“I eat my candy with pork and beans.
Excuse my manners if I make a scene.”
-Pork and Beans, by Weezer

I could begin this post with a rose-tinted anecdote about how, during the run-up to our wedding in Italy, as Amy and I were lingering romantically over a typically rustic Tuscan dinner one warm June evening against the background of a bucolic, rolling landscape with honey-colored buildings dotted sparingly among neat rows of vines and olives — our eyes locked together over a tablescape of starched cloth, antique silver and leaded crystal — the air, heavy with the scent of lavender and the hum of cicadas, seemed to stir momentarily, as if a gust of breeze from we knew not where had suddenly, and unintentionally, loosed itself, darkening our moods and furrowing our brows with its unwelcome interruption.

I could conclude such an anecdote in lyrical fashion thus: as the sun’s dipping parabola cast its final, limpid rays upon the radiant skin of my betrothed’s temples, she recoiled in anguish, reeling like a punch-drunk prize-fighter, at the rancid bouquet now squalling through her nostrils.

I could also proceed with a lengthy explanation of why it is that fagioli e salsiccie is the quintessential Tuscan peasant dish, having sustained generations in that part of Italy, and how it sits proudly among the best of pan-European cucina povera alongside fabada and ollo podrida.

Instead, I could just as easily explain that during said nuptials we enjoyed many of the delicious bean dishes for which Tuscany is famous and, consequently, experienced the oh-so familiar sensation of, ahem, flatulence.

These days many people are aware of the wonders of Tuscan cuisine; the saltless bread, the magnificent steaks, the peppery, fruity olive oil, the tangy Pecorino, the bread and tomato soups, as well as the widespread use of beans that has earned Tuscans the moniker “mangiafagioli” or bean-eaters. What still mystifies most people though, is if beans always give us wretched and disgusting gas, why do we continue eating them?

Before you start clicking away, tut-tutting about the sheer childishness… the puerile subject matter… they should know better, etc., you might consider the anthropological significance of the humble bean. Not only are beans among the world’s super foods, being packed with protein (containing more than twice the protein of most meats), fiber, and complex carbohydrates, the simple act of growing them fixes nitrogen to poor soils enabling land to remain fertile without requiring artificial fertilizers (meaning they are not just good for you, they are also good the Earth), but, in addition to being nutritionally complete, beans are easy to grow, and, as a result, have been (pun intended) essential to human societies since way before bread was even conceived of. Thus, the histories of the bean, the fart, and the very survival of humanity are inextricably connected.

Not that our survival this past weekend was predicated on eating beans, but as we struggled back up to our fourth floor walk-up apartment wet and cold from chilly April showers, it certainly felt that way for a few moments. The idea of the silken texture of perfectly cooked cannellini beans bathed lovingly in a tomato, garlic and bay-scented broth, and complemented by fennel or hot pepper-spiked pork sausage hung like an apparition in front of us as we stuffed our shoes with newspaper and festooned every available hanging place with damp clothes.

Sadly, we hadn’t had the foresight to soak our dried beans overnight (we only had four hours to soak them), so we tried the oft-mooted, but untested, option of using the pressure cooker to make amends. Various online sources suggested pressure-cooking them for anything between 12 and 25 minutes, neither of which we found to be nearly enough. After three abortive de-pressurizations, and a total of around 40 minutes cooking, the beans had achieved the smooth, toothsome texture we were looking for. Having browned the sausages in the pot before adding the beans, onion, garlic, bay, vegetable stock and tomato paste, all they required was an additional five minutes simmering among the beans for the dish to be ready.

Settling into our meal, we were astounded by the restorative qualities of simple pork and beans, washing the warming combo down with something red and Portuguese and in the $8 range. The following morning, we were similarly astounded by the metabolic reaction of human intestines and beans. Happily, our marriage, having begun with flatulence, and now securely founded on a mutual understanding of the universality of these kinds of things, was able to accommodate such seismic eruptions. Our day proceeded with a long walk in the park, having left our apartment, windows open, to air out.

It might be generational, or, perhaps, philosophical, but there are, on the one hand, those who enjoy and appreciate handmade things, and the art and craft they require to make, and, on the other, those who prefer their things machine-made, reliable, and standard. The ‘things’ here could be quite literally anything. My father, who, to me, is the quintessential scientist and pragmatist, believes that most, if not all, advances for the betterment of mankind have come as a result of the increased use and application of machines, technology and science. In fact, he would argue, I’m sure, that this blog is evidence of the fact that even something as Luddite as cooking can be improved through the application of technology, though regular readers – with good reason – may not agree.

My mother was cut from very different cloth however, and, though a nurse who believed sincerely in the power of modern medicine, sanitation and inoculation, she was a true amateuse of a hand-turned chair-leg, a cut-glass goblet, and, much to the detriment of my appearance during my tender years, a hand-knitted sweater.  She was also a great lover of gardening, baking bread and, despite the fact that it rarely worked, yogurt-making. I think it’s from her that I get most of my culinary instincts, as the very notion of spending three or four hours in the kitchen doing anything would horrify my dad.

Pasta-rollers, like all machines, were invented for three main reasons: (1) to produce more quickly what used to take a long time (2) as a uniform-quality product, and (3) so that the resulting free time could be spent either more enjoyably or industriously. The assumption behind it seems to be that it makes it easier to make something that is typically quite tricky, and that the making of it by hand was a laborious pain in the ass. Those who have used a pasta roller, whether the hand-crank variety or the KitchenAid attachment, know, as we do, that it is a fabulous invention and enables even the busiest gastronome to home-make great fresh pasta in a relatively short time. They might also have found that it is actually fun to use because it combines the joy of mixing a dough by hand with the ease and convenience of not having to roll it out and cut it yourself.

Taking this notion of fun to its logical extreme this past weekend, I decided to devote my entire Sunday to doing the whole thing – the mixing, the rolling and the cutting – by hand. In spite of the recipe book’s warning that it was a painstaking exercise, I had little idea of what I was getting into. I now have a profound appreciation both for labor-saving machines, and the unique taste, texture and satisfaction derived from hand-rolled pasta.

