Mad Cow Disease is beginning to seem like a bad soap opera that just won't go off the air. However, it's probably the most important development in world agriculture in the past 25 years, and is alas also a study of how greed and cynicism can lead things drastically astray. As such it's news of the kind people should be aware of. This week sources in the British Government leaked an internal memo according to which the British health people were aware of the risks posed by the sale abroad of feed containing animal remains (products that were banned in England, incidentally), but didn't stop British companies from doing so. So the companies sold; there is no telling where this potentially contaminated feed ended up (feed sales and movements can be decidedly shady), and therefore any cow that ate processed feed from an English source is at risk. Paradoxically, though one might expect the herds in poor third world countries to now pose a danger, those who are really poor are too poor to buy feed. The dangers more likely lie in the herds of wealthy cattle people -- the FDA has just quarantined several Texan herds that may have eaten bad feed.

Nor is this all. Australia, which thinks it is BSE free due to stringent import controls on livestock and feed imports, has begun to ban European tinned and otherwise processed beef, since the prions that cause BSE are unaffected by cooking or other forms of sterilization. Other countries are also beginning to ban the import of European beef, and this, combined with the drop in beef consumption on the part of Europeans (80% in Italy, 27% Europe-wide, according to the papers), is creating an unexpected crisis that could very well bankrupt the EEU: With consumers not buying the butchers are floundering, and since they're not buying, the packing plants are closing down, and this means that the animals are staying in the farms, which are going out of business because no money comes if the animals aren't sold. Though some have suggested that the EEU subsidize the meat industry for the duration of the crisis, the costs involved would be many billions of dollars that the EEU doesn't have, just for this year, and there's no telling how long the crisis could last. The refusal of the health and agriculture people, first in England, and then on the Continent, to admit that BSE posed a threat or to take steps to correct the problems early on by banning the sale of animal-based feed immediately (which would have put a crimp in the side of agribusiness) has given the problem time to mushroom and bring ruin to a great many.

Including some Tuscan restaurateurs, because the EEU health people have decided that the backbone can no longer be sold in animals over 12 months due to the risk of contamination from spinal material (which makes one wonder about the efficacy of the tests...). This means, among other things, the demise of the Fiorentina, a classic porterhouse steak cut from Chainina beef and done over the coals. Assuming a black market doesn't develop, something that is a distinct possibility.

Today, however, there was a flash of good news: the follow up exam on a cow that had tested positive for BSE (Italy's second) was negative! Tears of joy from the farmer, who had spent the week insisting he used only natural forage, and last night there was a clip of him spraying his cattle with spumante on the evening news.

And we're beginning to get jokes on the subject; this appeared in my email yesterday:

Bovine Follies

Two British cows meet in a pasture.
One says, "Aren't you worried by the furor over Mad Cow?"
Replies the other: "Mad Cow? Why should it worry me? I'm a horse."
(sorry)

Stendhal's Syndrome

Moving in a different direction, last time I wrote about an Italian transvestite from Paris who disrobed in Florence's Accademia, under Michelangelo's Davide. One more normally hears about tourists being struck by Stendhal's Syndrome, a malaise first mentioned (or suffered) by the French author, which can involve swooning or feeling faint, and occurs when the tourist suffers a sensory overload in front of an artwork. This month's Firenze Spettacolo lists the places that most often provoke these attacks, and which one should therefore brace oneself before visiting:

1. Santa Croce's Cappella Niccolini, with Giotto's Frescos
2. The Accademia, with Michelangelo's Davide
3. The room in the Uffizi with Botticelli's Primavera
4. San Lorenzo's Sagrestia Nuova, with Michelangelo's sculptures of the Four Seasons
5. The Quartiere Planetario hall of the Galleria Palatina in Palazzo Pitti
6. Luca Giordano's hall in Palazzo Medici Ricciardi
7. The hall in the Uffizi with Piero Della Francesca's Duke and Duchess of Urbino

Fining Employers for Going Out of Business: Only in Italy!

