Return

 By Patricia Winton

In my first post at Italian Intrigues, I asked “Does the World Need Another Blog?” While I expressed skepticism, I launched this effort. And strangely, when I was invited to join the awesome team at Novel Adventurers six months later, I jumped aboard with enthusiasm. During the past 18 months, I’ve had divided loyalties, enjoying the teamwork and camaraderie offered by the group blog and the focus provided by this one devoted to things Italian. Sometimes, I've been stretched too thin, and my efforts here suffered, I think.

My stint at Novel Adventurers is drawing to a close. From now on, my posts will be here, with guest pieces on other blogs from time to time. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy. In the future I'll be writing about weather superstitions, about maladies that seem to occur only in Italy, and as always, about the unbeatable cuisine.

I hope you'll continue to read.

Drinking Walnuts

By Patricia Winton

On a mid-summer evening a few years ago, I joined a group of Italian friends for dinner. Seven of us gathered around a large kitchen table and feasted on lasagna as the first course—a staple for dinner parties because the cook can prepare the pasta ahead of time with no last minute prep needed. On the terrace, our host barbecued fat sausages, steak, and chicken along with eggplant, zucchini, and red peppers. A sumptuous—and typical—Italian summer feast.

Afterward, we ate splendid peaches and cherries. When we were sated, out came the espresso and tiny glasses that signaled a digestivo would follow. When our host brought out the bottle, the Italians began muttering, “Oh, Nocino!” and “Did you make it yourselves?” and “Did you gather the noci at San Giovanni?”

When the dense syrup trickled into my glass, everyone gazed at me. They held their breath as I lifted the glass and sipped. My mouth tingled with a hint of cinnamon and cloves. When I swallowed, the flavor of walnuts lingered. The silence evaporated as everyone began talking at once to let me in on the secret. I understood nothing. Finally, order prevailed, and as I continued taking tiny sips, the story emerged.

An ancient belief held that the dew on the shortest night of the year was a panacea for every illness, especially digestive problems and liver ailments. Traditionally, midsummer was celebrated between June 21 and June 25. In Italy, that became the birthday of St. John the Baptist (June 24). Thus, the dew on the night of June 23 was the most revered.

Walnuts have always been linked to witches and spells, and the superstition required that the dew on the walnuts be collected by a barefoot virgin to counteract those spells. She was supposed to climb the tree and collect the walnuts without using metal to cut them. The following morning, the liqueur was mixed and set to age until the night before All Saints Day—Halloween—when it was sipped to ward off those witches and spells.

Today, few barefoot virgins collect the walnuts, but some people enjoy the tradition of making the liqueur. That early in the summer, the green walnuts can be easily cut into quarters. They are placed in a glass jar; flavored with cinnamon sticks, cloves, and lemon peel; sweetened with sugar; and infused with grain alcohol and sometimes a bit of red wine.

Nocino is made commercially in Modena (home of balsamic vinegar) where a group called Ordine del Nocino Modenese promotes the region’s Nocino. So, if you don’t have a walnut tree handy, or a barefoot virgin available to collect the nuts, perhaps you can sample this wonderful after-dinner drink at home anyway.

Today’s post is late, but it coincides with the day for collecting the walnuts, June 23. Changes are coming to Italian Intrigues. Beginning next week, I’ll be posting here every Thursday.My last essay at Novel Adventurers will appear next week as well.

A Summer Treat—Pesto

By Patricia Winton

I’m writing this post under duress. Not duress, exactly, but under orders.

There’s a woman in Rome who’s been my student for the past ten years. We meet weekly just to talk, to help keep her English speaking skills honed. Last week, I checked the time just as I rang the bell and was horrified to discover that I was an hour early. When she opened the door, I offered to go away for an hour, but she ushered me into the kitchen. “I’m cooking,” she said and steered me to a chair.

Strictly speaking, she wasn’t cooking. She was preparing pesto. As she stripped the basil

leaves from the stalks and chunked the Parmigiano-Reggiano, I had a ringside seat. We chatted as we do about this and that. When she finished, I got to sample the finished product. And she said to me, “When you put this in your blog, you have to say it’s Olimpia Pallavicino’s recipe—not yours.” And so it is.

Olimpia didn’t measure anything; she just prepared it by instinct. I’ve tried to standardize the recipe, using American measurements (with metric equivalents in parentheses).

Pesto Milanese

2 cups basil leaves, lightly packed. Olimpia used the leaves from three stems.

1/3 cup pine nuts (40 grams) Olimpia stressed that you must use the best pine nuts you can find.

1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (45 grams)

1/2 to 2/3 cup extra virgin olive oil (120-160 ml)

1 clove garlic (optional) Olimpia omitted the garlic.

Place all the ingredients in a food processor and process until smooth. Olimpia did not grate the cheese. Instead she added it in chunks. She used a blender, and it took a while for the cheese to be completely pulverized. As a result, the pesto was very smooth.

Olimpia planned to serve the pesto with rice that evening, but for pasta she recommended using fusilli because there are so many nooks and crannies for the pesto to cling to.