But it is more than that. I learned something about myself on Sunday. In some ways, it was a revelation. I had always thought that I appreciated handmade things, particularly food and wine, with the all patience, care and skills that their creation implies, but I had never actually tested myself to see if I could enjoy hand-making something that required real patience and physical effort.  And, while there certainly were moments in which I did not enjoy being patient or the physical effort, on the whole, I really did find the process to be incredibly rewarding – relaxing almost. Not only did I (eventually, and with several abortive attempts) make some absolutely first-class pasta, but I learned a new technique and was, in the end, able to enjoy the fruits of my labor in a way I never have before.

Pici Keen

Famous for the lavish displays of wealth and the beautiful arts of the Renaissance found in Florence, Siena, Lucca and Pisa, Tuscans are, by contrast, rather austere in their culinary inclinations with their love of simple grilled meats, stewed beans and saltless bread. Such austerity requires the freshest and best ingredients in order to be delicious, and, fortuitously, Tuscany offers these up in great bounty. Similarly, it often requires great effort and technique.

So it is with Pici (also known as pinci — hand-rolled, eggless Tuscan thick spaghetti — perhaps the best example of this cucina povera (poor man’s cuisine) — utilizing only 00 flour, water, green Tuscan olive oil and a lot of time and effort. Indeed, it is my belief that what the poor, historically, lacked in wealth they more than make up for in patience, and disposable time. Originating from the Val d’Orcia region (the area between Montalcino and Montepulciano), pici are usually eaten with a rich meat sauce, often containing porcini mushrooms, but any hearty meat or game ragu would be a good choice.

The duck ragu recipe below is typical of the region of Arezzo which is the area where we got married in June 2007, and making it engendered all those kinds of warm feelings one gets from a house filled with delicious smells and the wonderful memories of the time of our lives.

Learning a new skill, and in this case, a new recipe, is a matter of managing to overcome self-doubt. Before you attempt making pici, I would highly recommend you try making a regular long pasta with an egg dough, so that you understand how it should feel and look. It will also allow you to develop a sense about the right elasticity of a good dough which will be useful even though Pici dough is a very different creature altogether.

If you follow the exact instructions below, you’ll probably find that your dough feels too dry and too heavy. Do not be afraid to add more water and more oil as you see fit because eggless doughs can easily become brittle when allowed to be too dry. However, do not abandon hope. I urge you to stick with the basis of the recipe (allowing for various seasonal, regional, altitudinal and indoor-outdoor climactic conditions) and overcome your fears of impending culinary disaster, as they will not materialize. If it feels too dry, add more water. Too wet, add flour until it feels right. One word of caution, though: be sparing in any additions of liquid or lipids because at the hand-rolling stage you will be adding extra olive oil to reduce friction and facilitate the rolling process, and you don’t want to find at that stage that you have to start all over again.

Also, do give yourself plenty of time. An otherwise lazy Sunday afternoon is perfect for this, as not only does the pasta make a perfect Sunday night dinner, but, more importantly, it gives you time to rest as you go along. Making enough pici for four people can be a tiring business, even if there are two of you on the job. One final proviso, do not treat pici like regular fresh pasta — i.e. sprinkle it liberally with flour and allow to set-up and dry for a while prior to cooking. I refer to my earlier comments when I say that pici can dry out and become brittle very quickly, so when you make them, plan to eat them within, at most, a couple of hours. This might appear like a disadvantage but it’s not because once cooked they are probably more robust than regular pastas and even reheat remarkably well.

So, please try making this dish. The sauce is easy and indescribably good (I know everyone says that about their food, but, really, this is very special), and the pasta is a great reward for some hard graft both corporeally and in that it offers a real sense of achievement. By the time you’re done, you’ll have sore shoulders but will have mastered the rolling technique perfectly. As a result, pasta-making will have transcended the bland uniformity of the machine-age and become what all good food should be: absolutely unique and deeply personal.

After our first attempt at making homemade sausage, I realized how invaluable a butcher is. We live in a country where many people don’t know what kind of animal their meat comes from. Hold up an eggplant to a 10-year old and good chance they may not even know what the hell it is. It’s sad that the neighborhood butcher is starting to become a thing of the past. Hell, I live in Brooklyn, NY, one of the most multicultural places on earth and, in my hood alone we only have a few butchers left. I’m talking about the neighborhood butcher, not that gourmet food store up the street. You know the place – the guy/gal behind the counter has butchers hands and fingers, you know his/her name and he/she knows your name, they don’t switch employees as quickly as McDonald’s and they can easily ask you if you want “the regular”. Word is that the decline in these gems is because young people aren’t interested in carrying on the family trade. Maybe with this economic downward spiral Americans will be more willing to work with their hands again and see the beauty how happy meat/poultry can make people.

Jonny and I have wanted to try and make a dish that we ate in Florence, Italy at the awesome Coco Lezzone since the last time we recreated their Pappa al Pomodoro. It was one of those meals from start to finish that will forever stay etched in my mind. Saveur did a cover story on their Herb-Stuffed Pork Loin in their April, 2006 issue. We tweaked the recipe just a bit (lavender wasn’t a part of the original recipe) and, thanks to our awesome butcher, the dish turned out phenomenally. We’re going to do a version of this for Christmas Day dinner because it’s pretty inexpensive and extremely delicious. I highly recommend you go give your butcher a big hug tomorrow.

COCO LEZZONE’S HERB AND LAVENDER-STUFFED PORK LOIN RIB ROAST – Serves 6

Ingredients:

• 1 6-rib center-cut pork loin roast (about 4-5 lbs)
• 6 cloves of garlic, peeled and ground to a paste
• 2 tablespoons of chopped rosemary
• 3 tablespoons of chopped sage
• 2 tablespoons of thyme
• 1 tablespoon dried lavender
• 2 tablespoons + 1/4 (or so) cup olive oil
• salt and pepper

What to do:

1. Preheat over to 475 degrees. In a small bowl, add together the garlic, all the herbs and lavender with a pinch of salt and pepper and 2 tablespoons olive oil. Use a fork to make sure it’s all incorporated together.
2. Push the handle of a long wooden spoon through the center of one end of the pork roast allowing it to poke through the other end’s center. Do this again, moving the handle back and forth and in a circular motion to allow the hole to get bigger. It will end up being about 3/4 of an inch wide.
3. Reserve about 3/4 of a tablespoon of the herb mixture to be use in a moment. Using your fingers, push some of the herb/garlic mixture into the center hole starting on one side and the finishing on the other. Put roast in a roasting pan.
4. Pour about 1/4 cup or so of olive oil over the roast. Rub it in a bit. Using the reserved herb mixture, rub all around the top and sides of the rib roast. Season generously with salt and pepper and roast the pork in the oven until golden brown – about 25 to 30 minutes. Reduce the oven to 350 degrees and continue to roast for an hour longer or until the internal temperature is 160 degrees.
5. Allow pork to rest about 10 minutes and then carve into individual chops. Serve with the pan drippings (which are DEEE-LISH, by the way!).

