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!

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di seguito in italiano

The Amalfi Coast, south of the bay of Naples, is one of the most beautiful, famous and well-known parts of Italy: it welcomes visitors with a feast of light and scents: the only condition necessary to enjoy its spectacular landscape is to carefully follow the roads and paths as they slowly wind their way around the land.

The hills are steep and rocky and offer only one way to farm: by patiently removing the stones and using them to support the soil, creating sweeping walls of terraces where vineyards overlook homes which overlook lemon orchards, all tenaciously clinging to the mountainside. Working this land demands constant care and stubborn passion. The thin soil is protected against the wind from the sea by growing grass and vegetables, putting every square inch of land to good use. 

These criteria are being diligently put to work by two exceptionally polished producers: Patrizia Malanga in the tiny coastal town of Raito  and Luigi Reale in Tramonti, in the green hills directly behind Ravello.

Le Vigne di Raito is a jewel of an organic vineyard and lemon orchard, sitting on terraces of abandoned land that Patrizia has lovingly nurtured back to life, surrounded by the classic Mediterranean shrubs and woods and with a view that will take your breath away.  Patrizia fell under the spell of the wine-making in 2002 and her enthusiasm, with the competent support of renowned experts, have already shown great results.  Her Ragis 2007 expresses all the fragrances of the sea and lush vegetation, skillfully matched with the flavor of ripe berries and the oak barrels where the Aglianico and Piedirosso bled matures. An additional treat is a visit next door, at the workshop of master ceramicist Lucio Liguori, whose extraordinary creativity and unusual technique have helped made the ceramics of Vietri famous around the world.

Snaking along the scenic road inland, into the wooded heart of the peninsula, is a vineyard set in a totally different landscape: from the young plants that Patrizia nurtures like her own children, to Tramonti where we meet champion vines that are well over a hundred years old.  Luigi Reale and his family work these vineyards according to the ways of the generations that planted them, using branches of nearby willow trees to tie and support the sprawling vines that weave like tentacles on the traditional wooden pergola. Good roots bear good fruit and his varietals include Tintore, Aglianico and Piedirosso for the red and rosé, and Biancolella and Biancazita which are used for the white. Winter weather here is rough, giving the wines a robust personality. The best way to taste them is in Luigi’s well-established “Osteria Reale”, right next to the cellar, where the atmosphere is warm and his excellent food is traditional and hearty.

versione in italiano

Una delle parti più visitate ed apprezzate dell’Italia Meridionale a sud di Napoli e del suo ampio Golfo, la Costiera Amalfitana accoglie con luci e profumi intensi: unica condizione per godere i frutti di questa zona di vedute e panorami magnifici, è muoversi con cura lungo le strade e sentieri che si snodano, o meglio si avvolgono intorno alle forme di queste terre.

Le colline ripide e sassose impongono un solo modo per coltivare, ma ne forniscono anche i mezzi: così si spostano faticosamente le pietre per liberare il terreno e costruire il muro che lo sostiene, trasformando il paesaggio in una fuga di terrazze, con la vigna che guarda sulla casa, e questa sul limoneto che ombreggia la strada. La terra è poca, va protetta con erba e orti per resistere al vento del mare, con le sue piogge.

Coltivare queste coste, come quelle delle Cinque Terre, richiede ancora più esperienza, dedizione e passione.

A Raito e Tramonti due appassionati produttori fanno nella vigna tutto questo, provenendo da esperienze diverse, ma raggiungendo simili risultati di qualità e finezza nei loro vini.

Le Vigne di Raito è un piccolo gioiello di vigna e limoneto biologico su terrazze circondate dal tipico bosco mediterraneo e da ulivi in un terreno precedentemente incolto. Le note delle essenze profumate e del mare quasi a portata di mano, arrivano nel bicchiere di Ragis 2007 in compagnia dei toni delle bacche rosse e del legno di rovere. Patrizia Malanga è caduta nell’incantesimo del vino recentemente, ma il suo entusiasmo e l’aiuto di capaci consulenti stanno già dando notevoli risultati, in un’atmosfera resa ancora più affascinante da una visita al suo vicino, il maestro ceramista Lucio Liguori. In pochi passi si apprezzano in pieno le artigianali meraviglie per cui Vietri e la sua gente sono famosi.

Serpeggiando sulla strada verso l’interno a Tramonti si arriva nel cuore boscoso della penisola a conoscere un diverso paesaggio ed una diversa vigna: dalle giovani piante che Patrizia accudisce come bambine, alle mature viti, guidate da campioni secolari, che Luigi Reale lavora con la lunga esperienza della famiglia che le piantò e fece crescere. E’ forte la tradizione locale anche nelle uve tipiche: Tintore si trasforma nei vini rosso e rosato, Biancolella e Biancazita nel bianco. Il paesaggio ed il clima d’inverno qui possono essere aspri, dando grande personalità ai vini, ma la buona stagione e l’accoglienza della ben stabilita Osteria di fianco alle vigne sono il modo più dolce e familiare di gustarseli.

Vedere ulteriori informazioni sul wine blog di Luciano Pignataro

The Sannio Star - April 2010 n.5 Download PDF