We Are Never Full » ricotta

Returning to our Roots: Pasta al Pastore

Jonny & Amy — Tue, 31 May 2011 12:03:28 +0000

I remember reading, though I forget where exactly, another food blogger had written words to the effect that any time you start getting a big head about how great your blog is, take a look back at your earliest posts and it will bring you back to earth with a bump. Great advice, though it could just as easily reinforce your view that you’ve come a long way. Indeed, many of us long time bloggers have done just that from those dimly lit, low contrast beginnings, paving the way, I like to think, for all those parvenues with their new cameras and fancier blog templates.

Ironically though, for us at least, what we notice looking back is that while we still love the food we post on our site, it’s often a different kind of food — more complex and, in some cases, pretty arcane — to what we posted back in the beginning. Granted, our technical skills in the kitchen have grown immeasurably in this period as we’ve pushed ourselves to try new techniques, styles and flavor combinations — though we’re still lousy bakers and very limited on the dessert front — but our tastes haven’t changed all that much. We still love the same kinds of unpretentious, rustic cooking, with a distinct bent for the ugly parts of the beast, that we always did, so why don’t we cook like that anymore?

The truth is that we actually do, but that uniquely competitive nature of food blogging makes us feel like we shouldn’t post about it. It’ll seem a presumptuous comparison to anyone who is familiar with his expertise, but when Zen Chef went through a period in the recent past where he remade many of his old posts and noted the improvements in recipe, presentation and technique, it made us feel like we should do the same, if only to update some the godawful shots we took first time around.

In fact, we actually eat many of the dishes we used to post about on a regular basis as week night staples and can produce them faultlessly without thinking about it. Returning to that kind of blogging – this is what we made for dinner, this is what we ate at a hole in the wall place on vacation – would, in many ways, be more honest. Sure, we love Guyanese chow mein, bandeja paisa, mofongo and locro de mondongo, but they aren’t the kind of dishes we eat more than a couple of times a year.

So, it’s motivated by a desire to return, however briefly, to our roots as much as it is against this kind of over-thinking that we decided to do this post. My mother, whose encyclopedic use of regional English idioms was one of her great charms, used to say that the pretentious and the poseurs, those overly concerned with their appearance, were in danger of disappearing up their own trouser legs, and in order to avoid this is rather awkward demise, I decided to post this simple pasta dish from Calabria.

Pasta al pastore or shepherd’s pasta, is nothing more than crumbled hot or sweet Italian sausage (in this case a pound of loose homemade hot sausage meat – thanks Michael Ruhlman), a couple of ladles of pasta water and half a tub of fresh ricotta. There’s nothing to it, but nor is there anything missing. It’s as totally unremarkable as it is exciting and delicious, and could be found just as easily on the menu of a white table cloth restaurant as our house on a Tuesday night. That this is a Lidia Bastianich recipe also returns us to our origins as PBS fans fond of regional Italian cucina povera. Sure, we’ve betrayed our best intentions to go natural and rustic a little by gussying up the plating a little with chive flowers, but our excuse is that we have glut of them in our pots right now and using them up is as honest as it comes.

Pasta al Pastore – Calabrian Shepherd’s-style Pasta (serves 4)
(adapted not at all from Lidia Cooks from the Heart of Italy by Lidia Bastianich)

Ingredients:

4 hot (or sweet) Italian sausages, skins removed and crumbled
1lb package rigatoni or other tubular pasta
1/2lb fresh ricotta
abundant salted water
2 tablespoons olive oil
Grated pecorino cheese (optional).

Recipe:

Boil well salted water in a large pot
In a large skillet or saute pan, heat oil and crumble in sausage meat. Saute until cooked through.
Add pasta to water and cook for around 7 minutes until under done by about two minutes – i.e. in cross-section pasta is uncooked in the middle
Reserving 2-3 ladles of pasta water, remove pasta from water and add to sausage in saute pan.
Ladle in 2 ladles of pasta water and stir together.
When pasta is cooked through, kill the heat and stir in ricotta.
Sprinkle with grated pecorino and serve with a hearty southern Italian red

Ferdinando’s Focacceria: old school before it was kool

Jonny & Amy — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 14:25:23 +0000

When you think of old-style Italian-American restaurants does red sauce spring to mind? Red check wax table cloths, family-style servings, a free salad with your entree, rotund red-faced guys with their sleeves rolled-up, going “ey!” and slapping each other on the back? Sure, it’s a cliché, but it’s also close to the truth in a lot of places, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. I, for one, love a classic east coast red sauce and meatballs joint, but it’s not the complete picture.

Ferdinando’s Focacceria on Union Street in Brooklyn’s Carroll Gardens neighborhood has been in business as long as any in New York City. In 1910, in the heart of what was then a burgeoning Italian community, it opened its doors principally to cater for expatriate paesani working at the nearby Brooklyn docks, and it’s been serving the neighborhood faithfully ever since. However, unlike many of the other Italian eateries in the area, Fernandino’s does not serve everything with lashings of tomato gravy (not that they don’t offer red sauce – try it with their tripe), instead, they serve their original regional Sicilian dishes as if they don’t care or aren’t aware that long-established Italian restaurants are supposed to top everything with a meatball. They are most famous for their panelle and vastedda (chick pea fritters and veal spleen sandwiches, respectively), which they didn’t just decide to start selling since David Chang and Michael Symon announced it was cool for Brooklyn hipsters to eat offal.

That Ferdinando’s and many other original Italian businesses are still in operation in Carroll Gardens speaks to the fact that descendants of the neighborhood’s original communities remain where their forefathers first landed, in sight of Ellis Island across New York harbor. Not that simply by merit they don’t deserve to be in business, but that health-ninnies and changing dietary proclivities have discouraged most people from looking kindly upon rolls filled with deep fried chickpea dough or boiled calf-innards.

