Miz Chef

Cooking Up a Healthy Life


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Pignoccata al Miele (Honey Cookies)

Calabria

Welcome back to my Regions of Italy project, based on La Cucina—The Regional Cooking of Italy by Accademia Italiana della Cucina (The Italian Academy of Cuisine).

This week, I stepped away from the middle of the list back toward the beginning, to Calabria, for this sweet treat, Pignoccata al Miele, or Honey Cookies.

As usual, I made some adjustments to the ingredients (for example, I substituted butter for the called-for lard) and the instructions. Most particularly, the original recipe instructed to roll out the dough ½ inch thick. I found this to be too thick when cooked. Not only did the outside cook far too quickly while the inside remained raw, it also resulted in a denser, heavier cookie. So I would go with ¼ inch thick on the dough. At ½ inch thick, it yielded 64 cookies; it will, of course, yield more if you roll it out at ¼ inch.

In the end, these treats reminded me a lot of struffoli, except that they’re square instead of round. The cooking process is the same, the flavor profile is the same, and the texture is the same. (If you don’t know what struffoli are, they’re a traditional holiday treat made up of dough cut up into little balls or nuggets and dropped in oil. Then they’re drizzled with honey and decorated with sprinkles and/or candied fruit.)

Two things I want to note: I thought these cookies were a little too sweet. If that’s your thing, fine. But if, like me, you prefer things not cloying, eliminate the sugar in the honey mixture.

Enjoy.

Pignoccata al Miele

Honey Cookies

2 oranges
3 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
3 teaspoons active dry yeast
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch salt
½ cup orange liqueur (such as Grand Marnier, Cointreau, or Triple Sec)
3 large eggs
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
Cooking oil
3 tablespoons honey

Grate the zest of one orange. Peel the second orange and cut the peel into strips about ½ inch thick. (Use the flesh of the oranges for something else, or eat it!)

Whisk together the flour, 2/3 cup sugar, yeast, cinnamon, and salt. Add the liqueur and grated zest. Whisk these together to blend. With an electric mixer, combine this mixture with the eggs, melted butter, and softened butter until a dough forms.

Cover the bowl with a cloth and let the dough rise for 1 hour.

Turn the dough out onto a work surface. Roll it out into a sheet (I recommend ¼ inch thick), then cut it into 1-inch squares.Heat about 3 inches of cooking oil in a heavy-bottomed pot. Line a platter with paper towels and set it by the stove.When the oil is very hot, place a few of the squares into the oil and fry until golden, about 2 to 3 minutes. Scoop them out with a slotted spoon and drain them on the paper towels. Repeat this until all the cookies are cooked.Heat the honey with 1 tablespoon sugar (if using) and orange peel in a large skillet. Add the fried squares and stir them around to soak up the honey (do this in multiple batches if necessary).Arrange on a serving platter and serve warm or at room temperature.

 


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Zimino di Ceci

Liguria

Hello. This week for my Regions of Italy project, based on La Cucina—The Regional Cooking of Italy by Accademia Italiana della Cucina (The Italian Academy of Cuisine), I’m in Liguria. Liguria sits in a crescent along the Mediterranean coastline on the west side of Italy.

My first recipe for this region is Zimino di Ceci, or Chickpea Stew. This is a pretty easy recipe, and quick, if you don’t count the overnight soaking time. The ingredients list calls for a few items that require prep (although minimal) before using them in the recipe. So I’ve moved the prep instructions for these items to the recipe itself. The other thing I did was to add the mushroom soaking liquid to the stew, which gave it a nice depth of flavor.

Enjoy.

Zimino di Ceci

Chickpea Stew

Makes 4-6 servings.

1½ cups dried chickpeas, soaked overnight*
½ teaspoon sea salt, plus extra
1 ounce dried porcini mushrooms
3 or 4 ripe plum tomatoes
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 celery rib, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
¾ pound Swiss chard, chopped
Toasted bread (optional)

Drain the chickpeas and rinse them. Place them in a large pot and cover them with fresh water by about 3 inches. Add ¼ teaspoon salt and bring to a boil; lower the heat to medium-low and simmer, partially covered, until they’re tender, about 2 to 2 ½ hours.

