Italian-Style White Beans

Whether you call them frijoles, flageolets, fagioli, or beans; whether you like them in red, white, black, or brown, heirloom or grocery store, fresh or dried—they are the best! I can't understand people who don't like beans. They're meaty, they're tender, they're filling—and dang it, they're even good for you. What's not to like?

Well, we all have to live together, so if you're a person who can't abide beans, I'll avoid the subject in casual conversation, as I would if I knew we disagreed about religion or politics. But secretly I'll be thinking you're misguided.

Recently I cooked up "Italian-style" beans: white beans, fresh herbs, garlic, tomato—heavenly. Usually I just use sage, and often I do add a little tomato, but this time I decided to follow Jamie Oliver's advice. He presented this recipe in Jamie's Italy. What an absolutely gorgeous book that is. The photos alone will make your stomach begin growling.

Italian-Style Beans
From Jamie's Italy, by Jamie Oliver

1 pound dried or 2 pounds shelled fresh beans (he suggests cranberry, cannellini, lima, or zolfini—I used good ol' Great Northerns)
1 potato, peeled
2 ripe tomatoes, squashed
1/2 a bulb of garlic
A bunch of fresh herbs, tied together with string (rosemary, bay, sage, and thyme)
Extra-virgin olive oil
Herb vinegar (I used white-wine vinegar)
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

If using dried beans, soak them overnight in cold water, then drain and rinse. Place your beans, dried or fresh, in a deep pot. Cover with cold water but don't add salt (it makes the skins go tough). Add your potato, the squashed tomatoes (these will help to soften the skins), the garlic, the bunch of herbs, and a drizzle of olive oil. Place on the heat and bring to a boil. Skim any froth from the surface of the liquid and simmer gently for 40 minutes or until the beans are soft and tender—check them after 25 minutes if using fresh.

Drain the beans, reserving about half a glass of their cooking water, and remove and discard the potato, tomatoes, garlic, and herbs (I didn't remove the tomatoes or the garlic—who could throw out Jon Cherniss's garlic??). Use the reserved cooking water to dress the beans, then loosen with a good amount of extra-virgin olive oil and enough herb vinegar to give a little twang. Season with salt and pepper. The beans can be served as a lovely little side dish, or they can be added to pastas, stews, soups, you name it!

These were just delicious. I served them alongside some of Stan's pork chops (grilled). Another day I served the leftovers topped with chunks of leftover ham.

Oh—and if anyone knows of a nearby producer of fresh or dried heirloom (shell) beans, please clue me in. I haven't seen any at the farmers' market.

(This post is respectfully submitted with apologies to my friend AT, who hates beans.)

The Small Gem That Is The Bread Company

Keith and I had tickets to the Tango Buenos Aires show at Krannert last night, and we decided to eat beforehand at The Bread Company across the street on Goodwin. (The show, by the way, was very enjoyable—the sensual dancing, the five-piece tango orchestra, the Julianne Moore lookalike two rows down from us in the low-cut red halter dress and the huge hoop earrings . . . but I digress). We had made a reservation, even for a Tuesday night, and when we walked in, they seemed to know, saying, "Reservation for X?" and ushering us to a table near the open kitchen.Talk about your bistros! Why, oh why, I asked myself, have I not been here for so long? Where do I start? The ambience was cozy, the lighting was low, the tables were covered with white cloths, fresh flowers and a candle graced each table, jazz played in the background, and delicious smells emanated from the kitchen.There was a specials menu in addition to the regular menu. I saw the "entrées" page of the specials menu but somehow missed the page listing tapas (grilled lamb skewers; Greek salad; seared yellowfin tuna with olive tapenade; mussels with a white wine, roma tomato, and basil sauce; baked French onion soup; and gazpacho), the special pizza ("Steak Florentine"—baby spinach, fresh garlic, roma tomato, beef tenderloin, and Italian Fontina cheese), and the special desserts (brandied chocolate mousse, lemon cheesecake, cappuccino bread pudding, Linzer torte).Even so, I ate well. I ordered from the regular menu: a spinach salad with pancetta and a warm sundried-tomato dressing, and a portabello, artichoke heart, tomato, and Fontina cheese pizza.Keith chose one of the special entrees: fresh cut filet mignon with a "Tuscan basil and garlic sauce" (so unusual for him to order a steak!). You can see the other entrees on the special menu in the photo that follows, I hope. Highlights included grilled lamb leg medallions, beef tenderloin fondue, petite salmon steaks, walnut-crusted sea bass, and scallop and shrimp fettucini.If you ordered an entrée, you had your choice of two side dishes: haricots verts, grilled asparagus, balsamic vinegar roasted potatoes, or mixed roasted vegetables.There were a number of wines available by the glass; Keith had a Bordeaux, and I a Shiraz (there was also a decent-sized list of wines available by the bottle only). Our glasses of wine were $5 and $6. Yes, I said $5 and $6. Now, obviously, wine quality and prices vary enormously; however, when I order a glass of wine with dinner, I'm usually just looking for a nice table wine, and I want to trust that the restaurant knows enough to select enjoyable wines in several categories that they can offer for an affordable price. This one does.