Our recent visit was the culmination of several years of anticipation and a pleasant relief after a terrible, screamy morning with our 5-month old. It was planned as our first lunch out with the baby, and we arrived flustered and desperate that he would nap long enough to allow us to get through a meal in peace. Finding ourselves a table at the rear, as distant as possible from the other patrons, we settled ourselves in and admired the time-worn decor of sepia-tint photos of the old country, a thickly over-painted tin ceiling and some attractive stained glass. The baby sparked awake shortly after we’d ordered our wine, but to our amazement, he emerged from his car-seat cheerful, quiet and relaxed. Maybe he is as susceptible as we are to a relaxing restaurant atmosphere? Whatever the reason, cue a great lunch.

Owner Francesco Buffa’s food is unrepentantly rustic and from the mismatched plates to the friendly but slightly gruff service, it is a truly authentic experience of old Brooklyn that is increasingly hard to find. Starting with a cold octopus and celery salad and a plate of garlicky broccoli di rape with a basket of crisp Italian bread from Mazzola bakery two blocks up, before proceeding with a panelle and mozzarella sandwich and a vastedda special (with the most unctuous ricotta), our happiness reigned for nearly two hours. In fact, so becalmed were we and Paolo, that we had dessert and espresso as the wait staff cooed around the baby.

Buddhists say that expectations are the root of all suffering, but even if we’d had the greatest morning of our lives instead of one of the most grueling, Ferdinando’s would still have been special. We will be heading back again soon to try their famous pasta con le sarde (with sardines, raisins and pine nuts) and rice balls stuffed with house-made ragu and peas. Whether Paolo will cooperate remains to be seen, but the food is so good that it’s worth the risk.

Ferdinando’s Foccaceria
151 Union St., Brooklyn, NY 11231 at Hicks St.
T: 718-855-1545
Starters $3-$12
Mains $10-$20
Sandwiches $5-$8

Asparagus, Cremini and Tomato Tart: Lighter Than Quiche (Unless You Eat 5 Pieces)

Amy — Mon, 29 Sep 2008 13:36:25 +0000

In recent years, I’ve become a food magazine junkie. I’ve pretty much ordered every single one over the past 10 years (no Rachael Ray & Martha Stewart mags don’t count in my world) and found that only a small handful are worth reordering (ahem, Saveur, Gourmet, Cucina Italiana, Food & Wine). One that I keep reordering but often question why is Bon Appetit. When they relaunched the magazine about a year ago with a new look I had a few opinions because I felt like the direction of the mag was changing – and not for the better. Regardless, I decided to give it a shot and, just like I do with my favorite food mags every month, I read the whole magazine – every page, cover to cover. I’ve continued to do this month after month, and month after month I feel the same way – uninspired. But one lovely and delicious-looking dish in the April 2008 issue struck me – an asparagus and ricotta tart made with puff pastry. I loved the idea of using ricotta along with the traditional quiche ingredients to make a tart. I imagined the flavor, texture and smell – I was inspired!

I tweaked the original Bon Appetit recipe a bit and only had a piece of puff pastry in the freezer and some pie crusts. I will write the recipe asking you to use only puff pastry, but feel free to do what we did and roll out defrosted pie crusts, shape into a rectangle and line the outside of the tart with strips of puff pastry. It works just as well!

The taste of this tart was light and chewy. Using various different veggies and ricotta over all eggs helped me convince myself that I was eating healthy. Even after a few helpings, I knew I was kidding myself but I’ve never been one of those fools that really believed that “a moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips”. If I did I’d be much thinner and this blog would not exist, clearly!

Btw… thanks to our friend at Serious Eats who featured this post in their “Blogwatch” section recently. Gracias!

ASPARAGUS, CREMINI AND TOMATO TART WITH RICOTTA AND PETITE JURASSIC CHEESE

Ingredients:

2 sheet of thawed puff pastry (1/2 of a 17.3 oz. package)
1 egg, beaten
about 10 to 12 asparagus spears
6-8 grape tomatoes, sliced in half
6-8 cremini mushrooms (or white/brown mushrooms), sliced in half
1/2 cup whole-milk ricotta cheese
4 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
pinch of salt
6 slices of thinly-sliced genoa salami, soppressata or other sliced cured meat of your choice
2/3 cup grated Petite Jurassic cheese (or Gruyere, Swiss or Comte cheese)

What to do:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Roll out puff pastry on floured surface and roll into a large rectangle (about the size of a long baking sheet). Cut 1/2 inch of puff pastry from each side and brush the sides with a bit of the beaten egg. Place 1/2 inch pieces all along the edges of the puff pastry tart so that the egg is the binding ingredient. Transfer to a baking sheet.
Steam asparagus until so it’s crisp-tender – about 2 to 3 minutes. Shock in an ice bath to keep color and texture. Chop the bottom 2 inches of the asparagus off and puree these in a food processor along with the rest of the beaten egg, ricotta, the olive oil and pinch of salt. Transfer to bowl.
Spread the asparagus puree on the bottom of your tart, reserving a few tablespoons. It will fill up to about 1/8 of an inch high. Make sure it is coated evenly. Nestle the pieces of salami into the puree in random places around the tart. Sprinkle your cheese around the tart as well and put your remaining tablespoons of asparagus puree over the pieces of salami (so to cover them).
Add your sliced grape tomatoes, asparagus spears and mushrooms to the top of the tart – make it look pretty, why not.
Drizzle some olive oil over the top and bake about 25 to 30 minutes or until the filling is set. Serve warm or cold along with a salad or for breakfast with a runny egg.

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