To begin with, a few quick things.

First, got a note from a person who points out that scampi are not shrimp (an assertion of mine in the last issue), but rather prawns, and more specifically the langoustine or Dublin bay prawn, which look like small lobsters. My thanks for the correction. Delving further into the matter, Alan Davidson says, in Mediterranean Seafood (P. 179), that the name scampi is "used loosely in (and outside!) Italy. Scampi in a restaurant are not necessarily Dublin Bay Prawns, although they should be in Britain, where a labeling of food regulation restricts the use of the name."

Also got a couple of questions about Mad Cow Disease: What about Osso Buco, and what about chickens? To answer the first question, osso buco has been declared safe: Though the meat, a veal shank, does contain bone, the marrow within the cavity of the bone is not one of the places the prions that cause BSE tend to settle (they settle into the spinal column because the spine is nervous tissue). So you can enjoy your ossi buchi; the Milanese way is one of the best. With regards to chickens, clinical attempts to transmit BSE to the birds have proven unsuccessful; it is therefore possible that they are unsusceptible to it. Even so, you'll be better off buying organically fed free-range birds, simply because they taste much better than farmed birds raised in close quarters.

International recipe crosstalk: Potato Goulash

With regards to the Tiella recipes I sent out last time, Gary writes that, according to Paola Gavin, author of Italian Vegetarian Cooking, "the dish dates to the time of Spanish rule in Southern Italy and is the forerunner of the Spanish dish paella." It's quite possible; in discussing national and regional cuisines we often loose sight of just how fluid borders are, of how short the distances are (especially in Europe), and of how much people traveled in the past. In previous issues we've touched on the Genoese influences one can find in Gibraltarian cuisine, but these sorts of things work in the other direction too. For example, the city of Trieste is ethnically Italian, but was under Austro-Hungarian rule until the end of World War One. The desserts include strudels, krapfen, and other things that one would justly associate with Vienna, and there are also Austro-Hungarian main course dishes, for example Goulash. Maria Stelvio gives several recipes in La Cucina Triestina. Most are meat-based, but there's also this Potato Goulash, which would be nice now as a side dish, with a roast perhaps, and in the past would likely have been a main course too. You'll need:

• 2 1/4 pounds (1 k) potatoes, peeled and diced
• 3 ounces (75 g) cured lard or fat
• An onion
• Cumin (she doesn't say how much; about 1/2 teaspoon to a teaspoon ground, I'd think)
• Sweet paprika (Powdered; again, she doesn't say how much. A tablespoon, or more to taste.)
• Salt
• 10 ounces (250 g) blanched, peeled, seeded and finely chopped ripe plum tomatoes, drained (or a can of pureed tomatoes)
• Simmering broth or water
• Minced parsley

Mince the lard, and brown it in a large pot, or heat the fat. Brown the onion, stirring it about to keep it from burning, then add the cumin and paprika. Cook for a minute or two more, stirring constantly, then add the potatoes, salt to taste, and cook over a brisk flame, stirring constantly, for about five minutes. Add enough boiling water or broth to reach 3/4 of the way up the potatoes, cover, and cook over a brisk flame, stirring often. When the potatoes are half cooked, stir in the tomatoes. Serve garnished with the parsley.

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Changing the laws in Alto Adige

Moving in a different direction, inheritance is one of the major problems that besets farmers throughout the world: How to divvy up the land among children in such a manner that all will be able to farm and support themselves? The obvious answer is to limit succession in one way or another, so as to keep the farms large enough to be viable, and indeed the farmers of the Alto Adige have followed this custom for generations, passing their farms onto their oldest sons (who then have to decide what to do with younger brothers and unmarried sisters). However, this is changing; the Provincial Government of Bolzano has recently introduced a law stating that the heir will be the oldest child, not the oldest male child. Therefore, women will begin to inherit farms too. Traditionalists may see this as a loss, but I think it will likely help hold communities together.

Recioto: What to serve it with?

A couple of issues ago I discussed Recioto della Valpolicella, the rich, sweet Veronese wine that Roman aristocrats eagerly sought out 2000 years ago. It's popularity has waned of late in favor of Amarone, but it remains one of the finest accompaniments for cheeses one could think of, especially soft piquant cheeses along the lines of Gorgonzola, which generally clash with the tannins of red wines. Another option is sweet foods; Maureen Fant recently enjoyed ravioli di zucca (ravioli with a squash filling, which is rather sweet) in a restaurant in Modena, and the chef suggested she try Recioto as an accompaniment. It worked, she said, very well, and she thinks that Recioto will also work well with other sweet dishes, for example risotto alla zucca, dishes that have lots of carrots, and perhaps dishes with onions that are cooked slowly enough that they caramelize, imparting sweetness.

