Risotto verde

As explained in my post on the ABCs of making risotto, it is one of those infinitely versatile dishes that smart cooks live by. Once you know the basic recipe, you've actually formed an entire repertoire by just varying the flavoring ingredient, which can be meat, fish, vegetable or even fruit. One of my favorite ways of making risotto is called risotto verde, or green risotto, made with green vegetables, most commonly—and my personal favorite—spinach. It has a wonderful flavor and, to my mind, looks very pretty on the plate.

You simply follow the basic recipe for making a risotto in bianco, starting with a soffritto of onion or shallot sautéed in butter—and I think butter tastes best here—and proceed to add your rice, then a splash of white wine, then ladlefuls of broth, one by one, until the rice is almost done. Then add some baby spinach, which you will have rinsed well of any grit and puréed in a blender with a bit of broth until perfectly smooth. Continue until the rice is done al dente, then proceed to the usual mantecatura, adding grated parmesan cheese and a dab of butter or—as I prefer—a slurp of heavy cream. The cream is not very orthodox, but I find that it complements the taste of the spinach very well. Serve immediately, with additional cheese on the side for those who want to top their risotto with it.

As for measurements, follow the general rule of 75-100g (2-1/2 to 3 oz.) of rice per person, and an equal amount by weight of spinach. The rest is to taste or, as in the case of the broth, quanto basta or as much as you need.

NOTES: I find that this dish works best with baby spinach, with has a lovely sweet taste and fine, velvety texture when puréed. But if you have older spinach on hand, then make sure to trim off their stems, and briefly blanch the leaves in boiling water, before you puréed them. They will need less broth to form a purée. If you want a richer dish, you can sauté the spinach purée in some more butter, and season it with salt, pepper and some grated nutmeg.

Some recipes, by the way, call for adding the spinach, in the more typical fashion, to the soffritto at the beginning of the cooking process, but I find that this robs the spinach of its sweetness, so I think this is one of those cases where you are well advised to wait until almost the end.

Spinach is typical but you could make risotto verde with another leafy green vegetable like swiss chard, arugula, watercress or even kale—although kale needs a lot of cooking, so you should definitely blanch it, and add it at the beginning, not the end. Some recipes combine spinach or another leafy vegetable with other green vegetables like peas or asparagus. And while my favorite version tends towards using dairy, there is a version (from Abruzzo, according to the Accademia italiana della cucina) that begins with a soffritto that combines onion, garlic and carrot sautéed in olive oil, and end with a mantecatura using some grated parmesan but no cream at the end. I have also found one recipe online that 'gilds the lily' a bit, suggesting the addition of ricotta—a classic combination with spinach, of course—along with cream and parmesan cheese.

«Polpetielli» affogati

Octopus is a popular food all around the Mediterranean basin and yet elsewhere it is often, for some reason, 'controversial'. Many people who will happily scarf down fried calamari will shudder at the thought of eating its close cousin, which is too bad, because octopus is one of the finest fruits of the sea. When properly cooked, it is perfectly delicious, tasting much like squid but… more so, with a deeper flavor, almost 'gamey', in a good way. It is also very affordable. It cost me $6.00 a pound, in that store that some folks call "Whole Paycheck".

The main issue with octopus is toughness. Large octopus needs to be cooked for a very long time, and they are often beaten beforehand, a bit like tripe, for tenderize them. But baby octopus is another story. It needs long slow cooking, but 45 minutes to an hour is often enough for the smallest varieties. Slightly more mature octopus is sometimes also sold as 'baby' octopus, so cooking times may vary. Like squid, octopus also need to be cleaned (see Notes below) but more often than not they are sold pre-cleaned. Or you can ask your friendly fishmonger to clean them for you. Once they're clean, rinse them well and set them in a bowl until you are ready to begin cooking.

In any event, the cooking method is as easy as it gets. You place your baby octopus, whole, into a pot (traditionally terracotta but enameled cast iron or even a heavy stainless or copper pot will do fine) together with about half as much by weight of canned tomatoes, a drizzle of olive oil, some chopped garlic, a dash of salt and, if you want a little heat, some red pepper flakes. Cover tightly and simmer over lowish heat for 45 minutes to an hour. By this time, the octopus should be tender and the sauce should be nice and thick, and rather darker than when it started. If the octopus is done but the sauce still rather thin, which can happened since octopus tend to shed liquid while cooking, you can fish them out of the sauce and continue reducing until you have the right consistency, then add the octopus back in to heat up again. If, on the other hand, the sauce has reduced but the octopus still needs some more cooking, then just add a bit of water and continue simmering. About 5-10 minutes before the dish is done, add some chopped parsley. Serve hot, with a bit of the sauce and, if you like, some more parsley and/or a drizzle of olive oil on top.

