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Cook’s Tour of Italy Menu 63 (Pgs. 197 – 203): Christmas Eve Dinner in Naples

Region: Naples/Adriatic South

Menu: Seasoned Fresh Mozzarella, Peppery Shrimp 1-2-3, Neapolitan Cauliflower Salad, Spaghettini with Clams, Carrots, and Wine, Fish Filets Neapolitan Fishermen’s Style, Spinach with Oil and Lemon, Hearts of Escarole with Red Pepper Confetti, Panettone Bread Pudding

Recommended Wine: Capri or Sicilian dry white

            Anywhere Christmas is celebrated, it is an occasion for feasting. Medieval Europeans loved a whole roasted boar with an apple in its mouth and hot spiced beer and wine. Gingerbread and other sweets were banquet treats in Elizabethan England, especially at Christmastime. Victorians liked roast beef, goose, or turkey, with plum pudding, mince pies, oranges, and nuts. In modern Australia, where Christmas is in the summer, holding a barbecue is popular. Exactly what people eat depends on personal preferences and cultural traditions, but the important thing is sharing it with loved ones.

            In many places, including parts of Italy, the biggest feast is on Christmas Eve. This is interesting, because at one time, people fasted during Advent. There would be a simple meatless meal on Christmas Eve, people would go to midnight mass, then on Christmas Day enjoy eating lots of meat after a month of abstaining. Over time, the Christmas Eve meal became more elaborate. Eventually, in the area around Naples, it became the Feast of the Seven Fishes, supposedly for the seven sacraments. In some cases, it would even be twelve, for the twelve Apostles. To make things more complicated, the seven (or twelve) types of fish had to be in different dishes. A soup or salad with multiple varieties could only count as one dish.

            To make everything easier to cook and eat, Mr. Famularo reduces the number of seafood dishes to three. This could be for the Trinity (text, pg. 198), but regardless, three “fishes,” plus all the other dishes in the menu, were a big enough challenge. The cauliflower salad could be made ahead of time, ingredients could be prepared, and the bread pudding assembled and left to soak up the custard, but a lot of last-minute prep was unavoidable. To make things easier, I split things up and made the fish filets and escarole salad on a second night.

            The first dish was composed of fresh mozzarella slices, sprinkled with olive oil and black pepper. Ideally, the cheese would be provolone burrinos, which have a piece of butter in the center. Since there is no Italian deli or food store near me that stocks them, I used the suggested alternative. The best fresh mozzarella in Italy is made from water buffalo milk (mozzarella di bufala), though cow’s milk varieties seem to have always been common. Some historians think the water buffalo was introduced to Italy by the Goths in the 5th and 6th Centuries AD. The technique of stretching the curds in hot water to produce mozzarella’s characteristic chewy texture appears to have been developed at some point after that. A few factories near me produce high quality fresh mozzarella, and you can even buy it ready-sliced in a log. The oil and pepper added some extra flavor, but even on its own, it was delicious.

            Success continued with the shrimp. What was unusual was that red pepper flakes were only sprinkled over it after it was sauteed. The oil was kept on the stove to briefly cook the garlic, just enough to add color before the garlic oil was sprinkled over the dish. It was interesting to add the seasonings after the shrimp was finished cooking, but it kept the pepper and garlic from scorching or darkening. A sprinkle of green parsley contrasted nicely with the red pepper.

            The cauliflower salad was definitely different, but tasted great. Another great thing about it is that it can, and for the best flavor should, be made a day ahead. Cauliflower is firm enough not to get soggy when marinating and soaking up the flavor from the dressing. I wouldn’t have thought of cauliflower as a salad vegetable, but it worked beautifully.

            The second fish, the thin spaghetti with clams and carrots, was not such a success. While I hadn’t cared for the steamed clams in the Liguria/Portofino seaside menu, I had enjoyed chopped clams in a tomato-clam sauce in one of the Venetian menus, so I expected this would be similar. It wasn’t bad, but I still didn’t enjoy its strong fishy flavor. Tomato sauce had helped balance it, but there was no tomato in this recipe. Fortunately, Mr. Famularo does not follow a strict “no combining seafood and dairy” rule common in Italian cuisine, since some extra parmesan cheese made the pasta almost good. Good enough to eat the leftovers, in fact, but not good enough to make again.

