Quinoa with Sauteed Spinach, Lemon and Ginger

Your house, being the place in which you read, can tell us the position books occupy in your life, if they are a defense you set up to keep the outside world at a distance, if they are a dream into which you sink as if into a drug, or bridges you cast toward the outside, toward the world that interests you so much that you want to multiply and extend its dimensions through books. To understand this, the Reader knows that the first thing he has to do is visiting the kitchen.
The kitchen is the part of the house which can tell more about you.
~ Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler



I walked into a trap. Yesterday I read these words, and, at the peak of my blogging vocation of these (maybe last) days of exile, I decided to borrow them to start a new post.
But then I had the feeling of being on a slippery slope, forced by myself to continue a conversation that doesn't bear comparison. I can't do it. I really prefer to drop them like that, these stolen phrases, silent but bulky, full and thick as snowflakes.
After all, what could be inferred from my kitchen that doesn't exist? It would be a disappointment. Perhaps you, Reader, you may think that my blog is all a bluff (as I keep repeating to anyone who gives me a little confidence...), and that in fact I really prefer spending time arguing with ghosts, piling pieces of wood and listening to the voice of things, especially the rusty and tired ones, rather than sharpening knives and shredding carrots for the soffritto. Because to be honest, I've never liked to prepare soffritto, with all that onion to be sliced amidst meaningless tears, and those vegetables to be cut at perfection, otherwise you'll be forever discredited by the Great Council of Soffritto-Makers.
What could be postulated from my strictly mismatched bowls, by that array of spices without hesitation that manage to make their way depending on the mood of the moment, by raw sugar and the inevitable handful of Manitoba flour, because you never know? I could also add, for those who want to investigate further, that in spite of myself I have a H.U.G.E. oven, a black and deep hole, turkey-proof, extremely disproportionate and embarrassing. Over time I've learned to get along with it and I've put his unsympathetic size to good use by turning it into a cupboard; if you, unfaithful Reader, if you could look into it, you'd see an indistinct stack of dark and broken trays, piled on top of each other with no sense, those unpolished and heavy trays that everything sticks on them and that not even Martha Stewart can use to bake cookies.
I also have a toaster, almost new but fake vintage style; many jars full of jam, usually red and with strawberries, of the simple kind, with pieces but without peppercorns, balsamic vinegar or other gimmicks. A deliciously unbloggable jam.
A tagine that I'd like to use more often, four large glass jars, accessible only by a ladder, full of molds for every form on earth: for Christmas cookies with honey and cinnamon, for Cannelés de Bordeaux and for filled ravioli that will never see the light. Pots hanging from the ceiling, mini cocottes in all the colors of spring, and only one futuristic concession to a shameful array of graters, long, thin and very sharp.
But there is no room for two, in my kitchen. There is not even a chair, let alone a table! There is neither a pantry nor a drawer, and the imperfect order of cookware, silverware, tools and gadgets is based on a very delicate balance, designed with fatigue and protected with pride.
What you could infer, dear Reader with a pitiless look, I can't really say. I thought about it, the whole evening and then an hour this morning with coffee. But my real kitchen is an imaginary space, "a dream into which I sink as if into a drug", a defense to get away from the world, asking the world to come with me.
So here it is, have a good spinachy quinoa you all.




Quinoa with Sauteed Spinach
with Lemon and Ginger
for 4-5 people

quinoa 250 gr
fresh baby spinach two big bunches
garlic 2 cloves
lemon 2
fresh ginger 1 piece
olive oil, salt, soy sauce as needed

Gently clean the spinach and remove the bigger stems. Heat a few tablespoons of oil in a large pan, fry the garlic cloves, peeled and cut in half, for two minutes, then add the cleaned spinach and cook them slightly. Season with lemon zest and grated ginger.
In the meantime, cook the quinoa in salted water, following the directions written on the package. Let it rest for a few minutes.
When ready, add it to the spinach and sauté for a minute, stirring and adding soy sauce or a pinch of salt to taste.
Serve warm.
w.v.<3

Black Bean Soup

It was a midsummer evening, last summer, the postcard from a trip to Costa Rica half an exile and half a vacation.
I remember that green like a proud hug in the midst of impossible roads, among a tangle of rocks and puddles, a bright and shiny emerald, nourished by a beneficial rain, on time every day at six o'clock.
I remember the guys on their bicycle and the couples holding into each other's arms, tight on the seat of damaged scooters; their lean bodies, tanned, dusted with love and smiling.
There was the chaos of the streets in downtown, and then the suburbs, violated by the arrogance of fast food chains, seduced by the illusion of a wealth coming from the north. Scattered everywhere biting your liver, there were Coke vending machines, and innocent-looking signs, mean and intrusive, almost an insult to the poverty of people.
I remember the villages, slow, quiet and sunny, those pueblos made only of temporary churches, outdoor schools and improbable soccer fields: a narrow and wet meadow and two poles as the goal.
There was Costa Rica going to the World Cup, the TVs turned on in the bars, two cold Imperial and happiness.
I remember the ripe fruit, sweet and seductive, bought on the corners of the streets along with the pure water of a young coconut that had fallen down.
The darkest nights began early in the jungle, on the highest hill lying on a bed of leaves.
I remember men and women who were different, who had escaped from our dizziness to chase a dream with no comfort.
I met a taxi driver and mechanic who had no shoes, an instant friend who they called El Che. He told me where are you going, why, where are you running, you people of the north? You're fool, deluded to believe you can buy our reality.
We split one jugo helado, and this spicy soup during an afternoon of solidarity.
Pura vida.