The Tiramisù Is Out of This World

By Patricia Winton

When Italian astronaut Luca Parmitano arrives at the International Space Station next week, he’ll be dining on familiar food. The new ISS menu includes lasagna, risotto with pesto and another with mushrooms, caponata (a mixed vegetable dish including eggplant, zucchini, onions, and tomatoes), eggplant Parmesan, and for dessert—tiramisù. While it isn’t the first time an Italian has gone to the space station, it’s the first time for authentic Italian food. Heretofore, meals consumed there originated with the United States space agency, NASA, or its Russian counterpart, Roskosmos.

Chef Davide Scabin, whose Combal.Zero in Castello di Rivoli, near Turin, ranks as one of the world’s 50 best restaurants and holds two Michelin stars, developed the menu. He spent a year and a half researching ways to devise tasty, flavorful dishes while adhering to NASA’s strict guidelines.

All food headed for the space station must be treated to remove bacterial contamination, dehydrated, and packed in individual aluminum pouches. Each meal must also have a 36-month shelf life and be prepared without salt. Against this rigorous backdrop, Chef Scabin discovered another challenge. “The olfactory system doesn’t function at 100 percent in space. The astronauts eat with the sensation of having a cold,” he said in a recent interview. He further explained that for flavors to be fully appreciated, both the senses of taste and smell must work together.

Chef Scabin experimented with ways to concentrate the flavor in the foods he prepared. He developed 15 different dishes—including Parmitano’s requested lasagna and risotto—before settling on the five that have already arrived on the ISS.

The scheme to send Italian food into space has given a boost to the Made in Italy program that promotes Italian products at home and abroad and has renewed interest in scientific studies. 

The dishes were unveiled with much fanfare in February at an event for the Italian and European space agencies and government dignitaries. Chef Scabin himself placed a plate of lasagna in front of Parmitano. 

Afterwards, Parmitano embarked on a tour of schools engaging students in discussions of the importance of studying science. Parmitano talked about the experiments that he will be doing on the space station, including work with emulsions that have applications in many fields, including paints. He  adds, “Being Italian there is one field that is important to me, again it is the culinary art: a lot of the things that we make when we cook are emulsions.”

The dishes in the new menu have also been sampled by members of an international astronaut training program. One element of the training includes sending a multi-national group of astronauts into a cave for a week to gain experience working in a confined space in a multicultural environment. Before going underground in Sardinia, the astronauts gave thumbs up to Chef Scabin’s food. The beginning of this video shows their reactions.

Everyone eating the Italian space food is getting a good value. The average price per person for a meal at Combal.Zero is 160 euros—about 200 dollars. Chef Scabin has dropped hints that there is a “special celebration meal” for the ISS crew. Since Parmitano turns 37 on September 27, I’m guessing that’ll include birthday cake.

Astronaut Luca Parmitano will be blogging, in English, from space. You can follow him here. I blog on alternate Thursdays at Novel Adventurers where next week I write about a 19th century woman who revolutionized the way travel guides are written. Please visit my website www.PatriciaWinton.com

The Cat in the Pan

By Patricia Winton

He popped onto my TV screen soon after I moved into my first Roman apartment. The program, La Prova del Cuoco—The Cook’s Challenge—had been on the air for a couple of years at that point. A zany mix of professional chefs, amateur cooks, and even children, the program demonstrated the Italian obsession with food. The most serious notes came from Beppe

Begazzi, an expert on Italian cuisine, and especially, on the basic ingredients. His pedantic pronouncements about where to forage for the best porcini, how to cook bistecca fiorentina, when to eat sausage, or how to ensure the freshest salad greens provided a seriousness to the otherwise rapid pace of the show. His dark eyes and closely cropped white hair gave authority to what he said. Often clad in a plaid shirt with a bolo tie or a sweater, he fascinated me. I’ve learned a great deal from Beppe.

When I began creating characters for my mystery stories, I realized that my heroine needed a sidekick. A schoolmasterish figure like Beppe would do well. From this kernel of an idea, Nino Nardo emerged. He’s about 30 years younger than Beppe, who’s in his 70s. Unlike Beppe, his bald head shines above an impeccable business suit. Over time, Nino has become very real to me. He adopts his professorial voice when he wants to make sure the heroine understands something. He recognizes his weakness, and often gives her an apologetic smile when he’s gone too far.

Beppe, too, can be over the top, but in my mind, Nino is such a separate entity that his image wasn’t tarnished when Beppe fell from grace a couple of years ago. At the time, Antonella Clerici, the show’s host who had been working with Beppe for several years, was on maternity leave. She knew how to slow him when he rode his hobby horse too fast. Her replacement, a former beauty queen named Elisa Isoardi, did not.

In the segment that got him fired, he talked about coniglio del tetto—roof rabbbit—a term used to describe cats. In earlier shows, he had talked about how people ate everything, including cats, during the hungry 1930s and 40s. On the broadcast in question, he gave a recipe. Poor Elisa stood mute, even sinking behind props, as Beppe described how to wash the cat in a flowing stream for three days before cooking.

