Eat, Drink, and Be Merry
Click on image to view enlarged.I was a limoncello afficianado long before Danny DeVito went into the business of bottling it, before it even hit the U.S. When I learned how to make it from an Italian farmer's wife, it wasn't even something that was found in stores. But over there, drinking grade alcohol is available in any grocery. I had tiramisu before it became a fad over here as well. Translated as "pick me up," until relatively recently it was a very local specialty in Italy. It's also usually dreadful. Once it's a day old it gets watery and tastes of the refrigerator. Then again, how could anything made with ladyfingers be remotely edible?
posted by John M Crowther @ 7:41 AM
25 Comments:
John... you must have surveillance cameras installed ~grin~... I had a limoncello just yesterday (after lunch at the local Ciao Italia) Haven't had one since my birthday before the last one... and it was yummy!
Speaking of alcohol... I went on the hunt for (what I now know is called isopropyl alcohol) the other day. I needed it to clean my heat set oil brushes and the alcohol had to be over 90% proof. Talk about a bunfight. Everywhere I enquired I got the raised eyebrow and the censured look... what did they think I was going to do with it... drink the stuff???? Righto then. LOL
Love this cartoon strip btw... :-)
I must object! Culinary history says that the classic tiramisu was invented in Treviso, a town not too far from Venice; other sources claim it originated earlier in Siena in Tuscany. In any event, in all the years I lived in Rome or visited central Italy, eating every day and night in various ristoranti and trattorie, never once did I see the dessert listed on any menu. It was only when I moved to Venezia that I discovered the dish. As Will Rogers once said: “I never met a man I didn’t like.” May I going record as saying that “I never tasted a tiramisu that I didn’t love!” Can we hold the good Italians north east or central west responsible for the fact that this splendid dessert has become commercialized, corrupted, in a word “dreadful,” anymore than we can hold the poor Neapolitan bakers who invented the pizza culpable for a dish that now comes frozen in supermarkets or can be delivered within half an hour to your home by a sixteen year old with a car and a red hat? As for ladyfingers, they too have an honorable even regal history. Called savoiardi in Italian, these biscuits originated in the court of the Duke of Savoy, ancestor of the King of Italy. Good enough for a duke, good enough for a king, they are fine enough for me.
I love savoiardi! But couldn't for the life of me find a bowl of good pasta in Rome. Now that you mention it...the Duke of Savoy I mean... I once stayed at his hotel... the pillow smelt so gross I hurled it out the window at the garbo crashing his cans around in the early hours of the morning in the alley below. Man...*sigh* what a night THAT was!
Carbonara, matriciana, marinara, pesto, aglio olio, vongole veraci, funghi e piselli, primavera, panna, checca, afredo, pomodoro, bolognese, puntanesca … the list goes on. I regret that with these incredible sauces and many more that can be found in any roman trattoria you never had a decent bowl of pasta, but then again perhaps you had no one to guide you to the right places.
Well... the Duke of Savoy was no darned help that's for sure! LOL
ps I was j-u-s-t joking Prof...
oh and... aglio olio is my favourite... simple but luscious :-)
Oh you sophisticated, cultered people! Not having traveled much my plebian culinary experiences are limited to Tiramisu flavored gelatto... which is quite an indulgence for me! Perhaps ingnorance is bliss...
Mary Jensen, I am neither sophisticated nor cultured when it comes to food; but the glory of the Italian kitchen has always been its sheer simplicity. The sauces I listed were once made of the least expensive ingredients that any poor person could find in the market. Needless to say, thanks to the foodies and the critics what was once Italian Soul Food has crossed over to the outlandishly overpriced gourmet section of your supermarket.
>aglio olio is my favourite... simple but luscious :-)<
When you are down to your last penny, cook the chopped aglio (garlic) in the hot olio (extra non-virgin oil) until the aglio is the color of a middle-aged blonde, then toss in the almost al dente spaghetti, add a few hot pepper flakes and stir for vigorously for another minute. If you can afford some chopped parsley add to the mix and serve.
il professore, your recipe sounds wonderful. Shall try it one day this next week.
It's referred to in Italy as aglio, olio, peperoncini and is indeed a treat. It's commonly served in discos in Rome around midnight, to get everyone thirsty again.
I stick by my assessment of most tiramisu, prof, at least in the U.S. where it's the habit to sell deserts made the day before rather than fresh. And the savoiardi as served for the Duke of Savoy were (and are today) a far cry from the dry, too sweet abomination called a "ladyfinger." Heaven only knows where those fingers have done their walking.
>>add a few hot pepper flakes and stir for vigorously for another minute<<
I prefer my chilli freshly chopped... and always always always add parsley... and freshly grated parmesan (or peccorino) Yum!
The best version I ever tasted was (oddly enough) in a cafe in a small town not far from the snowfields in New Zealand! LOL
Oh and Professor... what colour (exactly) IS a middle aged blonde?
>>Heaven only knows where those fingers have done their walking.<<
Heaven knows, John, it’s a wonderful thing to live in the present rather than the past. I used to say to Marcel (Proust) why can’t you get over it? He never could get and neither can I: the taste of the first kiss, the taste of the first tiramisu, and even –god forgive me!—the taste of the Italian ladyfinger when a lady was really a lady and a finger was a finger. As for spaghetti aglio olio peperoncini, there is no comparison to taste of a true peperoncino (if you can get it) and the dried out stuff you buy in bottles.
