Italian salsa verde

 

 

While we say that we are green with envy in English, the Italians associate positive feelings with this color, verde speranza literally meaning that green is the color of hope.

 

It makes perfect sense when you think of it: green is so vibrant, the color of all things fresh and new. Just looking out onto a green meadow or up at a canopy of leaves instantly relaxes our mind and brings peace to our soul.

 

Green in food is often associated to good health: green vegetables and fruits are rich in vitamins and fiber (think leafy greens), not to mention healthy fats (avocado, olives). Green is the color of medicinal plants and herbs used for centuries to cure all kinds of ailments.

  

 

 

There is a very popular green sauce in Italy that derives from an ancient recipe, presumably first brought to the country from the Middle East by the Romans, who then in turn proceeded to spread it to the present day France, Spain and Germany.

 

Each country (and in Italy specifically every region, town and household) has its own version. I spoke to friends from different areas in Piedmont, famous for its "bagnet vert" (which literally means little green dip) served with tongue or mixed boiled meats, and their families all use different ingredients and preparation methods. Some add hard-boiled egg yolks, some use both lemon and vinegar, others like to mix in some gherkins. Some prepare it a few days in advance for extra flavor, others make it fresh and chop the ingredients by hand. I even came across some recipes that require the base to be heated in a pan with olive oil.

 

 

Traditionally this sauce is used to accompany boiled meats, but it works great on grilled vegetables, toasted crusty farmer's bread or fish (we had it with swordfish the other night).

 

It takes five minutes to make and can be stored in the fridge for days.

 

 

 

 

Does a form of salsa verde exist where you come from? If so, how do you make it?

 

 

Ingredients

3 anchovies
50gr red or white wine vinegar
1 clove garlic
1 tbsp capers in vinegar
100gr extra virgin olive oil

80gr stale white bread, without crust
120gr flat leaf parsley
pepper

Cut the stale bread into cubes, after ridding it of the crust, and soak it in vinegar. Clean and chop the parsley using a knife, mezzaluna or food processor (although the traditionalists will be gasping just about now!) together with the garlic (it is a traditional ingredient, but I don't always use it), capers, anchovies, bread and olive oil.

 

 

Ok, I used whole baguette... it worked fine

 

  

 

Roman fried, stuffed zucchini blossoms

After a few weeks of total germ-and-work-deadline-induced craziness, I am finally back with a new recipe. It is my mother in law's recipe to be honest, I just snapped pictures with my iphone while she was frying.
 

If you have been reading my blog long enough you already know it is impossible to get into my MIL's kitchen to cook and to tell you the truth, it was really nice to let someone pamper me for a change. She is queen of her kitchen and cooks up a feast when we are there. She is the kind of person that shows her love through her cooking and she clearly loves us very, very, very much if you ask me! Feel free to check out some of the other wonderful recipes she spoils us with when we are visiting. Ok, so the last link is for a restaurant, but if you ever go to Elba, you might want to check it out.

 

 

Anyhow, back to our vacation. We spent a lot of time at the beach, swimming, building sand castles and people watching. Here are a few considerations I came up with while minding everybody's business but my own.

 

1. Italy is known for its healthy Mediterranean diet. In Milan people are mostly in pretty good shape, so when I travel to other areas, especially southbound, I tend to forget how many are actually overweight in this country. I by no means have a waif-like figure, au contraire, but let me tell you, in that crowd I pulled out my bikinis and ditched the one piece. What really shocked me was the amount of heavily overweight children I saw. Apparently infantile obesity is becoming a huge issue here too. That's globalization for you. Mamma/nonna, why are you feeding your kid lasagna, insalata di riso, potato chips and foccaccia under the blazing midday sun?
 

2. Sun tents are all the rage now. Fair enough: they are practical, especially if you have little kids, and they protect you from the unhealthiest rays of the day. However, tent family, they do tend to be invasive and pretty ugly. So tent family, please pitch your condo more towards the back, not at the water's edge, where you are blocking the view of the sea for everybody behind you. Especially if you have one of those mega, whopping, family-sized pop-up sun tents. Oh, and by the way, that is my little toe you just knocked your damn peg into.