I'm here to tell you, these people know good food—and the prices for entrées were such that you didn't feel you'd been abused, afterward. Keith's filet (we figured it was an 8- or 10-ounce steak) was $20. The steak was perfectly cooked, rareish, tender, and juicy; the shredded basil topping was a little tangy with vinegar, and pieces of garlic were tucked here and there. Together with the roasted potatoes and asparagus, it was a meal that was filling but not stuffing.

My salad, with the warm dressing, the hardboiled egg, the grape tomatoes, and a smattering of cheese, was very tasty. The pizza was larger than I expected and was brilliant: a thin, delicious crust, tomato sauce, big chunks of meaty mushrooms, flavorful cheese—I wish you could have a piece right now. The pizza was seasoned nicely and had a wood-fired taste about it.

Unfortunately, what with the show and all, we didn't have time for a leisurely meal of several courses, so we didn't have starters or desserts. Next time!

This is a place with a rustic, European feel to it that you could dress up or down for. In the summer, you might sit at one of the outdoor tables; in winter, you could cozy up to the fireplace. You could stop in for just a glass of wine and a plate of cold-cuts and cheeses, a sandwich, or a coffee and dessert, or you could go for the whole, um, enchilada and stay for three hours. It's up to you.

As we walked back over to Krannert Center after dinner (we had parked in the Center's garage beforehand) on that still-balmy evening, we felt like all was well with the world. Thank you, Bread Company.

The Bread Company
706 S. Goodwin (next door to Espresso Royale)
Urbana, IL
217-383-1007

Fiesta!

Just wanted to show off my new Fiesta dinnerware. After years of using the sets of K-Mart dishes we had both run out and bought (to use "temporarily") after our divorces, Keith and I decided to get something that we liked better. I love it! Morning coffee has never been so much fun. Thanks to Bergner's for rousing us into action with a sale on the stuff. If you need to get me a present for any reason, I want the sweet little butter dish.

Reading your comments, I was inspired to put up another shot showing all the colors we got. There's rather too much sun on them, so the colors don't look as vivid as they actually are, but still.

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).

Carmon's Goes French

A few days ago, Ms. LBOTP mentioned, in a comment on my "La Gourmandise" post, that a French bistro is going to open in the former Carmon's space. Intrigued, I immediately went into P.I. mode and did some investigating. I found a line from a News-Gazette classified ad that read, "Historic downtown restaurant renovated as French bistro," but couldn't track down the ad itself for more info. Keith and I drove downtown, parked across the street, and peered over; the neon "Crêperie" sign in the still-paper-covered windows was a definite clue! (And by the way, that sign was enhanced by my favorite graphic designer in Photoshop so you could see it; it wasn't lit or pink when we saw it at noontime, and it was very easy to miss.)

So—a crêpe place. I hope it does a better business than Tout Sweet, the Café Luna spinoff, did (they went out of business after about a year, and a franchise crêpe shop took its place; haven't visited there yet, though I've heard good reports).