Black Bean Soup
for 4 people

dried black beans 250 gr
white onion, large 1
garlic 2 cloves
carrot 1
red bell pepper 1
tomatoes 3
lime 1
vegetable bouillon cube 1
olive oil, salt, pepper, oregano, cayenne pepper, cumin seeds, coriander seeds and allspice as needed
fresh cilantro, tomatoes and cucumber to serve as needed

Soak beans overnight for at least 8 hours.
Chop the onion and the garlic cloves, sauté them for a few minutes in a little olive oil, then add diced carrot and bell pepper. Stir and cook for a few minutes, add the beans, drained and rinsed, spices (if using seeds, grind them fine), vegetable bouillon, salt and pepper. Cover with water, bring to boil and cook over medium heat for about two hours.
Half an hour before beans are ready, add the juice and zest of lime, and the tomatoes, peeled (dip them in boiling water for 30 seconds, then peel) and cut into pieces. Season with salt and pepper.
Puree the soup with a blender only for a few seconds, so that it gets creamy but visible pieces still remain.
To serve, garnish with fresh diced tomato and cucumber, and chopped cilantro to taste.
w.v.<3

Chana Masala

They're chickpeas. Cooked.
Cooked and then sauteed in a sauce that's vaguely tomatoish and super-extra-hot.
But then let me tell you, these are the Kings of chickpeas, inimitably pleasure-giving, humble sailors on a red sea of spices, luxurious, deep, and blissfully stormy.
Embellished with a long list of spices, from here to Porbandar, these chickpeas become an alternate reality, a mysterious and welcoming world, a refuge for the heart and the palate.
My advice is this: do not be intimidated. Ok, the powders are many and perhaps hard to find, maybe they'll make you run from one side of the city to the other, you'll probably lose patience and maybe even half a day; but perhaps they'll also make you explore hidden corners, discover the magic of new colors bursting with life, or understand the beauty disguised within our conundrums.
If you're in doubt, but even not, just do it. Buy them all. Because it's worth it. Because some like it hot.
Just do it. And tell them I sent you.




Chana Masala
for 4-5 people

dried chickpeas 300 gr
onion, large 1
ginger garlic paste 3-4 tablespoons
fresh jalapeño 1
cumin seeds 1 teaspoon
coriander powder 1 tablespoon
mango powder 1 tablespoon
cayenne pepper 1 teaspoon
turmeric 1 teaspoon
paprika 2 teaspoons
cumin powder 2 teaspoons
garam masala 1 teaspoon
tomato paste 2 tablespoons
lemon 1
olive oil, salt, fresh cilantro to taste

Soak chickpeas for about 6-8 hours. Rinse, cover with water and cook over medium heat for about 1 hour and a half or 2 hours, until they are tender. Drain, keeping aside a cup of their cooking water.
In a large pot heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil, toast the cumin seeds for a few minutes, then add the ginger garlic paste (if you can't find it, you can use 2 garlic cloves and a lot of ginger, minced; however, if you're lucky enough to have an Indian store, full of spices and traditional products close to home, or even at a 45-minute ride from you, I recommend this alternative), onion and jalapeño, finely chopped, and cook for about 5 minutes. Add the rest of the spices, the reserved chickpea water and the tomato paste, and cook for a few minutes. If necessary, adjust the flavor.
Add the chickpeas and cook for 10 minutes; finally add the lemon juice and a handful of chopped fresh cilantro.
If you wish, serve with basmati rice. Or maybe not.
w.v.<3

California Quinoa Salad

The paradox.
America.
So beloved, idolized, so desired, idealized, yet so vilified.
The imperialist America, the lonely, arrogant, bigot, militaristic. So contradictory, intrusive, nosy, a policeman, interventionist.
America so rude, liberistic, oppressive, insensitive and racist.
Stubborn, arrogant, capitalist; warmongering, too armed and a little fascist.
Say what you want.
But there is New York.
And there is San Francisco.
And if you put your foot in there, like a traitor lover you can forgive her everything, and love her nonetheless.





