Pasticcio di Pasta

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his past Sunday evening, I found myself in the company of four or five friends at dinnertime, and it appeared I had nothing to feed them. A brief inspection of my refrigerator revealed—among few other ingredients—nearly a quart of marinara, leftover mozzarella, a prosciutto bone, and half pound of sopressata; certainly enough for some kind of catch-as-catch-can meal for two, but not enough of any one thing for this crowd. Unless, I combined them all to make Pasticcio di Pasta; literally, pasta pie. Pasticcio is one of those seemingly myriad Italian recipes where the whole exceeds the sum of its parts.

The Italian cuisine has as many versions of pasticcio as people who cook it. It's a great way to use various bits of così cosà, this or that, to produce a lovely, if informal, dish for a crowd. The common denominators for pasticcio are, some kind of pasta, mozzarella, and eggs. The rest is cook's choice.

For this recipe, I hacked off some meat scraps from my prosciutto bone, then diced the mozzarella and the sopressata. If I had any, I would have added peas, or possibly diced bell peppers. Diced eggplant, or artichokes would have been great additions too. No matter what the combination of ingredients though, the outcome is a wonderful amalgam of texture and flavor, different from a dish of pasta simply boiled and sauced.

Here in America, we've grown accustomed to eating an informal Sunday supper. For me, pasticcio, and perhaps a green salad, is the perfect way to meet that expectation. Again, though, what follows is only one version, one time. Who knows what I'll have in the 'fridge the next time the gang shows up?

Pasticcio di Pasta
Pasta Pie

Ingredients:

1 Lb. Spaghetti
2 Large eggs
1 Cup mozzarella, finely diced or shredded
1/3 – ½ Cup Parmigiano
1/2 – 2/3 Cup sopressata, or hard salami, diced
1/4 Cup prosciutto, diced
1 – 1 1/2 Cups marinara
4 Tbs. Flat-leaf Italian parsley, finely chopped

Preparation:

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Bring a large pot of salted water (at least six quarts) to a boil, then add the pasta. Cook the pasta until it has barely become al dente, then drain in a colander and reserve.

While the pasta is cooking, break the eggs into a large bowl, and beat them with the back of a fork. Add the mozzarella and Parmigiano, and stir to combine. Add the prosciutto and sopresatta, and stir again.

Add the drained pasta, and toss with two forks to combine with the egg and cheese mixture. Add the marinara and parsley, and toss to combine thoroughly.

Pour the pasta mixture into a 12 in. spring form pan, or an oven proof casserole large enough to hold it. Dust the top with Parmigiano, and bake in the center of the oven, for fifteen to twenty minutes, until the top is slightly browned, and the mixture is bubbling.

Remove from the oven, allow to sit at room temperature for approximately five minutes. Remove the ring from the spring form pan (if using), and slice the pasticcio into wedges.

Serves six

A Late-Night Snack at Umberto's

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t least that's what Joey Gallo and his entourage had in mind on the morning of April 7, 1972. They had wanted to go for Chinese food, but found nothing open in Chinatown at 4:00 a.m. So Umberto's Clam Bar on Mulberry Street was a second choice. Too bad.

As they walked from Gallo's black Cadillac to the restaurant, they encountered Mathew "Matty the Horse" Ianello, Umberto's former owner, having a smoke on the sidewalk outside the restaurant with a couple of kitchen employees.

"How's the shrimp tonight?" asked Gallo.

"Hey, whadda you, kiddin' me? Everything on the menu's good." said Ianello.

Crazy Joey Gallo, his new bride, his sister Carmella Fiorello, and Peter "Pete the Greek" Diapoulos, had come from the midnight show at the Copacabana, where they had seen Don Rickles perform. It was Joey's birthday, and Carmella had arranged a small party. She felt that Joey needed to relax.

In fact, his life had been stressful recently. There was that confusion with his boss, Joe Profaci, about some tawdry business with Frank "Frankie Shots" Abbatemarco, exacerbated by the notion that Crazy Joe had something to do with the untimely passing of Joe Columbo.

For his part, Joe Profaci was not his most communicative at that time because he had his hands full with a family matter concerning his daughter and William "Bill Bananas" Bonnano. But that's another story altogether.

No matter. As the party was ordering their Linguine with Clam Sauce, a wise guy named Carmine DiBiase, and two men known only as Cisco and Benny—all of whom were employed by Carlo Gambino—entered Umberto's. They were carrying guns. They began shooting in Crazy Joey Gallo's direction.

Of twenty rounds fired among the three gunman, three hit Crazy Joe, causing his vastly premature departure from our mortal confines.

Prior to April 7, 1972, Crazy Joe Gallo's career as a wise guy had been colorful, if slightly inept. Sufficiently so, to have inspired Jimmy Breslin to create a fictional character who seemed remarkably similar to Gallo, in The Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight.

I took my two children to Manhattan on Thanksgiving in the early eighties, ostensibly to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. But for me, the highlight of the trip was eating Linguine with Clam Sauce at Umberto's. I told my children, "Look around; this is where they whacked Crazy Joe."