Moving in yet another direction, there was recently a front-page snippet about a judge in Torino condemning an employer to compensate his ex employees for "pain and suffering" after his towing company went out of business. An artfully written hook designed to get one to buy the paper and flip through it to read about the stupidity of the judiciary, which goes so far as to fine an unlucky sod whose business collapses!

However, the judiciary don't come across at all stupid when the facts are presented: Turns out that the towing company, which was doing very well, was bought by a couple of brothers who used it as a cash cow, skimming funds from the till to finance other activities, and when the red ink got deep enough simply declared the company insolvent and put the workers out on the street. The demand for ex-towing company workers isn't high no matter how good they are, and as a result some of them got divorced, others turned to crime, and at least one attempted suicide.

When the people who took over the bankrupt business brought it back to profitability in a matter of months the judges became suspicious, demanded to see the books, and promptly had the brothers arrested for fraud. At which point the ex employees filed a class action lawsuit, and won. Compensating workers for the pain and suffering caused by employer fraud isn't such a crazy idea after all.

Iris -- not just a flower.

Got a request recently for A Sicilian pastry called Inis, described as "a fried doughnut filled with ricotta and chocolate chips" -- which I didn't find. However, Pino Correnti does discuss a pastry called iris in his delightful is Il Grande Libro D'Oro della Cucina e dei Vini di Sicilia (Mursia Ed), saying it's typical of rotisseries and consequently hard to find in pastry shops. In Palermo they make it by scraping out the crumb of stale rolls (the rosetta type; the central panel on the top of the rosetta is removed to allow for the hollowing) and soaking the crumb in milk sweetened with sugar. Then they fill the rolls with cannolo filling (he doesn't say what to do with the milk-soaked bread), put the central panels of the rosette back on to serve as lids, dredge them in beaten egg, then roll them in flour and bread crumbs, and fry them up until golden.

In Catania, on the other hand, they take large beignets, fill them with pastry cream (either vanilla or chocolate), dredge them in beaten egg, roll them in breadcrumbs, and fry them up. Either would be a good reason to head for Sicilia, and they also show how much a recipe can vary from place to place.

Need a recipe for Cannolo filling? You'll find one here.

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Vinitaly and a delightful Calabrian Pastry

While we're talking about travel, if you like wines and plan to be in Northern Italy in early April (5th-9th) you should think about stopping in Verona for a day to visit Vinitaly, the nation's major wine trade show. Most of the major producers will be there, and it offers an excellent opportunity to sample wines from throughout the land. For more information, see http://www.vinitaly.com/en_index.htm. This time's online store is instead Effeci, a Calabrian bakery that makes spectacular pastries I was lucky enough to taste at Torino's Salone del Gusto. I'd especially recommend Pitanchiusa; they're from when Calabria was settled by the Moors more than a thousand years ago, and are spicy, cinnamon-laced rolls of phyllo dough that are delightfully crunchy, honey sweet with a delicate hint of wine, and filled with raisins, almonds, and walnuts. I was frankly amazed; they're similar in some ways to a delicate crunchy mincemeat. More refined, however, and if you like the latter I think you'll like this too.

Tiella

Winding down, Misi has written: Recently a dish has come to my attention and I was wondering if you could help me. The name of the dish, is tiella; it consists of zucchini, potatoes, ground bee and various Italian spices and herbs. I am trying to find a recipe for this dish, as those I spoke to all have the recipe in their heads and not on paper. I am assuming it is Italian, because all the people I've spoke to about it are of close Italian decent.

I've found a couple of things. One is from the Abruzzo-Molise area, and is essentially a vegetable casserole. To serve about 6, you'll need:

• 1 1/3 pounds (600 g) ripe plum tomatoes, blanched, peeled, seeded, chopped and drained (in winter canned tomatoes will do)
• 1 pound (500 g) eggplant
• 1 pound (500 g) potatoes, peeled and sliced
• 1 pound (500 g) onion, sliced
• 2 ribs celery, finely minced
• Finely chopped fresh origano
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 tablespoons minced parsley
• Olive oil
• Salt & freshly ground pepper

Trim the stems and bottoms of the eggplant, slice them finely, salt them, and put them in a colander for about an hour, during which time the salt will draw out the bitter juices. Then rinse them and pat them dry.