California Quinoa Salad*
for 4-5 people

quinoa 220 gr
water or vegetable stock 400 gr
red bell pepper, small 1
red onion, small 1/2
mango 1
edamame, net approx. 1 glass
sliced almonds 1 handful
cranberries 1 handful
lime 2
balsamic vinegar 4 tablespoons
cilantro, dried coconut flakes, salt, pepper to taste

Put water (or stock) and quinoa in a pot, bring to boil and cook over medium-low heat for about 15 to 20 minutes, until all the liquid has been absorbed.
Cook edamame in boiling water for 4 minutes, drain, shell and set aside. Meanwhile, finely chop the onion and cut bell pepper and mango into small cubes. Mix everything with the quinoa, adding the juice and zest of limes, almonds, cranberries (you can substitute them with raisins or dried cherries), balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper, minced fresh cilantro and a generous sprinkling of coconut flakes. Serve the salad cold or at room temperature.

*I put together this recipe inspired by a similar thing that I spotted at Whole Foods. I looked at the color, peeked at the ingredient list, and voila, my serenade to California.
.
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!

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

Purple Potato Ravioli with Won Ton Wrappers

These won ton and I have become best friends. Especially now that the good ol' Imperia took off to new shores, and before I start pulling pasta sheets by hand...
I've already told you, haven't I, that won tons wrappers are easy to use, they don't require any flour because they don't stick to each other, they're so thin that the filling can be seen in transparency that it's a pleasure (and when the filling is purple, they are a such a jewel!), they're delicate and all in all you can even get used to their different texture? Of course, if you really want to commit yourself and prepare won ton dough from scratch, well, we're back to the same problem, but for now I'm quite pleased with the ones I get at Whole Foods, so beautifully squared out and ready to use. And I just found out that you can freeze them right as they come, stacked one on top of the other in their package. If need be, simply take out the freezer the desired number of squares, and they - to my amazement and wonder - won't oppose any resistance, coming off with ease.
I wouldn't go as far as saying that won ton give you the best ravioli in the world, because it's not true and because, despite appearances, I'm terribly romantic and pasta - especially when done by hand - will always hold a special place in my heart. What I can assert with confidence is that won ton will give you the fastest ravioli in the West, and that they will make quite an impression on a Thursday evening dinner of any given week.


Purple Potato Ravioli
with Won Ton Wrappers
for approximately 20-25 ravioli

purple potatoes about 500-600 gr.
goat cheese about 60-70 gr.
grated Parmigiano cheese 2 tablespoons
chives, salt, pepper to taste
won ton wrappers 8 per person
egg white to seal ravioli 1
butter, bread crumbs and garlic for the dressing to taste

For the filling, wrap potatoes in foil and cook them in the oven at 425 for 30 or 40 minutes, until they're soft. Peel and mash them while still hot. Allow them to cool slightly, then add the Parmigiano, goat cheese, salt, pepper and some finely chopped chives. Knead the filling with your hands until the cheese is smooth and well blended.
Place some won ton squares on the work surface (if you wish, cut them out with a ravioli cutter and give them a more proper shape...), and scoop a small amount of filling in the middle of each. Brush the edges with the egg white, slightly beaten (or with cold water), then cover each square with another won ton sheet, trying to eliminate any air bubble and pressing with your fingers to seal the ends.
Cook the ravioli in simmering salted water, and drain them after two minutes or right when they come back to the surface. Dress them with melted butter and a spoon of bread crumbs previously toasted in a pan along with a minced garlic clove.
Et voila.

Sweet Pea Ravioli With Won Ton Wrappers

I made a long list of justifications and excuses for this post. Guilt has plagued me all weekend, no matter if the above ravioli have proved to be a quite respectable dish.

I will limit myself to list a series of facts, it's your task to draw the conclusions:
1) I've worked for years (too many...) in a so called Italian restaurant, run by Greek owners, with a Mexican pizza-maker, a Vietnamese cook, Brazilian waiters and hamburger with fries as the main course. I was the most authentic thing on the menu;
2) I live next to an Indian Restaurant named Zante (...!), famous up until Oregon for its curry flavored pizza;
3) The most popular sushi on the streets of San Francisco is the California Roll, with avocado and crab, but contenders for the title are the Dynamite Roll, with tuna, avocado, and spicy Mexican sauce; the Caterpillar Roll, with avocado, cucumber and unagi; the Philadelphia Roll, with smoked salmon, onion and cream cheese; and the evergreen Rock 'n Roll, with avocado, eel, and barbecue sauce;
4) Around here if you don't have focaccia, you're nobody, and so even the most famous Irish Bakery in the city has one with tomatoes and onions, perfect for a pint of Guinness;
5) Not only focaccia, but even if you don't have pesto, you're nobody. Spread it on chicken breast, slip it in bean soup, or throw it on a bagel with salmon, and you'll rule the streets. Guaranteed;
6) The latest Italian-French Revolution is called ciabaguette, not a ciabatta, not a baguette;
7) About pizza I shall not talk, 'cause my heart is torn, but if you're interested, take a look here, there's something for every taste;
8) And then, Praguese coffee-shops in the heart of the Latino neighborhood, Chinese-Mexican take-aways, triple cappuccinos with no foam, tofu burgers and vegetarian steakhouses, garlic ice cream, Andalusian tiramisu and tea lattes. Boy, some things do leave a mark. Have pity on me.