So on a very, very humid 90-degree day (and subsequently, humid 85 degree night) which happened to be our 1st anniversary, we decided to bring old Bugs Bunny out of hiding. As Jonny and I whined and moaned about the fact that “one year ago today we were in Tuscany about to start our two week trek around Northern Italy” we also thought back to some of the simple and fabulous meals we ate around the small towns of Bucine and Ambra in Arrezo near to where our wedding was held. One of those meals was at a small little hole-in-the-wall place on the side of the road called Osteria dei Conti Guidi. This was one of those places that in America would fail because it’s not trendy enough, not flash, not hip. They had plastic tables and chairs outside with colorful, non-matching plastic tablecloths on top. The tables weren’t very steady because they were sat on the grass which sloped slightly. You walk into the nearly empty restaurant because there is no hot-looking hostess waiting at the front to greet you and take you to your table. Instead, you kind of look around for anyone who can even tell you that the place is open – inside it’s brightly lit with a small TV in the corner blasting the news or a sporting match and a few older men finishing up their digestivo and smoking a cigarette. And then, she appears…. the “mama”. The owner, hostess, waitress, part-time cook and busboy. That “all-in-one” kind of restaurateur who you end up falling in love with because of their speed and passion. I am forgetting her name but that night she was like our best friend. She handed us the menus and we laughed at the loose Italian to English translations on the menu – I have pictures somewhere which I’ll attempt to locate and upload them here. As you eat, the owners many cats would come over and rub past your legs hoping you would accidentally drop some of your prociutto on the grass.

That night Jonny ordered the Hare Ragu with Juniper Berries over homemade pappardelle. I just remember him making many happy noises and eating it up in record speed. It was a dish that should normally be eaten in the colder months, but he was enjoying the complex flavors immensely as we sat outside on the plastic chairs. If you can locate juniper berries at your closest gourmet shop, you will be blown away by the taste – it’s as if you are putting a drop of gin on your tongue. Juniper berries are the seed cone produced by the female juniper plant and it’s actually not a berry, it’s just shaped like one. When they are young they are green in color but turn into a purple-red color once they are over 18 months mature. They are a natural diuretic and, back in the day, were used to treat arthritis and were thought to stimulate the appetite (think they tried to smoke it?). Obviously, the most famous things juniper berries are used for is flavoring gin. You have just got to try them, they are absolutely delicious and are used in many dishes, especially those using game. It is understandable why this spice is such a wonderful paring with our “Open” Raviolo with Hare and Juniper Berry Ragu.

Instead of making normal ravioli’s, we used big sheets of pasta to ‘cover’ spoonfulls of the ragu. The only differences between a normal ravioli and our ‘open’ raviolo’s are the size (ravioli is usually much smaller than raviolo) and the fact that they are not pressed together so that the stuffing is enclosed within the pasta sheets. It’s an interesting way to use pasta and you also get that same feeling of ‘cutting into’ the pasta like you would normally do with ravioli’s. Give this a try. Do not be intimidated by the use of game or the juniper berry spice – yes, it is one of those meals to make with a nice bottle of wine (and, in our case, a very strong air conditioner!) because it is not a quick meal to make. Once you buy the juniper berries you can use them in a variety of meals! ***Note: The Bottle of wine up to the right is from the small vineyard where we were married in Tuscany (Tenuta di Lupinari). The picture of the castle is where I changed into my dress (and drank copious amounts of Prosecco) and where were were married (in the gardens in front of the castle). Ahhhh, memories.

‘OPEN’ RAVIOLO WITH HARE AND JUNIPER BERRY RAGU (serves 4 as main and 6 as an appetizer)

Ingredients:

• 1/2 pound to 1 pound of Lidia’s Poor Man’s Pasta Recipe (for Raviolo’s)
• 1/2 rabbit, cut up into chunks using a cleaver/heavy knife
• 1/2 cup flour
• 4 cloves of garlic, smashed with back of knife
• 1 onion, finely diced
• 1 teaspoon dried juniper berries
• 1/4 cup or 4 tablespoons white wine
• 2 sprigs (each) of rosemary and thyme, bruised with the back of a knife
• 1 cup passata or crushed tomatoes
• 1 cup of chicken or rabbit stock
• 3 tablespoons good extra virgin olive oil
• salt and freshly ground black pepper

What to do:

1. Dredge rabbit pieces in flour and saute in olive oil in a deep saute pan or dutch oven until all sides are well browned.
2. With a slotted spoon, remove rabbit to a plate and add the onions to the oil and, on medium-low, allow them to sweat for at least 5-8 minutes until translucent. Add the garlic and cook for another 3 to 4 minutes.
3. Add the reserved rabbit pieces back to the pan and then deglaze with white wine. Scrape up any bits that accumulated on the bottom of the pan. When the wine is reduced by half, add juniper berries and the herbs.
4. When the pot is almost completely dry (all liquid has been absorbed), add the passata/tomatoes and the chicken stock. Stir well and bring to a simmer. When it comes to a simmer, put lid on and cook for 45 minutes to 1 hour.
5. While rabbit is simmering, make your pasta. Allow the strips of pasta to dry on a well-floured surface until the rabbit is ready.
6. After 45 minutes , remove the lid off your ragu and simmer uncovered for another 30 minutes or until the sauce has become thick.
7. Turn off the stove and remove the rabbit pieces with a slotted spoon and allow to cool in a bowl. While that is cooling, bring salted water to a boil in order to cook your pasta.
8. Once the rabbit is cool, you will use your fingers (instead of the 1st way we tried with two forks which is not easy) to remove any pieces of bones that are on the rabbit meat. Because it has been cooked for so long, it should come off very, very easily. Make sure you get ALL the bones! You don’t want your guests choking or their mouths being cut up, unless, of course, you do.
9. Stir your meat back into the ragu. Remove the rosemary twigs. Add some salt to taste and freshly ground black pepper.
10. Slice your pasta sheets into 6-inch squares and cook in the boiling water until they come to the surface (about 2 minutes). Drain.
11. Time to plate – add a pasta square on the bottom, top with a big spoonful of the rabbit ragu and a drizzle of olive oil. Top with another pasta square and a smaller spoonfull of the the ragu. Again, drizzle a bit of olive oil on top along with some ground pepper and anything green (chives, parsley, basil, thyme, etc.). Serve with a delicious vino and settle into a satisfying meal. ***NOTE: Feel free to use another thick and hearty pasta with this dish like pappardelle or tagliatelle.