I'm very disappointed. I was hoping for a cozy neighborhood spot that would serve classic French bistro food, like maybe steak-frites, salade Niçoise, killer French onion soup topped with Gruyère, coq au vin, beef Burgundy, something with sausages (cassoulet, perhaps?), profiteroles with chocolate sauce, lemon tarts—that kind of thing. Wasn't really looking for another crêpe shop.

But hey, I found a site for a restaurant with the same name in Canada that serves up some of the above-mentioned items in addition to crêpes. Maybe there's hope!

Do you suppose they'll keep the great old Carmon's sign/name? "Carmon's Crêperie"—hmmm.

Fab Four Meme

Other than its title, this post has very little—well, nothing—to do with the Beatles. I just thought the post needed a little visual interest.

Ms. Little Blog on the Prairie tagged me for a "Fab Four" meme, and, this being a food blog and all, I'm going to adapt it, recipe-like. Hope you don't mind, LBOTP.

4 Jobs I've Held:
I'll keep this to food-related jobs:

1. Waitress at Red Wheel (I don't think these exist anymore; they were like Denny's—hey, I was 17!)
2. Cook in a vegetarian restaurant (stock flavored with miso, anyone?)
3. Bartender in a seaside café (where I made gallons of fresh-squeezed o.j. and a million Irish coffees)
   
4. Bagel maker (try calling the owner at 2 a.m. to say you can't get the vat of water to heat up)

4 Films I Could Watch Over and Over:

1. Moonstruck (I call out next lines, like Rocky Horror Picture Show aficionados do)
2. Big Night
   
3. The Godfather
4. Gosford Park

4 TV Shows I Watch:

1. Mad Men
2. 24
3. Law and Order SVU (which of course we call SUV)
   
4. No Reservations

4 Places I've Lived:

1. Los Angeles (born and raised—yes, I was a Valley Girl)
2. Ojai, California (home of the "pink moment")
3. Ventura, California (I had a '68 VW bus with a bed in the back—no snide comments, please)
4. Grenada, West Indies (two years, in the Peace Corps)

4 Favorite Foods (almost impossible to narrow down; I'm going to say meals):

1. Osso buco, risotto alla Milanese
2. Steamed lobster tail, lemon butter (don't need anything else, but if pressed, I'd have steamed broccoli and a baked potato with it)
3. Blackeyed peas with ham, white rice, collard greens, cornbread
4. Anything involving pasta

4 Web Sites I Visit Every Day:
I'm not sure there are any sites I visit every day, but possibly I'm in denial. Mostly I visit local blogs, food blogs, and restaurant sites (imagine that!).

4 Favorite Restaurants:

1. Breakfast: I don't love going out for breakfast, but when I do, Original Pancake House (not for pancakes, which I don't like, but for eggs and bacon, and strawberries with cream)
2. Lunch: Thara Thai, for tom kha gai or pad see ew
3. Dinner: Timpone's (fritto misto, lamb, gnocchi, steak, any fish they're offering, Caesar salad)
4. Dessert: Timpone's (panna cotta, lemon tart)

4 Places I Would Love to Be Right Now:

1. The terrace of the Nozzole Estate in Tuscany, Italy, drinking chianti and eating garlic bread (toasted bread rubbed with a clove of cut garlic and drizzled with the estate's olive oil)
2. New Orleans, Louisiana, eating oysters on the half shell and drinking a Bloody Mary
3. Venice, Italy, drinking a coffee at the Caffé Florian
4. Grenada, W.I., eating doubles and potato roti

4 Foods I Love, But My Husband Will Never Touch (sorry, no kids, so I can't do the "kids' names" one):

1. Cioppino
2. Shrimp and grits (I've never actually eaten this, but I know I'd love it, and I can't find out by making it at home unless I want to consume the entire batch myself)
   
3. Cream-of-anything soup
4. Pasta with Gorgonzola sauce

Yes, I said, "Cupcake bar"!