            The spinach was less edible. Part of the issue was that I was too cheap to buy fresh spinach in December and used frozen instead. That one was on me. But there was another issue. After cooking, the spinach got its addition of lemon juice. The problem is that the color and texture of some foods are affected by the pH of the dish, or how acidic it is. Bases are the opposite of acids. When green vegetables are cooked with a base, usually baking soda, their color stays especially green. Cooking them with an acid turns them an unappealing brown color, though their texture is unaffected. Lemon juice is highly acidic, and adding it after cooking didn’t help. The spinach immediately changed color, and using frozen instead of fresh did affect the texture, creating a gross-looking brown sludge. Maybe using fresh spinach is the key, since this is supposedly one of the favorite ways to cook spinach in Italy (text, pg. 202). The taste was ok, but the texture and appearance of this dish made it hard to eat.

            I had better luck with the fish filets and salad. Due to time constraints, those were made on a second night. The fish was eaten with a tomato-garlic-herb sauce. I wouldn’t have thought of using it with seafood, but the flavors worked together well. The escarole in the salad was a little bitter, but balanced with diced red pepper “confetti,” golden raisins, walnuts (replacement for pine nuts), and capers.

            People have been making bread pudding for hundreds of years. Along with toasting, soaking stale bread with eggs is a great way to revive it. This particular variety, made with sweet, eggy panettone, soaked in a honey syrup and a creamy custard, was particularly rich. Panettone was originally from Milan, and is now a Christmas staple across Italy. Making a bread pudding was a unique way to include it in the menu. The cooking time was a lot longer than the recipe said, but dessert was worth the wait.

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Cook’s Tour of Italy Menu 75 (Pgs. 231 – 235): Lunch in Ruoti

Region: South Mainland/Islands (Basilicata)

Menu: Grilled Peppers in Anchovy Sauce with Roasted Olives, Eggs in Purgatory with Grilled Sausages, Fried Zucchini Slices, Chocolate Souffle with Fig Preserves

Recommended Wine: Agliatico (high-alcohol Sicilian red)

Capers also found in 1000 Foods

            Like tomatoes and potatoes, peppers originated in the Americas. Europeans distrusted them at first, preferring to use them as decorative plants instead of as food. The reason seems to be that peppers are part of the nightshade family, which has several deadly members, but eventually, either through necessity or curiosity, sweet bell peppers became popular around the Mediterranean. Hot peppers had better luck in Africa and Asia. One popular way of preparing them is by grilling or roasting.

            An interesting addition to the roasted peppers is an anchovy sauce. While anchovies are often viewed as “gross” in much of America, they have been popular for over 2000 years. They were a popular flavoring in Ancient Rome, as was garum, a salty fermented fish sauce. There are references to them as bar snacks in Shakespeare’s time, salty nibbles to stimulate thirst. I think it would be funny if, instead of pretzels or salted peanuts, a modern bar set out plates of anchovies. Just to see patrons’ reaction.

            I don’t typically care for anchovies or olives, though the preparation methods in this menu did help. Combining the anchovies with oil, garlic, and herbs softened their flavor, and baking the olives with rosemary to infuse them had a similar effect. They were still not my favorite dishes, but that was just a matter of personal taste.

            The eggs and tomato sauce with sausage was more successful. I’m not sure how the name “eggs in purgatory” came about, but poaching them in tomato sauce was an interesting experiment. They got a bit more cooked than I meant to, resulting in an unpleasant grainy texture for the yolks, but the whites and sauce were good, as was the bread to soak it up. The sausage used was hot Italian, since chili peppers are a popular flavoring in Basilicata and Calabria.

            Among the many ways to cook zucchini is to fry it. Because they are high in water, zucchini slices must be dried before frying or they won’t brown properly. Here a dip in flour with salt and pepper absorbs any excess moisture while providing a bit of extra texture. The surface coating isn’t thick enough to become a breading, but it does produce a very thin, crispy layer.

            I had never made a souffle before, but it was fascinating. Here’s how it works. Egg whites are whipped to introduce tiny air bubbles. They are carefully folded into the remaining ingredients to avoid popping the bubbles. Because gases expand when heated, the souffle will rise in the oven. The same principle is used in Genoese sponge cakes to make them rise. The tricky part with souffles is serving them without deflation. As the air bubbles trapped inside cool down, they shrink. I’ve heard somewhere that “guests must wait for the souffle; the souffle will not wait for the guests,” this is why.

