The Romagnolis' Table

I

got my sixth or seventh copy of The Romagnolis' Table cookbook in the mail today. G. Franco Romagnoli, his late wife, Margaret, and their cookbook have had a greater influence on my interest, passion, and love of Italian cooking, than eighteen years of growing up in an Italian-speaking household.

I gave away my first copy—which was published as a pulp "pocket book" by Dell or Penguin Books—to my dear friend Rosella Matt, nee Girardi. She didn't really need it because she grew up in Mozambano, Italy, but as a newlywed at the time, she felt it didn't hurt to have a backup. She cooked a few recipes for new-husband Peter, and said, "Wow, this is the real stuff." Since then, I've given five or six copies to other friends.

Franco and Margaret Romagnoli showed up on PBS in Boston, a few years after Julia Child. And in my opinion, a few years before their time. That's too bad. I was hooked the first time I saw them. They were a wonderful couple who maintained an easy, affectionate banter in the kitchen that made their kind of everyday Italian cooking approachable for home cooks.

At the time they were on the air in the early seventies, I was working as a musician at Goodspeed Opera House, in East Haddam, CT. We had a show on Sundays that got me out of work at approximately seven o'clock, and I would violate speed laws getting home in time to watch their show at seven thirty.

When I moved to Boston, and through variying numbers of degrees of separation, I got to know more about them. You know, I worked with a guy who had gone to school with one of their daughters...that sort of thing. Anyway, apparently, they lived in Watertown, MA., and they apparently did take in all manner of strays who showed up at their door. That is to say that there was indeed a Romagnoli's table.

I can't wait to renew old acquaintances with Franco and Margaret. I've loved their dishes; I love their writing. I'm looking forward to cooking pasta in "a capacious pot with copious amounts of water."

Panzanella

G

iven the abundance of vegetables coming into my kitchen lately—whether from my own garden, or my friends'—putting them into some kind of queue for the dinner menu has been, at times, daunting. But the task became simpler two or three days ago when I found some bread at my local mega-store, advertised as having been hand-crafted by the La Brea Bakery.

Perhaps the the thing I love most about food and cooking is that so often, one ingredient—and in this case, a stale one—can bring a dish, or even a whole meal together. That hapened last night; the dish was Panzanella, the famous Tuscan salad made with day-old bread.

Beyond the day-old bread, this is the only Italian dish I know of that includes cetriolo, cucumber. Of course if Italians took the trouble to invent a word for the fruit, I'm certain they'd use it in more recipes than Panzanella, but I digress.

Good Panzanella begins with good bread, (even if it is a day old) which gets reconstituted by soaking in water. The water gets squeezed out, the bread gets combined with tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, lettuce and basil, then the magic happens. Somehow the bread takes on more of the flavor of the oil and vinegar dressing than the vegetables do; giving the salad a more lively flavor, and a wonderful, unctuous texture.

For the rest of the year, day-old bread makes great bread crumbs, or Papa al Pomodoro. But for now, when the market stalls are overflowing with fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, Panzanella is the only use for me.

Note: In the interest of full disclosure, memory fades, but I think I had cucumber in an Insalata Mista, mixed salad, at a little trattoria in Rome the last time I was there. Nevertheless, I'd love to hear from anyone who can point me toward another use for cucumber in Italian cuisine.

Panzanella
Tuscan Bread Salad

Ingredients:

3 - 4 Cups day-old rustic bread, coarsely shredded
2 - 3 Medium tomatoes, cut into chunks
1 Medium cucumber, peeled, seeded and sliced
1 Medium Bermuda onion, peeled and thinly sliced
2 - 3 Cups leaf lettuce, shredded
3 - 4 Tbs. Fresh basil, finely chopped
Salt & freshly-ground black pepper
2 - 3 Tbs. Red wine vinegar
3 - 4 Tbs. Extra virgin olive oil

Preparation:

Soak the bread in water for approximately ten minutes, then remove, squeezing out as much moisture as possible with your hands.

Add the bread to a salad bowl, then add the tomatoes, cucumbers, and onion. Season with salt and pepper, then add the lettuce and basil.

Pour the vinegar into a separate bowl, add a pinch of salt, then add olive oil to create a combination to your taste. Pour over the salad and toss to combine.

Serves four.

Technorati Tags: Panzanella, Salad, Skip Lombardi

Pasta con Salsa Cruda di Pomodori

O

ccasionally, abundance flows into your life like a river. For me, this is one of those times. It's only mid-August, and I'm already avoiding friends for fear they'll offer me another zucchini from their gardens. But a fresh tomato will always be an offer this son of Italy can't refuse.

While I have seven lovely specimens preparing for their debut on the Roma tomato plant in my back yard, I recently came into posession of four mature beauties from the back yard of a friend. For me, it seemed preordained that they make their own debut in a production of Salsa Crudo di Pomodoro, fresh, or raw tomato sauce.

Sheila Lukens and Julie Rosso, in one of their Silver Palate cookbooks, have a similar recipe involving brie, rather than mozarella, and in my experience, it's been a huge success wherever I've had it. It may very well be worth the price of the cookbook. But my troops had it first.

I had my first taste of Salsa Cruda in the early seventies, from a recipe by Giuliano Bugialli. And while memory fades, I've had it a couple of times at restaurants in Liguria around Portofino or Rapallo. No matter; I do recall being very happy.

Note: This recipe is for mature audiences only. That is to say, use only the freshest, most mature tomatoes you can find at the market or you'll be disappointed with the outcome.

Pasta con Salsa Cruda di Pomodoro
Pasta with Fresh Tomatoes

Ingredients:

1 Lb. Penne, Rigatoni, or Mostacioli
4 Medium plum tomatoes, cut into chunks
4 - 6 Tbs. Fresh basil, finely chopped
4 - 6 Tbs. Flat-leaf Italian parsley, finely chopped
1 Clove garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 - 2 Tbs. Extra-virgin olive oil
1 Cup mozarella, shredded (see note)
Salt & freshly-ground black pepper

Preparation

Bring a large pot—at least six quarts—of salted water to the boil. Add the pasta, and cook until it reaches the al dente state; approximately eight minutes.

Meanwhile, place the tomatoes in a bowl large enough to accommodate the pasta. Season with salt and pepper, then add the basil, parsley, garlic and just enough olive oil to coat. Add the mozarella and toss to combine.

When the pasta is cooked, drain in a colander, and pour into the bowl. Toss to coat with the sauce until the mozarella begins to melt, and the tomatoes become slightly wilted.

To Serve:

Divide equally among four plates, and garnish with additional chopped parsley.

Serves four.

Note: I've written before that I nearly never freeze anything. But I find it useful to freeze mozarella for ten or twenty minutes when I intend to shred it with my box grater.