March 2009 Archives

I picked up some organic asparagus.

After blanching the asparagus, I put them in an ice bath to stop them from cooking.  Chopped, the asparagus are mixed with DaVero extra virgin olive oil, Parmaggiano-Reggiano, and ricotta.  I put this mixture in the fridge.  I've learned that it's easier to make ravioli if the stuffing is cold--it's firmer and easier to work with.

Then I set out to make the fresh pasta.  I've made fresh pasta before using the recipe from Mario's "Molto Italiano."  It's basically one cup of flour and one egg per portion.  For a richer pasta, use two to four egg yolks per cup of flour.  "The Babbo Cookbook" follows the same formula.  But rather than using all purpose flour, I used "00" flour from Antimo Caputo, which I had left over from my vera napolitana pizza experiments.  I found that I needed to add some ice water to get the consistency right, even though it's not called for in the recipe.

To roll out the pasta, I would typically use the the pasta attachment for the KitchenAid mixer, but I decided to buy a manual pasta machine (Italian nonna-style) on my way home.  Not only would it be more fun, but I thought my son could help too.

We rolled out the pasta and made the ravioli.  The manual pasta machine made making pasta so much more gratifying, and, I'm not sure if it was the machine or the "00" flour, but the dough had a wonderfully soft, silky texture.

Here they are just before cooking.

The ravioli cooks for about 5 minutes, then they're tossed with some butter and more sliced asparagus.

And here's the dish:

We loved this.  Fresh, creamy ricotta with the "undisputed king of cheeses" and asparagus was a perfect cobiination, and so simple.  We pureed some left over filling, thinning it out with some water, and little Sofia loved it too!

None of Mario's books, however, have a recipe for pancetta.  There's a recipe in "The Babbo Cookbook" for guanciale, and the same recipe appears in "Molto Italiano."  Mario, why no pancetta recipes?  

My dad said that when his father cured pancetta it was pretty basic.  Salt the pork belly for about a week, then dust it with black pepper and let it hang for a month or so.  Sounds good to me, but NJ doesn't have the same temprature and humidity level as Naples, nor would I have belly that was so fresh that it was "in the pig" less than 24 hours ago.  So my back up resource is "Charcuterie" by Michael Ruhlman & Brian Polcyn.  The process is pretty much as my dad described, only with additional spices in the cure, and a safety net to prevent funky, and potentially harmful mold and bacteria--the addition of pink salt.

I procured a full 9 pound fresh pork belly from Niman Ranch.  I ordered it through Whole Foods and it came skin-on and with ribs.  I had the butcher skin, bone, and trim it for me and told him to pack it all:

That's the skin on the left, some fat above it, the ribs in the middle, and the belly on the right. My dad recommends adding a three inch square of the skin to any tomato sauce that you simmer for at least 30 minutes, especially a Neapolitan ragu.  Apart from adding flavor, it adds a velvety texture to the sauce.  My mother said to save it and use it as a braciole--make a mixture of garlic, parsley and pecorino, roll it in the skin, and tie it into a braciole.  Sear it and then let it braise in your tomato sauce.  

I used the "Charcuterie" cure, which calls for:

4 minced garlic cloves

2 teaspoons of pink salt

1/4 cup kosher salt

2 tablespoons of dark brown sugar

4 tablespoons of coarsely ground black pepper

2 tablespoons of crushed juniper berries

4 bay leaves, crumbled

1 teaspoon of freshly grated nutmeg

5 sprigs of fresh thyme

Here it is:

This was a particularly good, lean piece of belly:

Rub in the cure:

At this point, the pancetta goes into a resealable bag and sits in the refridgerator for 5 to 7 days, until it is firm.  It took exactly 7 days.

