Castagnole, an Italian Carnival treat

 

Today is Martedì Grasso the last day of Carnival all over the world. Except Milan, where it is just beginning.

 

My daughter was home sick last week for three days and as a result she missed a costume party she had really been looking forward to, although I am sure the insane brave grandmother who yearly hosts this party for the whole class was not too upset to have a third grader less running around her apartment.

 

My daughter was a good sport about it all, despite her disappointment, and so I decided to surprise her and organize our own little Carnival party at home. My son's pre-school was closed for a few hours on the same day for meetings, so it seemed like the perfect way to fill an afternoon. We pulled out streamers and I set up a little make-up corner and we had ourselves a good time.

 

 

For it to be a real party, however, we needed snacks. I had some fruit juice stashed away but nothing even closely resembling Carnival treats so I decided to look up a recipe online. Carnival sweets are usually quite basic fried batters or doughs, recipes from a very long time ago when people did not have great means and when there were very few ingredients to choose from after a long winter. The most popular varieties are chiacchiere, tortelli and frittelle, although things get a bit complicated at this point. 

 

 

 

 

As most things food in Italy (this recent  post being just an example), every region and town has a different name (and often recipe) for the same thing. Milanese chiacchiere are called galani in Venice, bugie in Genova and other names elsewhere. Venetian frittelle are made out of doughnut batter with raisins and pine nuts mixed into it, but in Milan the batter is simple and they are often filled with chocolate cream or custard. Tortelli and zeppole are a part of the same family. Then there is pignolata (as my Sicilian mother in law calls it), little balls of biscuity fried dough bound together with honey that are called struffoli in Naples. Last but not least, let us not forget castagnole (called this way because they are reminiscent of castagne, the Italian word for chestnuts), which I often ate as a child in Venice.

 

I opted for these because they seemed like the quickest and easiest of all to make: there was no time for rising as I had a very hungry Ninja Turtle and rock star waiting for their snack.

 

 

 

 

While searching on the web, I discovered that in most places they are more akin to doughnuts, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, and can be filled with a variety of creams like the abovementioned tortelli (or frittelle? or zeppole?).

Very different from what I remembered.

 

Then I finally found a recipe for the castagnole that I grew up eating. It is, once again, a recipe from long ago, prepared with very simple and frugal ingredients. The castagnole were easy to make and they turned out exactly how I remembered them: not overly sweet, with a crumbly texture, almost like short crust pastry.

 

I think it took me 15 minutes tops to make them from scratch and the kids devoured them warm, proceeding to lick the confectioner's sugar off of their finger tips when they were done.

Buon Carnevale!

Ingredients (makes about 40)
50gr butter, softened
80gr sugar
3 eggs
pinch of salt
350gr flour, approximately
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla extract (optional)

oil for deep-frying
confectioner's sugar for garnish

 

In a stand mixer or in a bowl, mix the butter and sugar until light and airy. Add in the eggs one at a time. Add a pinch of salt and the flour a little at a time, making sure the batter does not turn too dry. Add the baking powder.

 

Start heating the oil, covering the bottom of the pot by about two inches.

 

Tear small pieces of the dough off and form little balls with your hands. When the oil is hot (you can check by throwing in a little piece of dough - it should not sink), deep fry the dough balls turning them every now and then until they are golden, about 3-5 minutes. They will start cracking a bit, that is normal. When they are ready, place them on a plate lined with paper towel to absorb excess oil. Sprinkle with confectioner's sugar and serve.

Carnival and orata al cartoccio - Sea bream wrapped and baked in foil

Yesterday was Martedì Grasso, better known as Mardi Gras or Fat/Shrove Tuesday in English. Cities dressed up and partied all over the world and people feasted, drank and danced to their heart's delight.

Having grown up in Venice, Carnival triggers a lot of memories of childhood pranks, costumes, dancing in the squares of the floating city, fingers sticky from fried, sugary delights throwing confetti up into the air.

In Milan, Carnival starts later than the rest of the world because the city follows the Ambrosian rite (named after Saint Ambrose, the fourth Century bishop of Milan who is also the city's patron saint) instead of the Roman rite. There are several differences in the liturgical year, one of them being that Lent starts four days later than in the Roman rite so that there is no Ash Wednesday, and Carnival continues until sabato grasso (literally Fat Saturday in Italian). In the past, much of Northern Italy celebrated Carnival following the Ambrosian rite, but nowadays only Milan and a few nearby towns and cities follow this tradition.

That is why my daughter's carnival party in kindergarden is today. Her class' theme is wild animals and she chose to be a lion. Teachers insist on not buying costumes (we are only allowed to recycle material) and taking the time to work on a family project together. A terrific idea, except I am the world's worst sewer. My fingers are crossed that the mane does not fall of the mask we painted together (I actually only helped with some of the black outlines) and that the tail I made with fabric and yarn does not unravel on her walk to school.

She painted it all by herself.

As many of you already know, I go to the office at the crack of dawn, so my husband F has morning duty with the kids taking them to school whilst I have afternoon duty picking them up. It ensues that a mask was a must, it was inconceivable that my husband paint my daughter's face at 8:00am. We thought it would at least be nice - and easy - to draw a little nose and some whiskers on her cheeks as she will not be wearing her mask the whole day.

So last night we had dress rehearsals and I showed my husband again how to snap on the very basic fur tunic I made (a crooked rectangle of fabric with no hems and one lone snap), how to tie on the tail (a strip of fabric that is supposed to be a belt with another long strip of fabric stiched onto it). Believe me when I say it is rustic. I then proceeded to draw a nose and whiskers on my daughter and told him where the eyepencil was in case I forgot to leave it out in my sleepy 6:00am mode.

Surely enough, this morning I got a phone call in the office. It was my husband hollering in my ear that he couldn't find the brown pencil, that he hates doing this stuff, that he knows nothing about make up etc. 

My mistake, I said I would leave it out for him. I used it and put it back into the glass where I keep such things. (I would love to mention that there are only 2 glasses in the bathroom, not 10. In them are eye pencils, scissors, mascara, an eyelash curler that I haven't used since 1987 and an eyebrow brush. Nothing more and nothing less. I also would be tempted to tell you that I remembered a whole other bunch of things at 6:15am like preparing the boy's clean bibs for daycare and his change of clothes. And last but not least I wish I could point out that my DH rolled his eyes when I told him where the pencil was last night. But I won't because I am a loving wife).

So as my daughter runs around roaring at her friends and my husband relaxes in front of his computer after another crazy morning of parenting (he is a wonderful dad and I am eternally grateful that he is not the stereotypical Italian man) I give you the simplest of ideas. A different way to cook fish now that Lent has started if you want to be traditional, or a healthy alternative to your usual recipes.

For those of you who do not know what pesce (fish) al cartoccio means, it is the process of cooking a whole small to medium-sized fish or individual filets wrapped in parchment paper or aluminum foil with seasoning and some form of liquid, allowing it to cook in the aromatic steam.