Gratin di sardine con pomodori e capperi (or sardine gratin with tomatoes and capers)

 

The other night  our youngest had a meltdown little moment right before dinner, the kind only a four year old can regale you with. The kind that makes you wonder if you are plain dumb or if you missed something crucial because it takes you totally by surprise and you have no idea why it is happening.

The scene: the children's room. Toys strewn all over the floor. Dinner is about to be served.

The rule: whoever makes a mess, cleans up. When the job is too daunting for a four year old and a little overwhelming for him to tackle on his own for organizational reasons, we help and also give him some general guidelines (put all the animals into the green box, all the lego pieces go into the blue box).

Action: my husband gives him a hand; they seemingly work together in harmony and the job is soon done. Dinner is on the table.

Next thing we know, our son turns into a raving, screaming, three-headed monster. He starts throwing all his neatly stowed away boxes and toys all over the floor again, putting them the way they were before the clean-up.

Aha, you are thinking, he wanted to do it himself, he wants to assess his independence, Daddy shouldn't have rushed him.

 

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

 

  

 

Fattoush with za'atar croutons

We are counting the days until we leave for vacation and I am simultaneously counting the calories in my food and the kilos on my scale. I am not too happy with the result, I'm telling you. Also, after that cheese and meat fest last weekend, my body is begging me to detox a little and eat healthier. If I happen to shed a couple of pounds whilst pampering my insides, no one is complaining right?

I went over to My New Roots (because let's face it, Sarah radiates such healthy beauty you cannot not follow her advice) to read up on detoxing, fasting (just daydreaming) and came across quite a few recipes I could not resist. Because, although many are a little too healthy for my palate, others are lovely and mouthwatering even if you are not on a health kick. So now I am drinking a glass of warm water with lemon juice every morning on an empty stomach and I am trying to eat as healthy as possible, cutting out any excess and getting ideas from her.

Out goes cheese with natural molds perfect for polenta, enter fattoush.

Fattoush, as most of you probably already know, is a Levantine salad typically made with parsley, mint, tomatoes and cucumbers (or other seasonal vegetables). Stale, preferably fried pita bread and sumac are key ingredients and the vegetables and herbs are more coarsely chopped than for tabbouleh. Fatt in Arabic means crushed. It is a refreshing salad with a pungent, sour flavour imparted by the sumac (a powder whose name is the same as the dried berries it is made with, that grow in Mediterranean countries) and lemon juice. It is salad with pizaaz, a must for the hot months. I, being me, of course made some small variations that should however not bother fattoush integralists too much. I am sure they will forgive me for using up some stale bread we brought back from the mountains instead of pita. Nobody likes waste, right? And they may even feel flattered that I dressed these croutons up with sumac's more glamorous cousin, Ms. Za'atar.

Instead of using sumac in the dressing I liberally brushed the bread with olive oil and za'atar and toasted it in the oven. And I sprinkled some more of it over the fattoush itself. Za'atar being a mix of sesame seeds (I toasted mine), sumac, salt, thyme and oregano (but there are as many variations as there are families making it I believe. Please correct me if I am wrong). To top it all off, I made a dressing with garlic-infused olive oil, lemon juice, lemon zest, salt and a tablespoon of maple syrup (remember, no sugar these days). I would have used honey if it had been in a more liquid form.

Roasted eggplant salad with tzatziki herb dressing

My daughter will be back tomorrow and I can't wait to see her. This week, however, has given me time to spend with my youngest.

He never had the fortune of being the first, that little creature who totally capsizes your world in wonderful (and not always so wonderful) ways. The baby you spend hours staring at, playing with, nurturing. Your first baby is the one you take endless pictures of, you make scrapbooks for, recording every detail of her growth. You scrutinize the content of each and every diaper, you count the strands of hair and sprouting teeth over and over. The first is the baby you play classical music for when she is in your tummy, you do not allow near sugar and salt or anything with a bit of flavor for the first two years of her life. Your first child starts watching TV (10 minutes and no more) when she is a toddler and is only allowed to watch educational programs. You buy her specific toys and/or books for every stage of her devolopment and spend time playing/reading with her. You take her to baby massage groups and English playgroups (if you live abroad) and hum lullabies to her in a semi-dark room at naptime.

By the time your second comes along it is a whole different world. Whilst in your tummy he is already a comfy perch for the older child, forget Mozart's sweet notes. As soon as he is out, his world is a place of noise and light. No lullabies in cool, dark rooms. If he survives his older sibling he will be picking up the crumbs from her cookies and initiating his sugar intake long before he is two. Every time he starts playing with a toy, his older sister will grab it from him (well, to be fair, he will do the same). He will constantly be sucking on that made-in-China barbie or car made out of toxic materials and with a million detachable pieces that his sibling got as a present from their great aunt's cousin twice removed last month.

When I had my second child, my sister warned me I would not take as many picture of him. I promised myself I would, that he would get his personal storyboard, just like my first. I have stuck to that. But that is pretty much it.

He had his first taste of ice cream before he turned two and when he watches TV it is usually Barbie and the 200 Dancing Princesses in the friggin' Diamond Castle. Or Shrek when he gets lucky. His bedtime books are usually more intricate than the Dr. Seuss and Baby Einstein we read to him every once in a while. He has never known the delight of playing with the floating letters and Sesame Street characters all on his own.

All in all, he does have the constant entertainment and company of another child, unlike his sister did. He has a very active social life, I'll give you that, but it is really his sisters'. No fancy English playgroups and massages for that guy. He hangs out with snotty-nosed babies and cool three-year olds because they are his sister's friends'younger siblings. All in all he has it pretty good, he is stimulated (albeit in a different way than my first), he is 2 going on to 6 and has a sugar and salt-coated life.

But I for once I wanted him to feel like my first. The last and only time his sister went away he was too distraught to enjoy it. This week he did a lot better and I pampered him and cuddled him and kissed his little cheeks sore. We read the Foot Book and Good Night Gorilla over and over, we played with non-toxic games that are age appropriate and I sat with him and taught him all the tricks. He splashed in the bathtub to his delight and we watched The Bear in the Big Blue House and Thomas the Train. We both miss his sister a lot, and every time he asks where she is I am wondering the same thing, but I am grateful for every extra cuddle I can give him this week.

Since he loved the yogurt sauce (and posing with it) I made recently so much and because I am always thinking up new ways to get him to eat vegetables, I decided to make this to spoil him a little. He did not mind in the least.

Loosely inspired by Ottolenghi's recipe taught in person to the Heavenly Housewife.

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.