Although I don't think I got that far (see Number 5 and Number 7), guilt - I repeat - has haunted me for days, and I feel compelled to apologize.
I apologize to all the purists out there, to the Fundamentalists of the Imperia Pasta Machine and the Zealots of the Wok; I apologize to all the ghosts of Sunday lunches, of past, present and future; I apologize to the Brotherhood of the Ravioli and to that of the Won Ton. And most of all, I apologize to all the grandmothers, mother-in-laws and aunts, to those from Ascoli and those from Beijing. Forgive me 'cause I don't know what I'm doing, let alone what I'm writing, but more than ten years in this gastronomic melting pot have spun my certainties. The only one that still remains in me, the invincible fortress of my taste, is Pizza, the one with capital P, in which I'll always have one blind and unwavering faith. Of this I'm sure, and the rest is just a sand castle. Or a deflatable piece of dough. At least until the next post ...


Sweet Pea Ravioli
with Won Ton Wrappers
for 4

fresh peas, shelled about 250 gr.
green onions 2
olive oil, salt, pepper, mint, grated parmigiano cheese, butter to taste
won ton wrappers 32

The idea is not mine, of course. I found it online by accident; if you do a search for "ravioli with won ton wrappers", Google will open up a whole new world.

For the filling, blanch peas for a couple of minutes, drain and set aside. Cut the green onions into thin round slices and saute them in a pan with a little olive oil, add the peas, fresh mint, salt and pepper and cook for 3-4 minutes. Let it cool off, put everything in a blender with two tablespoons of grated parmigiano cheese and puree until smooth.
To make ravioli, place few won ton wrappers on the work surface and scoop a teaspoon of filling in the middle of each. Brush the borders with cold water, then cover each wrapper with another won ton sheet, trying to eliminate all the air bubbles and pressing with your fingers to seal the edges. As ravioli are ready, place them on a platter and cover them with a cloth.
Cook them in salted boiling water for two minutes or until they come to the surface. Dress them with melted butter, grated parmigiano cheese and a sprinkle of pepper.
And so the ravioli are served.

Note: Seriously, I was really curious to see the result. Won ton dough has a neutral flavor, and this works in favour of the filling, may it be made with peas, asparagus, cheese or whatever your imagination suggests. The difference is rather in the texture of the wrappers; I might call it stickier, or a little chewier. Nothing prohibits you from using the pea filling for some ravioli ravioli, or as an appetizer, spread on some toasted bread.

Bow Tie Pasta with Carrots

How could I forget? I fall on my knees and ask your forgiveness for this inexplicable mistake.
When I told you about my personal Top Five (aka, the five flavors most bound up with my college years and a lifestyle of leisure...ehm...no, of crazy and desperate studying), I've totally ignored this pasta dish.
But here is my official excuse: at that time it was never me the one in charge of making it, and I preferred to be sweetly spoiled by my friend and companion in culinary/historiographical adventures. In between a Paleolithic potsherd, a couple of yogurts on sale, and one aorist passive tense, sometimes this cheerful and unconventional pasta was just the right thing.
Today, on this side of the world, they'd even call it vegan and it'd be oh so chic. Who would have thought we were so ahead of time?


Bow Tie Pasta with Carrots
for 4

carrots 4-5
bow tie pasta 320 gr.
vegetable bouillon cube 1/2
dry white wine 1/2 cup
garlic 1 clove
salt, pepper, olive oil, parsley to taste

Peel and grate carrots. Heat some olive oil in a saucepan and saute the garlic clove, cut in half, and the half vegetable bouillon cube; then add the carrots with a little bit of water. Cook for about 10 minutes, add wine, salt and pepper. Cook for about 5 minutes longer. Add cooked bow tie pasta to the pan and saute for one minute, adding some fresh minced parsley. Serve immediately.