According to a story in tonight's News-Gazette, two sisters are going to open a bar in downtown Champaign. A cupcake bar, that is.

Huh.

The sisters want to cater to the "night crowd."

Huh.

Possibly a lot of people will crave a cupcake after a night of drinking—who am I to say?

Anyway, this is an interesting idea for a place (I've found a similar-sounding place in St. Louis. Cupcake bars are sprouting up all over.) The name of the Walnut St. store will be Cream & Flutter Cake Bar. A lavender-mascarpone cupcake variety was mentioned in the N-G article. I'm not a big cake eater, but I might just have to try that one.

The address of the bar-to-be is 114 N. Walnut, near the Esquire Lounge, it will feature cupcakes, coffees, teas, gourmet sodas, and juices, and it may open as soon as next month.

Cupcake bar. Huh.

La Gourmandise Bistro on Main

A friend tipped me off that this new downtown Urbana restaurant had opened, so naturally I buzzed right over the next day to check it out. The bistro, which serves breakfast and lunch, is located in the old Main Street Eatery space just west of Crane Alley.

When I heard the restaurant's name (which translates as something like "The Glutton's Cafe"), I imagined tables covered with white cloths, perhaps a fresh flower in a tiny vase on each; possibly table service; hearty, homestyle French entrées; wine . . . but alas, it was not to be (they do offer a "Croque Monsieur Montréal," so there is actually one French item. Their version of this sandwich involves béchamel, which I'm not sure I want on my croque-monsieur, but until I've tried it I can't judge). When I saw the interior, my first thought was, did they hire the same decorator who did the Atlanta Bread Company? The color scheme and decor generally were similar: rust and gold-colored walls, armchairs scattered along one wall, a go-up-to-the-counter ordering system. Even the menu is sort of similar: hot and cold sandwiches, soups, breakfast eggs and pastries, and coffees.I decided on half a "Pickled Pastrami Panini on Rye," with a small Caprese salad, while my lunch companion tried the roasted chicken on multigrain bread with half a scallop salad (they have a "pick 2" combo where you can choose among three options: soup, half salad, half sandwich, $6.25). Wanting to sample a variety of things, I also ordered a small portion of cream of asparagus soup, and pommes frites (another French item!).

It says on the menu that the soups are homemade; they offer four daily (cream of asparagus, spicy peanut and chicken, lentil with potatoes, and white chili with chicken). I found the cream of asparagus soup rather tasteless and uninteresting, and it didn't help that it was barely warm. Not a great way to start things off. Still, I hoped the sandwich and salad would make up for it.

Now, you may or may not know this, but I am a devotee of pastrami. I was introduced to the stuff as a child in a famous Jewish deli in Los Angeles, and I've loved it ever since. There's at least one key thing about pastrami: You have to slice it against the grain or it's almost inedible. The pastrami on the bistro's sandwich was sliced with the grain, making it difficult to eat. The meat was tasty enough, and I would have been happy with it if a) it had been sliced correctly and b) there had been more of it on the sandwich. There was a lot of thickly sliced rye, which was delicious (it was good bread from Mirabelle bakery across the street) and very little pastrami. The Caprese salad is described on the printed menu thusly: "roasted tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, chopped red onions, fresh basil, and balsamic vinaigrette." A couple of things here: A Caprese salad is made up of extremely fresh, perfectly ripe, uncooked tomatoes layered with fresh mozzarella and basil and a drizzle of olive oil. The tomatoes in this salad, on the other hand, were obviously not local (and they weren't roasted, which was a plus, since roasted tomatoes shouldn't come anywhere near a Caprese salad), and the mozzarella was aged, not fresh. The difference between aged and fresh mozzarella is large, and the former should never be used in a Caprese salad. With amazing locally grown tomatoes in abundance, and fresh mozzarella available at every grocery store, I can't imagine why they would include such substandard ingredients in this salad. A dill pickle spear and tricolored tortilla chips (the chips were totally out of place) rounded out my dish.My companion's scallop salad included one scallop. True, it was a delicious, ham-wrapped, grilled scallop—but, come on—one?? That got us wondering how many scallops would come with the full salad (which goes for $7.95). The salad mix seemed fresh enough, and the dressing tasty; there were also strips of fried things we couldn't identify scattered on top, which provided a nice crunch factor. Her sandwich consisted of, again, good Mirabelle multigrain bread, a big chunk of chicken breast, a relish that she described as tasting like "jam," and a very dead piece of lettuce. Rounding out her plate was a not very fresh-looking slice of watermelon.

