Novel Food: Pasta 'Ncasciata

I've now read four of Andrea Camilleri's mysteries, which are set in Sicily and feature the moody, philosophical character Inspector Salvo Montalbano. Clues to solving cases often come to Montalbano in the wee hours of the morning, or while he's smoking under his favorite Saracen olive tree. The enjoyment of good food is paramount to him (he doesn't like to talk while eating, for one thing, and he recoils in disgust when his second in command, Inspector Mimi Augello, drowns his pasta with white clam sauce in Parmesan cheese), and the various dishes he consumes while he deals with criminal behavior are described, often in scrumptious detail, in the books.

Here's a passage from An Excursion to Tindari:

(Montalbano goes into the Trattoria San Calogero for lunch. A stunning blond named Beatrice, who has information related to a case he's working on, enters the restaurant, causing all of the diners to stop eating and stare. She joins Montalbano at his table.)

"What'll it be?" asked Calogero, approaching their table. "Today I've got a risotto in squid ink that's really special."

"Sounds good to me. And what'll you have, Beatrice?"

"I'll have the same, thanks."

Montalbano was pleased to note that she didn't add the typically feminine admonition: Not too much, mind you. Just two spoonfuls. One spoonful. Three grains of rice, no more. Unbearable.

"For the second course, there's last night's catch of seabass, or else—"

"Forget the 'or else.' I'll have the bass. How about you, Beatrice?"

"The bass."

"For you, Inspector, the usual mineral water and Corvo white. For you, signorina?"

"The same."

What were they, married?

"By the way, Inspector," Beatrice said with a smile, "I have a confession to make. When I'm eating, I'm unable to speak. So you should interrogate me now, before the risotto comes, or between courses."

Jesus! So it was true: the miracle of meeting one's spiritual twin did sometimes happen. . . .

Nine book lovers who are also cooks joined Simona, of the blog Briciole, and me in celebrating food that has spoken to them through novels. Thanks to all of them for their deliciously interesting posts. I'll have links to four of the posts at the bottom of this one, and Simona will serve up the other five. Be sure to visit Briciole and check out Simona's post and the links to the others. There is some beautiful food over there (did someone say "chocolate truffles in caramel nests"?) Here's to good reading and good eating!

The pasta 'ncasciata (n-cah-she-AH-tah) that I made for our event has been mentioned in every one of the Montalbano stories that I've read so far. I'd never heard of it and was very eager to try it. I've read that it's a "sumptuous ceremonial dish" that's popular at baptisms and weddings. I can see how it would be a special-occasion dish, because a) there's a lot of work involved and b) it could feed a million people. I think of it as a pasta al forno on steroids: A baking pan is lined with bread crumbs. Mortadella, hard-boiled eggs, cheeses, and eggplant are layered in the pan with pasta and meat sauce, and the whole thing is topped with more eggplant, sauce, and cheese. Sometimes it's made in a bowl-shaped baking dish that's lined with eggplant, whereupon it becomes a kind of timpano (think Big Night). Understand that you will be in the kitchen all day when you make this dish. And of course, there are many variations on the recipe. This one comes from the Italian Web site devoted to the Montalbano books.Pasta 'Ncasciata a' Missinisi (Baked Pasta from Messina)

My interpretation of the recipe on the Montalbano Web site; a thousand thanks to Simona of Briciole for the translation.

1.3 pounds (500 g) ziti, penne, or rigatoni
12 ounces fresh mozzarella
1 pound ground beef
4 ounces mortadella or salami
2 hard-boiled eggs
4 smallish Italian eggplants, sliced lengthwise 1/4-inch thick
4 ounces grated Parmigiano Reggiano
4 ounces Pecorino Romano
About 5 cups tomato sauce (recipe follows)
1/2 cup white wine
1 cup toasted fresh bread crumbs
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil

Make the tomato sauce and keep it handy.

Sprinkle the eggplant slices with salt and place in a colander to drain for 1 hour.

Brown the meat in olive oil just until it loses its pink color, then add the wine and cook until the wine evaporates. Add two cups of tomato sauce to the meat and mix well.

Rinse and dry the eggplant slices. Fry them in olive oil over medium heat until lightly browned on both sides, about 5 minutes per side. Drain on paper towels.