As I look at the program in Youtube now, I think he was winding her up. The station’s manager had recently announced that Elisa would remain on the show, barring Antonella’s return after her maternity leave. I think Beppe was quite possibly trying to demonstrate what little control Elisa had. Animal rights groups denounced the program, talk shows debated the issue, and Beppe didn’t return. Antonella told journalists that she knew how to keep Beppe in check, but Elisa’s lips quivered as she spoke about her cat, Othello.

Things are back to normal in the world of television now. Antonella hosts the show again, and last year, Beppe returned as well. In my fictional world, Nino is headed for trouble, but not for eating cats.

I write on alternate Thursdays at Novel Adventurers. I hope you’ll drop by. And please visit my website at www.PatriciaWinton.com

A Rite of Spring

By Patricia Winton

Spring has finally arrived in Rome and with it fava beans, known simply as Le Fave here. You know they’re coming a couple of weeks before they’re available because these notices begin appearing outside shops selling fresh vegetables: This establishment sells fresh fava beans.

When I first noticed these signs ten years ago, I thought it meant everyone was anticipating the arrival of this venerable vegetable. I’ve since learned that there is a rare, though serious, allergy that can be triggered by inhaling the fumes released by these beans, much less eating them. Fortunately, perhaps, the condition is genetic, so you probably know if you’re vulnerable and should stay away from shops displaying the notice. But the signs still excite me because I know the treat will be here soon.

Favas were the only legumes eaten by Europeans prior to explorations of the New World. They have been a mainstay in the diets of Asians, Europeans, Middle Easterners, and North Africans for centuries, and it’s believed that North Africans may have begun eating them as early as 6,000 BC. Known by many names—broad beans, Windsor beans, field beans, or bell beans—favas are a harbinger of spring wherever they’re grown.

In Rome, May 1 celebrations—Labor Day here—include raw fava beans and pecorino cheese. But the real spring treat is vignarola, a medley of vegetables available concurrently as the weather warms: artichokes (just ending the season), favas, and peas. It’s a labor-intensive dish best prepared while seated at a table outdoors, accompanied by a friend and a glass of white wine. You can shell the legumes and clean the artichokes while enjoying the sunshine. When all the vegetables have been preped, move indoors for the cooking.

Vignarola

1 1/2 cups shelled peas

1 1/2 cups shelled and peeled fava beans*

2 large artichokes, cleaned ** and cut into eighths

1 lemon

2 large spring onions, thinly sliced

1/2 head Romaine lettuce, cut horizontally into strips

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1/3 cup cubed bacon (optional)

salt and pepper to taste

1. Heat the olive oil in a frying pan and add the bacon, cooking and stirring until it begins to brown (if you’re omitting the bacon, move to step 2).

2. Add the spring onions; cook until they soften.

3. Add the artichokes, Romaine, salt, and pepper. Stir well and cover. Reduce heat to lowest setting and cook about 10 minutes.

4. Stir in the peas and favas. Cook an additional 15 to 20 minutes, until the vegetables are tender.

5. Serve warm or hot. It can be a starter course or a main dish. It also works well as a sauce for pasta.

  * A video showing how to clean fava beans

** A video showing how to clean artichokes

Facciamo un Brindisi

By Patricia Winton

Facciamo un Brindisi is the Italian way of saying “Let’s make a toast.” There are two competing stories about the origin of the phrase. One comes from that high Italian art form, opera. That idea says the word brinidisi is based on a German phrase Ich bring dir's – "I offer it to you." In several Italian operas, two character sings an invitation to drink to each other, and the chorus joins in. The word also refers to a drinking song which encourages people in a large group to drink and toast each other. One of the most famous of this type of brindisi comes from La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. (Listen while you read the rest of this post.)

But the word brindisi may also come from the Italian town of the same name, located on the southeast coast of Italy . This story is connected with ancient Rome. The town of Brindisi then, as now, was a port city. Roman armies embarked on campaigns to make war and conquer more territories from Brindisi. After marching the 476 miles (295 km.) from Rome, the soldiers would revel in the town, drinking and toasting each other for success in battle and a safe return.

Italian vintners have reason to make a brindisi these days. Exports of Italian wine have increased by 10 percent over the past few years, and exports of prosecco, the bubbly traditionally used for brindisi, have soared 26 percent to the United States and Canada in the past year alone. So Americans and Canadians should be making more brindisi these days.

Prosecco hails from the area around Conigliano-Valdobbiadene, in the Veneto region of Italy nestled near the Alps. The wine enjoys a “geographic indication,” which means that only wine from the region can be called by either of these three names: Prosecco di Conigliano, Prosecco di Valdobbiadene, or Prosecco di Conigliano-Valdobbiadene. In 2008, its status was elevated from D.O.C. (Controlled name origin) to D.O.C.G. wherein the authentic name is guaranteed.

It’s a wine with a sharp, fresh aroma and a light taste. Aged in stainless steel vats instead of in the bottle, prosecco is a wine to drink young as it goes flat with age. That’s all the more reason to make a brindisi.

I hope you’ll raise a glass of it soon.

Next week, I'll be writing here at Italian Intrigues again. My next post at Novel Adventurers will be April 25. Please check out my new website.