I rinsed the belly under cold water and it looked like this:

Now cured, we can take this into one of two directions.  We can make pancetta rotolata or pancetta stesa.  Panetta rotolata is when you coat the inside of the belly with black pepper and then roll it it into a log and tie it like a roast before hanging it.  Stesa is leaving the belly as it is, flat, much like slab bacon.  You would still give it a good coating of pepper, but it would hang in its natural state.  I divided the belly with my dad.  He went the more traditional route and made pancetta stesa.  He said they never rolled it when he made it and he doesn't really remember seeing rotolata all that much in Italy.  I opted for rotolata.  Once rolled and tied, it's wrapped in cheese cloth and hung in a humid area for 2 weeks.  My basement maintains a temperature of about 60-65 degrees with 65-70 percent humidity, near ideal for curing.

Rolled, tied, and wrapped:

Into the basement for 2 weeks, and it's ready.

I sliced off the ends and put them in the freezer for stock, risotto, sauce, etc.  No waste.  And here it is, pancetta rotolata:

This is a dish I've been wanting to make for some time.  I am obsessed, I think, with brick ovens.  I don't have one, yet.  And just yesterday Heather and I were talking about it and she thinks it would be a fun project to build one together.  (GOOOAAAALLLLL!)

In the meantime, however, I stare longingly into my fireplace wanting to use it to cook.  I can't quite figure out a way to cook a neapolitan pizza in there.  I've been toying with the idea of getting the Steven Raichlin Tuscan Grill, but I'm not there yet.  

But when I was flipping through Chez Panisse Vegetables by Alice Waters, one dish in particular caught my eye.  Beans cooked in the fireplace.  She talks about how the hearth is still used in Tuscany to cook everyday dishes, lending a wonderfully smokey note to any number of dishes.  This recipe doesn't require a Tuscan Grill.  The beans are started on the stove and then the dutch oven is placed in the fireplace near the coals.

Here's the recipe, adapted from Chez Panisse Vegetables:

3 cups dried Borlotto beans or other dried beans

1 large yellow onion

1 medium carrot

1 slice smoked bacon

2 tablespoons duck or goose fat, or olive oil

1 large, ripe tomato or several small canned tomatoes

2 teaspoons of salt

1 teaspoon of freshly ground pepper

1 bay leaf

6 sprigs of thyme

A few leaves of sage and rosemary

6 cups chicken stock

Parsley

3 cloves garlic

1.  Soak the beans overnight.

2.  Start a fire in the fireplace.  Peel and dice the onion and carrot.  Dice the bacon.  Cook the vegetables and bacon in the fat for abut 10 minutes on the stove.

3.  Dice the tomato and add it to the pot.  Cook for a few minutes, then add the beans (drained), salt, pepper, bay leaf, herbs (tied so you can easily lift them out).

4.  Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil.

5.  And now the fun part.  Put the pot on the floor of your hearth, near the coals.  Leave uncovered for 90 minutes and stir occasionally to make sure the beans stay moist.   Also, be careful when you stoke the fire or add more wood that ash and embers don't fall into the pot!  (I speak from experience.)  The easiest way to avoid this is to put the lid on the pot whenever you need to play with the fire.

Here's one more picture:

To serve, sprinkle with pecorino and a fruity extra virgin olive oil.

This was everything I hoped it would be.  The first 90 minutes of cooking with the lid off in the fireplace allows the smoke from the fire to really flavor the beans.  And then there's the rosemary, thyme, and sage.  To me, this is a true example of Tuscan peasant cooking.  If you have a fireplace, you must try this dish.  For me, I think I need to order than Tuscan Grill.

But then there are the more common, yet still hard-to-find ingredients.  In this case, winesap apples.  None of the markets near my home (including Whole Foods) carry them.  So part of my Cooking Babbo state-of-mind is to be on the look out for such ingredients and snap them up as I find them.

The negroni is a mix of gin, sweet vermouth, Campari, and bitters.  I really enjoy the bitter, slightly tart flavor ofCampari, especially over ice.  It wasn't until the past year or so that I started to enjoy bitter flavors particularly when they are balanced with some sweetness or acid.  In this drink, the vermouth and Campari provide that wonderfully sweet and bitter and tart mix.