Preheat your oven to 360 F (180 C).

Oil a large oven-proof dish and put down the sliced vegetables in layers, seasoning each completed cycle with some of the minced herbs, salt and pepper, and a little olive oil. When you are done layering, sprinkle a little more olive oil over the top and bake until the vegetables are fairly dry -- you don't want something that's soupy when you serve it.

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The other version is from the city of Taranto, in Puglia, and includes mussels (see the instructions if you have never bought mussels). You'll need:

• 2 finely sliced onions
• 2 finely sliced zucchini
• A pound (450 g) potatoes, peeled and finely sliced
• 2 1/4 pounds (1 k) live mussels, shucked with an oyster knife and the mussel-less half of the shell discarded
• 8 ounces (200 g; about a cup) vialone nano rice
• 1 pound (500 g) cherry tomatoes, quartered
• A quarter cup grated Parmigiano
• 8 basil leaves
• Olive oil

Preheat your oven to 360 (180 C).

Oil an oven-proof dish well and layer it with onion, followed by zucchini, followed by potatoes, followed by mussels, then the rice and the tomatoes. Shred the basil over it all, dust with grated cheese and sprinkle it with oil, and bake it for about 45 minutes. Serve it hot or warm, with a good rosato, for example Leone de Castris Five Roses Salice Salentino Rosato

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Scampi for Valentine's Day!

Finally, with Valentine's Day upon us, here's a recipe for a variation on what is known in some areas as shrimp scampi -- a term unknown in Italy, since scampi is the Italian word for jumbo shrimp of the kind that have claws and resemble small lobsters, and calling something "jumbo shrimp shrimp" doesn't make much sense.

In any case, Scampi alla Busara is a recipe from Friuli Venezia Giulia, and is done on top of the stove; one can uses scampi, or also other moderately sized crustaceans, for example cicale, which resemble crickets . For 6 you'll need:

• 3 1/3 pounds (1.5 k) scampi
• 3 cloves garlic
• A finely sliced medium onion
• 2 tablespoons finely minced parsley
• 1/3 cup olive oil
• A glass of dry white wine
• A pinch of saffron
• 1/4 cup bread crumbs
• 2/3 pound peeled, seeded chopped and drained plum tomatoes (canned will do in a pinch)
• A shredded hot pepper
• Toasted bread

Wash the scampi well and split the tails with a pair of scissors, then put them on a cloth to dry.

Take a bowl and combine the tomatoes, wine, saffron, bread crumbs, and hot pepper. Mix well. Sauté the garlic, onion and parsley in the oil, and as soon as the onion begins to color add the scampi and the tomato mixture. Cover and simmer for about 25 minutes, by which time the sauce will be reduced somewhat (add more liquid if it gets too dry).

Serve the scampi with the freshly toasted bread.

Want the classic shrimp scampi? Last week Elisabetta and I had some scampi; for a pound of scampi we minced a clove of garlic and 2 tablespoons parsley, preheated the oven to 350 F (175 C), put the scampi on a rack in a baking tray, sprinkled them with the herbs, a little olive oil, and a half cup of dry white wine, seasoned to taste with salt and pepper, and baked them for about 25 minutes. Extremely simple and quite tasty, though Elisabetta thought the garlic overshadowed the sweetness of the shrimp. The wine? A Lugana brut from Cà dei Frati.

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This time's proverb is Tuscan. "Pensa molto, parla poco, e scrivi meno:" Think a lot; speak little, and write down even less. Classic peasant wisdom, know what you're about but keep quiet, because what you say can cause problems then-and-there, while what you've written down can come back to haunt you.

Transgenic Vines in the EEU

Moving on, a couple of months ago I wrote about Slowfood's campaign in defense of whole, raw milk cheeses (the FDA is thinking about banning them). Now, it appears, the EEU is quietly legalizing transgenic vines for use in wine making. The idea, say the bureaucrats, is to help European vines maintain their authenticity in the face of the international wine trade, which also means international trade of vines. How a genetically modified (GM) plant can be more authentic than the one from which it came is beyond me.

