Cosa Bolle in Pentola?
Farewell Fiorentina, Lardo di Colonnata,
Corte del Vino, Italian Cooking & Living & more
Being the 80th issue of Cosa Bolle in Pentola, your Italian Cuisine newsletter.
Welcome to the first online edition of Cosa Bolle in Pentola. To begin with, the most recent addition to the site is a pasta shapes glossary -- a work in progress, and I'll be adding more shapes as well as tying it into the pasta recipes in the coming weeks. The pic of the week is suitably spring like, a flowery meadow in Maremma. I also have to make a correction: I misread my calendar, and said San Giuseppe was March 18 last time; it's instead the 19th, which is also Father's Day in Italy. The other thing I have to correct is my assessment of the seriousness of Foot and Mouth Disease. It's rather like the flue, in that there are stronger and less strong variants, and what has struck England this winter is on a par with the flue that swept the world in 1919. In other words, very bad. I had said last week that I thought vaccination was the answer because of the speed with which it was spreading and the costs involved in killing hundreds of thousands of animals (not just economic but also social), and noted with some relief that the Dutch had begun vaccinating animals living around places with confirmed outbreaks. Today (March 28) England has also asked for permission to vaccinate, though they still don't think it's a good idea because vaccinated animals and their meat cannot be exported. But they will be doing it, and that means that a great many animals will be saved.
Addio Fiorentina!
Returning to matters at hand, March 31st will be a sad day for Tuscan meat-lovers: The Bistecca alla Fiorentina is being banned at least through December due to worries that the bone that's in contact with the spinal cord might harbor the prions that cause BSE/Mad Cow Disease if the animal is infected. No matter how one looks at it, the provision is not reassuring: We're told, on the one hand, that all animals slaughtered are being tested and that they're able to catch all cases of infection with the tests. On the other, just in case…. How effective are these tests? And the risk of getting the disease from contamination is unfortunately real: 5 cases of new variant KJ syndrome in an English town were traced to a butcher who didn't clean his knives after cutting into infected meat (a spinal cord, perhaps?).
What is a Bistecca alla Fiorentina, you wonder? It's a
porterhouse cut, in other words a thick T-bone steak, cut from a Vacca
Chianina, the large white cattle that are raised in southern Tuscany, in the
past to work in the fields, pull wagons, and such, and now to provide meat,
which is extraordinarily tasty and tender. Florentines consider it the ultimate
expression of Tuscan gastronomy, and it perhaps is today. However, the name
tells another story: It sounds like, and is, derived from the English word
beefsteak, and as a cut was introduced by the wealthy English people who
settled in Tuscany in the 1800s. Not to say that Tuscans didn't grill
beforehand, because they certainly did, but this particular cut was not
widespread. If anything, they used what is known as a costata, a term
that can mean many things, including a t-bone steak that's cut thinner than a
porterhouse, and can be just the contre-filet -- in other words, lack the
tender filet that is fundamental to the Fiorentina.
A recipe for Bistecca alla Fiorentina.
Lardo di Colonnata: Protecting traditional foods from EEU regulators
Moving in another legislatory direction, last week I attended a conference on Lardo di Colonnata, the cured lard that Colonnata's quarrymen have been using as sandwich meat for thousands of years. Before you get queasy, a little history: People have known about Carrara's white marble since Pre-Roman times, and have been extracting it since they discovered it. In the days before mechanized transportation most people went on foot, so having the town as close to the workplace as possible was important, and the Roman quarrymen (for the most part slaves) founded Colonnata on a ridge between two quarries. Steep forested hills where they could gather chestnuts, acorns, and such, but not much in the way of arable land, nor a place where one could easily raise goats, sheep, or cattle. But pigs do very well with acorns and chestnuts, so every family had at least one, which they would butcher in the winter. The meat, of course, got eaten, but pigs also have lots of lard, and the townspeople discovered they could cure in their cellars it if they put it in marble tubs, covering it with salt and herbs (garlic, rosemary, peppercorns, anise, and other things): The salt draws the water out of the fat, forming a brine, and in its dehydrated state the fat is much more receptive to the oils in the herbs, which flow into it and flavor it over a period of several months. The production technique guarantied a safe food because the salt tied up all the water, making it impossible for any form of bacteria to grow, the herbs and spices made it amazingly delicate and flavorful, and the calories made it perfect for the men to take into the quarries. People were already writing admiringly of it in the mid-1800s, and since then its renown has grown tremendously.
