Straccetti di manzo con la rughetta

One of the iconic dishes of Roman cookery, stracetti con la rughetta, or 'little rags' with arugula, is also one of the simplest of all to prepare:

Take beef, sliced as thinly as possible and cut into short strips, and sauté it over a very high flame with a clove or two or slightly crushed garlic until it has just lost its raw color. Season liberally with salt and pepper, mix and remove from the heat. Throw is a few handfuls of raw arugula, toss until they have wilted, and serve immediately with a nice piece of crusty bread to sop up the delicious juices.

NOTES: The dish is best made with 'baby' arugula, which will wilt on contact with the hot beef and residual pan heat. If you have more 'mature' arugula, you may want to keep the skillet on the heat while you toss the beef 'rags' and greens together until they wilt. If you don't have arugula on hand or prefer a less assertive taste, baby spinach leaves (or a mixture of spinach and arugula leaves) would also work nicely. 

Depending on the cut of beef (see below) and the thickness of your slices, as well as the intensity of your heat source, the meat may give off liquid when you add it to the skillet. Not to worry, this is just fine, even desirable, as the cooking juices make a wonderful sauce for dipping bread into. Personally, however, I like to slice my beef paper-thin and keep the heat high for a 'dry' version of the dish. It is perhaps the closest think in Italian cooking to a 'stir fry'. 

One of the most common cuts of beef you'll find in an Italian supermarket or butcher are fettine di manzo, or sliced beef, which to make straccetti you beat a bit to flatten and then cut into 'rags'. In Rome, they also sell straccetti pre-flattened and cut up. Elsewhere, you may need to slice and pound the beef yourself. The cut will depend on your taste, but I find that ribeye combines great flavor with tenderness. Skirt steak is another good choice. The genius of straccetti, however, is that you can also use humble cuts like chuck that would otherwise be too tough for this sort of 'flash' cooking. If you have access to a Korean supermarket like H Mart, by the way, they often sell beef slices for Korean 'barbecue' that are excellent for making stracetti. 

Measurements are really pretty useless in this dish. The main point is to balance the amount of arugula against the amount of beef. Most recipes will call for roughly half as much arugula as beef by weight, but where the proper balance between the two main ingredients may lie is really up to you. Just be aware that when the leaves wilt they will reduce dramatically in volume, so if in doubt, add more than you think you need. 

There are a good number of variations on this dish, mostly riffs on the arugula. As mentioned, spinach provides a less assertive alternative to arugula. In Roman Jewish cooking, straccetti are paired with thin wedges of sautéed artichoke, which is also a lovely combination. Sautéed mushrooms are another possible combination, either instead of or in addition to arugula or spinach. Some recipes call for little cubes of raw tomato. Some recipes call for shallot or onion instead of garlic. And some recipes eschew the veg altogether and call for the 'rags' to be flash-fried in a garlic and rosemary soffritto. And for a slightly 'fancier' dish, you can top the dish with shavings of parmesan cheese and/or a few drops of balsamic vinegar—but for me, straccetti are typical cucina povera and the idea of dressing them up does not really compute. But if you like fancy, straccetti can be also made from veal. 

Arugula, by the way, is called rughetta in Roman dialect, hence the name of the dish. But you will also find it called straccetti if manzo con la rucola, since rucola is the standard Italian word for arugula. In Italy it grows wild all over the place and has always been considered a poor man's green. Funny to think that in some circles in the US it is seen as an 'elitist' vegetable! Arugula has a nature affinity with beef, and can also be found in one of my favorite ways of grilling steak called tagliata. (See my early post on an Italian cookout).

Frittata ai carciofi

The frittata is one of those categories of dishes, like risotto, where the main ingredient, in this case egg, can act as a foil to an almost infinite variety of flavors, being it meat, fish or vegetable. So by learning a single technique, you open up a whole new culinary galaxy. One of my favorite frittate, especially this time of year, is made with artichokes.