NOTES: A bit like a pizzaiola, the red sauce makes a delicious dressing for pasta. If you want more sauce, you can up the ratio of tomato to octopus from 1:2 to 1:1. The pasta could be served as a primo before the octopus or at a separate meal.

You can also use a pressure cooker to speed up the cooking time. It should take about 20-30 minutes after it comes up to pressure. You will then need to simmer it for a few minutes to reduce the sauce, since there is much less evaporation when cooking under pressure.

The august Jeane Caròla Francesconi includes a recipe for this dish in La cucina napoletana. She is very adamant that you should make sure that the lid should be tight when simmering, and suggests using a piece of waxed paper (you could also use aluminum foil) to ensure a seal. And she admonishes the reader not to open the lid during the simmering. Not sure why but I won't question her wisdom! Of course, this is not an issue when using a pressure cooker.

As mentioned, the only tricky part of cooking octopus is the preliminary cleaning of the octopus, which is to say removing the inedible bits. You need essentially to remove its 'mouth', which is located on its underside, at the center of its tentacles. This can be done fairly easily with a paring knife. You then remove the ink sack  (most but not all octupus have one) and any viscera through the resulting hole. (Be careful not to puncture the ink sac, as you will wind up with black ooze all over the place!)

A pre-cleaned baby octopus

This fine article by Mark Bittman on octopus, in particular its cleaning, for The Splendid Table is well-worth a read. .

Rillettes de porc

One of my favorite ways to while away a rainy Sunday afternoon is to browse through my old cookbooks. I have a fairly extensive collection, scattered in different places around the house, and there is nothing so pleasant than finding one of those old tomes that I had forgotten I even have and diving back into its old recipes, a little like happening on an old lost friend on the street and striking up a conversation.

So it was this afternoon. I thumbing through some of my older cookbooks that I keep down in the den and came across an old, yellowed paperback, copyright 1968, entitled Everyday French Cooking. In fact, that plain-jane title is a bit deceiving, as it this little book is, in reality, a translation and adaption of the Nouveau Guide Culinaire by Henri-Paul Pellaprat, one of the most influential French chefs of the last century. I leafed through the book and found a recipe for one of my favorite appetizers of all time, rillettes de porc, or 'potted pork'. I hadn't had rillettes quite literally for years, since I lived in Paris in the early 1990s in fact. Seems like yesterday but, I suddenly realize as I write this, it was something close to twenty years now… Can it really have been that long ago? Anyway…

I quickly made note of the recipe in my head—rillettes are actually surprisingly simple to make—and whipped it up at my leisure this afternoon. It takes a long time but practically cooks itself. When it was done, I sat down to munch on a few pieces of toasted bread slathered with the stuff. Taste memories last a long, long time, I guess, because the unmistakable taste and texture was just as I had remembered it: wonderfully and deeply savory, with a creaminess that quite literally melts in your mouth. Served with a nice medium-bodied red wine, I almost felt like I had traveled back in time.

In any event, here's the recipe: Take a good 750g (1-1/2 lbs.) of pork shoulder, cut up into cubes, and mix it with an equal amount by weight of fat back or best-quality lard. (The authentic recipe calls for the actual fat, which renders in the cooking process, but since I had some very good quality lard around, I used that and it worked just fine.) Season generously with salt, freshly ground pepper, a bay leaf, thyme and—here's where I parted ways with M. Pellaprat—a few cloves. Place it all in a heavy pot (enameled cast iron works well) and add a good glassful of water. Bring to a simmer on top of the stove. Now you can continue cooking over gentle heat on top of the stove or, as I prefer, placing the pot in a slow oven (325°F, 160°C. Let the pot simmer for a good 3 hours or so, or until all the water has evaporated and the pork is fork-tender and lightly browned. If the meat hasn't browned, you can raise the heat so it does for a few minutes at the end.

Let the pot cool down a bit, then strain the meat from the melted fat by turning the pot's contents into a colander placed inside a large bowl. Remove the bay leaf and transfer the meat into a food processor, together with a ladleful of the rendered fat. Process, using the pulse function, until the meat is nicely minced but still has some texture to it—not yet a purée. Pack the mixture into jars, ramekins or other small containers and top off with the remaining rendered fat.

Let the containers cool completely, then place them in the fridge until ready to use. The fat will congeal and turn a creamy white color, forming protective layer on top of the meat. Use as you would any spread, slathered over toasted bread.

 

NOTES: The seasonings and cuts of meat used in rillettes can vary from recipe to recipe. Pellaprat calls for minced parsley, which I omitted. Some recipes I've seen call for cinnamon, nutmeg and/or mace. A few call for garlic or onion. I've even seen an intriguing recipe calling for five-spice powder, which sounds delicious. My 'secret' ingredient is actually not so secret, as perhaps the best known version of rillettes, from the city of Tours, calls for whole peppercorns and cloves. The traditional recipe calls for some bone-in cuts, from which the meat is stripped at the end of the cooking process. Some recipes call for pork belly, which has 'built in' striations of meat and fat, so you can reduce or even eliminate additional fat from the recipe.