            When I first pulled it out of the oven, the souffle was puffed up well over the top of the ceramic baking dish. It started to deflate before I could get a picture, but it still had a nice spongy texture and good flavor. The fig jam was a little sweet. In the future, I would probably use strawberry or cherry instead, but that’s a minor thing. The rest comes down to figuring out how much deflation is inevitable, how much can be avoided, and enjoying the experiments along the way.

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Cook’s Tour of Italy Menu 22 (Pgs. 77 – 81): Dining at Sea Level in Portofino

Region: Liguria/Piedmont

Menu: Prosciutto with Roasted Peppers, Fresh Clams with Wine, Green Peas Grandmother Style, Lemony Apple Cake

Recommended Wine: Cinque Terre dry white

Roasted peppers also found in 1000 Foods

            Roasted peppers are a popular appetizer all over Italy. The red variety are especially pretty and tend to be the sweetest. A particularly attractive presentation involves a combination of red and yellow, sometimes with orange and/or green added to the mix. The peppers can be served plain, marinated, in salads, in sauces, or on canapes. Here they have a vinegar-based marinade and are served with on buttered white bread with ham. The recipe calls for prosciutto, but since it is kind of expensive and has a stringy texture, I used black forest deli ham instead. The combination worked very well. Side note: In Italy, pepperoni refers to peppers, not the spicy red salami disks found on pizzas.

            I’m not usually a fan of clams, but after being pleasantly surprised by the tomato-clam sauce a while back, I had high hopes for this recipe. Frozen clams were steamed/braised in precooked wine (to burn off the alcohol), which seemed like it would counter the “fishy” flavor like tomatoes did. That didn’t work as well as hoped. They were edible, but I didn’t necessarily enjoy them.

            People have been eating starchy “field peas” for millennia, but sweet “garden peas” came much later. Most likely, they were developed by Dutch botanists in the early 17th Century. In France, the court of Louis XIV went crazy for them. Since the French court set fashions for the rest of Europe, sweet peas were soon found across the continent. Presumably the Italians, who had always appreciated vegetables more than most, adopted them quickly. One popular way of cooking them is in the Venetian risotto, risi e bisi.

            There are a number of “homestyle,” or “grandmother’s-style,” recipes for peas. In this case, a small amount of pancetta or bacon is used as a flavoring, and a bit of butter, flour, and chicken broth make a light sauce. Some fresh herbs brighten the dish. Everything is balanced; sweet, fat, and salt, but the flavors are mild and easy to enjoy. There’s nothing here that most picky eaters would have an issue with.

The cake tasted as good as it looks.

            The best dish in the menu was the apple cake. A sponge cake batter is flavored with lemon peel and extract, apple slices are folded in, and everything is baked in a springform pan. That was an unusual touch, but made unmolding easy. The lemon flavor was a nice complement to the apple, and adding a bit of lemon zest to some whipped cream made an excellent dessert even better. Minus the clams, everything was delicious.

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Cook’s Tour of Italy Menu 79: Operatic Pasta in Sicily

Region: South Mainland/Islands (Sicily)

Menu: Rigatoni with Eggplant in a Creamy Curry Sauce, Salad of Assorted Lettuces with Capers and Tarragon, Peach “Soup” with Marsala

Recommended Wine: Sicilian Rosso del Conte

            Sicily has been known for the quality of its wheat since antiquity. Good agricultural land drew colonists from the Greek city-states, and it was one of the main granaries of the Roman Empire. The hard durum wheat grown there makes particularly good dried pasta, which is prepared in a huge number of different ways. One popular recipe uses sardines for pasta con sarde. A recipe with perhaps more universal appeal is pasta alla Norma, with tomatoes, eggplant, and zucchini, and named after a famous opera. This particular variation is enhanced with curry powder and enriched with half-and-half.

            The flavor was good, but using a zucchini the size of my lower arm from fingertips to elbow was not the best choice. When they get that big, zucchini tend to get tough. This one had a distinctly woody texture and peel that was a bit hard to cut through. But as long as I ate around the zucchini, the pasta, eggplant, and creamy tomato-curry sauce was worked well together. I wouldn’t have thought of putting curry in a pasta dish, but it turned out to be a good combination.

