Pasta alla Norma

This, one of my favorite summertime pastas, comes from Sicily. Along with pasta con le sarde, it is perhaps the most famous of Sicilian pasta dishes. And it is a fairly simple dish to make, the only slight complication coming from the initial preparation of the eggplant.

To make pasta alla Norma for 5 or 6 people, cut up a large eggplant (or two smaller eggplants) into slices or cubes and put them in a colander. Sprinkle the eggplant liberally with salt, weigh the eggplant down (a small plate with a can of tomatoes or beans on top works well) and allow them to sit for 30-60 minutes.

Then, by handfuls, take the eggplant pieces and squeeze them dry in paper or cotton towel, then fry them in light olive oil (or canola oil mixed with a bit of olive oil) until golden brown. Drain them and proceed with the next handful until all the eggplant has been fried.

Make a simple sugo di pomodoro (tomato sauce, sometimes called a 'marinara' sauce in English) by sautéing a few slightly crushed garlic cloves in a generous amount of olive oil and, when the garlic begins to give off its aroma and is just beginning to brown, add about 500g (1 lb.) of fresh or canned tomatoes. Allow the tomatoes to simmer for about 15 minutes or so, until the tomato is thick and smooth and has separated from the oil. Add a handful of basil leaves and about 1/3 of the fried eggplant pieces. Turn off the heat but leave the sauce on the burner so it continues to cook with residual heat.

In the meanwhile, cook your pasta of choice (see below) until al dente. Drain and pour into the pot with the tomato and eggplant sauce, mix well. Turn the pasta into a large serving bowl, top with the rest of the eggplant pieces and a generous, coarse grating of ricotta salata, and serve immediately.

NOTES: This dish is named in honor of the opera by the 19th century Sicilian composer Vincenzo Bellini (hence the capital 'N'). One story goes that the chef who invented the dish was so taken by the opera that he named it after Bellini's work. Another story goes that a group of musicians (or, in some versions, the author Nino Martagli), when presented with this dish, exclaimed "Chista è una vera Norma!", which is to say, "Wow! This is a real Norma!" because, at the time, the opera was a by-word for all that was really, really good. Whatever the origins, this dish really is delicious, especially in the summer, made with good, fresh tomatoes and eggplant. (By the way, the famous Venetian cocktail called the Bellini was not named after Vincenzo, but rather Giovanni Bellini, a 15th century Venetian painter.)

Most versions of this dish call for the eggplant to be sliced, but personally I prefer eggplant is smaller cubes, which, to my mind, make the dish easier to eat and 'integrate' the eggplant more thoroughly into the dish. (For this reason, I also like to mix some of the eggplant into the sauce, while many recipes call for all of the eggplant slices to be served on top of the pasta.)

Probably the most common pasta shape to use when making pasta alla Norma is spaghetti, but short pasta—maccheroni—is equally popular and, according to some sources, the original. I find that this versatile sauce goes with just about any pasta shape (other than very small, so-called 'spoon' pastas). On this occasion, I used an unusual pasta shape called organetti, which some visiting friends had brought as a gift. Organetto, literally meaning 'little organ, is Italian for melodian (a kind of accordion) which the pasta shape, rectangular  and slightly convex with ridges on one side, is said to resemble. It worked very well.

The use of ricotta salata, ricotta that has been pressed, salted and allowed to dry out a bit, is considered an intrinsic element of the dish which, along with the eggplant, gives the dish its typically Sicilian character. Ricotta salata comes from the area around Catania, in Sicily. But, if you can't find ricotta salata, although Sicilians will no doubt object, I find that grated pecorino is an acceptable substitute.

There are a few other minor variations among recipes for pasta alla Norma. Some call for some of the ricotta salata to be mixed in with the sauce rather than solely sprinkled on top. Some call, like this recipe, call for some of the eggplant to be mixed with the sauce. Others call for all of the eggplant to be placed on top of the pasta. And some recipes call for making the sugo with onion rather than or in addition to garlic, or with neither. A few also call for some peperoncino for a bit of 'heat'. 

Post scriptum: Norma was said to have been Maria Callas' favorite opera role. Here she is, in a 1958 concert in Paris, singing Casta Diva, the best-known aria from Norma.