What I suspect may be happening is that someone wants to shortcut the natural selection process used to crossbreed varietals to obtain specific characteristics (aromatic or color compound content, for example), or to obtain resistance to certain pests, the most logical of which would probably be the phylloxera bug. For those who don't know much about wines, phylloxera are North American relatives of aphids that selected North American grape vines (Concord-type grapes, I think) as their preferred source of food. When Europeans took American vines home with the idea of growing them to make wine in the late 1800s, they inadvertently brought the phylloxera bug too and unleashed a catastrophe: It spread to European vines, which had no resistance to it, attacked their roots, and did almost all of them in. With them of course went the vineyards, and the wine production of France, Italy, and just about everywhere else. Indeed, we'd probably have no more wine had someone not thought of growing American rootstocks, which are resistant to the bug, and grafting the European vines onto them. Now, almost all of the world's vines are grafted onto American rootstocks.

Why would one want to change this? Quality might be an answer, but I don't think so, because I have tasted a Dolcetto that was made from vines grown with their native roots, and it wasn't noticeably better or different than the other Dolcetti I tasted with it. Cost cutting might be an answer -- there are hundreds of millions of grafted vines out there, and if one were to eliminate the grafting there would be considerable savings.

Or would there be? For producers of plonk who don't care what their grapes are like so long as they contain enough sugar to be fermentable into wine, yes. However, quality producers wouldn't be interested in a generic phylloxera-resistant vine for two reasons. First, the resistant strain of Cabernet, Sangiovese, Nebbiolo, Chardonnay or whatever might not be the one that's best suited for their land. Second, the strain's rootstock might not be suited for the land. There are now dozens of rootstocks, each carefully tailored for specific soil conditions, for example rocky and well drained, sandy, clayey and rather moist, dry calcareous, and so on. A careful producer aiming for top quality will select a rootstock for each vineyard, or even plant different rootstocks in different parts of a vineyard if conditions differ, say a steep slope that flattens out or a change in the soil. And then select the strain of the varietal (e.g. Cabernet) that will do best in that spot; this means that in a single vineyard there can have several different rootstocks, and also several strains of the varietal. There's no way to achieve this with a generic, genetically engineered plant. One therefore wonders, what's the point? To favor those who make jug wines?

The second strange thing about this new regulation is that it doesn't require those who use GM grapes to say so on their labels. Considering that European food producers are required to say if their products are genetically modified, and that Europeans as a whole have emphatically said they do not want genetically modified foods, this slippery silence is disturbing. If you'd like to know more, contact Valter Musso or Alessandra Abbona of the Slow Food Press Office, phone +39 0172 419615 or 419666, fax +39 0172 421293, v.musso@slowfood.it, s.abbona@slowfood.it.

More cookies from Adriana

A few issues back I passed on Adriana's Sicilian Almond-Coffee cookie squares. She has kindly sent another recipe:

Cari Italiani in tutto il mondo,

How is everyone doing?

I had a customer who recently asked me if I had a recipe for "Chitellini" and wanted to know if they were difficult to make. Here is a great traditional recipe that is very easy to make and very tasty.

Chitellini

• 130 grams (1 cup + 2 tablespoons) unsalted butter
• 65 grams (1/3 cup) sugar
• 160 grams (1 2/3 cups) flour
• 65 grams (a little more than a half cup) chopped almonds
• Confectioners sugar

Cream butter thoroughly. Slowly add in the sugar, flour, and chopped almonds.

Grease hands with oil (preferably corn oil) and work the dough into finger shapes. Place on greased baking sheets.

Bake in preheated oven at 185 C (375 F) until golden brown. Remove while still hot and sprinkle with confectioners' sugar.

That's it!

If you like this recipe and would like to know more, visit Adriana's bakery's site, http://www.CookiesFromItaly.com. They're located in Santo Stefano Quisquina, province of Agrigento, and make a number of cookies and other delights from home-grown organic fruits and nuts, which they express mail all over the world.