            Capers grow wild all around the Mediterranean. The buds, preserved in salt or pickled in brine, have a strong, olive-like flavor. As long as they are used in small amounts, capers are an interesting enhancement for meat, fish, and vegetables. A few of them chopped up added a salty bite to the salad dressing. They have been popular since the days of Ancient Rome, when strong, salty flavors were particularly appreciated.

            Peaches originated in China and spread west from there. By the time of the Roman Empire, they had reached the Mediterranean. Sweet, juicy, and perishable, they were often viewed as somewhat luxurious compared to fruits that could be effectively dried or cellared. Heavily associated with summer, fresh peaches are difficult to ship even today, at least when fully ripe. As a result, out-of-season specimens are often picked underripe and tend to be pricey. This recipe avoids those problems by using frozen peaches, which are usually the best choice during the rest of the year.

            In an interesting twist on tradition, here the peaches are used to make a dessert “soup,” with a bit of sugar and marsala. Personally, I didn’t like the flavor or texture. The peaches clashed with the marsala, and pureed soups in general are not my favorite. Replacing the marsala with a bit of lemon juice helped with the flavor, but didn’t solve the texture issues. Sometimes a new idea works, but sometimes it’s better to stick with tradition.

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Cook’s Tour of Italy Menu 33 (Pgs. 112 – 113): Baked Meat-Stuffed Turkey Roll

Region: Lombardy

Menu: Meat-Stuffed Turkey Roll, Steamed Broccoli

            With Thanksgiving just finished and Christmas around the corner, let’s talk about turkey. As one of the few domesticated livestock native to the Americas, it was a favorite treat for the Aztecs. They often ate it in tamales. When Columbus brought the first turkeys to Europe, they were immediately added to poultry yards. Not all Europeans knew where they came from, hence the names like “Turkey cock” or “Indian chicken.” But their origin didn’t matter. European diners knew that a previously unknown type of edible fowl had appeared from somewhere. It was big and showy, tasted good, and therefore belonged on holiday tables. By the time English settlers in Virginia and Massachusetts saw wild turkeys in North America, their domestic cousins were widespread in England.

            Roasting and stuffing a whole turkey is just one way of preparing it. Another showy presentation comes from flattening a boned turkey breast, adding a stuffing, and rolling everything up like a giant jelly roll. In this particular recipe, popular in Lombardy (around Milan), the stuffing includes sausage meat, chestnuts, walnuts, vegetables, and herbs. After baking, the roast is sliced to reveal the spiral pattern and served with a sauce of slightly-thickened pan drippings. I didn’t manage to flatten the meat enough to get a spiral roll, just a stuffed circle, but it still tasted good. Steamed broccoli complemented the meat without overpowering it. The turkey roll was too complicated to make regularly, but would be great for a small Thanksgiving or Christmas.

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Reanimating Tough Beef: Mushroom Barley Soup

1000 Foods (pgs. 450 – 451)

            After failing to soften the leftover tafelspitz beef by re-simmering, using the leftovers in salads, as suggested in the book, was definitely out. Fortunately, I’d been planning on using them in mushroom barley soup, since it uses many of the same vegetables (which I had extra of) needed to flavor the tafelspitz. With the failure of the emperor’s favorite lunch, I just had more beef and broth to work with. The idea was that chopping up the beef would increase its surface area, meaning more edges in contact with the broth as it re-cooked. New root vegetables plus dried mushrooms would add more flavor, while barley added substance. This time, everything went according to plan.

            Barley is one of the oldest crops cultivated by humans, deliberately planted no later than 8,000 BC, and possibly as early as 10,000 BC. A specific date is hard to come by, since the switch from gathering the wild plants, to deliberately spreading the seed, to building villages by designated fields was a gradual one. In some cases, the archaeology suggests that villages preceded agriculture, at least where there was a lot of wild grain to harvest. But whenever the process happened, barley was domesticated around the same time as wheat. The Sumerians, in modern Iraq, used barley as a form of money. Almost 3000 years before coinage, it was the perfect currency. A goat herder in need of a clay pot might not be able to find a potter in need of a goat, but everyone accepted payment in barley. The seller could eat the barley themselves, or trade it for something else they needed. Money didn’t grow on trees, but it did grow in fields.

