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Cosa Bolle in Pentola?
First issue of the IWR, Gavi, Feeding Babies, and Calabrian Cookies

Being the 47th issue of Cosa Bolle in Pentola, your Italian Cuisine newsletter.


To begin, exciting news: The first issue of my magazine, Kyle Phillips's Italian Wine Review, is out! Alas, we're not in newsstands, at least not yet -- It's available by subscription, and if you'd like to subscribe (or get a better idea of what it's about) you should check http://www.italianwinereview.com. The current issue is dedicated to the wines of Central Tuscany, while the next will take a look at Piemonte -- Barolo and Barbaresco, which are to be expected, and Gavi, which many wouldn't think of. I just spent a couple of days in the Gavi production area, which is quite pretty and much lusher than the Langhe (the part of Piemonte that produces Barolo & Barbaresco), with tree-draped mountains and lots of very elegant late renaissance-baroque villas built as summer homes by Ligurian bankers and traders. If you've already seen the major cities and want to explore the countryside, this is an excellent bet, because it's off the beaten track, beautiful, and easy to reach.

Which wine did I like best? Haven't tasted everything I brought home, so I can't say yet. However, Broglia was quite nice, as was Podere Saulino. Both well worth seeking out. I also had the good fortune to be presented to the owners of the Antico Caffé del Moro (Via Mameli 39, 41 & 43, Gavi) , who have been making Amaretti di Gavi for close to two hundred years. They're similar, for those who have had them, to Ricciarelli di Siena, but unlike Ricciarelli, which are almond paste laced with orange, these are almond through-and-through, and extraordinarily chewy, with a long almondy aftertaste that really does perk up the day. I didn't quite dare ask for the recipe, but have found something similar in Alessandro Molinari Pradelli's La Cucina Piemontese:

Amaretti Teneri -- Tender Amaretti

  • 4 ounces (100 g) almonds
  • 4 ounces (100 g) bitter almonds (use all sweet if you cannot find bitter, adding a few peach pit nutmeats if you have them)
  • 4 ounces (100 g) hazelnuts
  • 2/3 cup (60 g) extremely fine corn meal
  • An ounce (25 g) powdered yeast (use baking powder)
  • 2 1/4 cups (500 g) sugar
  • 8 egg whites
  • Powdered sugar
  • Oil for greasing the cookie sheet

Peel the almonds, if need be, and shell the hazelnuts. Grind the nuts (if you use a blender, give short bursts, and stop before the nuts liquefy or give off their oil) to a fine powder with the sugar, then add the corn meal and the yeast and mix well.

Preheat your oven to 400 F (200 C).

While it is heating take a large bowl and whip the whites to soft peaks. Work in the almond mixture. Grease your cookie sheet, and set down mounds of dough the size of large walnuts, leaving space between them because they will grow as they bake. Dust them with the powdered sugar, set them in the oven until they turn light gold (you don't want them to overbrown). Remove them from the oven and serve them when they have cooled.

A printer-friendly version of this recipe.


Bringing up Baby

Moving in another direction, being a child in Italy can be a very good thing: Italian adults spend an enormous amount of time cooing at babies, and don't think I've ever seen an adult complain about someone else's child who's being cranky in a restaurant or otherwise acting up. In short, they're enthusiastic and tolerant. There can be shadows, however; by law Italian parents exercise what is known as the Patria Potestà, or juridic power, over their children -- they make the decisions, and with the exception of the required vaccinations and mandatory schooling -- which can be at any accredited institution, public or private -- have complete say over their children's lives. The authorities are loathe to intervene under almost any circumstance, and that's why there was a great deal of noise this fall, when the doctors of a Milanese pediatric hospital took custody of a 7-month old girl who was brought to the emergency room. She weighed about half what she was supposed to, and it turned out that she was being brought up as a radical vegetarian, on soy milk, grains, and greens -- had been almost since day one, because her parents didn't believe in the use of meats or animal derivatives of any kind. Unfortunately, what's good for the goose and the gander is not necessarily good for the gosling; the removal of custody occurred when the parents refused to allow their daughter to receive milk or something else her digestive system could handle. Under the care of the hospital she immediately began to gain weight, while they were sat down in front of a nutritionist. Now she is back home and thriving, under the watchful eye of the community health service, which checks in regularly.

