Hoof and Mouth

A new chapter has opened in the European meat saga; I have written more than I care to think about BSE (Mad Cow Disease) this winter, but since we are beginning to get cases in Italy (6 out of 45,000 animals tested to date, the latest last week) I should likely write more. However, the BSE problem has been hugely overshadowed by the outbreak of Hoof and Mouth Disease in England, which gives an excellent example of how deranged European food policy has become. There have been, so far, about 200 cases in England (according to a news broadcast yesterday), and fewer than a dozen on the continent (mostly in France), of a disease that is extremely virulent, but is usually not fatal to the animals, and does not pose a health risk to humans. In other words, if a milk-producing cow gets it she will recover, and likely go back to making milk, while the afflicted sheep will continue to grow wool. According to the commentary in the papers, the disease's primary negative effect is that it ruins the animals' appetites for a time, and this causes them to loose weight, something one doesn't want if one is raising them for slaughter (an especially important consideration for pigs). In other words, there is some economic risk to farmers, but public health is not at stake.

One might have expected the EEU to provide farmers with assistance to offset their loss, order vaccination of the herds (they have millions of doses of the vaccine stockpiled), and ride the thing out. But no: Animals that have been vaccinated test positive for Hoof and Mouth, and therefore neither they nor their meat can be exported. Therefore, rather than vaccinate and wait, the EEU is employing a scorched earth policy that has already resulted in the deaths of tens of thousands of animals, and they're now thinking of killing off 500,000 pregnant ewes in England. Yes, a half million healthy animals that might get the disease. In areas with confirmed or even suspected outbreaks the countryside has become a funeral pyre, all sorts of activities including sporting events have been banned for fear that people will track the virus about, borders have been sealed tight, and some people are even talking about shooting at song birds that fly from one country to the next since they could carry the disease. Things have run terribly amok and people's lives are being ruined by something that could have been controlled much more humanely were the eyes of the bureaucrats not glued to the meat industry's bottom line.

Nor is this all. Europe has many breeds of livestock that are quite rare, or live in limited areas. Given the present hysteria, some bureaucrat could easily order the extermination of a rare breed if Hoof and Mouth crops up where it happens to live, or, worse yet, in the herd of rare animals. Extinction is forever, and though the slogan was coined for wild animals it applies equally well to livestock.

A Persimmon Salad

Enough woe. Moving to food, when I wrote about persimmons a while back I mentioned that there aren't that many Italian recipes for them. John writes:

In reading your article on persimmons you mentioned the scarcity of recipes using persimmons. I would like to share this dish with you. On recent visit to Florence, I had lunch in a restaurant in Santo Spirito, I can't recall the name, but it's the one near the corner of the street with thru traffic. It was late in the fall and I sat outside and ordered a salad made with persimmon. Pieces of persimmon were served over a bed of arugula, dressed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, with shavings of Parmigiano Reggiano. And of course the fruit was gelatinous as you describe. It is a simple recipe and I have served it many times here in the US. Most people are surprised to eat this combination of ingredients in a salad.

Does sound tasty!

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Penne with Prosciutto, Onions and Sage

Chris instead sent a recipe for Penne with Prosciutto, Onions, and Sage, which he says is always a big hit when he makes it, and it does sound rather good:

It is based on a recipe a stuffing for bread that I saw in a NY Times article about 6 - 8 years ago.

• 1 pound (500 g) penne
• 2 sweet onions, sliced
• 1/3 pound (150 g) prosciutto, diced
• About 1 cup (250 ml) moderately packed fresh sage leaves, chopped.
• 2 Tbsp each olive oil & butter

Bring pasta water to a boil and salt it.

Sauté the sliced onions in olive oil/butter over medium flame until they begin to brown; while this is happening begin cooking the pasta (assuming it takes 10-12 minutes to cook; check the package). Add the prosciutto and sage to the onion, and continue to cook until the sage gives up most of its aromatic oils. The sauce should be a medium brown. If the pasta isn't done yet, keep the sauce warm. When the pasta is done, add pepper and toss the sauce with the pasta. Add additional olive oil if necessary.

I haven't decided whether it is better with a little grated Romano or without any cheese.