            For almost as long as they have been growing grain, people have been turning it into alcohol. Our friends the Sumerians brewed lots of beer and even worshipped a beer goddess. From Egypt to Northern Europe, people fermented their grain. Often, they would drink their barley and eat their wheat. The reason for this is simple: wheat has more gluten than any other grain, which means it makes better bread. Most cultures seem to have preferred bread over other ways of preparing grain, creating a preference for wheat. Since wheat was usually more expensive, it made little sense to use it for beer, where its gluten would be of no use. Barley became the primary grain for brewing, and was used in soup, porridge, and cheaper bread.

            Barley is particularly good in soup. As it cooks, it swells up, taking on the flavor of the broth and creating substantial morsels. There’s a reason beef barley soup is a cold-weather classic. Mushroom barley (with beef) is another variation. I’m not sure why it’s in the Jewish food chapter, but the essential dried mushrooms provide a clue. Dried mushrooms are popular across Eastern Europe, and many of the Ashkenazi Jews who immigrated to the US in the early 20th Century came from this region. I’ll admit that I’m not very familiar with the kosher specialties associated with New York City, but the origin theory makes sense.

            Dried mushrooms have two major benefits: a long shelf life and concentrated flavor. To make the most of this flavor, don’t discard the soaking liquid. After letting the grit settle out (or straining through a coffee filter), it can be added to the dish. Mushrooms in the boletus family are particularly favored, but most varieties will work. I used some from a medley I found at Woodman’s, and they were great. All the other ingredients are available at any supermarket, making this a perfect home-cooked delight. You could order it at a restaurant, but it’s so easy to make at home, and the leftovers are as good if not better upon reheating. Over the course of a few days, they all got eaten. The tafelspitz redeemed itself.

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Austrian Boiled Beef: Tafelspitz

1000 Foods (pgs. 328 – 329)

            Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph had an eventful and often tragic life. He ascended the throne at 18 in 1848, a year of revolutions across Europe. The emperor at the time was his uncle Ferdinand, who suffered from various health issues, probably as a result of Habsburg inbreeding. Although revolution was quickly suppressed in Austria, there were concerns about his ability to handle any future unrest. Supposedly, when told that the people were revolting, he asked an advisor “are they allowed to do that?” Emperor Ferdinand was persuaded to abdicate, and since he was childless, Franz Joseph became emperor, with his mother Sophie of Bavaria acting as the power behind the throne.

            Between industrialization, continuing political unrest, a disastrous war with Prussia, the rise of anarchism, rising tensions in the Balkans, and eventually WWI, Franz Joseph had a lot to deal with during his reign. In 1889, his only son died in a murder-suicide with his mistress. Nine years later, his wife, the famously beautiful Empress “Sisi,” was fatally stabbed by an anarchist. In 1914, his heir Franz Ferdinand (nephew, I believe) was assassinated in Sarajevo, starting WWI. With all the stress ruling must have involved, it’s no wonder former Emperor Ferdinand’s health improved during his retirement in Prague.

            Perhaps all the stress and heartbreak he endured drove Franz Joseph to comfort foods. One of his favorites was tafelspitz. A large piece of beef is slowly braised with root vegetables, tenderizing the meat and producing a rich consommé. Constant skimming is supposed to ensure a clear bouillon to serve in cups as a first course. The beef is then served with potatoes, vegetables, and some form of a horseradish sauce. I oven-roasted some leftover red potatoes with oil and salt to crisp them up and added fresh carrots, cooked in a bit of broth, to the plate (the braising vegetables get too soft for serving). Other options might include braised onions or leeks, or pickled beets. I followed the recommendation to mix the horseradish with unsweetened whipped cream, adding grated apples to half, chives to the other half. Either is typical, as is plain horseradish.

            Things did not go according to plan. Despite frequent skimming, the broth was not as clear as it was supposed to be, but that was a minor issue. It was also somewhat bland, though definitely not bad. The much bigger problem was the beef. I used a piece of chuck, which is common for tafelspitz, and slowly simmered it, which is supposed to make it tender. This didn’t work at all. The beef was extremely tough, almost like leather, and was even difficult to cut. I’m not sure what went wrong. Was the water too close to a boil? Did it need more cooking time? Whatever the problem was, slicing and simmering the meat again didn’t help much. Even without the texture issue, the flavor was a bit boring. The horseradish cream sauce was good, but it didn’t help the beef much. Exactly why the emperor loved tafelspitz so much is still a mystery.

