Pink Juice (Rhubarb, Carrots and Beets)

I believe in pink.
~ Audrey Hepburn

If I were asked to color the world, I'd have no doubt, I'd paint it pink. Maybe with some shades of red, which - let's face it - never hurts, in my opinion. But then green light to strokes of pink, in all its possible shades, from lilac to magenta, through fuchsia, purple and plum.
I'm not talking about the color of the cheesy and impossibly romantic tales of my unhealthy youth, because if it were up to me I'd give Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty a nice pair of flat and comfortable shoes and a motorized convertible pumpkin to drive around the world by themselves, without waiting to be awakened by Prince Charming, rather by a double cappuccino with brioche as an option.
Instead, I'm talking about the pink of the strawberries when they turn into jam, of cherry trees when they blossom on the side of the road, and the unbeatable pink of the sunset during some evenings up in the mountains; pink, like the scent of freshly baked bread; like the Gazzetta newspaper when Italy is playing; like a slice of cold watermelon consumed on the streets under the August stars.



Because if you close your eyes and imagine the world as such, if you close your eyes but open your heart, if you focus on listening to the sound of the breath or that of the wind, forgetting the fears, the judgments, the things to buy, the rush, the time, the hours and tonight's dinner, then you realize that it's you who paint the world, and happiness is inside your head, just behind the madness at the end of the thoughts; and the room for your suffering and for the loneliness of those long afternoons in November becomes immediately smaller; goodbyes are not goodbyes but curves of a moving path, and every day, if you want it, is made to be like cotton candy, red like Heidi's cheeks, or yellow and green like daisies in the meadow, comfortable and perfect as an upside-down octagon.



I don't believe in Prince Charming (have you ever seen him in a fairy tale kissing a frog?), but I have confidence in the color of daily life, in fantasy mixed with reality, and in an oasis full of flowers in a garden behind your house. More effective and more feasible, just like a purple wig to wear on an ordinary day, a lady elephant that runs away from the circus, or a ride on a Vespa under the snow in December.
But now please excuse me, I got thirsty.




Pink Juice
with rhubarb, carrots and beet
for 2

rhubarb 3-4 stalks
red beet 1
carrots 3-4
green apple 1
lime 1
fresh ginger 1 small piece

Wash fruits and vegetables and peel the beets. Cut into pieces and juice. Add a small piece of ginger to taste. At the end, stir in lime juice and mix. Serve cold.

Blistered Padrón Peppers

Los pimientos de Padrón,
unos pican y outros non.

No offense, but I can certainly say I am lucky.
I realize it all of a sudden a Sunday morning in the middle of summer, while I walk around the stalls of a neighborhood farmers' market, still sleepy, and, between endless varieties of tomatoes - pink (!!!!!!), black, and cherry red - among Korean melons, Thai basil, tomatillos and lemongrass, between Chinese spinach and sweet potatoes, in the hands of a Mexican teenage boy to my own surprise I find these peppers, which I happened to taste for the first time spread on top of a deliciously sweet pizza, and then again cheesely lying on a bed of almond cream during one of those romantic evenings that smell of strawberries, basil, and illusions.
These pimientos de Padrón are a variety of small green chilies, typical of the region of Galicia. They are commonly served as a tapa in the local taverns, usually accompanied by a nice and refreshing cold beer. The characteristic that makes them appealing as well as famous, is the fact that some of them are harmless and sweet, others are intense and spicy, but it's impossible to know, since from the outside the two varieties look exactly the same.
For this reason, someone said that our peppers are like a Russian roulette, sweet or pungent, you never know what will happen. Any bite could be fatal, and hit you like a super hot puncture.
Me, I'd rather think that they are just like the Alpine sky on an August afternoon, mysterious and unpredictable, a minute before it's warm and blue, and then suddenly it becomes arrogant, brash, and stormy.
Or, if you excuse me, I'd rather say that these small pimientos are just like the night, like all those sleepless nights that are sometimes sweet, sometimes bold and violent. Not sure what to prefer, but in the end you don't even have to choose.
Why try to prefer one over the other when you can have both? Just let yourself go with trust, surrender to their temptress and illusory tenderness, and let each bite surprise you with such elusive goodness.