Spinach Spaetzle

DICK: I guess it looks as if you're reorganizing your records. What is this though? Chronological?
ROB: No...
DICK: Not alphabetical...
ROB: Nope...
DICK: What?
ROB: Autobiographical.
DICK: No fucking way!
(J. Cusack & T. Louiso, High Fidelity)

If I had to reorganize my recipes in autobiographical order, just like John Cusack does with his records in High Fidelity, with no doubt I'd put this in the section College Years. With less than 10,000 Liras you could make dinner for eight people, and it was always a success despite the little familiarity with cooking matters. You would never deny a bowl of Spaetzle to anybody: unpretentious and with no frills, they would instantly create a party atmosphere (big or small, it depended on the number of hours to the final divided by the number of pages yet to be read).
The proper tool came straight from my hometown, and at that time it was the only eccentric concession in a frightening yellow kitchen, that has served too many times as stage for endless scopone scientifico tournaments (traditional Italian card game, N/A) where losers were condemned to wash the dishes for the rest of the week.
Those were the days! There was no Maldon Salt nor High Gluten Flour, fish was a terrifying thought and eggplants were considered an exotic vegetable. And on we went with Spaetzle and Spritz with the olive, everything we wanted was in only four ingredients.
Now I know for sure that these Spaetzle (or Small Spinach Gnocchi, as us profane were used to call them) had been my own ruin, marking the unaware beginning of this culinary madness.

And just like John Cusack in High Fidelity, I too have compiled my own Top Five list. Here are the five flavors that, eyes closed, bring me straight back to my twenties, when it seemed like the world was split between architects and business men, while in the middle lived a whole bunch of Latinists, marine biologists, interpreter from Russian, bookworms, archaeologists, accountants, furious chemists, incurable romantics, paleontologists, mathematicians, oboists, glottologists and aspiring journalists.

5) The Spritz (Aperol with olive, thanks): at 1,500 Liras during happy hour, it was a real attack at public peace;

4) Pasta salad with cherry tomatoes, fresh mozzarella and black olives: that is, the real taste of summer, so popular that someone would even have leftovers for breakfast (not me, it was the architect friend who would never leave us alone);

3) The aforementioned Spaetzle, strictly dressed with butter and parmigiano cheese. Why bother exploring alternatives when this dressing seemed to be the absolute perfection?

2) The custard-filled manina: considered a real luxury for breakfast, the manina could always keep your hopes alive. Warm and buttery, it would reconcile you with the world even when sirens were screaming the beginning of high tide and inside our apartment wind draughts coming who knows from where made the old gas heater seem useless and ridiculous. It helped a lot indeed the fact that right there, in the bakery one floor down, they were selling the best manina of the whole lagoon. Just one flight of stairs, you didn't even need to wear shoes. Is it your turn today?, one would ask right after waking up. Just the time to make coffee;

1) The first place, by common consent of critics and consumers, goes to the one and only Tonolo's Bigne': a true establishment for Venice student population, reward and price to pay for having passed the test, a difficult choice among top 3 (vanilla, coffee or gianduia flavored pastry cream?), a must stopping place coming out of Ca' Foscari (a Venetian palace, where some classes were held, N/A) in those foggy afternoons. Tonolo was able to join in a unanimous chorus all the aforementioned architects, business men, Latinists, marine biologists, interpreter from Russian, bookworms, archaeologists, accountants, furious chemists, incurable romantics, paleontologists, mathematicians, oboists, glottologists and aspiring journalists. Every argument would end in front of its bigne' and - allow me, please - sometimes even in front of its zabaglione-filled fritters.
(see the following comments on the bottom of Pasticceria Tonolo, Facebook Official Fan Page and Appassionati di Tonolo, Non Official Facebook Group:
Tonolo Prperty of Mankind, by M. Gianola, Tonolo Fan; Thanks for being!, by A.K. Bidorini, Tonolo Fan; After 4 years I've been able to eat two fritters filled with Chantilly cream, even living abroad... I was moved!! , by V. Battain, Tonolo Fan; Yesterday I've discovered the bigne' filled with Chantilly cream... my life will never be the same!, by S. Vedova, Tonolo Fan; Tonolo does it better!, by M. Casarin, Tonolo Fan; Utmost respect., by F. Giacometti, Tonolo Fan; Tonolo's bigne' are my drug! The chocolate one is a natural anti-depressant!!, by R. Perenzin, Tonolo Fan; I LOVE Tonolo!!, by V. Massetti, Tonolo Fan; My deepest appreciation to whoever founded this group. And to Tonolo's Sacher, of course, by G. Zornetta, Tonolo Fan).

Pardon the digression, if I remember correctly we were talking about Spaetzle...

Spinach Spaetzle
for 4-5 people

fresh spinach, net about 300 gr.
eggs 3
flour varies, depending on the dough (about 250-300 gr.)
salt, pepper, nutmeg to taste
butter, parmigiano cheese or ricotta salata to dress them to taste

This is one of the very few recipes that I make without a scale, but this time, only for the benefit of the blog, I decided to weigh the spinach. I would have weighed the flour as well, but it slipped out of my hand...
Rinse and dry spinach, discard the toughest stems and puree them in a food processor. Add eggs, salt, pepper and grated nutmeg and then start adding the flour until you get a firm but still moist dough. It's better to do a test, making two small round gnocchi out of the dough and cooking them in boiling water for few minutes: if they hold up, the dough is ready; otherwise you should add a little more flour.
Using the proper Spatzle-maker, set on top of the pot with the boiling water, make the Spaetzle and let them drop in the water, cooking them for two or three minutes. Drain them and dress with melted butter and freshly grated parmigiano cheese.
Spaetzle can also be frozen: simply run them under cold water as soon as you drain them, so that they won't cook any longer, and then divide them in few freezer bags.