Check out some other posts you may enjoy:

• Vermut (Vermouth): Rediscovering an Old Classic
• Remaking a Tuscan Restaurant Meal (From Florence)
• Striking Over Pasta?
• BEET AND RICOTTA FILLED RAVIOLI WITH BROWN BUTTER AND POPPY SEEDS
• SPANISH (AUSTURIAN) OXTAIL WITH FRIED POTATOES
• GROUND LAMB KABOBS (Lamb Kubideh)

In Florence, and other parts of Tuscany, eggs florentine are not typically eaten at breakfast time, the Tuscans preferring the simplicity of coffee and a pastry or perhaps a grilled slice of saltless Tuscan bread, rubbed with garlic and olive oil. However, the basic notion of eggs and spinach is authentically Tuscan, and instead of poached eggs over wilted spinach, they are often baked together in a creamy, nutmeggy sauce and eaten as a side dish to a grilled or roasted meat.

And, with a lot of things we do on our blog, we feel the authentic version is better than the knock-offs and happily spinach is in season right now, so it’s both authentic and seasonal.

Initially, I was skeptical that this dish would be any good because spinach dishes are usually not that flavorful – with the spinach not offering much in the way of an identifiable taste. Not in this case though, where the spinach actually provides all the flavor and, surprisingly, a lot of almost crunchy texture, and the cream, eggs and butter provide the richness.

This, as an accompaniment to a great, rare bistecca alla fiorentina, would make for a delicious and decadent dinner, not dissimilar to the traditional American steakhouse classic of steak with a side of creamed spinach, but the addition of the eggs to this dish really puts it over the edge. You really can’t go wrong.

Baked Spinach with Eggs

Ingredients

1lb (500g) spinach, washed, but with stems on
1/2 cup heavy cream
3-4 medium eggs
1tbsp unsalted butter1tbsp grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese1tsp freshly grated nutmegsalt and black pepper to taste

Recipe

Pre-heat your oven to 350F / 175C.In a large saute pan, wilt the spinach gently in the butter. Three to four minutes is all it should really take.Then strain-off the spinach juices and reserve. Place spinach to a buttered oven-proof baking dish and distribute evenly.Add spinach juices and half the cream back in your pan and over low heat allow to reduce a little – until the cream is a pale green and starting to thicken. Then add nutmeg, salt and pepper to taste.Pour the rest of the cream over the spinach and make indentations in the spinach for your eggs. Crack eggs into indentations, then pour over the cream and spinach juice mixture before sprinkling the whole thing with parmesan cheese and some extra black pepper.Bake for 15-20 minutes or until bubbling and eggs are firm. Allow to come to room temperature before serving with your favorite cut of steak.

Thanks to Maxine Clark, The Flavors of Tuscany: Recipes from the Heart of Italy, from which this recipe was adapted.

Check out these other posts you may enjoy:

• PAPPA AL POMODORO (Tuscan Tomato and Bread Soup)
• TORTILLA ESPANOLA (Spanish Potato Omelet)
• PASTA (BUCATINI) WITH PISTACHIO SAUCE
• WHOLE FRIED SNAPPER WITH GARLIC AND PARSLEY SAUCE
• FETTUCCINE FRA’DIAVOLO WITH CRAB AND SHRIMP
• ROASTED PORK SHOULDER (Pernil) – The Quicker Version

Tradition
Now, it’s very common — almost traditional, some would say — for the British, when visiting another European country, to buy a bottle or more of the local tipple as a souvenir. This tends to the eaux-de-vie / grappa-type firewater, often distilled with herbs from the surrounding hills, that the locals swear has health-restoring powers, but in fact is the cause of the blindness and insanity in endemic communities. And, just as commonly, once back in the UK, said bottle is placed in a dark recess of ones’ liquor cabinet and only ever reached for if, say England win something, anything, at football (soccer), and everything else in the house has already been drunk in the course of celebrating. Such was my thinking when we bought this curiously slim bottle of vin santo.

Even when I learned that it was in fact a dessert wine and not a paint-stripper, I remained cautious. After all, during the 1990s and the early years of this century, dessert wines had consistently been given a bad rap. People looked down their noses at sweeter wines as dry, crisp wines like chardonnay were all the rage. My theory (based on no research at all) is that skinny southern Californians are to blame for this. You see, the 90s power lunch diet of a “dinner salad” sans bread, expensive mineral water, and glass of something dry and white seems to have persuaded the rest of us that not only was dry white wine somehow sophisticated, but it was also lower in calories than a sweeter wine, and therefore better for us.

Research, Kinda
However, some recent actual research on the shelves of Gary’s Wines and Liquors (Flatbush Ave. and Sixth Ave., Brooklyn, NY) confirmed that wine stores which had previously been stocked almost exclusively with chardonnay, chenin blanc, and sauvignon blanc, are now burgeoning with viognier, gewurztraminer, albarino, riesling and several others whose names I forget. Clearly, there is some of sort of change in tastes afoot.

Taking this research a step further, I also noticed sweeter dessert wines are appearing on menus in my neighborhood and amongst them, in at least one restaurant, I found vin santo. All of which convinced me to find out more about this unusual beverage and, hell, give it a try!

Some Facts
Literally “holy wine”, vin santo is made from malvasia and trebbiano grapes that are left on the vine late to develop their sugars. The derivation of name vin santo is subject to some controversy since some believe that it had miraculous properties that cured plague in the 14th century. Others attribute it to a certain Greek Bishop who in the 15th century proclaimed upon drinking it “This is the wine of Xanthos!” — a pressed raisin wine from Santorini, which his fellow diners mistook for “santos”, i.e. “this is the wine of the saints”. Dismally though, it’s thought that the most likely derivation is its sometime use in Tuscany as a sacramental wine during mass.