As the judge involved in the case said, "There are times when one has to act." What I fail to understand is why the mother didn't nurse her daughter -- after all, that's what a mother's milk is designed for, so it doesn't fall into the class of animal derivatives. And if she didn't have milk, she should have gone to a milk bank -- Italians are enthusiastic supporters of breast feeding and when my son was born there was a steady stream of mothers coming by the clinic to drop off their extra milk for babies whose mothers were unable to nurse. Like most Italians, they'll do almost anything to help a child along.


Biscotti Calabresi

Stepping away from the baby scene, Michael writes, "My father's family came from Calabria and his mother used to make some cookies at Christmas time. We have been able to obtain some of the recipes but he has memories of two that we can't find. One is what he calls Torada (Not sure of the spelling) hard cookies made with like a bread dough with anise or fennel. The other is made, he thinks with honey and flour, deep fried then stored for a period of time until they get hard.... I thought you might be able to direct me to these recipes, either on the net or a cookbook."

The Torada sound rather like the ginetti discussed below. As for the honey fritters, Ottaviano Cavalcanti's Il Libro d'Oro della Cucina e dei Vini di Calabria e Basilicata (Mursia Editore) has a recipe for Majatiche ccu Meme 'I Ficu, Fritters with Fig Honey, which sounds tasty though it's not what Michael's dad recalls:

  • Flour
  • Salt
  • Olive oil
  • Fig honey (made from bees who frequent figs; check an organic foods store or use another distinctively flavored honey)

Combine the flour, salt, and some water to make a batter, and use it to make very thin fritters in a well-oiled skillet; drain the fritters on absorbent paper as you remove them from the pan, keeping them covered lest they cool. Then roll them up, smother them with fig honey, and serve them hot.

Mr. Cavalcanti also gives Mustazzuoli, which may be closer to the mark:

  • 2 cups (1/2 liter) fig honey
  • Flour
  • 4 eggs
  • 4 ounces toasted chopped almonds
  • Ground cloves to taste
  • The grated zest of an orange
  • A scant cup (200 g) sugar

Combine the honey with a quantity of flour sufficient to absorb it all. Work in the eggs, chopped almonds, orange zest and sugar. Roll the resulting dough out to make medium-sized cookies (I'd figure 1/2 inch high and 1 by 3 inches in size). Bake them in a hot (380F, 190C) oven until nicely colored.

Mr. Cavalcanti notes that there are a number of traditional shapes for mustazzuoli, including women, hearts, fish, doves, horses and baskets. In other words, this is a good occasion to get out your cookie cutters.

A printer-friendly version of these recipes.

Ginetti

Still on the subject of Calabria, Bobbi writes,

"I've been looking frantically for a recipe for Genetti. My uncle used to make them for me years ago. When he passed away, so did the recipe. I can't find one anywhere. I believe it is a Calabrese recipe, but I could be wrong.

"It is a large round donut shaped cooked, hole in middle, glazed with sugar. Great for dunking or eating plain.

"I recall him rolling the dough in lengths, then breaking off approx. 6-7 inch pieces and connecting them with a pinch to make a circle. Baking them and then glazing them. They were usually made at Christmas, but he would sometimes make them at Easter.

"I can't tell you how much I would appreciate any assistance you might give. They are not only my favorite cookie, but making them again would bring back lots and lots of memories for our family."

