Tag Archives: fennel

food history, italian cuisine

Cook’s Tour of Italy Menu 15 (Pgs. 62 – 66): Menu for 8, La Foce

Region: Tuscany

Menu: Cantaloupe with Prosciutto, Lasagnette with Meat Sauce, Fennel and Watercress Salad, Orange Ring Cake

Recommended Wine: Vino Nobile de Montepulciano (like Chianti, but with some white grapes mixed in with the red)

            Believe it or not, at one time, doctors thought melons were unhealthy and even dangerous. During the Middle Ages and Renaissance, raw produce in general was mistrusted. In the 15th and 16th Centuries, when salads and beautifully-arranged platters of fresh fruit became fashionable, doctors freaked out, thinking the trend would make their patients sick. People did sometimes get sick after eating fresh, raw fruit, but the problem wasn’t the fruit itself. Most likely, the water used to wash it was contaminated, or cooks didn’t adequately clean their work surfaces.

            Melons were even implicated in the death of a 15th Century pope. The story goes that in July 1471, Pope Paul II ate two large melons, and died shortly thereafter. Sources don’t say what kind of melons they were, what was meant by large (most fruits and vegetables were smaller at the time), or the timeframe they were eaten over. Since Rome gets really hot in July and this was before air conditioning, His Holiness probably found them refreshing, and may not have had much appetite for other food. If that was the case, eating two melons the size of small modern cantaloupes over the course of a hot day sort of makes sense.

Delicious treat, or heartless killer?

            Supposedly, cantaloupes originated in either Persia (modern Iran) or Armenia before being brought to the Mediterranean. Regardless of what doctors thought, people living there, especially Italians, went crazy for them. During the hot summer months, when melons were at their peak, people found them irresistible. Supposedly, eating them with a bit of salty ham or some wine reduced the risk, which is where melon and prosciutto came from. Personally, I think prosciutto is stringy and overpriced, so had the melon plain. It was good as always, but was definitely different as an appetizer.

            The name “lasagnette” suggests a miniature lasagna, but this recipe filled a full pan. Like the Bologna-style lasagna, this one used a ragu with a high proportion of meat to tomato, bechamel sauce, and parmesan cheese. I think there must have been a typo in the bechamel recipe. It calls for one cup flour to three of milk. At that ratio, a sticky dough-like substance forms, not a sauce. It was salvageable with extra milk, whisking, and straining the lumps out, but it probably would have been easier to restart with a different bechamel recipe. Everything else with the lasagna went smoothly, and it was quite tasty, but I still prefer the mozzarella and ricotta version. Maybe if I made my own pasta dough instead of purchasing it, I would feel differently.

Instrument of fraud

            The fennel and watercress made for a fascinating combination. Supposedly, Medieval Florentine wine merchants would give potential buyers fennel to snack on, hoping it would overwhelm their taste buds and make wine faults less noticeable. Here the sweet, licorice-like flavor served no such nefarious purpose. The watercress was distinctly peppery, much like arugula, which was a nice contrast with the fennel.

As the author says, the secret is the syrup. And the whipped cream.

            Everything was good, but the orange ring cake was incredible. The cake itself is flavored with grated orange peel, which seems to be popular in Italian recipes. The juice, meanwhile, goes into a syrup with lemon juice, which gets drizzled on the hot cake after baking. It was delicious, and would probably be even better if holes were poked in the cake first to let the syrup soak in more. Whipped cream was a delightful contrast to the sweet and tart flavor, in a fascinating change of pace from regular chocolate and yellow cakes. Not that there’s anything wrong with those, especially with fluffy homemade chocolate frosting, but the orange cake was delicious and pretty.

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food history, italian cuisine

Cook’s Tour of Italy Menu 59 (Pgs. 189 – 192): Abruzzi Polenta Dinner

Region: Umbria/Marches

Menu: Spicy Polenta with Cheese, Broccoli Rabe, and Sausages, Fennel Salad with Parsley, Pineapple Sorbet

Recommended Wine: San Giorgio (full-bodied Lungarotti red, made in Torgiano [Note: I don’t actually know much about wine. This is just what the author recommends, but I haven’t actually tried it.])

            In a previous post, I wondered why corn-based polenta caught on widely in northern Italy, but not the south. Almost by accident, I came across the answer while watching a video on US geography. While discussing the tactical advantage provided by vast stretches of Midwest farmland, the narrator brought up an interesting point. Corn is more often grown in the eastern part of the region, around the Great Lakes, because this area has higher rainfall and corn needs more water. Wheat, with lower water requirements and greater drought tolerance, thrives on the drier Great Plains. Since southern Italy is drier than the north, I think I may have found the answer.

            Since ancient times, people across Italy have made polenta with a variety of grains, especially millet. Once corn was introduced from the Americas, it quickly became dominant due to its high yields. On the one hand, this was great, because it meant more available calories, but there was a problem. Much of the protein and niacin in corn is chemically “locked up,” unavailable to the body unless the grain is processed in an alkaline solution. This process, called nixtamalization, was widely used in the Americas, but didn’t find its way across the Atlantic. In places where the poor came to rely on corn, such as northern Italy, many people developed niacin deficiencies. This resulted in the disease pellagra. Those higher on the social scale may have eaten corn-based polenta, but consumed enough other foods to avoid getting sick.

            Here the polenta is chilled, sliced, and layered with other ingredients, almost like a lasagna. There are slices of hot Italian sausage, pork-infused tomato sauce, mustard greens for broccoli rabe, and grated provolone and pecorino cheeses. Scamorza cheese is popular in Abruzzi, a mountainous region along the Adriatic coast, but it was unavailable near me. Since provolone is similar, I used that, with good results. Personally, I still prefer pasta in lasagna, but the sliced polenta was an interesting change of pace.

            The fennel salad provided a fresh contrast to the strongly-flavored polenta, as did the sorbet. Interestingly, in addition to the pineapple juice, lemon juice, and sugar, this sorbet recipe had gelatin. It took a lot longer to solidify in the ice cream maker, but the texture was extra smooth and almost creamy. The sorbet also melted much more slowly than most. I omitted the strawberry sauce, but even plain, the pale-yellow sorbet looked beautiful in the coupe glasses. It tasted just as good.

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