            I hadn’t expected this, but I was prepared. Temperatures were dropping rapidly and respiratory illnesses were spreading, so I already had plans to make beef mushroom barley soup with the leftovers. With less eaten on the first night, there was extra meat and broth for a bigger batch of soup. Three or four meals for two people, as it turned out, so it wasn’t all bad.

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Reflecting on the Growing Season: Basil, Pesto, San Marzano Tomatoes, and Seed Saving

Clockwise from the top: Roma, San Marzano, and cherry tomatoes

1000 Foods (pgs. 220, 223 – 224, 235 – 236)

            This last summer, after removing part of the deck that was in disrepair, I had a small garden bed to use. For my birthday back in March one of my aunts gave me a gift card for a seed savers catalog, which had some particularly interesting selections, including two types of sunflowers, giant zinnias, arugula, and cress. After buying more herb plants than necessary and planting them in pots, I had a plan for the new garden bed. The larger type of sunflowers would go in the back row. Three tomato plants would get half of the middle row instead of their usual 5-gallon buckets. On the other side I had a bean plant given to me by a student after an experiment to determine where plants get their mass from as they grow. (Answer: it’s mostly the carbon and oxygen in the air.) I planted a few leftover seeds in the row to keep it company. In the corner was an unknown plant from a different student (turned out to be mustard greens). The front row was half arugula, almost half cress. Marigolds on the sides would hopefully keep rabbits away. It sounded tidy and organized.

            Plants don’t necessarily do tidy and organized. With plenty of space, the tomato plants spread out and covered much of the arugula. The bean plants, which I was not aware were pole beans (it didn’t say on the package) grew in every direction. By the time I got the stakes in it was too late to manage the chaos. They didn’t produce many beans and those few were tough, but the plants themselves may have had an additional benefit. The sunflowers on that side of the garden were taller than those on the side with the tomatoes. Since the change was gradual it may have had as much to do with drainage patterns, but the nitrogen-fixing bacteria that live on bean roots may well have enriched the soil and given them a boost. Finally, the marigolds ended up about two feet tall. Whether they or the fence was more effective at rabbit control is an open question.

            Along with Roma and cherry tomatoes, I planted a San Marzano plant. Technically, to be 100% authentic, the tomatoes would need to be grown in the rich volcanic soil near Naples, but this was a way to taste them fresh. The plants are scraggly-looking with long, thin, pointy fruits, but they are said to be one of the best tomatoes for canning. In fact, the use of tomatoes in Italian cuisine increased significantly once the canning industry developed. I couldn’t taste much difference in the three types of fresh tomatoes, but I’m not normally a fresh tomato fan. They seemed to work well in the various soups and salsas over the course of the season. It will be interesting to compare canned San Marzanos with other varieties at some point in the future.

            I probably could have managed with one basil plant instead of two. They were small when I got them, and so had me fooled. Each in their own pot, with lots of sunshine and daily watering, they thrived to the point of my not knowing what to do with all the basil. With a potent, distinctive aroma, basil is widespread around the world. In its homeland of South and Southeast Asia, it has religious as well as culinary significance. Pesto is perhaps basil’s most popular use in the West, but it can also be used in sauces, salads, and even lemonade and sorbet. It actually works as well with strawberries as it does with tomatoes.

            What’s interesting about pesto is that while pesto-type sauces have existed since Ancient Rome and basil was introduced to the Mediterranean in the Medieval era, the two were not combined until well into the Early Modern period. Perhaps the speed at which basil oxidizes once cut made people suspicious of it. (The darkening/browning is oxidation. The same process happens with guacamole.) Or maybe Medieval cooks were underwhelmed, since they didn’t like to serve raw ingredients and basil loses much of its flavor when cooked. Fortunately for us, the Italians eventually figured out the best way to use it, and many other cuisines followed.