Chris closes wondering if the sauce is authentic Italian, and though I don't think it's traditional, I think one could quite easily come across it in a trendy pizzeria that also specializes in innovative pasta dishes (these places are both common and popular in major cities and vacation areas). As a variation, one might want to use pancetta rather than prosciutto.

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Felice San Giuseppe!

Winding down, March 19 is San Giuseppe, the day the Church sets aside to honor Joseph, Mary's husband. Depending upon where you happen to be in Italy the day is either important or not; San Giuseppe tends to be more venerated in the South than in the North, and is especially important in Sicily, where people frequently turn to him for assistance when thing become grim. Here are a couple of Sicilian treats with which to celebrate, drawn from Maria Adele Di Leo's La Cucina Siciliana.

Sfinci di San Giuseppe

• 5 cups (500 g) flour
• 3 eggs and 3 yolks
• 1 cup (200 g) sugar
• An ounce (25 g) of live yeast cake
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup milk
• Olive oil for frying (or other, if you prefer)

Warm the milk and dissolve the yeast in it. Mix it into the flour, together with the eggs, yolks, sugar, and vanilla, and work the ingredients together until you have a soft dough. Let it rise until bubbles form at the surface, then heat abundant oil in a high-sided pot and drop the dough into it a few tablespoons at a time, lest the oil cool overmuch. Remove the sfinci when they've turned golden and drain them on absorbent paper, then dust them with a bit more sugar and serve them.

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Zeppole di San Giuseppe.

Neapolitans enthusiastically consume zeppole, but they're not the only ones:

• 1 pound (500 g) honey
• 4 cups (400 g) flour
• 6 ounces (150 g) ground toasted almonds
• Candied orange peel, diced
• 2 1/4 cups (600 ml) water

Set a pot on the stove and pour a little more than 3/4 of the honey into it, then add the water and stir to mix well. Continue stirring over a low flame, and add the flour a little at a time, until you obtain a dough the consistency of bread dough. Remove the pot from the fire and let it cool. In the meantime, heat oil in a high-sided pot, and when it is hot, fry the sough in teaspoon-sized balls, removing them as they become golden and draining them on absorbent paper before arranging them on a serving plate. Pour the remaining honey over them, diluting it with just a little water if need be, and dot the zeppole with the candied orange peel and almonds.

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And finally, something that caught my eye, though his Saints' Day is in June:

Sfincione di San Giovanni

For the dough:

2 1/4 pounds (1 k) flour

An ounce (25 g) live yeast cake

For the topping:

8 ounces (200 g) salted anchovies (the whole kind delis sell from tins)

8 ounces (200 g) caciocavallo cheese (this is tough to substitute -- perhaps a provolone would do)

8 ounces (200 g) bread crumbs

1 onion, sliced

12 ounces (300 g) ripe tomatoes, blanched, peeled, seeded and chopped (you can use canned if need be)

Olive oil, salt and pepper.

Begin by dissolving the yeast cake in a little warm (not hot water), and working it into the flour, adding enough more warm water to obtain a soft dough. Cover it with a moist cloth and set it in a warm place to rise for a couple of hours. While it's rising, slice the onion and sauté in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil until it begins to color, then add the tomatoes and continue cooking, stirring them about, for about 10 minutes. While they're cooking, rinse, bone, and split the anchovies, discarding heads and tails. Then dice them together with the caciocavallo cheese. Stir the anchovies and cheese into the tomato mixture and cook a few minutes more; while you're doing this heat two tablespoons of oil in a second pot and brown the bread crumbs, stirring them constantly.

Preheat your oven to 450 f (225 C). Roll the dough out into an inch-thick (2.5 cm) layer, put it in an oiled pan or cookie sheet with raised lip, spread the tomato mixture over it, then the bread crumbs, sprinkle it all with a little more oil, and bake it for about 20 minutes.

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This week's saying is Puglian: Jacce, péjne e mjrre, mange da cavalljre (j pronounced like an emphatic ee). Celery, bread and wine: Food fit for a Knight.

A presto,
Kyle Phillips
Webweaver, About Italian Cuisine

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