Meanwhile, soak the mushrooms in water for about 15 minutes. Drain them and pat them dry with paper towels or a kitchen towel. Chop and set them aside.Bring a pot large enough to fit the tomatoes and fill with water. Cut an “x” into the top of the tomatoes and place them in the water for about 10 to 15 seconds (until you see the skin splitting apart). Scoop them out and let them cool. When they’re cool enough to handle, peel off the skin, remove the seeds, and chop them. Set them aside.Drain the chickpeas in a colander set over a bowl and reserve the liquid.Wipe out the pot. Add the oil and heat. Add the onion, celery, garlic, and mushrooms (reserve the liquid), and ¼ teaspoon salt. Sauté until onions and celery are soft, about 5 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes (and any liquid they gave off). Then add the chard. Cook 2 minutes.Add the chickpeas and cook 10 minutes. Add 1 cup of the reserved chickpea liquid. Carefully pour in the reserved mushroom liquid, making sure to leave any sediment in the bowl. Cook another 5 minutes. If you want it more brothy, add more of the chickpea liquid until it reaches the consistency you like. Taste for seasoning and adjust, if needed.Serve with toasted bread, if desired.

*Place the chickpeas in a bowl and cover them with water by about 3 inches. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for 24 hours.

 

 

 


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Carcofi alla Giudia

Lazio

Hi there. Welcome once again to my Regions of Italy project, based on La Cucina—The Regional Cooking of Italy by Accademia Italiana della Cucina (The Italian Academy of Cuisine). I’m now entering the region of Lazio, whose principal city is Rome. Rome, of course, is the capital of Italy and the heart of the ancient Roman Empire.

Rome is home to one of the oldest Jewish populations in Europe, and artichokes feature prominently in Roman Jewish cuisine. Carciofi alla Giudia is an iconic dish of the region. The artichokes are smashed open and cooked in oil so that the leaves are crispy and the interiors are tender. As you can see in the photo above, I didn’t do a very good job of keeping the leaves open, but they were delicious anyway.

Here’s a tip: Make sure you use a saucepan that is just big enough to hold the artichokes upright. If there’s too much space in the pan, the artichokes may flop over. (Then again, if you do a better job of keeping them open than I did, maybe it won’t be a problem.)

Carciofi alla Giudia

Jewish-Style Artichokes

Makes 4 servings.

1 lemon, cut in half
4 large globe artichokes
Salt and pepper

4 cups extra virgin olive oil

Fill a large bowl with water and squeeze the lemon into it (this is called acidulating the water). Save the lemon shells.

Remove the tough outer leaves from the artichokes. Cut the stems, leaving only 1 inch, then use a paring knife to trim the tough outer layer of the stem and the bottoms of the artichokes. “At the end, each artichoke should be similar to a flower.” (That’s in the original recipe. I decided to leave it in because, while not very helpful to a novice cook, it’s a lovely description.) Rub all the cut edges of the artichokes with the cut sides of the lemon shells as you trim each one, then place them in the acidulated water.Remove the artichokes from the water and dry them with a towel. Turn each one top down on a hard surface and press firmly. Then spread open each one with your hands. You want to expand the leaves to create an open-flower effect. Sprinkle the insides with salt and pepper.
Fill a saucepan with about 3 inches of oil and heat it over medium heat. When it’s hot, immerse the artichokes, stem up, and cook about 10 minutes. With a pair of tongs (two, if you have them), carefully turn them over and arrange them stem down for another 10 minutes.
Remove them from the pan and drain them on paper towels. Sprinkle them with a little water to draw out the oil and make them even crisper. Serve hot.


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Paparot—Spinach-Cornmeal Soup

Fruili-Venezia Giulia

I’m just barely one-third through the regions of my Regions of Italy project, based on La Cucina—The Regional Cooking of Italy by Accademia Italiana della Cucina (The Italian Academy of Cuisine). I skipped a few recipes because of seasonal availability of ingredients, but I’ll get back around to those later. Right now, I’m in Fruili-Venezia Giulia, at the very high point of Italy.

This is another simple but unique recipe. Cornmeal is a common ingredient in this region of Italy, and it figures heavily in a traditional soup called Paparot. It’s a thick, hearty soup, but made properly, it’s silky and luxurious. Although it is traditional to serve it with crusty toasted bread, you can also add some rice or noodles.

Paparot

Spinach-Cornmeal Soup

Makes 6 servings.

2 pounds spinach, washed, large stems removed
¼ teaspoon kosher salt, plus more
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 or 2 large garlic cloves, peeled but whole
¾ cup all-purpose flour
8 cups broth
2/3 cup fine cornmeal
Salt to taste
Freshly ground pepper to taste

Boil the spinach in a large pot of water with ¼ teaspoon salt just until wilted, about 3 to 4 minutes. Drain well and squeeze out as much water as possible. Chop the spinach and set aside.