Fagiolini all'agro

This dish of green beans dressed with fresh lemon juice and olive oil, to my mind, typifies the simple elegance of Italian cuisine. Fagiolini all'agro, also known as fagiolini all'insalata, is austere in its simplicity but yet, when made with the freshest and best quality ingredients, is truly delectable.

Trim both ends of your green beans, and then cook them in abundant, rapidly boiling and lightly salted water. When they are just done, drain them and plunge them into cold water until they are perfectly cool. Then drain them in a colander and let them sit until dry. Arrange them on a serving platter, sprinkle them with lemon juice and salt, and pour a generous amount of olive oil. Sprinkle with a bit more salt on top and serve.

NOTES: As with so many Italian dishes, the quality of the ingredients is crucial to the success of the dish. Use the freshest, youngest green beans that you can find, preferably of the slender variety sometimes called 'French beans'. The olive oil should be fruity and of the best quality you can afford. The lemons should also be fresh—the juice of older lemons can become unpleasantly acid—and preferably organic. And, in a dish as spare as this one, even the quality of the salt will make a difference. Tonight, I used some wonderful fiore di sale, sea salt from the province of Trapani in Sicily—a kind gift of friends who were staying for the weekend. (The island of Pantelleria off the coast of the province of Trapani is well known for its wonderful capers. Trapani is also home to the famous Marsala wine. )

Equally important is the attention given to preparation. The green beans should be cooked until just tender—not really crisp-tender, mind you, as in much Asian cooking or in nouvelle cuisine, but not soft, either. The bean should still offer some resistance to the bite, but should have lost any rawness in either flavor or texture. Once it is at this perfect point, they must be drained and immersed in cold water as quickly as possible to preserve its texture and color. The beans should be allowed to dry completely and dressed according to the usual Italian rules for salads—with just a few drops of lemon, enough to enliven the beans but to be just barely noticeable, with just the 'right' amount of salt, enough to provide savoriness without being cloying, and abundant olive oil.

Some recipes are a bit more elaborate, calling for some chopped parsley or basil. Mint would also go very nicely. And there is also what is basically a different dish going by the same name of fagiolini all'agro, green beans sautéd in butter, lemon juice, parsley and—of all things—paprika.

This dish is typically a contorno, or side dish. It can accompany all sorts of meats but is perhaps at its best with roasted or grilled lamb. Eaten with some crusty bread, it can also serve, either on its own or with other blanched vegetables, as a light lunch or supper.

Paella «Reina Sofia»

Well, I suppose that it is paella week at our house. I just couldn't resist trying out another kind of paella—a vegetarian paella that I have dubbed paella «Reina Sofia», after Spain's Queen Sofia, who happens to be a vegetarian.

The basic method is the same as that for paella a la valenciana, with the critical difference that there is no 30 minute simmering of the meats with water—after all, there are no meats—but rather you add your rice directly to the sautéed vegetables, allow it to toast lightly, and then add water or broth. In any event, here is a step-by-step guide to the making the dish for 3-4 people:

Step 1: Cut up and and set aside all the vegetables that you will need for Steps 2 through 4 (In professional circles, this is often called the mise en place or the 'putting into place' of your ingredients):

Step 2: Set your paella pan on a barbecue with the center burners on high and pour in a generous amount of olive oil—you'll need more than you may think to properly coat all the vegetables and the rice. If you have a sear burner, then use it, too, as it will help to sauté more quickly and, later on, to help form that wonderful caramelized rice crust at the bottom of the paella (called a socarrat). Add your flavor base of aromatic vegetables, consisting of three peeled and slightly crushed garlic cloves, a chopped onion and a chopped sweet red pepper:

Sauté these vegetables until they begin to soften and caramelize slightly.

Step 3: Then add a small eggplant that has been diced into cubes and sauté those until tender:

(If using a larger, older eggplant, salt the cubes for at least 30 minutes in a colander to remove any bitterness; with a young eggplant, there is no need to do this.)