The third most planted grape in the world by area, trebbiano grapes have usually received a bad reputation because they (when unblended) tend to produce very rough and ready wines (mostly white, some red) that have usually only been drunk young as table wines. Some chianti producers use them as a blend with sangiovese grapes, but again due to their inherent instability, they are being phased out in favor of 100% sangiovese these days.

Similarly, malvasia grapes are mostly used to make young and fairly rough white table wines, and are widely planted across the world too — most famously on the Portuguese island of Madeira where they are used to create the eponymous sweet wine. And, it is when trebbiano and malvasia are allowed to age that they become spectacular and display their real talents – both are commonly used as the base for other fortified wines like sherry, brandy and port.

Once picked, vin santo makers allow their grapes to dry and develop even more sweetness as they hang from rafters in well-ventilated rooms until they are pressed. Then the sweet juice is extracted and placed into small, cigar-shaped barrels called caratelli. After an initial open-barrel fermentation, and in a similar method to aging balsamic vinegars, these barrels are sealed and then stored in garrets or attic spaces and left to age, the best for as long as ten years.

It is because of this extended aging and sweetening process, as well as the deliciousness of the final product, that vin santo is so highly prized (and priced). It’s comparatively low yield per kilo of grapes picked and long production time means that not only is it a scarce commodity but it requires a lot of patience and care before it is ready.

So, erm, what does it taste like? 

At the end of this 10 year period, the wine is a beautiful golden amber color with a slightly nutty flavor. It is certainly sweet but not in a honeyed or saccharine way. Rather, it has a perfectly balanced flavor that works wonderfully well at the end of a savory meal without completely coating the palate with sugar.

Vin santo is typically served with almond or hazelnut biscotti-type biscuits/cookies (“cantucci e vin santo”) which are often dipped into the wine to soften them and accentuate their taste as a dessert combo, but it may be drunk as an accompaniment to other desserts or by itself as a digestive. However, and probably because of its sweetness, it is never served with cheese.

Since first trying it and realizing that, like so many of my typically English preconceived notions about all things “foreign”, it’s actually very good and those “foreigners” know much better than the English when it comes to food, we’ve drunk it mostly by itself without biscotti. But you should get yourself some and drink it any which way you choose. Sadly, after squeezing as many small nips from it as we could manage to prolong its life, we have just finished the bottle we bought in Italy. Like many of the best things in life, you have to be sparing and savor it in order to get your money’s worth.

Now, depending on where you live vin santo may be harder to find, but it’s easy to get hold of online, if a little expensive. So I encourage you to give it a try, perhaps at a restaurant first so your initial investment is limited, but I’m sure you’ll find, as I did, that re-evaluating ones prejudices towards sweet wines is a rewarding exercise.

Ever since we bought our Kitchen Aid Mixer (kneel down, bow your head in a moment of silence, please), I have only used it for one thing – making pasta. I am not a baker. I can not even pretend to be one. In fact, the other day, I thought I’d be cute and also use up some rotting fruit by making a Strawberry Cake. A-hole me left out one itty bitty part of the recipe. It was such a small part of the recipe I must’ve just skipped over it!! Butter, check. Milk, check. Sugar, check. Eggs… got it. Oven, on. After an hour of cooking, I realized my attempt to be a cute wifey failed. So I forgot the freaking baking powder!!! SUE ME. And here’s another ‘baker insiders tip” – no matter how long you cook a cake made without baking powder, it will never rise, cook properly or look/taste normal. I took a picture of the pitiful thing, but I’m too embarrassed to post it.

But I digress… I’m better at cooking. I’m better at not really having to measure things exactly. I’m better at making pasta with my Kitchen-Aid Mixer. I was craving a stuffed pasta. We had some watercress and I figured, why not stuff my rav’s with that? For the sauce I was reminiscing about the first course we had at our Italian wedding last June – it was a radicchio-stuffed pasta with a radicchio sauce. Radicchio overload? I think not. Some people are not fans of this Italian purple leaf vegetable, similar to how some just can’t stand the bitterness of broccoli di rape. Radicchio has a strong flavor and you know instantly when it’s been mixed in with other greens. It is also known as chicory and has a bit of a bitter taste. But what I love about radicchio is that it tastes delicious chopped raw, grilled with some olive oil and sprinkled with salt and a squeeze of lemon, or cooked in a sauce. Originally from the Veneto region, radicchio actually has many different looks and each type is named for the area of Italy it comes from. The version I used, and the one most common in the U.S. is radicchio di Chioggia, a town outside of Venice.

This dish worked really well together. The pepperiness of the watercress and the mellowed bitterness of the radicchio was balanced out perfectly by the creamy ricotta and, of course, the butter. For a quicker version, feel free to use wonton wrappers if you can’t make your own ravioli, but once you try making homemade pasta, you’ll realize how easy it really is!

As I was writing this post I came across a fun blog with tasty recipes called Proud Italian Cook, by linking from another favorite Greek-cuisine and beyond blog of mine, Kalofagas. Proud Italian Cook and Finding La Dolce Vita, Festa Italiana another great blog with beautiful Italian recipes and pictures, are teaming up for an event called . I thought, what a great way to spread the love and also meet some new peeps out there in food blog world, so I’m entering this recipe for the event.

WATERCRESS AND RICOTTA RAVIOLI WITH A RADICCHIO BUTTER SAUCE (Serves 4 as a Main, 6 as a Starter)

Ingredients for the Ravioli (I always use Lidia Bastianich’s Poor Man’s Pasta recipe – makes 1 pound of pasta, but I only used about 3/4 of the pound for this recipe):

• 2 cups of all-purpose flour
• 2 large eggs
• 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 3 tablespoons water

Other Ingredients for the Ravioli:

• 8 oz. (1 cup) of whole milk ricotta, drained
• 1/2 shallot, minced (may substitute with 1/4 onion, minced)
• 1 clove garlic, minced finely
• 1 bunch of watercress, chopped
• 1/2 cup of Parmigiano Reggiano, grated
• olive oil
• salt and pepper

Ingredients For the Sauce:

• 3/4 stick of unsalted butter
• 1/3 head of radicchio, sliced in 1/2-inch ribbons
• 1 shallot, thinly sliced (may substitue 1/2 onion, thinly sliced)
• salt and pepper
• more Parmigiano Reggiano, grated for garnish

How to Make the Ravioli’s:

1. BY HAND: Sift the flour to aerate it into a big mixing bowl. In separate bowl, beat eggs and add the oil and water to the bowl. Make a well in the middle of your flour and pour your wet ingredients into the well. Slowly incorporate the wet ingredients into the dry with a fork until it’s mixed. Knead into the bowl to completely incorporate it together then put dough onto floured board and knead for few minutes (2 – 3). Add more flour or water if it’s too wet or too dry. When it’s a good consistency and has been kneaded, allow to rest for a bit.
2. USING FOOD PROCESSOR: Use regular, large blade. Put flour in and pulse a few times to aerate. In separate bowl, beat eggs and add the oil and water to the bowl. With machine running, add your wet ingredients and run for 30 seconds. Dough will form quickly. Scrape sides of food processor if necessary. Turn dough onto floured board and knead for few minutes (1-2). Add more flour or water if it’s too wet or too dry. When it’s a good consistency and has been kneaded properly, allow to rest for a bit.
3. HOW TO ROLL OUT: Slice a 2-inch piece of your dough to roll out. Roll your dough out using a rolling pin (hope you have some muscles!) or using a pasta machine. I never let it go thinner than the 5th or 6th setting on my machine (Kitchen Aid). Put each strip you roll out on a floured surface, not touching each other. Put a floured kitchen towel on top before adding more pasta strips down on top of the others.
4. HOW TO SHAPE, STUFF AND SEAL: Depending on the shape you want will depend on how you stuff and cut your pasta. Here are a few easy ways to cut some ravioli:
   1. For circular ravioli, you can use a glass or a ravioli stamp and ‘cut’ the pasta the shape/size as the glass (I often use a glass with a 3 to 6 inch diameter depending on how big you want your ravioli). Put a bit of stuffing in the middle of the circle and wet all the side of the pasta with a bit of water. Top with another circle of pasta and squeeze all around to seal it. Sprinkle a bit of flour on the ravioli and lay on a floured baking sheet. Do not allowing each rav to touch the other made ravioli’s while they wait to be cooked.
   2. You can also put a bit of stuffing towards the bottom of the strip of pasta, then fold the end of pasta over (the way I did in this recipe), seal with a bit of water and cut around so it is more of a square shape, but the stuffing is at the bottom of one part of the pasta. Sprinkle a bit of flour on the ravioli and lay on a floured baking sheet. Do not allowing each rav to touch the other made ravioli’s while they wait to be cooked. THEY SHOULD LOOK LIKE THIS:

   

   3. Without cutting the sheets of pasta you roll, figure out how big you want your ravioli’s and put a bit of stuffing on the long pasta strip every 3 to 6 inches (again, depending on how big you want your ravioli). You will moisten the area of pasta around each bit of stuffing with some water and then lay another rolled out strip directly on top of the bottom one. Using your fingers, squeeze the top strip on to the bottom moistened strip around each bit of stuffing. Once it is sealed, use a pasta/ravioli cutter or just a regular old knife and cut your pasta from the big, long strip. This will give you square-shaped ravioli (unless you’re creative and cut it differently!). Squeeze around the sides again to make sure it’s sealed. Sprinkle a bit of flour on the ravioli and lay on a floured baking sheet. Do not allowing each rav to touch the other made ravioli’s while they wait to be cooked. AFTER THEY ARE CUT, THEY WILL LOOK LIKE THIS:

   

How to Make the Stuffing:

1. Saute your shallot, garlic and watercress in some olive oil on medium until soft. This should take about 4-5 minutes. Remove from heat and put in a bowl. Allow to cool for a couple minutes.
2. To the bowl w/ your shallot, garlic and watercress, add the ricotta, the cheese and salt and pepper. Stir until well combined. You’re done and ready to stuff your ravioli (see above). You may have some left over, or you can use it up by making more pasta!

How to Make the Radicchio Butter Sauce:

1. Boil some salted water for your ravioli’s.



2. Saute the shallot in a pat of butter for a few moments till soft.
3. On medium to low heat, add the rest of your butter. Allow to melt, but do not allow to color. While butter is melting, add your ravioli to the boiling water. They will be cooked in about 1 to 2 minutes and will float to the top when ready.
4. Once butter is melted, add your radicchio ribbons and a pinch of salt and pepper and cook only for a minute. You do not want them to completely melt, but to wilt so you can still get the strong flavor of it.
5. Add your cooked ravioli to the sauce and toss. When butter sauce has covered each ravioli, plate a few on your plate, spoon on some extra butter sauce with some wilted radicchio and sprinkle parmigiano on top. Enjoy!

SEE SOME OF OUR OTHER PASTA RECIPES:

• GNOCCHI DI PATATE WITH A BROWN BUTTER, SAGE, BREADCRUMB SAUCE
• FETTUCCINE FRA’DIAVOLO WITH CRAB AND SHRIMP
• CREAMY LEMON PASTA
• PASTA (PERCIATELLI/BUCATINI OR SPAGHETTI) AL’AMATRICIANA (ROMAN CLASSIC PASTA DISH)
• PASTA WITH LEEKS, ASPARAGUS, MUSHROOMS AND GRUYERE, TOPPED WITH A FRIED EGG
• ORECCHIETTE WITH SAUSAGE AND KALE
• PASTA WITH LEFTOVER VEG IN A CREAMY WINE SAUCE
• PASTA (BUCATINI) WITH PISTACHIO SAUCE
• PASTA WITH TUNA (Pasta Con Tonno)

Here are a few of my favorite pictures from our 3 weeks in Italy last summer. Maybe it’s the pick-me-up you need to? Oh, and I need to give a huge “shout out” to my blog-o-sphere friend Sarah from The Real Potato who has been kind enough to answer some of my annoying Wordpress questions when we were having some difficulties getting our new URL up and running… THANK YOU! Also, below the pics I have answered an older Meme I was tagged for by the awesome and lovely Nuria at Spanish Recipes.

***MEME – Some Answers from Amy (Jonny’s Not Gonna Play This Time)**

Time to play now:

What were you doing 10 years ago?

I was drinking cheap beer and wine 6 days a week and getting sad that I was graduating college soon and being forced into “the real world”. I opted instead to skip that for a few years in exchange for 2 years playing in the snow in Breckenridge, Colorado.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
I was a stressed out, grumpy graduate student – finishing my thesis, working 3 days a week for free (internship) and planning my Tuscan wedding from a small apartment in Brooklyn. I wouldn’t have been doing meme tags, let’s just say that. I barely saw my husband!!