Blistered Padrón Peppers
quantities are variable, depending on the hunger of diners

Padrón peppers
extra-virgin olive oil
fleur de sel
lemon juice

Shamelessly and blatantly a non-recipe. But trust me, the best way to enjoy these adorable pimientos - lucky me - is also the simplest in the world.
Heat some extra-virgin olive oil in a heavy skillet, wash the peppers, pat them dry, and add them to the pan, whole. Let them cook thoroughly over medium-high heat until they soften and darken on both sides.
Pull out from the back of your pantry your most precious salt, and use a generous handful to flavor the pimientos. If you like - I do, for sure - add also some fresh lemon juice.
Accessorize with a glass of beer and possibly with a nice and sunny afternoon.

Jicama, Pineapple and Mint Salad

Longing for summer? YesYesYesYesYesYesYesSYesYesYesYesssssss!


Jicama, Pineapple & Mint Salad
for 4

jicama, medium size 2
fresh pineapple 4-5 slices, about 1/2 inch thick
shallot 1
lime 3
chili pepper, a Thai one, if possible 1
salt, fresh mint as needed

If you don't know jicama, you could:
a) read here, and here;
b) try to imagine a tuber similar in shape and color to a large, flattened potato, with the not-so-subtle difference that your jicama is best eaten raw, and what's more, it is sweet, crisp, and refreshing like an apple.
Jicama is grown widely in Mexico and Central America, where it is often consumed as an antidote to summer heat, cut into sticks and simply seasoned with chili, salt, and lime juice. Humbly good and refreshing.

Today, however, instead of sticks, I cubified it. How did that story go, about changing the order of the factors...? Or something like that, ah here, I think they say that despite everything, the result doesn't change. Sticks, fillets, cubes or parallelepipeds, who cares? Try it. Rain (worse) or shine (better), jicama won't let you down.

As for the so called recipe, simply peel the applepotato jicama and cut it into small cubes along with the slices of pineapple; mince the shallot, squeeze the limes, remove the seeds from the chili pepper and chop it fine (maybe try to remember washing your hands after touching the seeds and before rubbing your eyes), mix everything well in a pink, green or blue bowl, season with a pinch of salt and quite a bit of freshly chopped mint... and today also we can breathe a sigh of relief.

Raw Beet and Carrot Salad

I had an epiphany! One of those that (almost) hits you like a pan on the forehead: beets can be eaten raw. Olé!
Unfortunately for me, I always thought they were like potatoes, which, raw, may not be very successful. Instead I had a nice surprise, an epiphany induced by my new friend Mark Bittman, about whom I've already promised to talk a bit more in detail in the next few days.
But for now take this salad: fresh, crisp, and strictly raw. Now, tell me if this is no reason to be happy. Cheers!


Raw Beet and Carrot Salad
for 4

red beets, medium size 3
carrots 2
fresh ginger 1 piece, about 1" long
shallot 1-2
olive oil 2 tablespoons
Dijon mustard 2-3 tablespoons
lime 2
salt, pepper, fresh cilantro as needed

Peel beets and carrots and grate them into a bowl. Add grated fresh ginger, finely chopped shallots, salt and pepper. Prepare the dressing by mixing oil, mustard, and lime juice, and pour it over the vegetables. Mix well and sprinkle with a generous amount of chopped fresh coriander (mind you, make the amount truly generous...).

Roasted Garlic

Yesterday tomatoes, today garlic (... and what do you think, tomorrow basil?). Yesterday I gave you Neruda, today you have to deal with myself. But don't worry, I won't pass you any Ode to Garlic that I wrote, also because, to be honest, I'm not really a big fan of it. To clarify, I find places such as The Stinking Rose, with their best sellers like garlic martini or garlic ice-cream, a little intimidating. What can I do?