I find that I don't have much interest in going back to La Gourmandise, but I will, because they've only just opened and things may improve. Their breakfasts may be good (among the offerings are an omelette, two eggs any style with baguette, scrambled eggs with smoked salmon on baguette, eggs Benedict, and oatmeal with roasted cinnamon apples—$2.25 to $6.50). And a couple of the sandwiches (prosciutto ham on ciabatta, salami and Fontina on "hearty Italian bread") sounded promising.

If you go, and you find something you like, let me know.

La Gourmandise Bistro on Main
119 W. Main Street
Urbana, IL
217-328-4405
Open Monday through Friday 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. and Saturday 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Sunday Dinner: Braciola

Have you ever heard of this dish? It's one that my mother used to make, and she pronounced it "bra-zholl." A round or flank steak is stuffed with—well, with a variety of things, depending on who and where you are, but from what I've ascertained, the basics are cheese, parsley, and garlic. Often hard-boiled eggs, ham, and/or pine nuts are added to the mix. The stuffed steak is then cooked in a tomato sauce.

It's quite a good dish, when done well. Unfortunately, my Sunday-dinner version didn't turn out as well as I would've liked. The first problem was that I put too much stuffing inside it (well, too many pine nuts, at least; they were popping out all over the place), the second was that I didn't cook it long enough for the steak to get tender (although my esteemed partner claimed that it was delicious and said he "wouldn't call it tough"—what a guy), and thirdly, I stupidly dumped all of the pasta into the sauce. Thus, the pasta was oversauced and I didn't have any plain sauce to spoon over the steak (I used a half-pound of rotini). However, even given all of that, the braciola was tasty. The sauce had a wonderful flavor, what with the browned beef bits, wine, and herbs in it. Next time, I would cook the steak longer (the full 2 hours), and I would mix just some of the sauce with the pasta, spooning the rest over the sliced steak. Or you could even just spoon some sauce over the pasta on serving plates.

As I remember it, my mother used to put the hard-boiled eggs in this dish, and bread crumbs, but I don't recall her using ham. Unfortunately, I can't ask her about it now, as she passed away six years ago. But I tried to replicate the tastes that I remember from childhood. Thanks to Kevin of Seriously Good for reminding me of this dish and inspiring me to try it. Kevin used prosciutto in his version, and it sounded delicious.

I used a combination of a couple of recipes; one from Michele Scicolone's book 1,000 Italian Recipes (what a wonderful resource that book is) and one from Francis Coppola that appeared in a magazine (I clipped the pages with his recipes and have had them in my overstuffed notebook for years; the name of the magazine isn't printed on the pages so I don't even know which one it was). Both of those recipes called for thin slices of beef roast or steak, but I used one whole steak as my mother used to. I've reduced the amounts of stuffing ingredients here so that you won't have the pine-nut problem I ran into.

Braciola

1 pound round steak or flank steak
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 tablespoons grated Pecorino Romano or Parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
1 scant tablespoon toasted pine nuts
1/3 to 1/2 cup diced boiled ham
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 cup dry red wine
1 28-ounce can whole plum tomatoes, crushed in a blender or processor
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
1/2 teaspoon oregano

Place the steak between two pieces of waxed paper or plastic wrap and pound gently with a mallet (or rolling pin, in my case) until it's 1/8-inch thick. Remove the top piece of paper or wrap.Set aside 1 chopped garlic clove for the sauce. Place the rest of the garlic, the pine nuts, the diced ham, chopped parsley, and grated cheese on top of the steak and salt and pepper to taste. Roll the steak up and tie it like a small roast with kitchen string.Heat the oil in a large, deep skillet or pot. Add the braciola and brown on all sides, about 10 minutes. Throw the remaining garlic into the pot and cook for 1 minute. Raise the heat, add the wine, and cook for a couple of minutes to reduce, then lower the heat. Stir in the tomatoes, basil, and oregano. Cover and cook over low heat, turning the steak occasionally, until it's tender when pierced with a fork, about 2 hours. When the braciola is almost done, put pasta on to boil.