[...] facciamo un cambio, prenditi pure
quel po' di soldi, quel po' di celebrità.
Ma dammi indietro la mia seicento,
i miei vent'anni e una ragazza che tu sai.
Milano scusa stavo scherzando,
luci a San Siro non ne accenderanno più.

[...] let's do a swap, you take
that little money, that little fame.
But give me back my Six Hundred (name of an old FIAT car, N/A)
my twenties and a girl you know.
Milan, sorry, I was just joking,
lights in San Siro, they'll never turn them on again.

(R. Vecchioni, Lights in San Siro)

Romanesco Broccoli And Its Spaghetti

Do you think it's normal that one has to wait until in San Francisco to meet this thing for the first time? I don't know about you, but I'd never seen romanesco broccoli face to face before, and I didn't know what I was missing. It's so beautiful, one almost feels guilty to chop it up.

It's not worth to keep puzzling over the best way to use it. To me, broccoli - romanesco or not - means spaghetti with anchovies and bread crumbs: it's sort of the poor (and ignorant) man's version of the pasta coi broccoli arriminati, which just few days ago won second place in the contest promoted by my friends over at Tzatziki a Colazione.

I'd say very very ignorant in comparison, but so good though!!




Romanesco Broccoli Spaghetti
with Anchovies & Bread Crumbs
for 4 people

spaghetti 320 gr
romanesco broccoli 1
salt cured anchovy fillet 2-3
garlic 2 cloves
olive oil, red hot chili pepper, salt, pepper, bread crumbs to taste

Divide broccoli into florets and boil them briefly in salted water (about 5 minutes or less, they should stay crunchy). Drain and put them on the side, reserving the cooking water, which you'll use to cook pasta.
In a large skillet, heat garlic and red hot chili pepper with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Rinse and dry anchovies, eliminate their bone, then add them to the pan and let them dissolve in the oil. Add reserved broccoli florets and cook for few minutes, adding some of the pasta cooking water, until they are tender and the sauce gets creamy. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper.
Drain spaghetti al dente and saute them briefly in the same skillet with the sauce. Toast bread crumbs in another pan and sprinkle them on top of pasta. Serve immediately.

Sweet Potato Gnocchi

Today gnocchi.

YUPPIEEEE!

If you, like me, adore sweet potatoes, try this alternative. Just for a change. There's always time to go back to the traditional gnocchi. The result is a brighter and slightly sweet version, which - I have to admit - would fight against meat sauce, but which, on the other hand, doesn't ask anything more than a simple butter and sage sauce. What's better than this?

I'd like to take this opportunity to share a couple of tricks on the subject Perfect Gnocchi, which I've learned throughout the years from my pot friends, both the virtual ones and the real ones. If you've fought against gnocchi for years, like me, desperately trying to get something more than little yellow stones vaguely tasting like potatoes, you could find these three little tricks very useful.

• Do NOT boil potatoes. DO bake them in the oven instead: they will be less moist and will absorb less flour;
• Do NOT use eggs. Trust me. Do NOT use eggs. They don't do anything, except maybe making gnocchi more yellow... They might be cuter, but on the other side adding eggs makes the dough wetter and forces to use more flour. Trust me on this, potateos alone will be sufficient for the dough;
• Do NOT put salt in the dough. Salt makes potatoes watery, and, again, it forces to use more flour.

I swear, since I've discovered the aforementioned Three Golden Rules of Gnocchi, my life has changed. For the better.

Even if at the end of this all, there's always a famous Aunt Andreina, who makes the best gnocchi in the world and who doesn't give a damn of these rules. But that's another story.


Sweet Potato Gnocchi
for 4 people

russet potatoes, medium size 2
sweet potatoes, medium size 2
flour exact quantity varies, depending on the dough
parmigiano cheese, freshly grated 2 tablespoons
salt, pepper, nutmeg to taste
butter, fresh sage and parmigiano cheese for the sauce to taste

