Pasta e Ceci

F

or me anyway, few natural phenomena ignite a Jones for soup like a nor’easter. So in the face of the storm we had yesterday, I found myself with a serious Jones at supper time. And when I considered the possibilities available from my larder, it seemed clear that the shortest distance between my Jones and a bowl of soup was Pasta e Ceci, pasta and chickpea soup.

While Pasta e Ceci is a traditional dish from the province of Le Marche, I found it on the menu all over Rome the week between Christmas and New Year when I was there several years ago during a 100-year cold snap. And while memory fades, I believe I even saw it on the menu at a few trattorie in Positano on that trip.

Even without 100-year cold snaps, though, the Marchigiani are well known in Italy for their hearty dishes. In fact, chickpeas appear in their Zuppa di Cippole; an onion soup that could just as easily be called chickpea soup with onions.

Marchigiani tradition dictates that they eat Pasta e Ceci on the day when they plant the year’s wheat crop in the hope that the soup will inspire wheat as large as chickpeas. I haven’t planted a lot of wheat recently, but as fall begins to take hold around here, I don’t think I’ll need a nor’easter to provide an excuse to cook Pasta e Ceci either.

Pasta e Ceci
Pasta with Chickpeas

Ingredients:

1/4 Cup Olive oil
4 Cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
2 Oz. Salt pork, finely chopped
2 14 oz. Cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed
2 Tbs. Rosemary, leaves only, finely chopped
2 – 3 Heaping Tbs. Marinara (only if you have it on hand)
1/2 Lb. Small pasta (Tubetini, or Ditalini, e.g.)
Salt & freshly ground black pepper
2 Tbs. Flat-leaf Italian parsley, finely chopped
Pecorino-Romano

Preparation:

Heat a soup pot over medium heat, then add the olive oil. Add the garlic, and cook for a minute or two, until the garlic begins to exude some of its oils.

Add the salt pork, and stir with a wooden spoon to distribute evenly in the pot. Cook over medium heat until the pork has rendered some of its fat and begun to get crisp around the edges.

Add the chickpeas, the rosemary, and the marinara, (if you’re using it) then add enough water to just cover the chickpeas (approximately two quarts). Taste for seasoning, and add salt and pepper as necessary. Regulate the heat so the mixture barely simmers, and cook, uncovered for approximately twenty minutes.

Remove approximately eight ounces of the chickpeas from the water, and puree in a blender or food processor, then return to the soup. (see note).

Raise the heat to high, and add the pasta. When the soup has come to the boil, lower the heat back to the simmer, and cook until the pasta has reached the al dente state.

To Serve:

Divide the soup equally among four soup plates and garnish with the chopped parsley. Pass the Pecorino-Romano separately at the table.

Serves four.

Note: Some cooks puree approximately 25% of the chickpeas before adding them to the soup, but I find I get a creamier result when I include some of the broth in the puree. And I should say that I don’t need to remove any chickpeas: I use a "blender-on-a-stick."

Of course, it’s not necessary to puree the soup at all, but it does lend a richness and creaminess to the finished product. And it is typical of the cooking of Le Marche.

Note also: You could add two or three crushed plum tomatoes, or a tablespoon or two of tomato paste to the soup in place of the marinara. But I think you'll still get a fine result without any of those ingredients.

Pollo Misterioso alla Siciliana

I

’ve only recently become aware of a minor literary genre: the culinary mystery. Perhaps you’ve heard of this sort of thing. Apparently, four or five authors have found comfortable niches writing about chefs who happen to solve murders.

I read one of these books two or three months ago, although I’ve forgotten the title, and the author’s name. It was about a woman who ran a catering business, and seemed to encounter cadavers wherever she went. Apparently though, her clientele enjoyed her cooking enough that they didn’t feel inconvenienced having to step over a corpse from time to time as they passed through the buffet line. And she managed to maintain a cheerful balance between kitchen and crime scene throughout the novel.

The reason I mention this, is that I’m engaged in a culinary mystery of my own right now. And while it has nothing to do with mayhem, it does have the kind of intrigue I live for.

Last Thursday, a chef friend handed me a cocktail napkin. Written on the napkin, was the following:

• (bone-in chicken)

• wine, honey, cinnamon, & cloves

• onion & carrots

• olives, currants or raisins

• capers, pine nuts

• 1 C sugar + 1 C vinegar – boil

• (chilis + mint + parsley)

She had been driving along, channel surfing on AM radio, when she found a talk show, apparently about food. I was flattered she thought of me when she learned the topic was Italian food. But by the time she had pulled over to the side of the road and had gotten herself set up for writing, the host was saying, “…let’s review those ingredients one last time.” She was able to tell me that the guest was a woman; that the recipe was for whole, cut-up chicken; and that the guest had said, “Brown the chicken pieces more than you think you should.” Other than that admonition, no measurements, no instructions for preparation, no cooking times, no temperatures.