Yet, even garlic, usually so harsh, pungent, and even a little fetid, deep in its heart has a creamy, soft, and sweet soul. You just need to know how to rub him up the right way, and you'll see that even if he's mad and furious, you can shut him up.


Roasted Garlic

heads of garlic, whole
olive oil, salt, pepper, fresh thyme to taste
vegetable stock if necessary, to drizzle

Slice off the top of the garlic heads, about 1/4 inch from the top, but without separating the cloves. Place them on a baking pan, season with salt, pepper, and fresh thyme sprigs, and drizzle with olive oil. Bake at 375 for about 45-60 minutes, until garlic gets soft. If it darkens too soon, cover it with a sheet of aluminum. If necessary, pour some vegetable stock in the pan, so that garlic won't stick to the bottom.
Once cooked, squeeze the cloves one by one and you'll get a sweet and totally innocent cream. It's excellent as an appetizer, spread on top of crostini, along with a slice of brie or other semi-soft cheese.
And if you find yourself eating a whole garlic head, don't say I didn't warn you.

Arugula and Melon Salad

A shamelessly lazy post. In order not to lose my face with it, I play the universally valid card of the "With this hot weather, you don't really want to cook anything" (...and you don't need to know that here one would gladly use a wool hat).

Even more shamelessly, I even list you the ingredients:
- arugula;
- melon;
- goat cheese;
- salt, pepper, olive oil, balsamic vinegar.

With an act of extreme generosity, I spare you from the explanation of the difficult recipe. And if you're not convinced yet, take it as an excuse to equip yourself with the famous and super useful fruit baller.

Spring Salad. Asparagus, Fava Beans and Sweet Peas

...it's a sunny day today
nothing can hurt me
[...] he bought a house
painted it with the colors of the rainbow
he saw on TV that even when it rains
somewhere else the sky is clear
it's a sunny day today
(L. Cherubini, Sunny Day)

There are certain things that make you feel good, no matter what. Small gestures, colors and thoughts that cherish your mind and make you smile. Waking up on a sunny day, buying daisy flowers, crossing a stranger's cheerful eyes. Ten minutes of happiness. Just like the beginning of the weekend, like singing under the shower or wetting your feet in the sea.
Just like eating strawberries or shelling peas. For few moments you forget about the uncertainties, the stress, the gas price increase, the bills to pay and the tooth ache. Life becomes as simple as a bike ride and you realize it's finally springtime.
It's a sunny day and nothing can hurt you.

Ehm...today I felt this way, what do you want me to say?


Asparagus, Fava Beans & Sweet Peas Salad
for 3

asparagus 500 gr.
fava beans, unshelled (otherwise, where's the fun?) 500 gr.
fresh sweet peas, to be shelled (see above) 500 gr.
salt, pepper, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, white wine q.b.
wild arugula 2 handfuls

Wash asparagus and cut the ends. Dress them with a tablespoon olive oil, salt, pepper and a splash of white wine. Place them on a baking pan and bake at 400 for about 20-30 minutes, until tender, turning them once or twice. Let them cool down, cut them in pieces about 1 inch long, keeping the tips intact. Set them aside. Meanwhile shell the peas and cook them in little boiling water for 4-5 minutes. Drain and cool them under cold water.
Shell the fava beans as well, blanch them for two minutes and then cool them under cold water. Discard the inner skin and set them aside.
Wash arugula, mix it with asparagus, fava beans and peas. Dress it with salt, pepper, olive oil and a little balsamic vinegar. If you wish, you can add some shaved pecorino cheese.

Sunday tip: don't discard the empty pea shells, but use them to make vegetable broth. Simply put them in a large pot, cover with water, add half a onion, one carrot, half celery stalk, few peppercorns and a pinch of salt. Bring to boil and let it simmer for about 30 minutes. Better than this!!!

...it's a sunny day today
nothing can hurt me.