Step 4: Next, add a handful of cherry or grape tomatoes, a handful of green beans (aka 'string' beans) trimmed and cut into two, a handful of peas (frozen is fine) and a handful of baby lima beans. Continue sautéing for a few minutes to allow the vegetables to absorb the flavors of the aromatic vegetables:

Step 5: Clear out a little well in the center of the vegetables and into the well add a tablespoon of pimentón, Spanish paprika (or regular paprika, if you can't find pimentón). Allow the pimentón to sauté for a few moments and, when you begin to smell its rich, smoky aroma, mix it with the vegetables to coat them nicely. Then add your rice (about 250g or 1/2 lb) and allow it to sauté as well for a few minutes:

Step 6: Next, add enough water or broth to cover the rice by at least 1 cm (1/3 inch) together with some strands of saffron that you have dissolved in a bit of warm water:

Allow the liquid to simmer vigorously (but not boil) until it has been entirely absorbed and you hear a sizzling and then a crackling sound. Check with a spatula or other utensil to see if the liquid has been entirely absorbed and—hopefully—a nice socarrat has begun to form on the bottom of the paella pan. Taste to make sure that the rice is just about cooked. If it is, then remove the pan from the fire and allow it to rest for about 10 minutes before serving.

¡Buen provecho!

NOTES: This recipe is my own 'invention'—sort of. It is actually an amalgam of the most appealing aspects of the many recipes for vegetarian paella that you will find on Spanish websites. Almost all of them have some common features: aromatics such as onion, garlic and red pepper, as well as eggplant and green beans, and (often) peas and/or beans of some sort. Artichokes also feature often but, being out of season at the moment, I omitted them. And, as mentioned at the outset, all these recipes omit the preliminary simmering and call for the rice to be added directly to the vegetables.

Without the simmering step, which creates the broth for paella a la valenciana, you have some choices to make up for the loss of flavor: you can use vegetable broth or—straying a bit from vegetarian principles—chicken broth. Or you can simply use water, in which case you will want to season well with salt and perhaps add a bit more pimentón for extra flavor.

Speaking of straying from vegetarian principles, there is a humorous (and possibly apocryphal) story about Queen Sofia and King Juan Carlos' royal visit to Morocco in 2005. The visit was meant to help mend relations between Spain and Morocco in the wake of a territorial dispute over the Isla de Perejil (Parsley Island) off the coast of Morocco. It seems that the Moroccan chefs did not entirely understand what it meant to be a vegetarian, since—as the Queen later told the Spanish press—they insisted on flavoring the 'vegetarian' dishes they served the Queen with little bits of meat! But this is nothing too unusual, actually. In Italy, for example, dishes with a bit of pancetta can still be considered magro, or fit for eating on fast days. In cases like this, the meat is considered a kind of condiment rather than truly 'meat' as such.

Whatever...

Paella a la valenciana

If you're like me, you may have thought that paella a la valenciana was made with a mixture of chicken and seafood and perhaps a bit of Spanish chorizo, onions, red peppers and peas for color. Well, as it turns out, the real paella a la valenciana is quite a different animal.

I recently tried out a recipe that I found on lapaella.net. According to this (and a number of other recipes I found in Spanish across the net) the real thing uses chicken, but no seafood, chorizo, onions, red peppers or peas. The recipe, which is quite easy but involves a number of steps, goes as follows:

Fry lightly salted pieces of chicken (thighs and/or legs) and rabbit in a generous amount of olive oil, in a well-seasoned paella pan (see below). When nicely browned--and a good browning is crucial to the success of the dish--add green beans and, if you can find them, 'romano' green beans (both cut into sections), a Spanish white bean called garrafon--use baby lima beans if you don't have these on hand--and, in season, artichoke, trimmed and cut into wedges. Allow the vegetables to saute for a few minutes. Then clear out an open spot in the center of the paella pan and add one grated tomato (if tomatoes are not in season, use two tablespoons of canned crushed tomato) and a tablespoon or more of pimenton, Spanish paprika. Allow the tomato and pimenton to caramelize a bit, then add water or chicken broth to cover all the ingredients, together with saffron threads that you will have dissolved in a bit of warm water. (The paella pan should be almost full to the brim.) Allow to simmer for about 30 minutes. Taste and adjust for salt. Add rice (see below), distributing it as evenly as possible, and continue simmering for 7 minutes over very high heat, then another 4-5 minutes or so over medium heat, then finally another 3-4 minutes over very low heat. About 5 minutes before the rice is ready, lay a sprig of rosemary over the rice. (If at any point you find that you've miscalculated and your paella is drying out but the rice is still hard, now worries: just add a bit more water.) Allow the paella to rest 5 minutes before serving.

