Raisin, caper, browned garlic and anchovy sauce

 

 

Having kids means you will hear a lot of funny and often embarassing questions being asked.

 

My son recently asked me I take my breasts off at night.

Say whaaaat?

It turns out he actually meant my bra, but it made for a pretty funny 10 minutes.

 

Yesterday he asked the new girl who helps us with the cleaning if she has a job. I immediately went in for damage control because I had a feeling where this was going. I explained that what she was doing was her job. So he answered he meant a real job, in front of a computer. I told him there are many jobs and only a small part entail sitting in front of a computer. I reminded him of our book that tells us about all the different jobs that people have, and how important each and every job is to make the world go around. She added that she has a computer but she is lucky enough to be able to use it to play instead of work.

 

Then, later, when we were at the supermarket at the cured meats and cheese counter, after listening to the girl who was serving us complain that she practically lives in the supermaket because she has been working so much lately, he asked her where she slept. On the floor or on the crushed ice of the fish counter (maybe he thought it was the coolest spot in the supermarket).

 

Recently we bumped into the father of a classmate of his and he asked him if he was her grandfather.

 

 

 

 

 

On the other hand, my kids never embarass me when it comes to food. Whether we are invited somewhere or in a restaurant, they eat pretty much everything they are served. I can experiment any new recipe and they will usually eat it without a problem. Of course there are things they are not crazy about, but they are not many and if they have to they will eat them.

 

When it comes to my husband, there is really only one thing he doesn't like: raisins. So even if this  simple, yet very tasty sauce made with capers and raisins had caught my eye on Lorraine's blog a while ago, I had to wait till his soccer night to try making it.

 

I set off with the idea of exactly replicating it but ended up making some changes and came up with a pretty different sauce altogether. Very good, if not promising in looks.

 

The first change I made was to fry the garlic slivers until golden brown because something about the idea of raw garlic simmering in water put me off. I then set aside the garlic-infused olive oil and blended it with the other ingredients instead of using plain olive oil as indicated. My last variation was to add anchovies. I felt the sauce could use a little extra savory punch and that the anchovies would nicely balance out the sweet and sour.

 

Lorraine's sauce was definitely more appealing to the eye, with its bright green and reddish brown flecks, but this one's flavor was good enough for me to insist you try it before I find a way to make it look more stylish!

 

We had the sauce with roasted zucchini, raisins and quinoa. Since we had some leftovers I ended up drizzling some on red peppers as an appetizer a few evenings later and husband grabbed one before I could warn him. Once he was chewing I didn't have the heart to tell him... but he really seemd to like it. Surprise honey!



 

Ingredients (makes a small jar's worth)

35gr capers, rinsed

35gr raisins

4/5 anchovy filets

1 small clove garlic, thinly sliced (but use more for a more pronounced flavor)

1/2 cup water

2 tbsp olive oil

1 to 2 tbsp white wine vinegar

salt, if needed

 

Pour the olive oil into a small saucepan and when it is hot, fry the garlic slices until golden brown. Set aside the garlic infused olive oil for later, leaving the garlic in the saucepan.

Add in a cup of water, the previously rinsed capers and the raisins and bring to a low simmer for about 15 minutes (add some water if it gets completely absorbed).

When the raisins have plumped up nicely, transfer the ingredients to a blender. Add the garlic infused olive oil, the vinegar (I added it a tbsp at a time because I wanted to make sure the vinegar in the capers wasn't too strong), the anchovy filets.

Blend until it is smooth. Taste and add salt or vinegar if needed.

You can serve this on roasted vegetables or with raw vegetables as a dip, or any other idea that tickles your fancy.

 

 

Ossobuco alla milanese (or braised veal shanks)

He sat on the scaffolding suspended from the cupola and shook his wrist for a few seconds, trying to ease the cramping of his fingers. He had been working on this window depicting St. Joseph for an hour, or maybe more he decided looking through the beautiful stained glass at the sun, which had moved considerably higher since he had last checked. Vincenzo had arrived from Leuven, Flanders with many others from all over Europe to work in the Venerable Factory of the Duomo, the construction site for the enormous gothic cathedral that was being built in the wealthy Duchy of Milan. The colors of his glass were renown because they were particularly striking, especially the yellow inserts. His secret was that he always added a touch of saffron when preparing the glass.  He decided to stop for a quick lunch, suspended in the air because there was always much to do and little time to climb down and chat with the others. He had brought a bowl of rice, which grew plentiful in the countryside surrounding the city and was cheap to buy, to work. He untied the knot in the cloth that he had wrapped his lunch in and just as he was moving his work utensils to the side, a fellow worker hollered from the scaffolding above.

"Perfundavalle! Buon appetito!".

Startled, he knocked over a tiny jar of the precious saffron he carried with his tools at all times and a little fell into the wooden bowl of rice. Vae! he mumbled in Latin, this was not good. So much waste of prized saffron and a ruined lunch! His stomach grumbled as he thought about what to do. He decided to taste the rice anyway, he was too hungry to wait till sunset and he had some wine to wash it down with. After all, saffron was a plant, how bad could it be? He stuck his fingers in the bowl, took a few kernels of rice, closed his eyes and stuffed them in his mouth. He chewed slowly, ready to spit out the offending bite. He chewed some more and sides of his mouth turned up into a big smile. This was delicious! Who would have ever thought saffron was so good? And the rice looked as beautiful as it tasted, with its yellow hue.

That is how the legend goes, regarding the birth of Milan's most famous dish, risotto giallo or allo zafferano. It is a versatile dish that can be eaten many different ways, as a first course or as a main course served with ossobuco, like the recipe I posted. It is always good to make in abundance so you have leftovers for riso al salto the next day, a crunchy, thin, pan-fried version of the rice beloved to all Milanese.

As you may or may have not have noticed, it has been a while since I last posted. I was offered a very interesting work opportunity last week that I couldn't turn down, despite the deadline being atrociously near, the amount of work being quite daunting and the fact that I have a full time job and pretty noisy children. This job involves writing, translating, researching to a certain extent. I am reading a lot on historical and artistic facts about the Duomo, Milan's cathedral.

It just so happened that when I received the file on the Duomo in my mailbox, I had 4 ossobuchi defrosting in my fridge. The more I read and wrote about the past glory of this town and the immense human and artistic effort made for decades, even centuries, to build the cathedral, the more I was excited to be preparing this dish for my family. Besides being one of F's favorite dishes, it somehow just made sense with its perfect timing, it made me feel connected to this city that often seems unattractive but that has some beautiful hidden secrets if you are willing to scratch a little beneath the surface. And so here is my ode to Milan, Oss bus a la milanesa con gremolata.