Citrus Powder

In the last hours of winter, I too have fallen in the trap of this colorful powder. It's become so popular that it's almost boring.
Oh yeah, I've put that thing in it, that orange powder, you know?
And yet the scent is so incredibly good that you'd add it everywhere, on vegetables cooked and raw, in soups and in salads, on fish and meat, in cookies and pastry creams. As for me, right now I'm keeping it as a little treasure, and every once in a while I give a little sniff just to brighten up the day. An orange pick-me-up, pocket size.

Meanwhile, I take the opportunity to say goodbye and take few days off. Armed with this magic potion, I ask for vacation to my own blog. Side effects of the modern world.

Oh, I almost forgot, the so-called recipe: take few organic oranges (or lemons), wash and dry them well, and then peel them, paying attention to leave out the white part - or at least to leave it out as much as possible. Place the citrus peel on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, and let it dry in the oven at the minimum temperature. It will take about one, one and a half hour. When peels are crunchy, process them in a food processor until very fine. And voila', your little powder is ready to use.

Bye Bye Winter

Oh dear tangerine juice, why have I never thought of you before? Oh well, it'll be for next season. On my end, with this toast I officialy declare the end of winter.

Homemade Ricotta

VINCENT: But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
JULES: What?
VINCENT: It's the little differences. A lotta the same shit we got here, they got there, but there they're a little different.
JULES: Examples?
VINCENT: Well, in Amsterdam, you can buy beer in a movie theatre. And I don't mean in a paper cup either. They give you a glass of beer, like in a bar. In Paris, you can buy beer at MacDonald's. Also, you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
JULES: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
VINCENT: No, they got the metric system there, they wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
JULES: What'd they call it?
VINCENT: Royale with Cheese.
JULES: Royale with Cheese. What'd they call a Big Mac?
VINCENT: Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it Le Big Mac.
JULES: Le Big Mac. What do they call a Whopper?
VINCENT: I dunno, I didn't go into a Burger King. But you know what they put on french fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
JULES: What?
VINCENT: Mayonnaise.
JULES: Goddamn!
VINCENT: I seen 'em do it. And I don't mean a little bit on the side of the plate, they fuckin' drown 'em in it.
JULES: Uuccch!

(J. Travolta & S. L. Jackson, Pulp Fiction, second scene; if you...ehm...care for the Italian version, take a look here)

Ah, the little differences. How nice it'd be if one day I could drive around Hollywood in that old Chevy with Vincent Vega and Jules Winnfield. We could talk for hours about the little differences: ice cold drinks, salted butter, coffee in a paper cup, peanut butter & jam sandwiches.
One can get used to everything, mayo with french fries and triple, no-foam cappuccinos (???). But ricotta ...ehm..., sorry but on this one I'd have something to say. The little difference in this case becomes an abyss of taste and creaminess. Vincent, I swear. If Marsellus by any chance sends you over to Europe one more time, get yourself a dose of fresh ricotta, and then let's talk about it.
As for me, since there's nothing better around here, I cheer up with this.


Homemade Ricotta
for about 1 lb. of ricotta

milk 2 quarts
heavy whipping cream 1/2 cup
white wine vinegar 5 tablespoons
salt a pinch

To be precise, this is not really ricotta, since ri-cotta (as the name says, literally re-cooked) should be made by the cooking a second time the whey that's left over from making cheese. Regardless of the name, this thing is really good, and most of all, it's far better than any version I've been able to find at the supermarket.
In a large pot, mix milk, cream, vinegar and salt. Put on the stove at medium heat until it reaches between 195 and 205 degrees (what? you still don't have a cooking thermometer?). It'll take about 40 minutes. Turn off the heat and let it rest for approximately 20 minutes in the same pot, without ever touching it, so that milk can curdle and coagulate. Using a slotted spoon, gently transfer ricotta in a fine sieve (even better if it's lined with cheesecloth) and let it drain until it reaches the desired consistency. Adjust with salt and keep it in the fridge.