            Like most popular foods, pesto has a number of variations. The classic form has basil, salt, garlic, olive oil, and pine nuts. Usually a hard cheese such as Parmesan or Romano is included, but not always. Some or all of the basil might be replaced with parsley or arugula, reducing the discoloration on the surface but changing the flavor. One modification that does not affect the flavor much is to substitute almonds or especially walnuts for the pine nuts. With all the garlic and basil, it’s hard to tell the difference, and walnuts are a lot more affordable. They thicken and enrich the mixture just as well. Some versions, like the one in the book, even replace part of the olive oil with butter. Garlic is a constant, as is salt. In addition to adding flavor, the salt is *supposed* to reduce discoloration, but that was not my experience. A reliable solution is to scrape off the discolored part. The pesto below will be as green and aromatic as ever.

            In the meantime, winter is here. For next year, I’ve embarked on some seed saving of my own, gathering hundreds of sunflower seeds, along with a few small bags of marigold and one of zinnia seeds. I’m not sure where the petunias that appeared in the garden bed with the small sunflowers and zinnias came from. Most likely, some petunia seeds got mixed in with the other seeds by mistake, or some seeds blew over from another plant. However it happened, they grew so well and lasted so long into the fall that I saved some of their seeds too. Planting slightly earlier and starting some of the sunflowers inside should ensure an even better display next summer. Just not a tidy one.

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Impromptu Turkish Dinner: Kilic Sis (tuna kebab), Bulgur Pilavi (bulgur pilaf)

1000 Foods (pgs. 481, 485)

            Venturing to the Middle East again, we have two Turkish specialties: kebabs and pilaf. Specifically, swordfish kebabs (tuna is used here, for a reason detailed below), and bulgur pilaf. The fish is marinated in olive oil and lemon juice and flavored simply with bay leaves, while the bulgur fills in for rice, adding some extra flavor and texture. Both dishes were easy to make. Due to rain, the kebabs were broiled instead of grilled. For the pilaf, just toast the bulgur in the skillet with butter, minced onion, and broken vermicelli (angel hair) pieces, then add broth to finish the cooking process. Both lamb or chicken are authentic options. Since I already had chicken soup base on hand and wasn’t about to make a lamb stock/broth, I used chicken broth. The end result was one of the best things I’ve made in a while.

            For why this was an impromptu Turkish dinner, here’s the story. On a rainy Saturday, I was using up some of the herbs I’d brought in from outside. From my two basil plants, I made a big batch of pesto. After taking some to the neighbors, I took some downstairs to put in the deep freeze. When covered with a layer of oil, it can supposedly be kept for about a month. Upon opening the freezer, I noticed a strange, unpleasant smell. A bag of pulp from garden tomatoes wasn’t frozen, but it smelled fine. Then I realized that nothing in the top layer was frozen. The interior of the freezer was cool, but nowhere near where it was supposed to be, as evidenced by the fact that I could comfortably place my hand against the freezer wall. A quick look around revealed the problem. Somehow, the freezer cord had become unplugged from the extension cord, probably when some nearby bins holding decorations were moved around.

            After plugging it back in, I had to figure out which items were salvageable. Since the temperature was still around refrigerator level, the number was higher than expected. The corn, strawberries, cherries, and jam from last summer were fine, and a large chunk of pork butt I’d gotten on sale was still mostly frozen. After pulling everything out, drying it off, and cleaning up the water that had gathered in the bottom, everything was handled. The source of the smell was most likely some leftover corned beef and cabbage. One lingering question was with some tuna skewers that had thawed out. Since they were in an unopened, vacuum-packed bag I decided that they were okay, but wanted to cook them that day.

            After glancing through the recipes in both A Cook’s Tour of Italy and 1,000 Foods to Eat Before You Die, I settled on the Turkish fish kebabs. Swordfish is the traditional choice, but since the text suggests some alternatives if swordfish is unavailable, I subbed in the tuna. What’s special about this dish is that the fish is cooked with bay leaves on the skewers. This makes sense, since bay leaves grow abundantly in Turkey and their flavor complements pretty much anything. The dried variety can actually be used, as long as they are soaked in hot water to soften first. Since the kebabs are typically served with either rice or bulgur pilaf, this was a great opportunity to try out another recipe from the text. The best part of it was being able to turn a potential mini catastrophe into a thoroughly enjoyable dinner.