In the same pot, melt the butter over low heat. Add the garlic and saute until golden on all sides. Remove the garlic and add the spinach. Whisk in the flour. Pour in half the broth, stirring constantly to prevent lumps. If any lumps form, work them out with the back of a wooden spoon.Pour in the remainder of the broth, then whisk in the cornmeal. Work out any lumps that form with the back of a wooden spoon. Cook over medium-low heat 30- to 40 minutes, stirring frequently and pressing out lumps, until the soup is thick. Season with salt and pepper.

 

 


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Minestra di Zucca

Fruili-Venezia Giulia

Welcome back to my Regions of Italy project, based on La Cucina—The Regional Cooking of Italy by Accademia Italiana della Cucina (The Italian Academy of Cuisine). This week’s recipe moves us into Fruili-Venezia Giulia, which is in the most northeastern corner of Italy. It borders Austria and Slovenia and it’s cuisine is influenced by those cultures. It uses a lot of root vegetables and hearty grains. The first recipe from the region I offer is a very simple one: butternut squash soup.

You’ve had butternut squash soup before, right? So have I. It’s a pretty common dish. There’s something a little different about this one, though. After the squash is cooked, a cup of ricotta is stirred in, creating a unique soup. The recipe is straight-forward and I don’t have too much to say about it, except for one thing. The original recipe instructs to “squeeze dry” the squash. I don’t know what they mean by this, but I put the squash in a sieve and pressed on it with a wooden spoon to release excess water. I further tweaked the instructions for clarity, and I thought the soup needed salt (not given in the original recipe). Other than that, it’s all pretty easy. Give it a try. Enjoy.

Minestra di Zucca

Squash Soup

Makes 6 servings.

1 butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into chunks
½ teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 large garlic clove, minced
1 cup ricotta
1 tablespoon grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
Pinch ground cinnamon
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Place the squash in a pot large enough to hold it all and cover with water. Add ½ teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil; lower the heat to medium-low and simmer until the squash is tender, about 8 to 10 minutes. Drain the squash into a sieve set over a bowl to catch the water. Press the squash to release as much liquid as possible. Reserve the cooking water.Return the pot to the heat. Combine the oil and butter, and heat until the butter has melted. Add the garlic, then whisk in the flour.Add the squash and mash it with a potato masher or a stick blender. Stir in the ricotta, Parmigiano-Reggiano, cinnamon, pepper, and salt. Stir in some of the reserved cooking water until it reaches a consistency to your liking. Taste for seasoning and adjust if necessary.

 


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Strozzapreti—Priest-Chokers with “Salsify” Sauce

Emilia-Romagna

Ah, caught your eye with that title, didn’t I? Strozzapreti, which literally means “priest-chokers” (strozza=to choke or strangle; preti=priest) is a type of pasta, and it stars in this week’s recipe in my 20 Regions of Italy project, based on the book La Cucina—The Regional Cooking of Italy by Accademia Italiana della Cucina (The Italian Academy of Cuisine).

Here’s the thing: Some pasta names refer to different shapes, depending on what region of Italy you go to, and so it is with strozzapreti. In some regions, strozzapreti look like twisted ropes, whereas in other regions, it refers to various shapes that are large and grow larger as they cook, and can easily be used to choke the local cleric. There are different theories for the origin of the name, from accidental choking to intentional suffocation, but it’s one of the best pasta shape names. (It seems to me that since this name is widespread throughout the country, choking priests must have been a common practice.) In Emilia-Romagna, they resemble what my people from Basilicata referred to as “macaroni.” I looked for something in the supermarket to replicate this and the closest I came was casarecci, or “house-style noodles.” You can also use gemelli, or anything similar. In the case of this specific recipe (i.e., according to the book), this pasta got its name from its white color, due to the lack of eggs, and reminiscent of priests’ collars.

Lischi/agretti

The recipe is from the nineteenth century, but the title of this recipe is misleading. When I first saw it, I assumed I’d be using salsifythat long, black-skinned root vegetable, called scorzanera in Italian (scorza=peel, nera=black). But I was wrong. What this dish actually requires is a marsh grass known in Italian as lischi, agretti or Barba di Frate. The authors of this book (or perhaps the translators) seem to think that lischi are the young leaves of the salsify plant, but I’ve researched it and I’ve come up with no evidence to support this. Maybe somewhere in the translation, they ran across lischi’s latin name, Salsola soda, and confused it with salsify.