Pomegranate Syrup

Few days ago, I promised I'd palm you off with a post on this syrup. This way, I can further expand the category of Recipes-Non-Recipes, the ones requiring zero effort. Since pomegranate is already out, I didn't even have to squeeze the fruit by myself, and all I had to do was getting a bottle of pure 100% juice, which one can find pretty easily at the supermarket. Why then fresh juice is available even when the fruit it comes from is totally out of season, is a mystery, and it may be better not to investigate. For now.


Pomegranate Syrup

pomegranate juice 1 450ml-bottle
sugar 50 gr.
lemon juice 1/2 teaspoon

In a small pan mix all ingredients. Heat it up slowly and let simmer for about 30-40 minutes, until you reach the desired consistency. The syrup gets thicker when cooling down, so it's better not to trust its appearance and to boil it for not too much time, otherwise instead of syrup you'll end up with a much thicker molasses. Let it cool completely and then refrigerate it.

Chicken Salad With Walnuts And Dried Apricots

Boiled meat and me have never gotten along too well. Last night, for some strange reason, I decided to make a batch of chicken stock. If you think about it, one can't stay without chicken sock, right?
I've been able to verify that one of the side effects of the aforementioned chicken stock is that all of a sudden you find yourself with an unmanageable amount of boiled chicken... : 0
And why nobody told me??? I've never liked boiled meat. UAHHHHHH! Panic.
The prospects of living from now to eternity eating bland, boiled chicken-based dinners start taking shape. Did you really have to put a whole chicken in your bag? Wouldn't have been better to go see a movie instead? Calm down, calm down, the Girl In The Kitchen inside me says everything is under control, there is a remedy for all things, even for boiled chicken. I trust her. After all, we've known each other for a long time, and even if at times she makes me act a little bit insanely, this Girl is a nice gal.
I decide to follow her advice and then, twenty-four hours later, I make peace with boiled chicken. Here's how.


Chicken Salad
with Walnuts & Dried Apricots

boiled chicken
Chioggia radicchio 1 head
walnuts
dried apricots
slivered parmigiano cheese (or crumbled goat cheese)
olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper

To make boiled chicken, just rely upon your stockinlish imagination (I've thrown the bird in a pot with one onion, one tomato, two carrots, two celery stalks, black peppercorns, few cloves, salt, parsley and rosemary, and I've let it simmer for about one hour, skimming when necessary).
When it's ready, remove chicken from the pot and cut it in small pieces. Add some chopped dried apricots (or some raisins, previously soaked in water and drained), dress with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper, cover and refrigerate overnight.
Shred a head of radicchio, add chicken and dried fruit, a handful of walnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped, adjust the seasoning and sprinkle with slivered parmigiano cheese or crumbled goat cheese.

Homemade Butter

When you're angry at something, make sure that the energy produced is not in vain. Do like me and follow this simple advice.

Get a carton of fresh cream of the highest quality (me, I can only dream of it at night, but you, you should get some fresh cream from the mountain pastures, and perhaps even call Heidi, Peter, Grandpa, Fabio Volo [famous Italian radio personality, en], you decide...), or rather, since you're at it, just take two cartons, pour everything in a good ol' bowl, and start whipping.
Whip, whip, with no fear, whip and beat with the mixer, cream starts swelling as usual, nothing new, keep going dauntless. Whip, whip, whip and beat, I promise that at some point the cream will get tired, deflate and become yellow of shame. And you hang on, whip, whip, whip and bash, and you already start feeling better. Whip and bash, and you'll see how your cream, all puffed up, in reality is just an easy lie.
Soon, very soon, cream gives in to your stubbornness - but what am I saying? - it really breaks apart: on one hand the lumps of butter, and on the other hand an opaque liquid they say it's buttermilk. Ah-ha! Two birds with one stone, even better.
You're almost there. At this point drain the liquid well, but you'd better remember to wash the butter under cold water several times until water comes out clear and limpid: this is the sign that all the stress, the anxieties and the darkness of the day have been washed out.
Done! Now you can take your butter between your hands and make sense of it, shape it round, rectangular or cylindrical. Spread it on bread with a little honey. What are you saying? You're not angry anymore?