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More Tastes of France: Quiche Lorraine, Chocolate Mousse, and Madeleines

Source: 1000 Foods (pgs. 123, 102 – 103, 99 – 100)

            As promised, here is a brief(ish) explanation of Lothringia, from which the region of Lorraine got its name. The tradition among Frankish kings was to divide their territory among their sons upon their death. As you might imagine, this led to kingdoms fracturing and going to war with each other almost every generation. The Merovingians, who ruled the Franks from the late 5th Century to 751 AD, weakened themselves this way, and Charlemagne’s dynasty, the Carolingians, followed a similar pattern. Charlemagne’s father Pepin usurped the throne in 751 and died in 768, dividing his kingdom between Charles (Charlemagne) and his brother Carloman. Upon Carloman’s death a few years later, the realms were reunited.

            Charlemagne had three legitimate sons reach adulthood, but by the time of his death in 814, only Louis the Pious survived. While this was unfortunate for the other two sons, it was probably fortunate for the empire (Charlemagne had been crowned Holy Roman Emperor in 800), which held together for another generation. Louis had three sons, Lothar, Louis, and Charles, and they didn’t like each other. Even before Louis’ death in 840, they began to fight. The whole story is a complicated mess of shifting alliances, and Lothar and the younger Louis even imprisoned Louis the Pious on two separate occasions. The disorder opened the door for Viking attacks, particularly from the 830s onwards.

            In 843, a settlement was reached at the Treaty of Verdun. Lothar, the eldest, got the imperial title and a territory wedged between the other two. His kingdom, not-so-creatively called Lothringia, encompassed the Low Countries, the northeast corner of modern France, part of Burgundy in eastern France, part of Switzerland, and most of Italy. Louis got East Francia, which encompassed most of Germany and Austria, and Charles got West Francia, centered on France. Over time the West and East Frankish kingdoms developed separate French and German identities. Later in the 9th Century the king of Lothringia died without an heir, setting the stage for a over a millennium of fighting over his territory. The Holy Roman Empire centered on the increasingly disunified German states, France often sparred with the Empire, and Lorraine was caught in the middle.

            Now part of France, Lorraine and Alsace to the east have both French and Germanic influences in the local culture. Some dishes there, particularly in Alsace, have clear German origins and even names (particularly baeckeoffe, a mixed-meat stew with sauerkraut, bireweche, a spicy Christmas bread, and kugelhopf, a yeast coffee cake). The origin of Quiche Lorraine is a lot less certain. At its simplest it is just a nutmeg-scented custard in a pastry crust, both elements widespread across Europe. Bacon is usually added, but authentically a Quiche Lorraine does not have cheese, onions, or leeks, which would make it Alsatian. None of the additions give much of a clue on cultural origin, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Quiche Lorraine, and other variations, have an appeal that goes far beyond their native regions.

            While in Amboise, a few of us came upon a café with a reasonably priced lunch special, which included dessert. The pastry and custard in the Quiche Lorraine were both very good, but to be honest I prefer the Alsatian version. Onions or leeks add an extra layer of flavor, and are often included in American versions. The great thing about quiche is that you can customize it to your taste. Onions, broccoli and cheddar, spinach and feta, dates and bone marrow, anything can be added as long as it doesn’t have too much water, which could make the custard split. The last option might not be very popular today, but it was a common Medieval recipe called “Lombard custard.” Whatever strikes your fancy is available, as long as you have an oven. It might not be Quiche Lorraine, but it will probably be delicious.

            Also relatively easy to make at home is chocolate mousse. The trick is to whip tiny air bubbles into egg whites and/or cream and avoid deflating them when adding the other ingredients. Follow the recipe (I like the food network recipe but omit the espresso powder), gently fold in the egg whites or cream until just combined with the other ingredients, and in the worst-case scenario it will be more like a pudding. Just be careful if the recipe contains raw eggs, which many do. Often the egg yolks are cooked a bit with the chocolate while the whites are left completely raw. This is no worse than eating cookie dough, but it does need to be mentioned.

            Madeleines are sort of a cross between a cookie and a cake. They are basically a sponge cake batter baked in small, scallop-shaped molds, which produces a browned outside and soft interior. They are mildly flavored, usually with vanilla or lemon peel. Marcel Proust was particularly fond of them, or at least had fond memories of them from his childhood, and why not? Like a good pound cake, madeleines have a nice flavor on their own, but they also lend themselves to embellishment. A bit of almond extract, a dip in chocolate, or a sprinkle of cinnamon would all be interesting additions.

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