Though not the first person to request these cookies, Bobbi is the first to say where they're from, and consequently this time I found them. Ottavio Cavalcanti gives the following recipe:

Ginetti -- Ciambelline Dolci con la Glassa (sweet rings with frosting)

  • 1 1/4 pounds (1 k, 10 cups) flour
  • 10 eggs; with three of the whites set aside
  • 1/2 cup anise liqueur
  • Lemon juice
  • 4 tablespoons rendered lard (or unsalted butter)
  • A pinch of salt
  • 3 1/2 cups (350 g) powdered sugar

Make a mound of the flour on your work surface and scoop a well into the center. Put all the other ingredients except for the reserved whites, the lemon, and the powdered sugar in the well, and work everything together, adding just enough water to obtain a firm dough. Roll the dough into snakes, shape the snakes into rings, and nick the outer rims of the rings with a knife, then put them on a cookie sheet. Bake them in a hot oven (190 C, or 380 F) until golden. Remove them and let them cool. In the meantime, whip the reserved whites to stiff peaks, then beat in the powdered sugar and lemon juice to taste to make the frosting. Brush the ginetti with the frosting, let them cool, and they're done.

Mr. Cavalcanti assumes his readers know how large a ginetto is to be. Fortunately, Bobbi says, or I might have made them much smaller. I would make them about an inch thick.

A printer-friendly version of this recipe.

Cuccía

Winding down with Calabrian sweets, Mr. Cavalcanti also gives a recipe for Cuccía, a pasty traditionally made for Santa Lucia (Saint Lucy, whose day, December 13, is rapidly approaching). Cavalcanti quotes a Mr. Dorsa, who says Cuccía derives from Byzantine Greek. This would suggest the recipe is quite old, as do the ingredients involved, which also bring to mind the pastiera Napoletana (a classic Neapolitan Easter pastry) and a number of other south Italian pastries made with whole grain, many of which are associated with miraculous arrivals of boats laden with grain in the midst of famines. The starving townspeople, so the story generally goes, were too hungry to take the time to grind the grain into flour and simply boiled it. Later, when it came time to commemorate the event, they combined boiled grain with other ingredients to make a pastry. So far as I know there's no famine associated with Saint Lucy; I expect the recipe simply spread from one town to the next.

If you cannot find the fig honey Cavalcanti calls for (I'd check in a store that sells organic foods) use another honey gathered from bees who patronize specific plants -- you don't want blandly sweet industrial honey here. Cavalcanti also calls for dried orange peel, which I have never come a cross. I'd use orange zest, from organically grown oranges to avoid pesticides.

  • 1 pound + 2 ounces (500 g) grain
  • 10 ounces (250 g) fig honey
  • Dried orange peel, grated
  • Chopped walnuts

Pick over the grain to remove any stray stones it may contain, then soak it in cold water for 24 hours, and boil it in abundant water until it the grains begin to come apart. Let it cool in the water, then drain it and return it to the fire with the honey, orange peel, and walnuts.

Mister Cavalcanti notes there's also a richer version of Cuccía, which has one cook the grain in milk, and then add dried orange peel, ground cinnamon and cloves, walnuts, raisins, and baking chocolate. However, he doesn't give amounts.

Note: Kaye Noble notes that dried orange or lemon peel is much more common in more northerly countries than it is in Italy, where there is a ready supply of fresh citrus, and kindly sends instructions on how to dry citrus peel at home. Take a number of organically grown oranges or lemons (which should have untreated, pesticide-free skins), and use a fine-bladed paring knife to trim away just the colored part of the skin, leaving the bitter white part behind. Lay the strips skin-side down on a plate and let them dry at room temperature for 3-4 days, until they have shriveled and are no longer moist. Store the dried peel in a dark place, in a clean jar. To use, either crumble it or whirl it in a blender. You can use the powdered peel in place of extract in baking; in toppings, to flavor sugar-bowl sugar, in spice mixes (e.g. lemon, pepper, rosemary and sage as a barbecue rub), and to flavor sauces of one kind and another.

A printer-friendly version of this recipe.

A presto!
Kyle Phillips

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