in a bowl with the greens in the middle, and serve with a dash of olive oil and a sprinkling of black pepper.