Wrap potatoes in some foil, place them on a baking sheet and bake at 450 for about 45 minutes, until they are soft to the touch (one more advice, pay attention not to cook them too long, they shouldn't come apart).
Peel potatoes and smash them, transfering them in a large bowl. Let them cool completely before starting to work the dough.
After they've cooled down, season potatoes with salt, pepper, nutmeg and a couple of tablespoons of freshly grated parmigiano cheese (yes, I know that just two lines above I was telling you NOT to use any salt in the dough, but I think that in this version with sweet potatoes it's better to use a pinch of salt, especially if the sauce is very simple, like in this case). Add flour gradually and work the dough until it comes together, it's smooth and slightly wet. At this point, it's better to do a test, cutting out a couple of gnocchi and cooking them in a pot full of simmering water, to see if the dough holds. If not, add more flour and keep working the dough until you get the desired consistency.
Lightly dust the work surface with flour, take a piece of dough and rolling it with your hands, form a 1/2-inch-thick rope. Cut gnocchi out of it and make ridges on one side of them, rolling them down fork tines one by one and lightly pressing with your fingers (for this job you could also resort to the proper tool, the famous yet useless Gnocchi-Scorer, which I bought several years ago, struck by an uncontrollable drive). Keep going like this until you finish the dough.
Cook gnocchi in boiling salted water and drain them as soon as they come floating to the surface. Dress them with melted butter, cooked with few fresh sage leaves, and sprinkle them with freshly grated parmigiano cheese.

Ladies and Gentlemen...The Spaghetti al Pomodoro!

I'd like to take this opportunity to publicly thank spaghetti al pomodoro.
So good, simple and democratic. They could also be linguine, but that's what happened today. And spaghetti it is. To me there is no beef bourguignon, duck a l'orange or bouillabaisse to stand the comparison. I could eat them every single day from here to eternity an I'd never be bored. And when tomatoes are sweet and tasty like the ones you find at the end of summer, then it's really a spaghetti apotheosis.

I'd also like to take advantage of this space to give spaghetti my apologies. Lately, due to my obligations In the Kitchen, I've definitely neglected them, and in order to run after exotic meals, branded dishes and more flashy presentations, I've often forgotten about them and I ended up taking them for granted.

Luckily today some pearl tomatoes sweet as candies intervened to recover my own sanity. Tasting one of them was enough to make me long all of a sudden for one of those minimal pasta dishes, few drops of olive oil, one whole garlic clove, some fresh basil and a sprinkle of black pepper. Dear spaghetti, I admit it: I've fallen again at your feet.
And now I'm asking your forgiveness and I'd like to dedicate you this post, with your own picture and recipe. Please try for once to win your shyness and enjoy this evening as the main hero.

Ladies and Gentlemen, here are the Spaghetti al Pomodoro. Chez moi.


Spaghetti al pomodoro
for two

spaghetti or linguine 160 gr.
pearl or cherry tomatoes
olive oil 2 or 3 tablespoons
garlic 1 clove
salt, pepper, red pepper flakes
grated parmigiano cheese

Wash the tomatoes and cut them in half. Sauté garlic clove in few tablespoons of olive oil, then add the tomatoes and let them cook at medium heat until they get soft and the water they release begins to evaporate. Let the sauce thicken and, if necessary, add few tablespoons of the pasta boiling water. Add salt and some fresh basil leaves, torn apart by hand.
What follows is my personal trick. Heresy or not, I like them this way. Two minutes before straining the pasta, take the tomatoes pan off the stove (they have to be ready at this point), and add the grated parmigiano cheese, stirring well. You'll get a creamier sauce, but still very light.
Drain pasta al dente, sauté it for one minute in the pan with tomatoes, then serve it and sprinkle with freshly ground black pepper (or red pepper flakes, if you like).

Orange Scented Ricotta Gnocchi

Give me some fresh cheese and you'll make me happy. Ricotta, crescenza, mozzarella, stracchino, I like everything that is white, soft and creamy.
When I was a kid, my fridge at home was always full of aged cheeses, XTRA aged I'd say, the very rich ones, with a strong taste and an intense smell, so to speak....Instead, I would often dream of crossing a river of milk riding a mozzarella, can you imagine? Or wandering through the sky on a soft cloud, just like Heidi (for those of you who don't know, she's a famous cartoon character), only, my cloud was made of crescenza and was resting upon a slice of bread.

I like these gnocchi because they are very delicate. And on top of that, it takes very little time to make them, they are really easy and the dough is not sticky at all, that way you won't have to spread flour all over the place. But the best part is that they are always a success, they come with a warranty certificate.
Unlike potato ones, which - I don't remember how many times now - came out like little pieces of stone or, even worse, magically vanished right after I put them in boiling water.
These gnocchi instead never betray you. Satisfaction guaranteed!


Ricotta Gnocchi
with Orange Zest
for 4 people

fresh ricotta 500 gr.
egg yolks 2
grated parmigiano cheese 3 or 4 tablespoons
flour, as needed
small oranges 2
butter, salt, nutmeg, sage, smoked ricotta to finish

Let ricotta drain overnight on a fine sieve or wrapped in cheesecloth.
When it's nice and dry, put it in a large bowl, add yolks, salt, grated orange zest, nutmeg and parmigiano cheese to taste. Mix well, then start working the dough with flour, adding just enough to make it firm. Do a test by cooking a couple of gnocchi in boiling water, and check if they hold up. If needed, add more flour.
Divide the dough in pieces and roll them out to form long skinny logs, cut them in 1-inch long pieces and mark them with a fork or using the proper tool (you don't have to, but when gnocchi have lines on the surface, they retain the sauce better).
Cook the gnocchi in boiling water and strain them right after they come back to surface. Dress them with brown sage butter and sprinkle with smoked ricotta.