Call me sentimental, but for all his indescretions and social infirmities, I (and probably several dozen beat reporters for the New York Daily News) miss Crazy Joe Gallo.

Follow this link for my recipe for Linguine with Clam Sauce.

You Say Batutto, I Say Sofritto

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've been spending some time lately thinking about conserve, preserves. Apart from jellies and jams, Italians divide conserve into two categories: sott' olio, preserved in oil, and sott' aceto, preserved in vinegar.

For those of us who pursue this sort of thing, fall is traditionally the time to "put food by," but springtime presents some good opportunities too. Marinated mushrooms, artichoke hearts, and sottoaceti—as I posted yesterday—are all good candidates at this time of year. But after I submitted yesterday's post, I was browsing a couple of Italian web sites, where I found a combination I hadn't previously thought of as a conserva: soffrito.

Soffrito—which begins life with the name battuto—is a combination of carrot, celery, onion, garlic, parsley, and possibly pancetta; very finely chopped, and sautéed in olive oil until soft and slightly browned. At that point, it becomes the basis for a myriad of Italian dishes that are braised, stewed, or simmered.

What I hadn't considered before yesterday, was that it adds nothing to the pan during cooking. That is to say, when the soffrito is ready for the next step in a recipe, there's no benefit derived from deglazing the pan before proceeding. So why not have a supply on hand and begin cooking from that point in a recipe? You'll save at least a half hour in a recipe's overall preparation time.

Some of the best known recipes in Italian cuisine, Ragù alla Bolognese, Osso Buco, and Zuppa di Fagioli, all start with a battuto&mdash>soffrito. And the famous Tuscan tomato sauce, Sugo Finto, is little more than marinara, started with a base of soffrito.

I'm not aware that restaurant chefs here in America use this technique to expedite their cooking, but apparently, it's very popular in Italy. I can tell you this, though: it will become standard operating procedure in this Italian kitchen in southeastern Connecticut.

Note: The recipe that follows, is for one batch of soffrito, sufficient for a recipe (like the ones above) for six. You can double, triple, or quadruple it in 1:1 proportions, but cooking times will vary based on the quantity of the vegetables, and the size of your pot.

Soffrito
Vegetable Base

Ingredients:

2 Cloves garlic, peeled
1 Medium carrot, peeled, and cut into chunks
1 Stalk celery, cut into chunks
1 Medium yellow onion, peeled, and quartered
4 Tbs. Flat-leaf Italian parsley (including stems)
2 oz. Pancetta, roughly chopped (optional)
Olive oil
Salt & freshly ground black pepper

Preparation:

Add the garlic, carrot, celery, onion, parsley, and pancetta (if using) to the bowl of a food processor. Pulse ten times, for approximately one second for each pulse. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, and pulse two or three more times if necessary.

Heat a large sauté pan over medium-high heat, then add enough olive oil to cover the pan bottom. Add the vegetable mixture, shaking the pan to distribute the vegetables evenly.

Lower the heat to medium-low, season the vegetables with salt and pepper, and sauté, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables have thoroughly softened, and have become slightly brown; 10 - 15 minutes. (Possibly longer with larger quantities).

Remove from the heat, and allow the vegetables to cool to room temperature. Place the vegetables in a clean glass or ceramic container with a tight-fitting lid, and add enough olive oil to barely cover the surface. Cover and refrigerate.

The soffrito will keep, covered and refrigerated, for up to a month.

Use 1 to 1 1/2 Cups to begin any recipe that calls for soffrito. You will need only to heat it through, before proceeding to the next step in your recipe.

Sottoaceti

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aturday was such a dreary, gray day, it seemed—to me anyway—the perfect time to spend a long afternoon in the kitchen. And I could think of no better kitchen occupation than putting up several jars of Sottoaceti, pickled vegetables (literally, "under vinegar"). What follows, is my slightly edited recipe and narrative as it appeared in 1995, on my original website, northend.com.

I confess it; I've been a dismal failure at creating Italian pickled vegetables for more years than I care to discuss. Of course, I sought advice from the experts. Pop [my grandfather], who no longer made sottoaceti at the time, told me to put an egg in the bottom of a crock, then fill the crock with water and start adding salt. When the egg floated to the surface, the brine was ready. My friend Joe Pace [Joe Pace & Sons, Italian Grocers, Boston, MA.] told me to use some vinegar and a little water, and maybe some garlic. My friend Lilly, one of the clerks at Joe Pace’s, told me to use two parts vinegar to one part water, and this much salt, as she made a vague gesture with her fist.

Well, I'm pleased to report that I've broken the code. I've finally arrived at a pickling brine that doesn't cause me to gasp from the vinegar, or to race for a glass of water because of the salt. I've derived my formula by taking bits and snatches of recipes by Paul Bertolli, Giuliano Buggiali, and Jasper White, and come up with a combination that is, to my taste, the ideal Sottoaceti or Giardinera, as it's called here in America.

Sottoaceti is the quintessential focal point of the traditional Southern Italian antipasto, as well as being a great snack food in its own right. The classic combination of vegetables for Sottoaceti is a mixture of cauliflower, carrots, celery, peppers, and onions. But if you use nothing more than peppers, this recipe will result in a North End [of Boston] favorite, "vinegar peppers," often served with pan seared pork chops and roasted potatoes.