That's perfectly okay, but before you go, remember this other trick: you can freeze the butter. SUPERCOOOOOOOOOL, isn't it?

Shades of Red

My mom used to say that red looked good on me and when I was a kid I was drowning under cherry-color clothes: socks, jumpers and even hair pins.
Maybe this is why even today I instantly fall in love with anything that has even the slightest hint of pink or red. Strawberries, raspberries, cherries. But also cranberries, the Red Velvet Cake, poinsettias and that old FIAT 500 that drives around San Francisco with a California plate. Up to the LV Neverfull bag with roses and the HP mini notebook designed by Vivienne Tam (these last two luxuries are a recent discovery that a temptress friend pointed out to me. I still have to convince myself that one can live without them... : )

You'll find raspberry vinegar quite often here, used as a condiment for salads. To be honest I like it thousands times better than any other kind of creamy dressing of ambiguous colors. Its gorgeous color and sweetish taste go very well both with a simple mixed greens-arugula salad and with fancier creations like the watermelon-feta mix or those yummy salads with caramelized nuts and goat cheese.
When I realized this vinegar is very easy to make on your own, I didn't think twice. I'm a sucker for these recipes-non-recipes. And you know what, now that I think of it I'll even create a new category for them. Recipe-non-recipe: minimum labour, maximum satisfaction : )
And then, don't you go crazy for this color as well?


Raspberry Vinegar
for approximately 1 liter

white wine vinegar 1 liter
raspberries 2 packages
pink or black peppercorns to taste

Choose ripe but firm raspberries, wash them carefully and pat them really dry. Mix them with the vinegar and few peppercorns if you wish. Put in a container and let rest for one month in a cool place. Stir every 3 or 4 days, to mix the fruit better.
When it's ready, strain, discard the raspberries and pour in a bottle.

Watermelon Agua Fresca

...aka take away summer.
Watermelon is one of those things that always gave me the idea of summer, more than coconut, ice cream and flip flops. Even when I was living in Cortina, where summer is short and definitely not very hot, when I found a big watermelon in the fridge, sometimes even already cleaned and cut in pieces, I could almost hear the sound of the sea, and I would instantly find myself lying on a beach with skin covered with oily Coppertone!

To tell you the truth, I have to spell out something here. It's my brother - who's always been very picky on these things - who would go to the trouble of cleaning, peeling and cutting in pieces large watermelons, so that he would find them in the fridge all nice and ready to bite. And this to his own disadvantage, because after he did all the work, his sisters, cousins and friends would rush eating it and would not leave much behind for him....
In San Francisco, ocean currents and constant fog leave very little space to imagination: I dare you to go to Ocean Beach in a swimming suit, even though - who knows why - my friends in Italy think that I live on the sea : )
And yet, even here during those days in July when the wind is so strong, a nice and ripe watermelon makes me think of a Mediterranean summer, a tanned skin and the sound of light waves.

Agua fresca is a nice and quick way to have summer always at hand, or rather in a glass....(yeah, try taking a watermelon with you all the time, it's not that easy...), even if calling it a recipe is a little too much.
I found out about this drink while walking around the Mission, it seems like it is very popular in Mexico and Central America. You can also make it with papaya, cantaloupe or strawberries. And it will last for few days in the refrigerator, unlike Kristian's watermelon, which always disappeared in a flash!


Watermelon Agua Fresca
for approximately 1 liter

ripe watermelon, peeled and cut in cubes 500-600 gr.
water 1/2 liter
sugar 1-2 tablespoons
lime juice 2-3 tablespoons
mint leaves for garnish

Mix watermelon, sugar and lime juice and blend them until you get a smooth juice. Add water and strain through a fine sieve. Let it cool in the fridge for at least one hour before serving. Pour over a glass filled with ice and garnish with some fresh mint sprigs.