Having said all that, lischi is almost impossible to get locally in the U.S., unless you’re lucky enough to encounter

it at a farmers’ market somewhere, grow it yourself, or order it online. The book suggests using Swiss chard leaves as a substitute, but that comes nowhere near replicating lischi. I scoured the many offerings of Asian markets, looking for something similar. Lischi have a grassy, slightly bitter taste, and are long. They look almost like Chinese long beans, only with an oceanic sheen to it, similar to algae, or seaweed. Neither of those things, however, seemed appropriate. In the end, I settled for chives. Not the smallish French, or onion, chives (the kind that you snip on top of your hors d’oeuvres), and not flowering chives, but long, flat-leaf chives, known as garlic chives. The garlicky flavor is very mild when it’s cooked, and it has a similar strand-like appearance to the lischi.

 

The result was pretty good, and definitely a change of pace from the typical pasta dish.

Flat-leaf chives

Strozzapreti

Priest-Chokers with Salsify Sauce

Makes 4 servings.

½ pound strozzapretti (or other short pasta)
2 teaspoons salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
7 ounces pancetta, diced
4 ounces lischi (or flat-leaf chives)
1 cup dry red wine, preferably Sangiovese di Romagna)
2/3 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Bring a medium pot of water to a boil. Add the pasta and 2 teaspoons salt. Cook, stirring often, until the pasta is al dente, about 8 to 12 minutes, depending on the type you use. Drain well.

Meanwhile, place the lischi (or chives) in another pot and cover with water. Bring it to a boil; lower the heat and simmer until the the vegetables are tender, about 3 to 5 minutes. Drain well.Heat 1 tablespoon of the butter in a medium pan; add the pancetta and saute over low heat until the pancetta has lightly browned. Add the lischi and wine. Simmer over medium heat. When the wine has evaporated, add the cooked strozzapreti and the rest of the butter. Toss to heat. Sprinkle with the Parmigiano-Reggiano and serve.

 


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Palline di Castagne

Campania

Hello again. Thanks for coming back to see where I am in my 20 Regions of Italy project, based on the book La Cucina—The Regional Cooking of Italy by Accademia Italiana della Cucina (The Italian Academy of Cuisine).

Again, I’m going to take a step back from Emilia-Romagna to Campania. This time, I made Palline di Castagne, or Chestnut Balls. They resemble chocolate truffles in appearance, but have a unique flavor.

I must say that some recipes benefit from a test run and a re-do, and this is one of those recipes, because the first batch I made was inedible, while the second batch was really good and worthy of serving to guests. But I did make one very important modification.

The recipe calls for 1 cup milk, which, as I discovered, was way too much. The resulting confections were much too wet. So much so that they couldn’t be rolled out into smooth balls, and the texture was very off-putting. I must confess that I made half the recipe (in other words, I used ½ cup milk). The ingredients are few enough and simple enough that halving the recipe wasn’t a problem, but I have to wonder if, somehow, it affected the end product. However, I don’t think this was the case. What I did with the second batch was to add a little bit of milk, a little at a time, just until the ingredients held together. In total, I used maybe a couple of tablespoons.

Here’s my personal tip: The original recipe says to pass the cooked chestnuts through a sieve. I tried this method and found that, because of their texture, some of the chestnuts gets trapped in the mesh of the strainer. I found it to be both messy and wasteful. Then I tried grating it, and the result was pretty much the same, if not worse. I found that using a food processor works best. It does the job quickly, with minimal mess, and the least amount of waste. It may not be traditional, but it’s the most effective.

I’m giving half the recipe here because it made 28, and I feel that’s a good number of confections to make. Of course, if you want to make a full batch, just double everything. But be careful with that milk!

Palline di Castagne

Chestnut Balls

Makes 28.

1 pound chestnuts
2½ tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon bitter cocoa powder
2 tablespoons rum or Marsala wine
¼ cup whole milk

½ cup confectioners’ sugar

Using a paring knife, cut an “x” in the flat sides of the chestnuts, or cut a little flap in the top part of the chestnuts. Place the chestnuts in a medium pot and cover with water. Bring the pot to a boil; lower the heat and simmer until the chestnuts are tender, about 20 minutes. Drain the chestnuts and let them cool. When they’re cool enough to handle, peel them.Pulverize them either by passing them through a mesh sieve, grating them, or pulsing them in a food processor. Transfer the mixture to a medium bowl.Add the sugar, cocoa power, and rum or Marsala and stir. Begin adding the milk a little at a time just until the mixture holds together. Mix well.Spread the confectioners’ sugar out on a plate.

Take a tablespoon of the mixture and roll it into a ball. Make a few more and place them in the sugar. Roll them around to coat them fully and place them on a platter. Repeat with the remaining mixture.Arrange them on a plate and serve. You can make these a day or two ahead of time, but wait until the last minute to roll them in the sugar because the sugar will eventually melt.