 

 

3. I get that you are on vacation and that you are in love, but please do not stand right in front of my kids making out and please ask your partner not to stroke your thong-clad 50+ year butt while doing this. It is difficult: a) to surpress their shrieking laughter; b) to ignore their pointing and insistent questions when you are two feet from us.

 

4. I have been married for more than ten years and I enjoy watching a good looking, tanned  guy walk by with droplets of salt water running down his abs as much as the next gal. But why is every attractive man over the age of 20 wearing a slip instead of swim trunks? I like admiring your six pack dude, but not your family jewels.

 

 

5. And why is every girl under the age of ten wearing a bikini top (sweetie, whatever you are trying to cover is two inches below the triangle), while the large majority of pubescent girls with, ehm, blossoming buds are walking around carefree and topless, attracting the inappropriate gaze of several middle-aged men (shudder)?

 

6. And last but not least, why oh why, body-building couple, did you feel the need to bring your humongous Saint Bernard to the beach? Besides the fact every time he moves  he hurtles half a sand dune, a quart of drool and a gallon of water our way... the poor sucker is really suffering.

 

 

 

What drives you crazy at the beach? Any funny anectdotes you want to share?

 



This recipe is typically Roman, but you can stuff zucchini blossoms in many ways. If you want a vegetarian version you can omit the anchovies or use just plain ricotta and Parmesan or flavor it in a variety of ways (pesto, saffron anyone?). Mozzarella and diced ham is also popular, although some people like them just as they are, with no stuffing at all.

 

If you want a lighter version you can make them in the oven, especially if you want to serve them at a seated dinner and be there to enjoy some too instead of standing in the kitchen sweating over a hot pan of splattering oil while your guests have all the fun. But dount count too much on the crunch factor, although you will definitely be eating a healthier, less caloric version of these.

Baccalà alla vicentina

There are different versions of how the inhabitants of Vicenza, the vicentini, came to love baccalà.

Some say that this recipe from Vicenza was already greatly appreciated back in the 13th century. There is a story that tells of how the Veronese opened the gates of the castle of Montebello in a battle against Vicenza when the latter called out that they were carrying polenta and baccalà.

The most accredited version of the recipe's origin, however, dates back to the middle of the 15th century, when an expedition led by the Venetian Querini was shipwrecked on Rost, an isolated island way off the coast of Norway. The unfortunate event however resulted in a few specimens of stockfish, dried cod, being brought back to the Italian shores, and it was the beginning of a neverending love story. It is undeniable that dried fish was a great solution both for seafaring people all over the world and those they left at home. Preserving food was not as simple as it is today and stockfish became the perfect substitute for fresh fish, then extremely expensive and easily perishable. The people of Vicenza found many a way to cook this fish, but it seems that  a well-loved woman, familiarly called siora Vitoria, the owner of a trattoria came up with this simple, yet very tasty way, of making baccalà at the end of the 19th century: the recipe now known all over Italy as baccalà alla Vicentina.

A few notes:

For those of you who may not be familiar with the difference, stockfish is dried cod while salt cod is made by preserving the same fish in salt. The different ways of preserving the fish are a direct consequence of the seasons. Cod is fished in the northern waters surrounding the coasts of countries like Scandinavia, Canada and Iceland. When the fish was caught in the winter months it was set out to dry in the cold sea air on rocks or wooden racks. In the warmer months, when this was not an option, the fish was cleaned directly on the boats and preserved in layers of salt in barrels. Once the fish is soaked for several days in fresh water, the result is quite similar.

In Italian cod is called merluzzo and the two variations are respectively called stoccafisso and baccalà. The people of Vicenza traditionally use stoccafisso in this recipe although they call it bacalà. They are neither ignorant nor confused, they simply call stockfish bacalà with one "c" and salt cod baccalà with two "c"s. So the truly correct name of the recipe is bacalà alla vicentina, although my post is called baccalà alla vicentina because I used salted cod instead of stockfish to make it (and I made boiled potatoes to go with it instead of polenta, because my daughter came down with the stomach flu and I couldn't hop over to the supermarket as I had been planning).

Pizza and changes

 

Ok, so I haven't been totally honest with you.