While the recipe that follows works well for my taste, consider it no more than a jumping-off point. Use more salt if you feel it needs it; more sugar; try different vegetables, like green beans, cucumbers or radishes, it's cooks choice. But no matter what, I think that once you've tried this, you'll leave the bottled Giardinera on the shelf the next time you pass through the Italian food section at the supermarket.

Sottoaceti
Pickled Vegetables

Ingredients:

1 Head cauliflower, cored and broken into florets
4 Medium carrots, peeled, and sliced into rounds
1 Medium bunch of Celery, washed, and sliced
24 Cipolline or pearl onions, peeled (see Note)
12 Cloves garlic, peeled
3 - 4 Cups water
2 - 3 Tbs. Salt
½ - 1 Tbs. Sugar
2 Tbs. Pickling spices
3 - 4 Cups white vinegar

Preparation:

Prepare the vegetables, and place them in a ceramic or glass container large enough to hold them and the added liquid.

Bring 4 Cups of water to the boil, then add the salt, sugar and pickling spices. Stir to dissolve the salt and sugar, then remove from the heat and pour three cups of the solution over the vegetables, reserving the last cup.
Allow the mixture to steep for about five minutes to blanch the vegetables slightly, then add three cups of the vinegar. If the resulting brine doesn't cover the vegetables completely, add equal parts of water and vinegar to cover.

When the vegetables have cooled, cover the container, and refrigerate. The Sottoaceti is ready to eat after four to five days. If you care to, divide the vegetables and brine among several canning jars and refrigerate. Sottoaceti will keep for at least a month, refrigerated.

To Serve:

Use the Sottoaceti as a component of a traditional antipasto platter, or serve as an accompaniment to grilled pork chops.

Note: To peel the onions, blanch them for approximately two minutes in boiling water, then immediately plunge them into a bowl of ice water. The skins will peel off easily.

Asparagi al Forno

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sparagus is 'comin' in good' at the local mega-stores, and even though the price includes a commission for the diesel fuel to get it here, I'll relax my "locally-grown" standard when it looks this good.

I have a friend in Gloucester, MA., for whom Asparagi al Forno, baked asparagus with Parmesan, has become a signature dish. His wife confides privately, though, it's the only dish he cooks. Nevertheless, he's written several times to tell me about his culinary successes.

Readers have also written, lamenting the fact that they'll never approach the ease or speed with which Jaques Pepin peels a stalk of asparagus. Frankly I've punted that issue.

Of course, if the asparagus is particularly thick, I'll take the time to peel approximately the lower third with a vegetable peeler. Otherwise, I use a little quirk of asparagus anatomy to separate the tough part from the tender.

I grasp the asparagus stalk between my thumbs and first fingers, approximately one inch from either end, and, holding the asparagus away from my body, push forward, bending the stalk until the bottom naturally breaks off from the top. The remaining top portion will be completely tender, while the stringy, tough bottom part will make a springtime banquet for my landlady's Red Wriggler worms.

Asparagi al Forno
Baked Asparagus with Parmesan

Perhaps this dish should be called asparagi rifinito nel forno, asparagus finished in the oven, because after parcooking, it's baked for just a few minutes in order to melt the Parmesan cheese. Nevertheless, it's a worthwhile step, and makes an interesting change from the traditional asparagus dressed with oil and lemon.

While this dish is typically a contorno, or vegetable course, the folks in Lombardia—Milan in particular—take it one step further by serving it topped with a fried egg as a luncheon dish. I can already feel my arteries contracting at the wonderful thought of egg yolk combining with melted Parmesan cheese.

Tuscans, of course, won't even acknowledge the existence of butter, so they serve this dish dressed with Extra Virgin olive oil. The rest of northern Italy uses butter, while the Southerners, as you may have guessed, also use olive oil.

Ingredients:

1 - 1 1/2 Lb. Fresh asparagus
Salt & freshly ground pepper
2 Tbs. Unsalted butter or 2 Tbs. Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Parmesan cheese in a block - see note

Preparation:

Preheat the oven to 400 F.

Bring 4 - 5 quarts of salted water to a boil over high heat. While the water is coming to the boil, prepare the asparagus. Take a stalk of asparagus between both thumbs and forefingers, gripping it about one inch of the way up from the root end.

With your thumbs facing you, press outward to bend the asparagus. It will break at a point where the tender portion joins the more fibrous root end. Discard the root portion. If it doesn't break immediately, turn it in your fingers and try again. You need not force it.

Cook the asparagus in the boiling water for 4 - 5 minutes, then drain. Pour onto an ovenproof plate and season with salt & pepper. Add the butter or olive oil, and then with a vegetable peeler, shave the Parmesan over all.

Place in the preheated oven for three or four minutes, or until the cheese melts and begins to brown. Serve immediately.

Serves four.

Note: If you don't have a block of Parmesan cheese, grated cheese will work just as well. The appearance of the dish will be less dramatic, but it will taste every bit as good.