My first thought, given the honey, cinnamon, cloves, and mint, was that this recipe was Sicilian. On the other hand, the sugar and vinegar—classic ingredients to create agrodolce, sweet and sour—caused me to think of Tuscany and the Renaissance. Tuscans have used sugar and vinegar for a more palatable result when cooking meats of questionable age, since Michelangelo was carving his initials on tree trunks. But in the end, my impulse and experience led me back to Sicily.

I’d love to be able to say, in a sort of casual, vaguely arrogant way, this is the recipe for Pollo alla Siciliana, Sicilian-style chicken. Alas, I lack that kind of confidence. So does Google. I found one hundred fifty-two listings for Insalata di Pollo alla Siciliana, Sicilian-style chicken salad, but only one recipe for Pollo alla Siciliana. And, other than the chicken, the only association between that recipe and my cocktail napkin was the olives.

It goes without saying, Nero Wolfe would have had this mystery solved without even reading the entire list of ingredients. (“Well it’s obvious to me, Archie. The cinnamon alone should have tipped you off right away. My dear friend Gianmarco used to cook this especially for me at his restaurant, Il Gallo Stanco, whenever I was in Sicily.”)

I exchanged a few e-mails on this subject with one of my foodie friends in Boston, although his first response wasn’t very helpful. I think perhaps my first message wasn’t quite clear, because he replied, talking about how he might look pretty sharp in a brown suit with a yellow shirt; even though he doesn’t quite weigh 1/7 th of a ton. But he did allow that, in a Nero Wolfe novel, this dish might be named Pollo Misterioso alla Taromina. I think he might have been on to something there.

So unless or until I hear from someone who knows more about this than I, I’m going to call it Pollo Misterioso alla Siciliana, Sicilian-style Mystery Chicken. I think Nero Wolfe might have enjoyed it.

Note: It should also go without saying that this is my best guess for this one time. The next time I cook this dish, I plan to omit the sugar entirely. For my taste, the honey provides adequate sweetness to balance the acidity of the vinegar. I also found the capers to be superfluous, but I recommend that you use them anyway, then decide for yourself. Otherwise, I believe this recipe worked out well. I took a sample over to my chef friend, and she agreed.

Pollo Misterioso alla Siciliana

Ingredients:

1 2 ½ - 3 Lb. Chicken, cut into eight pieces
Olive oil
1 Medium onion, finely diced
1 Medium carrot, peeled and finely diced
1 Tbs. Honey
¼ tsp. Ground cinnamon
¼ tsp. Ground cloves
1 Cup dry white wine
½ Cup green olives, pitted and halved
1/3 Cup dried currants, or raisins
1 Tbs. Capers, rinsed and drained
¼ Cup pine nuts
1 Cup sugar
1 Cup red wine vinegar
1 tsp. Crushed red pepper flakes
2 Tbs. Fresh mint, finely chopped
2 Tbs. Flat-leaf Italian parsley, finely chopped
Salt & freshly ground pepper

Preparation:

Heat a large pot (a large, enameled French oven, e.g.) over medium-high heat, then add enough oil to cover the bottom.

Season the chicken pieces on both sides with salt and pepper and add them to the pot without crowding them. Do this step in two batches if necessary. Brown the chicken pieces thoroughly on all sides. Lower the heat to medium, then add the carrot and onion. Cook, stirring occasionally until the onion has wilted; about five minutes. Add the honey, cinnamon, and cloves and stir with a wooden spoon to incorporate

Raise the heat to high and add the wine. Boil the wine for a minute or two to evaporate the alcohol, scraping the pan bottom with a wooden spoon to loosen any caramelized bits of chicken.

Lower the heat and add the olives, currants (or raisins), capers, and pine nuts. Stir to incorporate, then add the sugar and red wine vinegar. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then add the red pepper flakes, mint, and parsley.

Regulate the heat so the chicken mixture barely bubbles, and simmer gently for one hour.

To Serve:

Gently remove the chicken pieces from the pot—they will very likely be falling from the bone—place them on a platter and spoon the sauce over. Garnish with additional chopped parsley.

Serves four.