It has even become a tourist attraction, with people driving up to Colonnata to taste it, and though this has been very good for the town, helping to compensate for the loss of employment that followed the mechanization of the quarries, it has had a negative impact on the lard: Production is low, with 11 families making less than a ton a year, and though the producers are trying to increase it some, they can only make so much in the space they have. But demand is very high, and as a result people from elsewhere began salting lard and selling it as Lardo di Colonnata. But it wasn't: the tubs they were using were different, and so was the air -- there's something about the air currents around Colonnata that imparts unique flavors. Rubbish, some might think, but one of the Colonnata producers tried taking one of her tubs to the neighboring town and what came out of it didn't taste like the rest of the lard she had in her cellar. Things came to a head in 1996 with many arrests for fraud; at present the producers, who have formed an association, are waiting for official recognition of their product (something called DOP, Denominazione di Origine Protetta, which states where and how a product can be made) from the authorities. Once that's in place, all Lardo di Colonnata will really be from Colonnata (now you have to read the fine print). Problem is, though the DOP should have been granted quickly, those who are making Lardo outside what will be the DOP area have been fighting it, under the theory that it's easier to make Lardo di Colonnata, which has a name, even if you're really in Garfagnana, than it is to establish a name for Lardo di Garfagnana. And though this is true in the short run, it's also short sighted, because consumers will read the fine print about where the product is made and pay more for what comes from the source than for what's made elsewhere -- better to have your own name, especially since a town that becomes famed for a specialty will attract tourists.
Getting there: Colonnata is inland of Carrara; you dive into the city, find signs for the town, and follow them, through a succession of quarries and marble stands until the road stops and you're there. There are several places that sell Lardo right on the square, and there's also a well known restaurant called Venanzio, closed Thursdays and Sunday nights, which you should make a reservation for on 0585 758062. Once you're done buying, or eating, there are beautiful views into the quarries, and pretty winding streets to explore.
Enter the EEU...
The second major problem to beset Lardo di Colonnata is the EEU health service: when the inspectors came to look, they were horrified. No tiled industrial halls, but rather people's cellars (some with dirt floors), no easily sterilized steel tanks to hold the lard, but rather marble tubs (many stained by decades of use), no climate control, but rather fresh mountain air… It was unsanitary! No matter that the brine makes bacteriological contamination impossible, no matter that people have been curing the lard this way for thousands of years. The EEU ordered production be halted until the proper practices of the sort one might find in a pristine industrial plant could be implemented. Since one couldn't build an industrial plant in Colonnata even if one wanted to for lack of space, this was a death knell for Lardo. Fortunately for us, the people of Colonnata have been wrestling marble blocks for millennia and were quite willing to wrestle the EEU as well; they went before the health commissioners and argued four points, while all the other lesser artisanal productions of Europe looked on:
- a) History -- Lardo di Colonnata has been made for thousands of years.
- b) Tradition -- It has played an important role in shaping the area's dietary customs
- c) Local -- it's made in a small area
- d) Technique -- There are precise steps in making Lardo di Colonnata, which guarantee a safe product.
It was probably point d that swayed the commission, which has now decreed that Lardo di Colonnata can be made following the traditional techniques, and in the wake of the decision many other producers of artisanal foods have stepped up to the plate. The tide of regulation continues to advance, but a breakwater has been erected to shelter traditional food production and the ways of life associated with it, thanks to the efforts of a bunch of quarrymen from Colonnata. Now, if only the Tuscan regional Government would approve the DOP…
Should you buy some Lardo di Colonnata, what to do with it? Slice it very thinly and serve it on warm slices of toasted bread as an antipasto. There are other fancier pates and spreads, but I find this to be the most satisfying use. Or use it in the kitchen: Finely sliced, and tied over a drier meat, for example pheasant or turkey breast, or even a lean boned pork loin. Saves basting and adds a delightful touch.
Alla Corte del Vino
Moving in a different direction, Vinitaly, Italy's major wine trade show, is next week in Verona. Should you instead be planning to visit Tuscany in early May, Duccio Corsini will be hosting Le Corti del Vino in his family's palazzo, half-way between San Casciano and Mercatale, in the rolling hills of Chianti. Very pretty place, with spectacular grounds (there are advantages to being descended from Renaissance nobility), and also a superb opportunity to taste the wines of about a hundred of Tuscany's best producers -- Chianti Classico, Brunello, Nobile, Morellino and so on -- together with a number of other specialties, including olive oil. There will also be conferences dedicated to interesting enological problems and questions, tours, and more. Things will begin on May 4th in Florence, with an auction of rare wines to benefit the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, held in the Teatro Comunale di Firenze's Piccolo Teatro at 7:30 PM, which will be followed by the dress rehearsal of Il Trovatore, directed by Zubin Mehta , and will continue on Saturday and Sunday, from 11 Am - 8 PM at palazzo Corsini. Should be lots of fun.