Remove the steak from the sauce, cut and remove the strings, and slice. Serve hot with pasta of your choice (I like a chunky type such as rotini, rigatoni, or penne) and the sauce.

(If you want to try the hard-boiled eggs in the stuffing, I would use 1 sliced egg for this amount of steak.)

Roast Beef Hash with Fried Eggs

In Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings' book Cross Creek Cookery, she talks about the different kinds of hashes. She says that she served a friend of hers a "beautifully browned omelet-like dry hash," and "he ate it sadly." Her friend's idea of a hash is more like "a finely cut, wet stew," which she immediately dubs "Southern hash." Her recipe contains beef, potatoes, onions, and green pepper. The beef and onion are browned in butter, then the potatoes and pepper are added along with a good quantity of water, and salt and pepper. The skillet is covered and the thing is cooked slowly until all ingredients are tender and there is plenty of gravy.

When I first read that recipe, it sounded pretty awful to me. I, like Rawlings, grew up with the dry, crispy, omelet-like hash. Not that my mother ever made hash from scratch, mind you. In fact, I don't think my mother ate it at all; it was a "dad" thing, and he used Mary Kitchen Roast Beef Hash, in the can. He spread it out in the skillet, in butter, let it brown, and then flipped the whole thing over (or at least attempted to) and browned the other side. How I loved that hash, with ketchup on it! It had the tiniest cubes of potatoes in it that I'd ever seen. And I felt like such a big girl, eating manly hash with Dad.

Over the weekend, I found myself with leftover roast beef, "Carmen" peppers, and fingerling potatoes in the refrigerator, so naturally, roast beef hash came to mind. As I added various ingredients to the skillet, I thought about Rawlings and her "wet" hash and I decided to add some tomato to the mix, wondering if I would regret it. I didn't. Along with the Worchestershire sauce, it formed sort of a gravy that was very pleasing. Turns out that making a (wet) hash of things ain't a bad idea.

Roast Beef Hash with Fried Eggs
My version

2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon oil
1 medium-small onion, finely chopped
1 sweet red pepper, finely chopped
4 fingerling potatoes
Leftover roast beef (about a half pound/1 cup), cut into small cubes
1/2 large tomato, finely chopped
Salt and pepper, to taste
Worcestershire sauce (about a half tablespoon)
Optional toppings: Chopped fresh parsley, hot sauce

Pierce the potatoes with a fork and place in the microwave. Cook on "baked potato" setting for about 2 minutes, or until almost cooked through. Remove and let sit until cool enough to handle, then chop into small cubes.

Heat the butter and oil in a smallish skillet and add the onions and peppers. Fry over medium-high heat for a few minutes, till softened. Add the diced potatoes to the skillet and stir gently. Let fry in one layer for about 2 minutes, then stir and fry for another couple of minutes, and so on until the potatoes have browned nicely. Add the pieces of roast beef and the tomato, several large dashes of Worcestershire, and the salt and pepper, and let simmer until a sort of gravy coats everything in the pan.

Heat another skillet and add butter. When butter foams, crack two eggs into the skillet. Season with salt and pepper and fry until set, then flip them courageously and cook a couple of minutes longer.

Place the hash on serving plates and top with a fried egg and a sprinkling of parsley. Louisiana hot sauce is good, too.

Hats off to Stan of Triple S Farm for the roast and the eggs, and Jon of Blue Moon Farm for the peppers, onions, tomato, and fingerling potatoes. (Jon now grows the Carmen pepper I mentioned above, and it has become my favorite sweet red pepper; I like it even more than the Gypsy pepper. The skin is a bit thicker, and the pepper just seems more robust.)

