My mother has always prided herself on her huge american-style salads which are a combination of everything available at the market-place including lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers bell peppers, fennel, sprouts, onions and radishes.  And if it happens to be taking the place of a meal, she’ll add some form of protein such as cheese, tuna or hard-boiled eggs to boot.  But it doesn’t stop here.  On top of this goes a generous quantity of her favorite salad dressing made of oil, vinegar (or lemon), garlic, mustard powder, Worcestershire sauce, dill, salt and pepper.

This type of salad goes against the grain of most Italians who believe that salad should be eaten after the second course in order to clean the palate in preparation for fruit and dessert. Thus the simpler the dressing the better, ie: oil and salt.  Furthermore, this provides an excellent opportunity to appreciate the prescious extra-virgin, cold-pressed olive oil many have combed the Ligurian, Tuscan, Umbrian, Campanian or Puglian countrysides to find.

I have come to appreciate both types of salads, but I have an italian friend who told me the Neapolitan proverb on salads and it seemed to me the perfect balance between the two.  First the lettuce is mixed in an earthenware pot that has been rubbed with garlic.  Then, she said, it takes 3 people to make the dressing: 

“Un prodigo per l’olio, un’avaro per l’aceto e un saggio per il sale”…

“A spendthrift for the oil, a miser for the vinegar and a sage for salt.”

versione italiana

Saturday, October 9th at 19:30 - Polo Culturale Gastronomico in Piazza Umberto I, Montesarchio

Faith Stewart-Gordon, ex-patron of the iconic Russian Tea Room in New York City and one of America’s great restaurateurs, came to the Sannio earlier this year.  For many months, in the course of the preparation of her itinerary, we corresponded and I had somewhat overcome my initial awe (my memories of the RTR included the time, as a teenager, when my flamboyant dance teacher took me there to have a hushed tea seated in the famous red leather booths that had been graced by the derrieres of  Zero Mostel, Rudolph Nureyev, Grace Kelly, Paul McCartney, Isaac Stern, Jackie Onassis, Woody Allen and the Aga Khan…to name a few), but as the time for her arrival drew near my anxiety began to resurface.  What would she really be like?

To make a long story short, Faith turned out to be a terrific person.  A great dog-lover, sensitive, engaging and easy-going, Faith was wonderful to get along with and like all modern-day tourists, snapped pictures of the sites, the scenery and the people.

After she left we continued to keep in touch and about three months later Faith sent me a photo of a picture she’d just finished.  It was a view of a corner of St Agata dei Goti as seen from the town’s tiny pharmacy.  I was immediately impressed because she had perfectly grasped the light, the colors and feeling of the little square after having spent only a few hours there! Oh, how I wanted to see - and secretly possess- that painting…

Over the following weeks Faith sent me a series of photos of paintings, each one better than the last.  There were renditions of the frescos at Oplontis, Pompeii, the views of Mt Vesuvius and the Bay of Naples.  But there were also images of the Sannio, in the ramparts of S. Agata dei Goti, Trajan’s Arch in Benevento, Roman ruins of Sepino and Samnite remains at Pietrabbondante.

Around the same time I had met Stella Ricci, one the Sannio’s great pastry chefs, who was in the process of opening a cultural and culinary center in an 18th century palace in Montesarchio.  In no time at all, after seeing Faith’s paintings, she agreed to hold an exhibit of her work which we called Fra Tavole e Tavolozze (the equivalent in english being ‘Of Plates and Palettes’) in honor of both her entrepreneurial and artistic talents.

Faith will be present at the opening and will give a presentation, including anecdotes about the many VIP’s that were her habitual clients at the Russian Tea Room as well as her experience in art as both a painter and collector.  There will be a buffet of caviar and russian delicacies, vodka cocktails and tea served in the russian style with cherry preserves instead of sugar.

It has been a pleasure and an honor to work with Faith and Stella on this exhibit. To have someone come from so far and appreciate the beauty of the Sannio and to be inspired enough to want to paint it is a wonderful tribute to this little-know region.  That she would come all this way to share them is utterly fantastic!

All readers of this blog are welcome to come.

For more information tel. 0823.953663 or email:barbaragoldfield@savourthesannio.com

After our visit to the Amalfi Coast, and with two bags full of luscious organic lemons, I wanted to make risotto al limone.  But as I rummaged around the internet for a recipe, I was dismayed at the amount of butter that was called for and butter is something we don’t even keep’ in out refrigerator! As we already eat out quite a bit with clients, at home we try to cook as lightly as possible. So I decided to experiment using olive oil instead of butter, which will make a delicious and dietetic dish. Then I rummaged in my kitchen cupboards to see if I had all the other ingredients. Hmm, no rice.  So, refusing to be daunted, I invented my very own pasta al limone like this:

Sauce ingredients for 2 people:
1 stem of fresh garlic, chopped
1 leek, sliced
Pinch of saffron
Parsley
Extra-virgin olive oil
Juice of ½ a lemon
Grated rind of ½ an organic lemon
¼ cup of water
½ cup of white or rosé wine
200 gr. of long pasta

The cooking time is so quick, start by heating the water for the pasta in a pot (and remember to salt it when it boils).