Or rather, recently I have been omitting a part of my life in this blog for various reasons. First of all, because I was waiting for a certain outcome before mentioning it. Secondly, because my blog is my happy place and I do not want the stress of my daily life to permeate it. 

There has been a lot of stuff going on at work. Let's just say finance is not a great place to be working these days.

Our division was sold and we are moving in a matter of days. The saga started over a year ago (yes, it has been a long, exhausting wait) but the last few months, the last few weeks in particular, have been a whirlwind of meetings with management and unions. There has been a lot of whispering by the coffee machine. Each and every person has a point of view, and not one is positive.

It has been emotionally taxing to say the least. All this talk, these conspirancy theories day in and day out have really worn us out and eroded what little self assurance we still had. We have said goodbye to friends and colleagues who were moved to other departments or offices after working together for many years. We have watched our team fall apart over more or less serious issues. People we trusted disappointed us, we have been left guessing about our future and what lies ahead of us.

There was no clarity, no certainty until yesterday.

Now we know. Some of it is good and some is bad.

We still have a job. And a nice office right in the center of town that I can bike to.

Something you don't take for granted when you find out you might have to wake up at 5am to get to work (in a dangerous place right by the urban fringe) by 7am, even on holidays, due to the nature of our jobs. And that you might have to pay for help on the same salary and that you may only get to see your children for an hour a day before bedtime. So yes, I am grateful.

But these deals never take place without some damage, some loss, some resentment. Things will not be the same. And the future still holds a lot of uncertainty.

I have gotten through this year by remembering how fortunate I am and how some people I care about are experiencing much more difficult circumstances right now. It helped me to keep in mind that these are minor mishappenings in the course of life. I have focused on the one thing that gives me strength and that pushes me forward.

My family. My husband and my children.

Knowing that they are there for me at the end of a long day. Knowing they are healthy and that we all have each other. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my job, the indipendence it gives me. I love being out there in the world, doing my part. But ultimately I work to live and not the other way around.

So what better recipe to write about than the pizza we made last week end. It was a true family effort, teamwork, little and big hands working together to prepare our evening meal. It felt so good, sitting in the kitchen together, music blasting from the IPod, laughing and making a mess. My children were so excited, the room was warm and cozy despite the first autumn chill in the air. I knew once again that this is all I needed to be happy. 

It was good but for one thing. I made the mistake of trying out something I knew I would probably regret. When I was at the supermarket I saw that an upscale brand of buffalo mozzarella was marketing a new kind for pizza. I was tempted, although I usually know better than to buy mozzarella for pizza rather than the real thing. It melted well and stayed more gooey whe cooling down but it burnt easily. This somewhat ruined the pizza because I had to take it out earlier than I had planned to and the bottom crust was a little undercooked. Luisa's (or should I say Jamie Oliver's?) recipe was certainly not to blame.

Please, bear with me if my posts slow down a bit in the weeks to come. I may need a little extra time to adjust, to figure out where I stand, to make all the parts of my day fit together in a new routine. I will still be cooking and thinking up things to write, it may just take a little longer to share.

 

Mediterranean stuffed green peppers & amazing women

I have to admit I am a little uninspired these days when it comes to cooking and writing. I am sort of missing the umph, I am distracted. There are things on my mind.

It is hard to write about the superficial, the mundane when my very close friend was readmitted to the hospital on Monday for his second bone marrow transplant. His wife, also a dear friend, is a blogger. She has the gift of expressing the ups and downs of battling leukemia as the mother of two young children with such simplicity, honesty and irony that she leaves me at a loss for words.

My thoughts the past weeks have also constantly been fleeting across the ocean to Monet, a fellow food blogger that I do not know personally. We are not really friends, we have only ever exchanged a few words, but I cannot stop thinking of her, her family and their loss. She writes beautifully and her words have deeply touched my heart and soul.

My words ring empty  when I read what these amazing women have to say. What may be therapeutic to them, their writing, is a lesson to all of us. They teach us strength, compassion and an intense love for life, a true eye opener to those of us caught up in the minutiae of our daily routine. As Moomser puts it, life is simply what is is, so we have to live every moment fully and create memories that will help us through hardship. And while doing this, Monet reminds us to bestow kindness on the strangers we will encounter today, because they could be walking down a dark road. If you see someone falter, don't honk at them, don't be aggressive. Try to be a little more patient, because you don't know what they are experiencing inside.