I have not included exact measurements here--the eye is all important--but for measurements and a blow-by-blow illustrated recipe, go to lapaella.net. Elsewhere on the site, you can find lots more information and background on making the perfect paella, as well as recipes for other sorts of rice dishes and some other intriguing recipes the cuisine of Valencia. (The site only exists in Spanish and Italian--but the photographic paella recipe should be easy enough to follow.)

Well, the paella was quite different from any other paella I had had, but it was very, very good indeed. Two of us polished off what should have served four!

NOTES: Paella is best cooked over an open fire. Special paella burners are available, but I have found that my barbecue does a fine job. You can also just cook paella on the stove (finishing it off in a hot oven after you've added the rice) but the dish will lack that semi-smokey flavor that is so characteristic of a real paella. One way to make up for this is to add more pimenton, which will impart a little smokiness to the dish.

Using the right kind of rice is essential for a good paella. The best kind of rice for paella is called "bomba", which is a short grain rice. If you can't find bomba or just don't want to spend the money--bomba rice is quite expensive--try another Spanish short grain rice. (Balducci's carries something they call "paella rice" from Spain, and Spanish rice is also available online on amazon.com as well as sites that specialize in Spanish food like Hot Paella.com and La Tienda.com). I have also used Italian arborio rice with obtained fine results. Whichever type of rice you decide to use--but especially if you use arborio--be sure not to stir the rice after you add it to the pan and distribute it among the other ingredients. Paella is not meant to have a creamy texture, and too much agitation will get the starch going and produce a creamy dish, which is what you want when making risotto, but not when making paella.

The original technique for adding the rice to the paella, by the way, involves pouring the rice in the form of a cross, vertically and horizontally. The rice should just come up slightly above the 'water line'. The rice is then mixed--only once--into the broth. This apparently ensures that you get the right amount rice vs. broth. (The photos on paella.net illustrate.) I usually don't do this and just take my chances, as I find mixing the rice into the other ingredients rather awkward to accomplish.

According to some sources, including the About.com: Spanish food website the original paella a la valenciana also included snails. I have not tried this but it does sound good. If you have an aversion to snails or rabbit, a paella made entirely of poultry and vegetables would no doubt be equally delicious.
The best pan for making paella is called--not by coincidence--a "paella". It can be bought in a lot of good cookware stores (including, for example, Sur La Table) and also available online at the websites mentioned above. The traditional paella pan is made from polished steel and needs to be seasoned. If you have ever seasoned a wok or a cast iron skillet, it works the same way: you wash the pan in soap and hot water first, then dry it scrupulously. Oil the inside of the pan (paper towel is useful here) and then place it over medium-high heat. The bottom of the pan will begin to turn a golden brown as the oil 'burns' into the steel. It won't look very pretty, but don't worry--this is what you want. Rotate the pan to make sure that the entire inside surface of the pan is well seasoned. Let cool and repeat. After it cools for a second time, the pan is ready to use. The seasoning provides a natural non-stick surface. As with other seasoned cookware, you should clean your pan with hot water only--if you use soap or detergent, you will remove the seasoning. After each cleaning, oil the inside of the pan again and let it heat up for a minute. Wipe off any excess oil and store it away until you're ready to enjoy your next paella.

Now, if all of this sounds like too much trouble, no worries. You can buy non-stick and stainless steel paella pans, which require no seasoning or special maintenance, as well as the traditional polished steel. And for years I used a regular non-stick braiser with fine results.

Post scriptum: Some of you may be thinking that you like adding seafood or chorizo or peas--or whatever--to your paella. So what's wrong with that? Nothing at all, of course. But, in the words of one exasperated Spanish food blogger:

EN FIN, CADA UNO PUEDE HACER LO QUE QUIERA A SU GUSTO, PERO AL MENOS QUE NO LA LLAMEN PAELLA VALENCIANA!!!

Which means, roughly: "at the end of the day, each one of us can do what suits their taste, but just don't call it 'paella valenciana'!!!"

Linguine al limone

Linguine al limone, or linguini with lemon sauce, is one of those quintessential summer dishes from southern Italy, specifically the Sorrentine peninsula of the Campania region, where they grow exquisite lemons. It's sunshine on your plate.