Wash the lemon. Heat the water in a non-stick frying pan, add the garlic and allow the flavor to sweat into the liquid. Then add the leek, and salt to taste.  When all the water has evaporated, add the wine.  When the wine evaporates, add the lemon juice and saffron.  Then add the grated lemon rind and parsley and put aside until the pasta is ready.

In the meantime, you’re water has boiled and you’ve cooked 200 grams of long pasta.  When it’s still very al dente, put the pan back on the stove and transfer the pasta (together with a little of it’s water) and stir over a high flame until the water has evaporated. Douse with olive oil and serve.

View on Italian Notebook

Stella = Star. 

Stella Ricci is the premier baker and chocolatier of the Sannio and a very entertaining woman.  I had the opportunity to watch her give a fascinating lecture/demonstration on the making of Babà and Sfogliatelle, two of the many pastries that are now legendary in Campania.

Babà are Campania’s version of cupcakes.  Made with flour, yeast, eggs, sugar and LOTS of butter, these mini cakes look like little upside-down chef’s hats.  The dough is whisked energetically for almost half an hour, and is turned out only after it makes a slapping sound in the beater. 

Then comes the interesting part. The extra kneading of the dough is performed by taking a handful of the mixture and throwing it - much like a yo-yo or paddle ball - into the air and catching it again. After this motion is repeated a few times it is then spezzato, or broken off, just like mozzarella.  The dough is pinched through the top of the hand and dropped into little individual baking tins.  After cooking and cooling, the babà is soaked in a syrupy mixture of hot water, sugar and rum, then squeezed dry like a sponge.  This is how it is sold, but once home it is doused with additional rum before serving.

The dish originated in Lemberg in the 1600’s, when it was known as kugelhopf.  The story goes that the deposed king of Poland Stanislas Leszczynska, tasted the dessert while exiled in France.  He found the cake dry and threw it off his plate in disgust where it landed in a puddle of rum that was on the table.  He watched as the cake soaked up the liquor and decided to taste it again.  He was so delighted with the result that he named it after his favorite story-book hero, Ali Baba, and it  eventually became know simply as ‘babà’.

by Paul Goldfield

My brother Paul and I have lived in Italy since 1961 and he is particularly fascinated with the Italian obsession over food.  Here is an excerpt from a letter he sent to his friends and although the places he describes are not in the Sannio (he lives in Rome), it strikes a cord, because it correctly describes the shopping habits of Italians all over the country.

Delving into the relationship between Italians and food is like trying to explain why Americans over-consume or the Germans love beer; it’s a convoluted and never-ending process. Opera, painting…food; Mamma, home…food; summer, beach…food; grandma, ancestral home… food.  The Italian passion for food is even greater than their love of soccer and an inordinate amount of time is spent shopping for it, cooking it, talking about it and, of course, eating it.

And it always comes out so good! Why? Here are a few reasons I’ve come up with:

First of all, a great deal of effort is put into getting the best raw ingredients. If you’ve ever eaten in Italy and wondered why Italian food back home doesn’t make the grade, this is the long and the short of it.  I doubt whether Mario Batali’s ragù can hold a flame to that of my neighbor’s Mrs. Fusarpoli (who comes from Naples) simply because he doesn’t have the same climate, soil and sunshine that produces the oil, tomatoes and basil.

In Italy good food plays a pivotal role in society: it is the cement that keeps families together and friendships alive.  Interactions happen around the table: families celebrate baptisms, confirmations and weddings which all have an important food component. Even normal dinners become an occasion when the whole family is in tune with the seasonal offerings and can look forward to the recipes of their favorite casseroles, fruits and vegetables.

Cooking is competitive. Food is rooted in traditions that are passed down from generation to generation and recipes for the same dish vary from town to town. Every Italian is convinced that their mother’s recipe is the best as is the frantoio (olive press) in their home town where they buy their oil in 5 liter cans; and will discuss the minutest details for hours!

For men and women, the love of food and wine runs deep.  They pay attention to detail and understand what goes into any given recipe, which is probably why I have never been served a French dish or a German concoction in an Italian home.  But just try putting garlic in an Amatriciana sauce and see what happens!

Which reminds me, I’ve got to go make lunch…

…Mmm, that was good!