Italian Cooking and Living
The other announcement to make is that there's a new "multimedia system" coming out, called Italian Cooking and Living, which will feature recipes (including step-by-step), food, wine and travel information. To judge from what they've already got up on their website, it should be quite interesting!
Cassoeula
Winding down, Kathleen asked for a recipe for Cassoeula a while back. It's a classic Milanese winter dish, a thick, hearty pork, sausage and cabbage soup that is, according to Antonio Piccinardi, common throughout the areas once inhabited by the Celts. In other words, one can find similar things in France and Spain. He says there's considerable variation from cook to cook, with some believing in tomato and others not, and some preferring to eat it fresh off the stove, while others prefer to wait a day and reheat it. Alessandro Pradelli, who gives a recipe, suggests that you use black German-style bread if you don't have polenta, and that to serve 6 you'll need:
- 1 1/3 pounds (600 g) spare ribs, cut into shorter lengths by the butcher
- 10 ounces (250 g) Luganega sausage
- 4 ounces (100 g) fresh pork rinds
- A pig's trotter
- A pig's ear (available in an oriental market if nowhere else)
- 2 Salamin de Verz (tiny sausages made with the same filling used for Luganega)
- 2 1/4 pounds (1 k) Savoy cabbage
- 8 ounces (200 g) celery, sliced
- 8 ounces (200 g) carrots, sliced
- An onion, minced
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- Dry white wine
- 1 tablespoon tomato sauce
- Broth
- Salt and pepper
Wash the cabbage well, coarsely shred it, and heat it in a pot with the water trapped on the leaves to wilt it, taking care lest the leaves in the bottom of the pot stick and burn.
Flame the trotter, ear and rinds to remove any hairs they may still have, and wipe them clean with a cloth. Split the trotter, using a cleaver if necessary, and cut the ear and rinds into strips.
Boil them in lightly salted water for an hour, by which point the fat will be rendered out of them. While they're cooking, mince the onion and sauté it in the oil and butter. When it has browned, add the ribs, then the Luganega, cut into rounds, and the salamin; brown them lightly, and then sprinkle with white wine and cook over a moderate flame until the liquid is evaporated. Remove the meat from the pot, and add the carrots and celery, together with the tomato sauce diluted in a little water. Season with salt and pepper, cover, and cook until the vegetables are done, stirring occasionally. Add the shredded cabbage, and lay the meat over it. Shake the pot just a bit to allow some of the cooking liquid to appear, cover, and simmer for an hour or more, using a spoon to skim off the fat that rises to the surface every now and again.
Serve it steaming hot, with polenta or dark bread.
A printer-friendly version of this recipe
There are a great many variations; some use pancetta or lard as well, others goose meat, and others add thyme or bay leaves. Around Como they use pig's head rather than pig's trotter.
In Brianza, instead, they use duck. To serve 6:
- A duck
- 2 Verzini (tiny sausages made with the same filling used for Luganega)
- 4 ounces fresh pork rinds
- A scant quarter cup (40 g) unsalted butter
- A carrot, sliced
- A celery rib, sliced
- An onion, sliced
- 6 ounces (150 g) Savoy Cabbage leaves, washed well and shredded
- 1 glass red or rosé wine
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1 tablespoon minced parsley
- A pinch of freshly ground nutmeg
- Salt and pepper
Flame the pork rinds to eliminate stray hairs and boil them for an hour in lightly salted water.
Clean the duck if need be, flame it to remove pinfeathers, pat it dry, and cut it into pieces.
Take a large pot and sauté the onion in the butter, then add the duck, brown for a few minutes, sprinkle with the wine, and cook until the liquid has evaporated. Add the vegetables, the sausages, pricked with the tines of a fork, cover, and simmer over a low flame for an hour and a half. About 10 minutes before it's done, slice the pork rinds, which will have lost much of their fat, and stir them into the pot. Serve steaming, with polenta.
A printer-friendly version of this recipe
This week's proverb is Tuscan. Si fa più fatica a tacere che a parlare: It takes more effort to keep silence than to speak.
A presto,
Kyle Phillips
Webweaver, About Italian Cuisine
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