Novel Food Event This Month

Simona, of the blog Briciole, introduced me to the crime novels of author Andrea Camilleri recently, and I've fallen in love with them. The protagonist, Inspector Salvo Montalbano, fights crime in Sicily, and he also has a passion for good food. This quote, from The Snack Thief, gives you an idea of the depth of that passion:

"The pasta with crab was as graceful as a first-rate ballerina, but the stuffed bass in saffron sauce left him breathless, almost frightened."

Don't you love it?!

As you've just seen, meals and snacks that Montalbano eats are mentioned throughout the books. While reading, I found myself wanting to eat along with my hero. Simona was kind enough to translate a couple of the recipes (of course, the Italian Web site devoted to all things Montalbano includes recipes) for me so I could try them. Then it occurred to me that, as a fan, she might also want to make something from one of the books, and we could both write about it. The idea took off from there.

Thus, we're co-hosting a special event: "Novel Food." If this idea appeals to you, please join us!

Here are the rules for the event:

• Prepare a dish of your choosing that has a connection to a novel.
• Post it on your blog by midnight on September 21, 2007.
• Send an e-mail to either me (webrina AT gmail DOT com) or Simona (simosite AT mac DOT com) and include your name, blog name and address, and a permanent link to your post.

We'll do a roundup the following weekend.

La Festa al Fresco: Pasta with Green Beans and Fried Peppers

Once again this year, to celebrate late-summer goodness, Yvonne of Cream Puffs in Venice and Lis of La Mia Cucina are holding a "festa al fresco," and they've invited others to bring something to the virtual table on the terrace. The idea is to use at least one fresh, local ingredient in the dish you share.

My contribution this year is tortellini with green beans and peppers. The tortellini were not freshly made (although I am finally going to get a pasta machine, so look out in the near future!), but the green beans, garlic, and peppers were from the farmers' market. My favorite peppers, and the ones I use here, are called Gypsy peppers, and they're most wonderful for frying and roasting. They're red, and sweet, but they have a flavor and piquancy that a bell pepper doesn't. They're elongated in shape but still good-sized. You can get them from Jon Cherniss of the Blue Moon Farm stand at the market in Urbana.

Note that in this recipe, you boil the pasta in the same water the green beans cook in, so there's less clean up and you get all of that flavor when you add a bit of the cooking water to the finished dish.Pasta with Green Beans and Fried Peppers
(My own concoction. ~LM)

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 clove fresh garlic, thinly sliced
1 red pepper, preferably a Gypsy pepper, cut into 1/2-inch squares
Dash red pepper flakes
Salt to taste
1/2 of a 20-ounce bag frozen cheese-filled tortellini
Handful fresh green beans
Freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Trim the green beans, drop them into boiling water, and cook until just tender, about 6 minutes. Take the beans out of the water with a slotted spoon, let cool a minute, cut into inch-long pieces, and set aside. Keep the water the beans cooked in hot.

In a medium skillet, heat the oil and fry the peppers over high heat, stirring often, until they soften and start to pick up some dark spots. Add the sliced garlic and fry until it's barely golden. Stir in the green beans and fry for another minute or so.

When the water that the beans cooked in has come back to a boil, add the tortellini. Cook for 5 minutes, until al dente. Reserve 1/4 cup of the pasta cooking water, then drain the pasta. Mix the pasta into the bean-pepper mixture in the skillet, adding the reserved pasta cooking water. Grate some Parmesan over the top and mix gently.

Serve hot with additional Parmesan for grating.

Note: I used tortellini because I had some in the freezer that I wanted to try. But I think this would be excellent made with unstuffed pasta like penne or gemelli as well. This amount serves two as a main dish.

On Sept. 7, get a glass of vino, check out the round-up on Yvonne's and Lis's blogs, and settle in for a virtual feast. I'm going to imagine that we're all sitting at a table under a grape arbor and that a cool, late-summer breeze is blowing.

Welcome to September, and buon appetito, everyone!