Bring 6 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot. Add 2 tablespoons of salt and the pasta. Cook over high heat until the pasta is tender but still very firm. Drain. Toss the pasta with about two cups of the sauce (enough to “season” it).

Butter a 9 by 13-inch baking pan and coat bottom and sides with breadcrumbs, pressing them so they stick. Pour in some of the pasta, then put on a layer of eggplant, grated cheese, basil, eggs, fresh mozzarella, and sliced mortadella or salami. Then put another layer of pasta over that, covered by more eggplant, grated cheese, basil, eggs, mozzarella, and mortadella. Finish with a layer of pasta, then eggplant, tomato sauce, and a good amount of the grated Pecorino on top.

Cover the baking dish tightly with foil. Bake at 375° F for 30 minutes. Remove the dish from the oven and remove the foil. Bake uncovered an additional 15 minutes. (I burned the top of the casserole, because I didn't think to cover it. If you cover it for most of the baking time, as above, you shouldn't have that problem.)
I used Locatelli brand Pecorino, which I picked up at Sunsinger (where I also got the Parmigiano Reggiano and the mozzarella). Isn't the rind decoration pretty? It's an extremely sharp and salty cheese that I adore eating all by itself, with wine.The mortadella I found only at the Art Mart in Urbana, and I sprang for a specialty brand of penne rigate (with ridges) there, too (don't ask me to total up what this dish cost to make, because I don't want to know).


For the tomato sauce (makes about 5 1/2 cups):
5 pounds fresh Roma tomatoes
1 1/2 onions, thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1/4 cup fresh basil, chopped
Salt and a good pinch red pepper flakes
1/4 cup good olive oil
2 tablespoons butter

Quarter the tomatoes and put them into a pot with the onion and garlic. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, then lower heat, cover, and cook until the onion is soft, about 20 minutes. Cool slightly. Put the tomatoes through a food mill to remove skins and seeds, or puree in a food processor, then put through a fine strainer, pressing the pulp through the strainer with the back of a wooden spoon until only the skins and seeds are left. Put the puree back into a pot and stir in the basil, red pepper flakes, and salt to taste. When you're ready to use the sauce, reheat and stir in the butter and oil at the end.Oh, and I even got hold of a Sicilian wine for the occasion. Its name is Fourplay. Because it's a blend of four grapes. Really. The back of the label reads, "Worldly pursuits and affairs with the almost forlorn grapes of the third planet from the sun." You have to love a wine that has a melancholy phrase like that on the label, and it was the perfect wine to have with this meal. (I picked the wine up at Sunsinger, too.)

Okay! If you've survived the 'ncasciata and the wine, please go and admire the posts of some of the other food bloggers who played along:

I don't think I need to tell you what Sandi of Whistlestop Café Cooking made for the occasion, do I? OK; it was fried green tomatoes. Hers are some great-looking specimens and I wish I were eating one right now. I haven't read the novel Fried Green Tomatoes, but I adore the movie.

Over at Finding la Dolce Vita, Maryann also fried something: eggplant, one of my favorite foods. Maryann's dish is inspired by Big Night, which I didn't even know existed as a book (I'm not impressing you as much of a reader, am I?!). Primo: "Do you know what's happening over there [at a nearby Italian restaurant] every night? RAPE! RAPE! The RAPE of cuisine!"

And you have to see this post. Sathya, of The Baker & the Curry Maker, slipped into "a little something more comfortable" to create turkey and spiced coconut balls, after a character in a book called You Gotta Have Balls by her favorite author, Lily Brett.

Molly, of Batter-Splattered, dished up memories of Jo in Little Women by preparing a divine-looking blancmange with salmonberry sauce. She included the passage in which Jo takes the pudding to the lonely boy Laurie in the big house next door. She even photographed it alongside a scarlet geranium, as described in the book.

Simona, my partner in, er, crime, has been cooking up a storm around the Montalbano books. First she roasted peppers, then she made cooked onions sound better than you ever thought possible, and today, she's posted about Montalbano again. Do go and see her part of the round-up, including a link to one "surprise" post (like women who end up wearing the same dresses to a party, we really didn't plan this, but in this case, it's a happy rather than unfortunate accident).