Rillettes can be made from any number of ingredients. Goose rillettes are fabulous as are rabbit rillettes. For something a bit lighter, rillettes can be made from fatty fish, such as tuna or sardines. One particularly lovely example of the latter variety are rillettes made from fish are these smoked mackerel rillettes from fellow food blogger and professional chef, Sylvia of Citron et Vanille.

Granita di caffè

As the summer draws to a close, it's time to finish our trilogy of Italian frozen desserts. We have already explored the delights of gelato and sorbetto, and now it's time to finish our trilogy with a post on granita, a kind of country cousin to the first two. Most commonly made with coffee or lemon juice, granita is a kind of rustic sorbetto, easy to make at home—no ice cream maker is needed—and has a coarser, more crystalline texture.

First, find yourself a flat-bottomed container that can go into the freezer. Most traditional recipes call for using an ice cube tray—but that was back in the days when ice cube trays were all made of stainless steel with removable dividers. Nowadays, a metal loaf pan will do the trick.

Now make some very strong espresso coffee. If you are using an espresso machine, you can simply brew your coffee directly into the loaf pan, like so:

 Make a few shots, at least one per person. Then mix in simple sugar syrup (see my post on sorbetto for step-by-step instructions) to taste—I usually just add a bit at a time, tasting until I reach the desired degree of sweetness. Personally, I like my granita (as I like my coffee) semi-sweet, but you will need at least some sugar syrup, not just for taste but also because it produces a smoother, softer texture than plain coffee, which would simply turn to dark colored ice if frozen by itself. Let the coffee and syrup mixture cool completely, then place it in the freezer.

 
After about 30-45 minutes, check on the granita. Depending on how much you are making, there may be little or no change the first time you check, but if you see bits of frozen crust forming, stir the mixture with a wooden spoon or spatula. Check in about 30 minutes later, by which time it is likely that things will have developed. Time to stir again:

Continue stirring the mixture every 30 minutes or so, until the granita has formed a kind of 'slush'. You want the mixture to be fairly soft but not liquid. It will have a granular texture—that is not a defect but, as mentioned above, a desired characteristic that sets granita apart from sorbetto. Total freezing time will depend on how much you are making and the size of the container; the deeper the liquid, the longer it will take for it to freeze. Count on about 1-1/2 to 2 hours if you are making more than one or two servings.

Serve as is or—if you are feeling indulgent—with a nice dollop of whipped cream as pictured above. Granita can be served as a dessert, but I particularly like it as a sweet 'snack' in the afternoon. The Sicilians—who are renowned for their granite—even have it for breakfast!

NOTES: Granita di limone, or lemon granita, is made exactly the same way, substituting freshly squeezed lemon juice for the espresso coffee. Although, in Rome at least, coffee and lemon are the most commonly found types of granita, there are other kinds. In Catania, for example, the favorite granita is made from almonds. Granita can also be made from fruit juice, typically orange, or puréed  fruit such as strawberry or melon.

Obviously, the success of your granita di caffè will depend on the quality of your coffee. A nice strong, freshly ground espresso coffee will make it a real treat. I am a particular fan of Pete's Coffee, a brand out of the Bay Area, but, of course, the imported Italian espresso coffees, in particular Caffè Illy, are particularly suited. Just make sure that you use the darker, "southern style" roast. And brew your espresso very strong—ristretto as they say in Italian—remembering that you will dilute the coffee a bit when you add your sugar syrup. A good granita di caffè should have an intense coffee flavor. If you don't have an espresso maker, no worries: you can, of course, use a simple 'moka' coffee pot. [NB: Look out soon for my upcoming post on making espresso and cappuccino at home…]

While gelato, sorbetto and granita are by far the most common Italian frozen desserts, they are not the only ones. In Rome it is a common sight in summer to find stands selling grattachecca, shaved iced topped with different flavored syrups. And then there are the fancy desserts like the various semifreddi, frozen moulds that make for a wonderful ending to an elegant dinner. (We'll get to those in good time but, in the meanwhile, you won't want for good eating with these three in your repertoire.)

By the way, if you are ever in Rome, you can have yourself some wonderful granita di caffè in a pleasant al fresco setting at the Café du Parc, at the end of via Marmorata, in the piazza Porta San Paolo, opposite the Piramide Cestia. Across the via Marmorata you will find the neighborhood of Testaccio, with one of the best food markets in Rome in its main square, not to mention some of the most authentic traditional Roman trattorie in town. In the center of town, the Tazza d'Oro, right by the Pantheon, also serves an excellent granita alongside their wonderful espresso and cappuccino. 

Café du Parc