I think you accidentally added a "non" to your recipe, prof. (What are you a professor of, anyway? You seem to be an expert in many fields.
There isn't such a thing as extra non virgin olive oil..
"Extra Vigin" is olive oil from the first pressing, using only physical means, no additives and no extreme heat.It is the mildest, and most flavorful.
"Virgin" olive oil also comes from the first pressing, but is more acidic and less flavorful
Products labeled "100% olive oil" are from further pressings, using heat and solvents. It has to be purified and doesn't taste too good. Most of the time it's combined with extra virgin to make it taste better.
Enough about food for me. I'm getting terribly nauseated. Don't take it personally. It's a virus; an occupational hazard when you work with young childre.
Kate, I invented the term “extra non-virgin olive oil” purposely to emphasize the fact that once upon a time the average poor person did not use twenty-five dollar bottles of Tuscan gold when cooking spaghetti aglio olio. Today I can well understand anyone more affluent wanting to use the best oil available in salads where you can really taste the difference, but by the time the garlic and hot pepper take hold in your bowl of spaghetti aglio olio I don’t believe most people could tell the difference. It’s rather like ordering a ball park frank and insisting on Grey Poupon Dijon mustard.
In answer to Jean's question "what does a middle-aged blonde look like?" I was refering only to the color of her hair. Most blondes, middle aged or otherwise, look great to me.
And the absolute bar none best olive oil I've ever had is the oil we get from our trees. Our olives are pressed in the local frantoio, non-hydraulically, and the remaining pulp is sold to the commercial presses. You can't buy this first pressing (called the "farmer's pressing) commercially. It's so dense that it's an opaque green. We only use it on salads, for bruschetta, and to dribble on pasta after it's cooked.
Ah John, in this our mundane world where the politicos spend so much time and money battling each other that they must go begging bowl in hand to the nearest lobbyist, it is comforting to imagine you at some old farmhouse in Tuscany, a bottle of the most virgin of olive oils in hand. You cut off a piece of bread fresh from the fornaio. The green oil comes slowly out of the bottle and seeps into the bread. The birdies sing, the cows moo moo, and life as it should be lived goes on and on.
It sounds heavenly John... not just the olive oil... but the whole sensory image! Your villa is near Cortona isn't it? If I'm not mistaken wasn't that where Under the Tuscan Sun was shot? It looks positively idyllic... *sigh*
Something I didn't know until recently was the grading for balsamic vinegar. 1 leaf: mostly red wine vinegar with a splash of the real thing right up to 4 leaf: where it's at it's pure sweet almost syrupy best. Like good extra virgin cold pressed olive oil... the difference is like chalk and cheese... (although must confess... I've never tasted chalk ~grin~)
As so few of us who are not under the Tuscan sun will ever have the pleasure of tasting syrupy green olive oil as it comes put of the presses may I suggest a substitute for the divinely fresh peperoncino that John talks about. If you are near a Mexican market, you may find some tiny green or red peppers that have the same taste, but in my experience the closest sensation is the dry Chinese dry spice which is the base of Kung Pao. Crack a few peppers into your spaghetti aglio olio perperonicino and you may near the thrill. After all, wasn’t it that veneziano Marco (Polo?) who was the first to bring back all of these delizie from Asia. Of course, this was all long ago before there were call-in and take-out joints
The book was set in Cortona, Jean, but it appears to me a lot of the film was shot a bit further west, nearer to Siena where the hills are "softer." Cortona is almost tucked up against the Appenine foothills. We have a spectacular view from our place. In winter, when the cloud hang low over the Chiana valley beneath, it's like being in an airplace.
Thanks, prof, for the gustatory tips. It's much appreciated, especially in California where the Mexican spices are abundant.
Uh... airplane.
So... let me get this straight Professor... is pepperoncino not the same as the small red (fresh) moderately hot chilli pepper... like the ones sold at our local asian market? Is it more like a capsicum then... (but can't for the life imagine for one moment putting capsicum in aglio olio!) You've really got me wondering...
Jean, firstly I must thank John, our genial host and spicy moderator, for letting us use this site as an adjunct of Lidia’s Cucina Italiana. Buon appetito! Yes, peperoncino, the Italian spice definitely comes from the capsicum annuum family. Many experts believe it originated in Mexico and that the Genovese mariner Christopher Columbus was the first to bring it to Europe. Should you have a Mexican market near by, as John does, you may be able to get your hands on the real thing. The smaller the plant the stronger the flavor. I also recommend the dried plant, which you can find packaged in any Asian market. I crack open the red pod and toss the entire plant into the sauce. Needless to say, flakes and seeds that sit in a glass bottle lose much of their potency. Finally a caveat: the plant is known to be an aphrodisiac. Please use it cautiously!
P.S. By the entire plant, I mean a single pepper. If you are able to find a capsicum bush do not, I repeat do not toss it into your sauce.
To further clarify, some experts believe that it was Marco Polo who brought the plant to Europe from Asia while others claim that it was Cristofo Columbo who carried it from the Caribbean. Whatever the case, it was surely an Italian who introduced the capsicum annuum to the European palette.
>>Should you have a Mexican market near by<<
Mexico's a little far for me (giggles)but I'll keep my eyes peeled at the local markets. Thanks Prof. And thanks for your patience John!
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