Spaghetti with Bell Peppers and Pine Nuts

Here is a very quick recipe that really tastes like summer. Since it's been unusually hot these days, I thought it would be better to take advantage of the moment : )

I learnt how to make these spaghetti from my aunt, the one and only Aunt Andreina, who during the years has become THE Foster Aunt of several friends as well. That's because when one has a problem, she's always there to open her own Confessional, as she calls it...
To tell you the truth, she doesn't make them very often, because she really is the queen of the pasta sauce with fresh cherry tomatoes, and it's hard to give up that one, even for one single day. I wish you could give it a try! For years, I've tried to replicate that sauce, but - who knows why - it never came out quite the same. Maybe it's because of Cortina's tomatoes (ehm...), maybe it's the oil or the bread she uses to make scarpetta (can't translate this one, you know what I mean, right...?). Or maybe it's simply because I don't have my uncle singing Lucio Battisti while pasta is cooking.
These spaghetti instead always come out just like the originals. Tasty, nice to look at, colorful, and even very fast to make, what else can you ask for?


Spaghetti with Bell Peppers and Pine Nuts
for 4 people

bell peppers of different colors 4
pine nuts 2 tablespoons
spaghetti 320 gr.
garlic 2 cloves
olive oil, salt, pepper, fresh parsley, parmigiano cheese

Cut the bell peppers in large pieces. Place them in a large pan together with a generous amount of olive oil, the garlic cloves cut in half, salt and pepper (if you wish, you can also add some crushed red hot pepper). Let them cook at high heat for few minutes, then cover with a lid and keep cooking at a lower flame until bell peppers are tender (it will take about 20 minutes). In the meantime, toast the pine nuts in a separate pan. Drain the spaghetti al dente and saute' them for one minute in the pan with the bell peppers, adding the pine nuts and some fresh minced parsley. Serve, dusting with grated parmigiano cheese.

Casunziei Rossi

I have a lot of memories related to this dish, since when - I was about 5 year old - I was helping my grandma to seal them with a fork.
Casunziei are typical of my hometown Cortina d’Ampezzo, where every woman has her own recipe. There is also a verdi or green version, where the filling is made with some special wild greens, even if nowadays many use chard or even spinach - ahhhh what a shame! - instead. I like them both, but if I have to choose, I'll take the ones with the beets.
Obviously, I think that the ones made by my grandma Giovanna are really special. Few years ago, when she made them, she would prepare hundreds and have the whole family over for lunch, nieces, nephews and their partners included. Now that she's gotten older, the invite is more selective and we have to fight to be the chosen ones. My brother Kristian and my cousin Francesco are the biggest fan and they always manage to score a seat at her table. To tell you the truth, they even fight on who's able to eat more. If I'm not wrong, my brother still holds the record, when few year ago he was able to eat 89 casunziei! As for me, I've always wondered how they could keep track of the amount while eating. : )
Yesterday I felt a little homesick, and since the weather was cold and rainy, I thought it would be the perfect afternoon to spend in the kitchen. I dedicated them to my beloved Cortina. Don't forget to give them a try, if you happen to be there.


Casunziei Rossi
for approximately 60 casunziei

flour 300 gr. (200 gr. type O, 100 gr. semolina)
eggs 3
red beets 450 gr. (cooked amount)
potatoes 150 gr. (cooked amount)
bread crumbs 1 tbs
salt, pepper, nutmeg, cinnamon, oliv oil
butter, parmigiano cheese, poppy seeds

For the filling, cook beets and potatoes separately. You can either boil them or - better yet - roast them in the oven, wrapping them individually in foil (this way they'll absorb less water and the flavour will be more intense). Peel them and puree them using a potato masher and trying to eliminate as much water as possible. Mix the two, calculating a third of the weight of potatoes and two thirds of beets.
Heat a little oliv oil and butter in a large pan, add a tablespoon of bread crumns (you can also use flour), let it toast slightly and then add the filling, seasoning it with salt, pepper and a generous amount of cinnamon and nutmeg.
Stir and let it cook for about 5 minutes, to absorb the excess moisture, then let it cool down. You can also prepare the filling one day in advance and keep it in the refrigerator.
Prepare the egg pasta as usual, cut out circles of about two, or two and a half inches diameter, put a small amount of filling in the middle, brush the edges with egg yolk (slightly beaten in a cup) so that they will adhere better, close to form a half-moon and then seal pressing the edges with a fork.
Cook the casunziei in boiling water for few minutes, dress with grated parmigiano cheese, brown butter and poppy seeds.
Did I pass the test?