First, trim the artichoke in the usual Italian manner. Then cut the artichoke into very thin wedges and leave them in acidulated water. Then light sauté one or two slightly crushed garlic cloves in oil olive until it just begins to brown. Drain and add the artichoke wedges to the oil (don't worry if some water clings to them, it will actually help them to cook more quickly), season with salt and pepper, and toss to coat the wedges. Then lower the heat and cover. Allow the artichokes to stew for about 10-15 minutes, or until the artichoke wedges are quite tender. Uncover, raise the heat, and add a tritto of finely chopped garlic, parsley and mint. Mix well and sauté this mixture for a minute or two more. Remove from the heat and allow to cool.

While the artichokes are cooling, beat some eggs along with salt, pepper and some grated parmesan cheese. Fold in the artichoke wedges once they've cooled a bit (you don't want them to start cooking egg) and proceed in the usual manner for making frittata, either slowing browning it on both sides in a non-stick skillet, or frying one side and finishing off the other under the broiler, until nicely browned. 

Frittata can be served immediately, but they taste much better either lukewarm or at room temperature. 

NOTES: This frittata is especially good made with those small 'baby' artichokes. You trim baby artichokes in the same way you would a large globe artichoke, but it is actually quite a bit quicker and easier, as the leaves are more tender and, of course, there is less to trim. And most baby artichokes will not have formed that fuzzy core known as the 'choke', so you should make short work. The stem on a baby artichoke is much thinner as well, so I usually use a peeler rather than a paring knife. Otherwise, you may find yourself cutting the stem right off. 

What about measurements, you ask? Well for a normal sized skillet, I find that six large eggs and say, four or five baby artichokes work well. That will make enough for 2-4 people, depending on appetites and what else you may be serving along with the frittata. 

One nice variation is to add, instead of or in addition to the parmesan cheese, small cubes of fontina or another semi-soft cheese like Emmenthal or Munster, to the egg and artichoke mixture before you begin to slow-fry the frittata. It provides a nice creamy balance to the slightly astringent quality of the artichokes.

Frittate are quite versatile, by the way. They can serve as antipasto, primo or second, depending on your mood and the rest of the menu. They make wonderful snacks, or as filling between two slices of pane pugliese makes a delicious 'peasant' sandwich.

Carciofi alla romana

Dear readers: I am back from my travels, at my blogging post just in time for the first day of Spring. Artichokes are back in season! And is there any vegetable more typical of Roman cooking, perhaps of all Italian cuisine, than the artichoke? What better way to get back to work, then, than this dish, one of the most typically Roman ways to prepare artichokes called, appropriately enough, alla romana, or 'in the Roman style': stuffed with garlic and herbs, and simmered in olive oil and water. Nothing could be simpler, or more flavorful.

The only tricky part of this dish, like any artichoke dish, is the initial trimming of the artichoke. Much of a mature artichoke—the outer leaves and the inner core or 'choke'—are inedible, and the Italian way with artichokes is to trim them of all their inedible parts before cooking them. In Rome, many markets, including the famous Campo de' fiori market near our place, would sell you pre-trimmed artichokes—at a higher price, of course—which saves you the trouble, but elsewhere you'll need to do it yourself. The operation is not all that difficult, but it takes some practice to get the 'hang' of it:

First, remove all the tough outer leaves from the artichoke. Beneath, you will find thinner, lighter colored leaves that you should leave on. Cut off the tip of the artichoke. Then, taking a very sharp, solid paring knife, begin to pare away the sides of the artichoke, starting from the wide base, holding the artichoke in one hand and rotating it as you pare away with the other hand, as if you were peeling an apple. Then, taking a spoon, scoop out the fuzzy core or 'choke' of the vegetable, including the thin, spiny leaves (often a dark purple color) that often surround the choke. Wash the artichoke well under cold running water to remove any of the 'fuzz' that tends to stick to the vegetable. Then cut off all but 3-4 cm (1-1-1/2 inch) of the stem, and pare away its tough, fibrous outer layer. All the while as you are paring the artichoke, you should make sure to rub it the exposed side of a lemon that you have sliced in two, to prevent discoloration. 