While we're on the subject of online delicatessens and stores, The Merano wine festival also had a hall dedicated to foods, and I was much impressed by the patés made by another Sicilian company, Licata. Their URL is http://www.licatafood.it/licatak.htm.

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Caggionetti

And here's another cookie request that came in before the holidays; my apologies for getting to it now: "Every Christmas my mother makes an Italian fried 'pastry'. The filling is chopped chestnuts, cocoa powder, citrine fruit, and a little anise for flavor. She has always called them pastagels, but others call them caganettes. (not sure about spelling). They are made like ravioli and deep fried. Do you have any information about them? OR a recipe. My mother's family came from a region of Italy near Naples."

I've found Caggionetti, which sound about right, and are from the Abruzzo-Molise area. Alessandro Molinari Pradelli says, in Il Grande Libro della Cucina Italiana, that a batch will require:

For the dough

5 cups (500 g) flour

1/3 cup (80 ml) olive oil

Dry white wine

For the filling

1 pint (1/2 l) cooked wine must (this is grape must, cooked down to the consistency of a syrup. It's quite sweet; see below)

6 ounces (150 g) almonds, blanched, peeled and finely chopped

2 ounces (50 g) walnut meats, blanched, peeled and finely chopped

12 ounces (300 g) dried chestnuts

A scant 1/4 cup (40 g) sugar

2 ounces (50 g) candied citron

A hint of ground cinnamon

For cooking

Olive oil for frying

Sugar

Ground cinnamon

Begin the night before, by setting the chestnuts to soak in cold water. Discard any that float to the surface, because they will either be hollow or inhabited. The next day boil them until tender, drain them, and put them through a strainer or foodmill with a fine plate.

Heat the must in a pot to a simmer and stir in the nutmeat, walnuts and cinnamon, then add the chestnut cream and stir well. Turn off the fire, mix in the sugar and the citron, and put the pot in a cool place or the refrigerator for a couple of hours or more.

Make a mound of the flour on your work space and scoop a hole out of the middle to make a well. Mix in the oil and then sufficient wine to obtain a firm elastic dough -- you're aiming for something that has the consistency of pasta dough, so it's going to be considerably firmer than bread dough. Knead the dough well, divide it into two parts, and roll out the first into a thin sheet (about as thin as fresh pasta, 1/16 of an inch or 2 mm). Use a glass or doughnut cutter to cut out 2-inch (5 cm) diameter rounds of dough. In the middle of each place a hazelnut-sized chunk of filling, then fold the pasta over the filling and tamp it down well to obtain bulging half-moons. Repeat the process with the second piece of dough and the cuttings from the first.

Heat abundant oil and fry the caggionetti; as soon as they're golden remove them with a slotted spoon and drain them on absorbent paper. Dust them with sugar and a little cinnamon, and serve them hot.

Mr. Pradelli says there are many variations. For example, some make the dough by boiling dried chestnuts and blending them. If you were to do this, I think you'd have to add some flour too to obtain a workable dough.

Others use creamed chick peas in the filling instead of chestnuts, or flavor their caggionetti with lemon rind, anise seeds, or grated baking chocolate.

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Sapa

Mosto cotto is also known as Sapa. Here's Artusi's recipe, from my translation of his book (The Art of Eating Well, 1996 Random House): Sapa

Since its peculiar flavor is necessary in some dishes, sapa, which is none other than a grape syrup, has many uses in the kitchen. It's also always popular with children, who, during the winter, can improvise sherbets with it by mixing it with freshly fallen snow.

Crush some superior quality white grapes (ideally they should still be on the bunch), put the grapes and their juice in a bowl, and when the whole has fermented for about twenty four hours, press and filter the must. Set the must on the fire and boil it down for many hours, till it's reached the consistency of syrup, and bottle it.