Five snacks you enjoy

1. Hummus and pita chips
2. french fries (I can’t enjoy them as much as I’d LOVE to)
3. Butter Snaps (Pretzels)
4. Bites of Leftovers
5. Anything dipped in cream cheese or peanut butter

5 Things you would do if you were a millionaire

1. Buy an apartment in my neighborhood in Brooklyn where’s we’ve been living for 4 years but will never be able to afford.
2. Buy a place in Barcelona, Madrid, Rome, Bologna, Paris and London. (I think I need more money already!)
3. Buy a leg of Jamon Iberico for my kitchen in each apartment.
4. Travel and not worry about having to take off work – wait, I won’t have to work! YAY!
5. Volunteer in all different capacities all over the world.

5 bad habits

1. I bite my nails.
2. I don’t have any nails left (and never have) so I bit skin (please don’t stop reading my food blog b/c you know this… PLEASE!!!)
3. I throw my clothes on the floor still and then pick them all up and put them away on the weekend. My husband hates this.
4. I lick bowls and plates clean – sometimes even when no one is looking in certain restaurants.
5. I burp, loudly. This is something I’ve been very proud of since being a little girl but now I only save them for special people. ***should I be ashamed? am I loosing readers?

5 things you like doing

1. Anything outdoors – I love to hike, bike and especially do anything at the beach.
2. COOKING, EATING, DRINKING, DRINKING… duh.
3. Helping others – Which I’m finally doing for a living.
4. Exploring – I could be traveling to anohter country, another state or just another neighborhood in Brooklyn. I’ve always been very curious.
5. Seeing live music – I used to follow bands up until recently. NO I was not a groupie.

5 things I would never wear again

1. Lee Press-On nails. Oh, wait, I just wore them for my wedding, but NEVER again.
2. Acid-Washed anything.
3. Bangs/Fringe cut by my mother – looks like she cut it with a knife and a fork and this lasted till I was 11!
4. A training bra. If you met me, you’d know why this is impossible.
5. Iridescent Lipstick. (**Can you tell I’m a child of the 80’s?)

5 favorite toys

1. My Le Cruset that was too expensive for me to purchase myself – it was a wedding gift.
2. My food processor, Kitchen Aid bad-ass mixer w/ pasta attachment.
3. This blog. Ok, that doesn’t count… my i-pod.
4. My camera (same, Nuria!)
5. My frequent flier miles – I need to travel again soon!

That was actually quite fun!! THANKS NURIA FOR ASKING ME TO PLAY!

Continuing with more comforting winter foods, I decided one night to make Ribollita again. Traditionally, this Tuscan dish is usually made one day using whatever leftovers were around and reboiled (what ribollita literally means in Italian) the next for even more of a flavor power-punch. I also read that ribollita should take a total of three days to make! That’s some soup! It should also be made with stale bread, similar to another delicious Tuscan soup, Pappa al Pomodoro, we made months back. The stale bread not only needed to be used up, but it thickened the sauce too. We actually left the stale bread out of our recipe because the veggies made it super thick, but please add it to yours! And, similar to the Spanish Cocido (which also requires a long cooking time), ribollita ingredients and recipes vary from region to region in the country.

Another traditional ingredient in ribollita is cavolo nero (Tuscan black winter cabbage/kale). This stuff is all over Tuscany, we even, no lie, saw it growing on the side of the highway in Italy. It’s beautiful and, damn it!, we can’t buy it that easily even in New York City. I’ve seen it at various farmers markets, but I have yet to see it in any of my local stores. It is a deep, dark green, very nutritious and has alot of “give” meaning it can withstand to be cooked for a good amount of time. I used regular kale and some savoy cabbage instead.

We have travelled to many countries over the past few years and one thing I’ve learned is that poor-people’s food is the absolute best type of food. There is something so amazing and inspirational knowing that the poorest people were able to take all the rich’s ‘throw-away’s’ and create so many delicious, memorable and traditional meals. To me, they are the true hero’s of the culinary world and I look to their techniques to inspire me every day. Not measuring, using whatever around, cooking tough cuts of meat and making them taste absolutely delicious… this is peasant food.

As a reminder, I did not add bread to my recipe, but I am including it in this one. Another thing to remember is, of course, this meal will be more delicious if you soak and cook tried beans. I used canned cannellini beans because of time. I also added a rind of parmigiano reggiano for added flavor. This is also optional. Finally, we totally bucked tradition and added some sausage because we had to use a few links up. Regardless of how you do it, this is a meal in a bowl and is extremely delicious! Please give it a try for yourself.

RIBOLLITA (Tuscan Vegetable and Bread Soup) – Serves 4-5

• 2 cans cannellini beans
• 8 cups of vegetable stock/broth
• 1 onion, chopped
• 1 carrot, chopped
• 1 celery stalk and some of it’s greens, chopped
• 1 leek, cleaned and chopped
• 5-6 cloves of garlic, chopped
• 1 head of kale, ribs removed and sliced thinly
• 1/2 head of savoy cabbage, sliced in thin ribbons
• 2 yukon gold potatoes, sliced into wedges
• 1 large zucchini, sliced into wedges
• 2 cups passata (or tomato puree)
• couple sprigs of fresh rosemary
• fresh thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed red hot pepper
• parmigiano reggiano rind (optional)
• 2 links of sweet or hot italian sausage, sliced (optional)
• 1/2 loaf of day-old Italian bread (cut into cubes – traditional, but optional)

What to do:

1. Saute the onion, carrot, leeks and celery in some olive oil until they are relatively soft (bout 8 minutes). Towards the end, add the garlic and saute for a few minutes. Add zucchini, the kale and cabbage and saute for 2 or 3 minutes.
2. Add the herbs and hot pepper flakes.
3. Cover all of this with your vegetable stock and add the passata (tomatoes). Add your cheese rind and sliced sausage (optional).
4. Bring to a boil and then lower to a simmer. Simmer on low/medium-low for about 40 minutes. Add your canned cannellini beans and simmer for an additional 10 minutes. Check to see if it needs salt and adjust accordingly.
5. If you choose to add stale bread, add it at the very end… allow to soak up some broth (about 5 minutes) and allow it to break down. Stir into your soup.
6. To serve, add a piece of the parmigiano rind to the bottom of the bowl and ladle in some broth and plenty of vegetables. Top with lots of grated parmigiano reggiano and some chopped parsley. Enjoy!