So today, I will step aside, and let them do the talking.

Below, the simplest of vegetables with an unexpected, complex filling.

This is not a typically Mediterranean recipe, or at least not that I know of. I called it Mediterranean because each and every ingredient used is so typically representative of this area. In every bite you will taste the saltiness from the anchovies, the creaminess of the feta perfectly balancing out the acidity and fruitiness of the sundried tomatoes and capers.

 
I admit I used a short cut when I made these. A while back I had bought this Sicilian paste that I didn't want to use on crostini or with pasta as suggested. It is 100% natural and thus easy to make at home in a food processor or blender. I am not giving amounts as they depend on your personal taste and on how many peppers you will be using.

Lemon & anchovy pork (or veal) meatballs

What a perfect Sunday.

We got up after a good night's sleep, had a nice breakfast and went to visit the new Museo del Novecento, which was inaugurated a few months ago right in the central Piazza Duomo of Milan. Since Milan was appointed to host the Expo 2015, there has been a feeling of change, renovation and excitement in the air. The city, whose skyline is currently crane-infested like a miniature Berlin, is undergoing a long-needed makeover.

In this mindframe, the museum offered free entrance to its collections of Twentieth Century Italian art for two months, but we of course waited until the second-to-last day (and last Sunday and right in the midst of Fashion week may I add) to try to go. This is the first real attempt we have made to go to an art museum since our second child was born.

With one it worked fabulously: it was cute, people smiled and nudged each other, admiring the oh-so-perfect parents teaching their daughter to appreciate the arts and different cultures at a very young age. With two, not so much. There is a lot of crying, whining and snotty noses. The older child wants to sit in the stroller, the younger one wants out. Both want to be carried, jealousy ensues. Four hands touching and grabbing suddenly seem five times as many as two hands to control. And siblings have the tendency to egg each other on when bored or tired (remember sis?). Suddenly you are the pariah, the family that should keep those noisy, spoiled kids at home. Crowded museums and restaurants, the magic combination of many a relaxed week end as a couple, are now a recipe for disaster. Especially in a city where even being intellectual is a fashion, where your average museum dwellers are uber trendy couples, the we-do-not-want-children-especially-after-seeing-you-today kind.

Anyway, back to my story. We thought we would take advantage of our early mornings to get to the museum before the crowds. Who stands in piazza Duomo on a cold, grey Sunday morning before 10:00am? Everybody, apparently. When we got there, the line was so long it went all the way around the building and through the piazza, at least a 2 to 3 hour wait. Thank goodness a friend had told me strollers had precedence because it was one of the few times (including boarding planes) that I was happy to have a stroller to lug around. Surely enough, in a country where very little is tailored towards families and children, in we zipped under the astonished looks of the throngs of people standing behind the ropes.

The doorman warned us it would be crowded upstairs and it was, but it worked out well anyway. We spent a little over an hour walking through the building, just enough time to check out the architecture and some of the paintings. To discuss colours, materials and subjects with our daughter. To have her loudly point out every intimate detail of each and every painting or sculpture. As the tour continued, the childrens' interest and attention ebbed so we were glad to reach the large area on top where they could run around a little amidst the Fontana sculptures and the large windows overlooking the piazza. After this I started handing out hidden breadsticks and announced to my husband we had just enough time to escape, give or take five minutes if we let the kids push the buttons in the elevator. We succeeded and went for a nice lunch at the Panino Giusto right next door and then home just before the rain hit.

In the afternoon, as my little boy slept and dreamt of Boccioni and Pelizza da Volpedo and my daughter and husband drew at the kitchen table, I made these meatballs (or rather patties since I made them a little larger than usual). They are adapted from a Nigel Slater recipe I found on the blog 'Too Many Chefs' years ago. Every bite just melts in your mouth, with a nice citrusy punch and savory touch from the anchovies. They have become a favorite at our house. Why not make them a favorite at yours?