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A Rich Piemontese Meat Zuppa

Finally, Eugene writes, "I am hoping that you can help me find a recipe. When I was a little boy growing up my grandmother live with us. She came from Torino, and she would make a casserole or at least it was in a big pan. She called it something like Zuppa puma tess, my spelling and Italian is probably not right. She would cook a pork roast and then in a large iron pot she would layer bread, cabbage, and pork. She would continue the process until the pot was full then she would pour the juice from the cooked pork over it and then she would bake it. I really loved it and I have been looking for the recipe."

I'm afraid I haven't found anything quite like this. However, I have found a couple of things that are close. First, Zuppa Canavesana, from Alessandro Molinari Pradelli's La Cucina Piemontese.

To make enough to serve 6 you'll need:

• 1 1/3 pounds (750 g) turnips
• 1 1/3 pounds (750 g) Savoy cabbage
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 5 ounces (125 g) pancetta
• 4 ounces (100 g) cured lard (if need be use more pancetta, or prosciutto fat)
• 2 quarts (2 liters) simmering broth
• 12 slices toasted Italian bread
• Grated Parmigiano Reggiano

Begin by washing the turnips and cabbage well. Slice the turnips and cut the cabbage leaves into this strips. Then, cut the pancetta and cured lard into strips too.

Sauté the fats and the garlic, and as soon as they begin to brown add the turnips and cabbage. Gently stir in the broth, cover, and simmer for a half hour.

In the meantime, preheat your oven to 360 F (180C). Take an oven-proof dish and lay out a layer of bread slices. Cover with a layer of cooked vegetables, abundant grated cheese, and repeat; pour the broth over it all and bake it in for about 15 minutes. Serve hot.

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The second is Zuppa di Cavoli alla Moda di Canischio, from Giacomo Mascheroni's Millenni di Cucina Canavesana. It is, he says, an ancient recipe from the upper reaches of the Val Gallenca, and in the local dialect draws its name from the town of Canischio: Supa 'd coj canis-cjota. (J is silent). Initially it was, he says, a peasant soup made from bread and cabbage with a hint of lard or toma (fresh, mild goats' milk cheese). During the reign of the House of Savoy (17th-18th centuries) it got richer, with the addition of ingredients such as fresh porcini, but he sticks to the more traditional version. To serve 6, he calls for:

• 4 1/2 pounds (2 k) of mica, which is bread made without any oil in the dough, and cooked in a wood-fired oven
• 2 winter cabbages
• 1 pound (500 g) unsalted butter
• 1 pound (500 g) aged toma from Monte Soglio (aged toma is a moderately sharp, soft goat's milk or cow-and goat milk cheese -- something along the lines of Brie without the crust)
• 1 pound (500 g) mild Italian sausage meat
• 1 pound (500 g) ground beef
• 1 pound (500 g) tomatoes
• 1/2 an onion, finely sliced
• 5 tablespoons olive oil
• Several quarts of broth
• Salt

Bring the broth to a simmer, and in the meantime simmer the finely sliced onion in 5 tablespoons of olive oil and a walnut-sized chunk of butter. When the onion begins to turn blond, crumble the meat and sausage into it, brown them, and stir in the tomatoes, which I would blanch, peel, chop and seed.

While the meats are simmering:

Excise the hard ribs of the cabbage leaves, and blanch the leaves

Cut the bread into half-inch slices

Finely slice the toma

When all is ready, set your oven to 400 f (200 C). Butter an oven-proof dish and line the bottom with slices of bread, overlapping them enough to avoid leaving holes. Spread a layer of cabbage over them, followed by the meat sauce and the cheese. Repeat the process 4-5 times, finishing with a layer of bread and just the meat sauce, without the cheese. The last layer should be at least 3 fingers below the top of the pan. Carefully ladle the hot broth over the mixture, adding broth until you reach the level of the bread layer, then slip the soup into the hot oven and bake it for about an hour. The top should be browned, while the interior will be moist.

Variations: You can, if you'd rather, replace some or all the toma with freshly grated Parmigiano or Grana Padano.

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This time's proverb is Calabrian. Lichate u spittu: Lick the spit, meaning that the free ride or good times are over -- when the meat is gone the only fat left is on the spit and one should lick that.

A presto,
Kyle Phillips
Webweaver, About Italian Cuisine

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