For a nice step-by-step visual guide to trimming an artichoke, see this article (the explanations are in Italian, but no matter: the photographs will show you the way). 

After you are through trimming, immediately drop the artichoke into a large bowl of acidulated water to prevent discoloration. Proceed in the same fashion with the rest of your artichokes:

You are now ready to staff and cook your artichokes: Make a tritto of garlic, parsley and mint, mixed with salt and pepper and wet with a bit of olive oil. Stuff the hallowed out cores of the artichokes with this mixture. Then stand the artichokes up, stems upward, in a terracotta casserole or enameled cast iron Dutch oven or other heavy pot with tall sides. Add a generous amount of olive oil and then enough water to come halfway up the artichokes (not counting the stem):

Season with salt and pepper. (Although not part of the traditional recipe, I also like to add an extra sprig of mint and garlic clove to the liquid.) If you have any extra garlic-and-herb stuffing, you can add it to the liquid as well. Cover the pot and let the artichokes simmer for about 30 minutes. Check for doneness with a knife; they should be tender but not 'mushy'. Allow the artichokes to cool before serving, moistened with a bit of the liquid.

NOTES: This recipe calls for the larger sort of artichokes known as 'globe' artichokes, known as mammole in Italian. When an artichoke is fresh, its leaves will cling tightly to the vegetable and show no sign of discoloration. Unfortunately, it is rare to find such fresh specimens in US markets (California, where most artichokes in the US are grown) might be the exception) but this treatment works well even with less than perfectly fresh artichokes. Slightly smaller artichokes will also work—and will cook in less time—but 'baby' artichokes will not. 

Carciofi alla romana are very versatile. They can be an antipasto, a secondo for a vegan/vegetarian meal or even a light lunch or supper. They are one of the two most typically Roman ways of preparing artichokes, the other being carciofi alla giudia, or "Jewish style" artichokes, which I will blog about soon. 

Post scriptum: By the way, I never throw away the cooking liquid. It is perfectly delicious and, although it is perhaps not very orthodox, I like to serve the liquid, too, at table, for dipping with nice crusty bread.

Risotto al radicchio e Saint-André

Here is a risotto that should prove that vegetarian dishes can be perfectly satisfying, even indulgent: a risotto made with vegetable broth, and flavored with a wonderful combination of bitter radicchio with the creamy savor of Saint-André cheese. 

You proceed as for any risotto, beginning with a soffritto of chopped onion or, better yet, shallot sweated in butter (or butter and oil). Then add finely chopped radicchio (about ½ a head per person) and allow it to wilt and absorb the flavor of the onion and butter. Raise the heat, add your rice and allow it to lightly 'toast' until it becomes opaque (remember, the rice should not actually brown at all) then add a splash of dry white wine. When the wine has evaporated, proceed as usual, adding a ladleful of vegetarian broth at a time, until rice is almost cooked al dente. Just before the rice is done, add a good chunk of Saint-André cheese, together with a handful of grated parmesan cheese and, if you like, just a spoonful or so of cream. Mix vigorously until the cheese has entirely melted and amalgamated with the rice. Serve immediately. 

NOTES: You could use, of course, a meat-based broth with this risotto, but this is actually one case where, in my book, vegetarian broth actually produces a superior result. With the richness of the added cheese, a meat based broth would produce a 'heavy' result—not that this dish will ever be light. 

For tips on making risotto, including technique and choosing the right type of rice, see the post on the ABCs of Making Risotto. 

Post-scriptum: Regular readers will have noticed fewer posts than usual lately on this blog. Unfortunately, yours truly has been 'under the weather' for the past few days. In the next couple of weeks, I will be traveling, so we will be experiencing a short break here at Memorie di Angelina, but we'll be back just in time for the beginning of Spring, and a whole new gamut of lighter, brighter dishes for the new season!