This dish may surprise you. The lemon flavor is not at all acidic or overwhelming. Rather, the lemon provides freshness. There are many versions of this dish, some quite simple, with the focus squarely on the pure flavor of lemon. In others—like this one—the lemon provides a sottofondo, a background, for a medley of other flavors. This is my version:

Take a fresh lemon, preferably organic, and grate off the zest (i.e., the outer yellow layer of the lemon peel), being careful to leave the bitter pith (the white layer under the zest) behind. Then cut the lemon in two.

Start your water to boil for the pasta. Add a half lemon to the water, squeezing out the lemon juice into the water. When the water comes to a boil, salt generously and add your linguine (75-100g or 2-1/2-3-1/2 oz. per person, depending on how hungry you are and whether you plan to follow the pasta with a secondo).

Meanwhile, make your lemon sauce: heat a bit of olive oil and butter over moderate heat in a skillet. Add the lemon zest and a slightly crushed clove of garlic, allowing it to sauté for just a few moments, just until you begin to smell the aroma of the garlic and lemon wafting up from the skillet. Then remove the garlic and add cream (about 2dl or 1/2 cup per 100g of pasta), a few tablespoons of grated parmesan cheese, salt and freshly ground pepper. Allow the cream to reduce a bit, then turn off the heat. Add a generous sprinkling of finely chopped mint and mix.

When the pasta is very al dente, transfer it into the skillet with the sauce without draining it too well over low heat. Mix well, allowing the pasta to absorb the flavors of the sauce and adding a ladleful of pasta water if the sauce is getting too dense—the pasta should 'slide' around the skillet. Serve immediately, topped if you like with some of the grated lemon zest and chopped mint.

By the way, you should, of course, fish out that half lemon before draining the pasta. A pair of tongs are useful for the purpose. And it is easy to do, as the lemon floats on the surface of the boiling water.

NOTES: As I said, there are a number of different versions of this dish. This particular recipe is my personal invention, a variation on some of the more elaborate, creamy versions. My personal 'touch' is the use of mint, which is, as far as I am aware, an original idea—and one which, if I do say so myself, works very nicely. The combination of lemon and mint is, after all, a natural one. Other versions of the dish omit the garlic and/or the cream. Some call for parsley, most do not. For a lovely lighter version that focuses on the pure taste of lemon, see this post from Italicious, a great blog by a young Roman living and studying in Canada. (You'll find it listed on this site's blog roll.)

Pasta al limone is typically made with long pasta, most often spaghetti but also with the more delicate egg pasta known as tagliolini. I would venture that it would also go very well with tagliatelle or fettuccine, in particular in the versions like this one that include cream.

This dish is at its best when made with lemons from the Amalfi coast, in particular Sorrento, which is known for its wonderful lemons—the same lemons that are used to make the ambrosial limoncello. But recognizing that this is only an option for a lucky few, choose the freshest, best quality lemon you can find. And since you are using the zest, try to find an organic lemon that will not be covered with wax or treated with pesticides or other chemicals. If you can't find organic lemons, then wash and scrub the lemon well before using it. In the US, the lovely Meyer lemon would be a nice choice.

Quick Note: Crab cakes with salsa

I've posted about crab cakes before. Just a quick note on a 'brainstorm' that worked out pretty well tonight: crab cakes with Mexican salsa and a drizzle of olive oil:


Worth a try.

NB: Tonight I had some prepared salsa sitting around, but surely freshly made salsa would have been even better.

Whitefish brandade

Salt cod can be hard to find. It takes some considerable time to prepare and, plus, codfish stocks are dangerously depleted. So what is a brandade maven like myself to do? Well, I recently "invented" a new dish by using smoked whitefish--something you can fish in almost any grocery or supermarket here in the States--to make brandade. The result was different but, to my taste, equally delicious.

It's also very quick and easy to make. Just plop skinned and boned smoked whitefish into a food processor, add some sliced potato and garlic cloves that you will have previously simmered in equal parts milk and water, process, adding equal parts olive oil and cream (or milk) bit by bit until have a smooth puree. Serve with slices of baguette, toasted or browned in a bit of olive oil. (Today I brushed them with oil and browned them in a dry non-stick skillet.)

NOTES: Purists disdain the addition of potato to brandade, but whitefish has a very strong taste, so I'd recommend that particular bit of heresy in this case.

PS: After feeling proud of myself for this discovery, I did a Google search and found out, alas, that any number of people have beat me to it... oh well, it's still very good!