As for Tortelli di zucca, they're one of Mantova's signature dishes and date to the 1500s, according to the authors of Sua Maestà il Raviolo (a fascinating book put out by Slow Food), who go on to say that the dish subsequently faded from favor, to return to prominence following the introduction of other kinds of squash from the Americas (if you are not in Italy, butternut squash will work quite well as a substitute for Italian squash in recipes calling for zucca, squash). Tortelli di zucca are common throughout the Province of Mantova, from the hills of the Apennines to the flatlands around the Po river, and there are many variations to the filling; as a general rule the squash is cooked first, pureed (people adopt various strategies to remove excess moisture at this point), and then mixed with mostarda made from apples or pears, mustard, amaretti, Grana cheese, and nutmeg; some also add raisins or grated lemon zest.

Shapes vary too; though the basic shape is a half moon, on the left bank of the Mincio River they're square, on the right bank of the Secchia river they're shaped more like tortellini, and towards the Province of Cremona they're shaped like candy wrappers.

The cooking is pretty much standard, boiling in salted water for a few minutes, then arranged in a tureen, seasoned with the sauce of choice and grated cheese, and left to rest for a few minutes before being served. The sauce? Melted unsalted butter and cheese without so much as a hint of sage for purists of Mantova. Elsewhere one can also find tomato sauce: with lard in the Viandese area, with salamella sauce (sausages to be cooked) along the Mincio, with sliced onions around Porto Rusco, and with minced celery towards Reggio Emilia.

To serve 4 you'll need:

For the filling:

2 1/4 pounds (1 k) squash (butternut in the absence of Italian squash, though you could also try pumpkin, and a friend uses sweet potato)

4 ounces (100 g) amaretti (almond macaroons)

4 ounces (100 g) raisins

4 ounces (100 g) mostarda (a traditional fruit preserve with mustard; you'll find a recipe for mostarda alla mantovana at http://italianfood.about.com/library/rec/blr0833.htm)

2 cups (100 g) grated Parmigiano

Salt

A little (1/16 teaspoon or so) freshly grated nutmeg

For the pasta:

3 1/2 cups (350 g) flour

2/3 cup (100 g) semolina

4 whole eggs

1 tablespoon milk

For the sauce:

2/3 cup unsalted butter, melted

2 cups freshly grated Parmigiano

Begin by cutting the squash into pieces and roasting it in the oven until it's fork-tender.

While it's cooking, grind up the amaretti, and mince the raisins. When the squash is done, trim away the rind and put the pulp through a food mill, or blend it. Then combine the pulp with the amaretti, raisins, cheese, and a hint of nutmeg; mix well. Cover the filling with a damp cloth and let it sit in a cool place for several hours.

During this time prepare the pasta, by making a mound of the flour and semolina on your work surface. Scoop a depression in the center of the mound, crack the eggs into it, add the milk, and then mix the ingredients to obtain a firm dough that you will want to knead quite well, for 10-15 minutes or more. When you are ready to make the pasta, roll the dough out dime-thin (about 1 mm) and cut it into 4-inch (10 cm) squares. Put about an inch-diameter (2.5 cm; a little more than a tablespoon) ball of filling in the middle of each square and fold the squares over the filling, tamping down along the edges to make them stick.

While you're making the tortelli, bring abundant water to a boil, and then salt it. Cook the tortelli for a few minutes, (one usually figures until they rise to the surface, though I prefer to taste one to make sure the dough is cooked; it should be al dente) and then remove them with a strainer, since they're delicate and would break if you poured the pot into a colander to drain them. Put them in a serving dish, sprinkling them with melted butter and grated cheese as you go, and serve, with a Recioto. Allegrini's is quite nice, and readily available.

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Orvieto's Pozzo della Cava

Roving in a radically different direction, I recently drove down to the Maremma section of Tuscany to pick up some samples for my wine review, and then drove inland to Orvieto to pick up another sample. If you visit central Italy and have a car, Orvieto is one place you really should stop; it's an originally Etruscan town built on a tuffaceous tabletop (for want of a better term) that sticks up from the surrounding countryside, and from the distance you see the façade of the Duomo that stands out above the rooftops. Very pretty, and great fun to explore. I had lunch in a little place called Pozzo della Cava (Via Della Cava 28, http://www.pozzodellacava.it; the English is still under construction but the pictures are nice), which had quite a bit of black truffle on the menu (they're common in the area). The lumachelle al tartufo nero, thick strands of pasta with a black truffle sauce, were tasty, as was the coniglio alla cacciatore, which had a pleasing sting of hot pepper to it. The restaurant is also a museum; Orvieto's inhabitants have been digging into their mountain for thousands of years, and under the flooring there's a large Etruscan well and a number of other chambers you can visit, including a wine cellar and the storage area of a kiln. A tasty and informative lunch!

This time's proverb is from La Cucina Fiorentina, a book written in 1914 by Louis Monod, a French chef who lived in Florence for a number of years and provides an excellent picture of Florentine cooking of the time. Come time to discuss salads, he says Tuscan olive oil is undeniably superior, Tuscan vinegar is excellent, and Tuscan salad greens are of top quality. For the dressing, he quotes a Spanish maxim:

A wise man for the salt
A miser for the vinegar
An extravagant for the oil
And a crazy man to mix it all.

A presto,
Kyle Phillips
Webweaver, About Italian Cuisine

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