CHECK OUT SOME OTHER POSTS YOU MAY ENJOY:

• Pigs Must Dream of Ending Up Here
• European Roast…? (Why Coffee Taste Better There)
• Rachel Ray – Maybe Hate is a Strong Word?
• CHESTNUT CUSTARD TART
• Knowing Your Tagliatelle from Your Tagliolini
• FETTUCCINE FRA’DIAVOLO WITH CRAB AND SHRIMP
• FRITO MISTO DI MARE (FRIED MIXED SEAFOOD AND VEGGIES
• WATERCRESS & RICOTTA RAVIOLI WITH A RADICCHIO BUTTER SAUCE
• GNOCCHI DI PATATE WITH A BROWN BUTTER, SAGE, BREADCRUMB SAUCE

I’ve just died and gone to heaven. I just cooked with guanciale (cured pigs jowels/cheeks). I just ate guanciale while sitting back on my couch in my crowded, rent-is-just-too-damn-high apartment watching TV. If only every night could be like this.

If you read our blog (or know us personally) you will know how important Italy is in our lives. We were engaged in Rome and married in Tuscany. Because of our wedding, we ended up spending a total of almost 6 weeks all over Italy starting with our engagement in May, 2006 until our wedding in June, 2007. It has a very big place in our hearts and our stomachs! I think we each gained nine or ten pounds during our three week wedding/honeymoon this past summer. And I do not care that I probably still have not lost all of it. We ate two large meals a day and always had wine with our lunch, there ain’t any amount of walking that’s gonna melt those calories away.

One of our favorite places to eat while in Rome is right across the river from our favorite Roman neighborhood to stay in, Trastevere. We take the short walk across the Tiber to the Jewish Ghetto and up the building stairs to Al Pompiere. Al Pompiere is frequented by locals as well as smart tourists (you should not see any sneakers, oversized t-shirts or fanny/bum bag-wearing toolbags). Their food is very tradional Jewish-Roman cuisine. They have excellent Fried Artichokes and we’ve tasted about 6 of their pastas – all excellent. But, this is where we first tried Bucatini Al’amatriciana – a classic pasta dish from Lazio. It is named after a small town called Amatrice. Supposedly there are different ways to prepare this dish. In Amatrice they do not use onions, but in other areas you will taste them in the dish. Purists do not add garlic and purists would also only use guanciale. I love garlic and guanciale is often difficult to find in the States, so you can choose to be a purist or not. I’ve read others make this dish here in America with pancetta (next best thing to guanciale) or bacon (I guess it’s the second best thing to guanciale). Personally, after eating this dish in Italy many times and now creating it myself with guanciale, I can not imagine substituting it with anything else. I think I’m officially an Al’amatriciana snob, but maybe that’s because the last 4 times I’ve eaten this dish has been with guanciale.

After our honeymoon, I decided to (sneakily) smuggle a 3/4 pound slab of guanciale in my suitcase back to the US. At the airport, we had on our best “no, we don’t have any meat products in our possession” faces while we got through customs. But that was 6 months ago. The beautiful pig cheek slab has sat in our freezer in shrinkwrapped plastic waiting until the day was right to bring smiles to our faces and our guts. We couldn’t resist any longer – we finally ripped it open and created a pretty bang-on variation of the dish we ate many times in Italy. I know hands – down it was the guanciale. GOD BLESS PIGS JOWLS!

But, readers, PLEASE don’t think this dish wouldn’t be absolutely delicious without guanciale and with pancetta. It just may not have that specific rich, porky flavor that the pig cheeks have. We have about 1/2 of our slab left, so after one more meal 1/2 it will sadly be gone forever. Until my local butcher starts selling it, I will too be making this with pancetta.

PERCIATELLI (OR SPAGHETTI/BUCATINI) AL’AMATRICIANA

Ingredients

• 1/2 pound cured pigs cheeks (guanciale) or pancetta, thinly sliced
• 2 onions very thinly sliced (use a mandolin if available)
• 2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
• 1/2 cup Pecorino Romano cheese
• 2 1/2 cups Amy’s Tomato Sauce (see below)
• 1 pound perciatelli, bucatini or spaghetti

What to do:

1. Reheat your Tomato Sauce, keep warmed on low.
2. Take your sliced guanciale or pancetta and cook on both sides on medium to medium-low. You want to just render some of the fat, not completely crisp up. After a few minutes, take the strips out and let drain on a paper towel. DO NOT THROW OUT ALL THE RENDERED FAT! Put most in separate bowl, keeping about 1-2 tablespoons in the pan.
3. On medium-low heat, throw in your thinly sliced onions and slow cook these in the rendered guanciale/pancetta fat. This process could take up to 25-30minutes to sweat them down, but it’s WORTH it. The sweetness of the onions when cooked this way can not be duplicated without slow cooking them. You want to make sure you keep stirring them every once in awhile. Add more rendered pork fat if the onions look like they need it.
4. Boil water for your pasta. Add your pasta to cook.
5. Meanwhile, when guanciale/pancetta is cool enough to handle, cut into chunks about 1 inch long by 1/2 inch wide pieces.
6. Add the garlic to the pan and then the guanciale/pancetta pieces. Allow to cook along with the onions for 3 minutes. Continue to stir.
7. Add 1 1/2 cup of pasta sauce to the pan. Stir the sauce.
8. Drain pasta, reserving a few tablespoons of the pasta water. Add the pasta to the pan along with the pasta water. Toss with the sauce. Add more tomato sauce if necessary — remember never to oversauce your pasta!
9. Allow to cook in the pan on low for a minute and then add pecorino. Toss and serve! Sprinkle some parsley on top for some green.

AMY’S TOMATO SAUCE (makes 3 1/2 cups):

• 1 28-oz. can of crushed tomatoes (san marzano preferred)
• 1 onion, diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced and 2 cloves garlic, smashed w/ back of a knife
• olive oil
• salt
• 4-5 basil leaves, torn
• peperoncino (optional)

What to do:

1. Saute your onions in olive oil until slightly soft (4 minutes).
2. Add your minced garlic and saute for another minute or so.
3. Add the can of crushed tomatoes and stir. Add one teaspoon of olive oil, a pinch of salt and the crushed garlic allow to simmer for 30-40 minutes. The flavors will reduce together. Add peperoncino if you want a spicier sauce. Finish sauce with a little bit of olive oil and stir in torn basil leaves.