The other day I asked myself why there were seven restaurants on my tiny street (all Italian, of course). I’ve eaten at all of them, but one’s got to be best, right?  Not really, because after some reflection I came to the conclusion that Sergio makes the best seafood antipasto but Silvio is cheaper and has GREAT tomato sauce, whereas Angelo makes terrific polenta and has a better selection of wines….  See what I mean?

So, if the trick to cooking Italian is shopping, this is what I have learnt:

Buy as little as possible from a supermarket. The last time I shopped at one was at Christmas when my wife and I spent the holidays with my sister-in-law in Louisiana.  (Wait! There is a supermarket in my neighborhood that I go to, but mostly to listen to Aldo, who is a walking encyclopedia of cheeses.)

Nowadays, mass distribution systems require that fruits and vegetables be picked before they’re fully ripened in order to clean, process and ship them to the supermarkets.  Unfortunately the end result doesn’t have very much flavor.  If you put an Italian tomato next to an American tomato and take a bite out of each you’ll know what I mean. The Italian tomato, which has ripened lazily on the vine, explodes with flavor in your mouth. The American tomato seems only vaguely ‘tomato-like’ by comparison.

Americans also want shopping to be convenient: one store with mega-parking where they’ll find everything. Here’s my normal shopping regime.  It starts with my wife telling me what she needs; lets say, fruit and vegetables.

If I’m starved for time, I go to the fruit stand up the street run by two Pakistani brothers. The fresh produce isn’t great, but it’s open 365 days a year.  On Saturday mornings however, I go to the market at Piazza Vittorio. To get there I take my wheelie on the subway and then walk back. Total distance, about 5 kilometers. Inconvenient? You bet, but this is where an Italian gathers inspiration as well as supplies.  Once I get it home everything has to be unpacked and put away. None of it is in pre-wrapped so there’s hardly any packaging to throw away when I’m done.

This is an enclosed international market that has everything -and I mean everything- from Italian produce to green groceries from Thailand and Africa, all fresh, all sold by individual venders.

For the best quality possible I head straight for Alberto’s stand off Via delle Coppelle because he grows much of what is on display and the rest is the best he can find at the central markets. His lettuce still has the roots attached.

And the rest of my shopping?

For cheeses I go to Aldo at the supermarket on Via Cavour; but if I need something special I go to the store at Piazza Sallustio. Walking into this place is like entering into a church. Everything is set out in special display cases and the fellows behind the counter talk about cheese in smooth, almost devotional voices. “Una mozzarella? Certo! From Battipaglia, Caserta or Terracina?” Their expertise extends to British and French cheeses as well. Stilton? They have three kinds. Cheddar? Ditto. The cheese you had in Verona last summer on vacation? If you can describe it, they’ll take a moment, look upwards momentarily as if requesting a favor from above, then smile angelically and point, “Ah si, Fossa di Sogliano del Rubicone, how much would you like? ”

For fish I go to the Antica Pescheria Galluzzi where it’s so good strangers will congratulate you if they see you carrying one of their bags!

If I’m in the center of town I’ll stop for meat at Feroci’s, but we’re lucky to have one of the best butchers right here in the neighborhood. Macelleria Steccotti supplies the kitchen of the Quirinale (the Italian equivalent of the White House). You’re probably imagining some large, beautiful, pristine store with butchers lined up behind the counter but it’s nothing like that all. The store is tiny with a huge, walk-in refrigerator from which Piero Steccotti issues forth with thick bistecche alla Fiorentina or silky veal roasts.  He’s even been written up in The New York Times!
But the most time-consuming thing of all is talking to so many people. If your green grocer starts gossiping, do you interrupt him with “Sorry pal, but I’m in a hurry today…” and look pointedly at your watch? Do you even know his name? His wife’s name or his children’s and what about his uncle who lives in Pittsburgh? No? Well I know all of this and more about Alberto; when I go to buy bread at Claudio’s he pulls out the letters he’s received from his niece in England and asks me to translate them; Piero the butcher is a diehard Dixieland fanatic and we always talk about music when I come in. If I order meat, he doesn’t bother to label it with my name anymore, but just marks it “JAZZ”. Rosanna tells me about her cats while her husband Luigi complains about his aches and pains. The last time I went to Piazza Sallustio they asked me what Velveeta Cheese was!

All of this, I am certain, has added five years to my life expectancy. The incredible quality of the food and the fact that I have to walk miles to buy it, then stop to talk to these incredible people has made my life better in so many ways. You see, I’ve learned that Italian food is not only for eating. It’s a common denominator, a passion that binds us all together.

I’d like to add one final note. Federico and I went shopping yesterday and spent a quarter of an hour in the pasta aisle, discussing what we would be cooking this week and which pasta would be best-suited to the recipes  So there you have it. Buon appetito a tutti!