Picatta di Petto di Pollo alla Griglia

I

’ve been spending some time thinking about George Germon and Johann Killeen lately. Probably because yesterday was the fourth consecutive day (today is day five) of windy, rainy, gloomy weather here, and because most of the food that Mr. Germon and Ms. Killeen cook involves a wood-fired grill. Grilling always brightens my spirits.

Part of their success at Al Forno, their restaurant in Providence, R.I., derives from their interpretation of classic Italian dishes. Those interpretations involve grilling, rather than pan-searing various meats before combining them with other ingredients to finish cooking. The nightly menu at Al Forno nearly always features dishes that begin with adjectives like, "Grilled and braised…" or "Grilled and roasted…"

So when I walked into Universal Food Store of Noank yesterday, and my friend Frankie began touting some Bell & Evans chicken breasts, I asked myself, "What would George and Johann do with these?" The answer seemd obvious: "Grill the babies." Of course, grilled chicken breasts are about as exciting as Al Gore, so the next question involved what to do with grilled chicken breasts.

It seemed imprudent to stand outdoors in 35-knot winds and horizontal rain, tending a fire for simple, grilled chicken breasts, so I began to think about the classics, and how they might fare when their primary component had been grilled rather than pan-seared. I thought Chicken Picatta, or Chicken Marsala would be likely choices. I scrapped Chicken Saltimboca because I couldn’t get my mind around the notion of combining a smoky flavor with prosciutto. (It should go without saying, by the way, that technically, none of these dishes are truly Italian.)

And my decision became easier when I realized I didn’t have any Marsala. (and it also seemed imprudent to walk back up the hill to Universal Package Store) The winning candidate then, was Picatta di Petto Pollo alla Griglia, grilled chicken breast with lemon and white wine sauce.

Beyond the fact that its taste will take your breath away, this turns out to be a great technique to use for entertaining. You can grill the chicken breasts at your leisure and keep them, wrapped and refrigerated, until serving time. The dinner guests get to see the glamorous part of the process when—like a maitre 'd in a tuxedo working tableside—you reheat the chicken breasts in reduced white wine and lemon juice, then go right to the plate. The same would hold true for Chicken Marsala, in which case you could simply reheat grilled chicken breasts in a reduction of unsalted butter and Marsala wine.

Note: In the interest of full disclosure, I grilled my chicken breasts indoors on my stovetop gratella. Sure, they would have tasted smokier if I had cooked them outdoors over hardwood charcoal, but if that had been my only alternative last night, I would have cooked a dish of pasta.

Picatta di Petto di Pollo alla Griglia

Ingredients:

4 Chicken breasts
Olive Oil
2 Tbs. Rosemary, leaves only, finely chopped
2 Tbs. Unsalted butter
2/3 Cup dry white wine
Juice of 1 Lemon
1 Tbs. Lemon rind, finely chopped
Salt & freshly ground black pepper

Preparation:

Place the chicken breasts between two sheets of plastic wrap or parchment paper, and, using the side of a cleaver or a meat mallet, pound them to a uniform thickness of approximately 3/8 in. Place the breasts in a sheet pan, and add enough olive oil to coat them thoroughly. Sprinkle the rosemary over the breasts, season with salt and pepper, and marinate at room temperature for approximately one hour.

Start a charcoal fire. When the coals have developed a gray coating, and you can’t hold your open palm six inches over the fire for a count of five, the fire is ready.

Grill the chicken breasts for approximately two minutes per side, then remove from the grill and reserve, wrapped in plastic wrap.

When it’s time to finish the dish, heat a large sauté pan over medium-high heat and add the butter. When the butter has melted and foamed, and the foam has subsided, add the chicken breasts, shaking the pan and turning them to coat with the butter.

Raise the heat to high, and add the white wine. Allow the wine to boil for a minute or two to evaporate the alcohol. Add the lemon juice and rind, and continue boiling, shaking the pan and turning the chicken breasts from time to time, until the sauce has reduced, and become syrupy. Remove from the heat.


To Serve:

Spoon about 1 Tbs. of the sauce over each breast, then divide equally among four dinner plates.

When I cooked this yesterday, I served Tuscan roasted potatoes and sautéed spinach. It would be equally good with a simple crust of rustic bread and a green salad.

Technorati Tags: Grilled Chicken Breasts, Italian Recipes, Skip Lombardi>

Viva Cristofero Columbo

S

ome of my friends have been checking in today, to ask how I plan to celebrate Columbus Day. Certainly, one component of my celebration will be to use this vehicle to dispel any misunderstandings about that tawdry business with Joe Columbo.

I can see how misunderstandings have occurred. The guy’s name was Columbo, and he got whacked in public on Columbus Circle in Manhattan. But contrary to the most common misunderstanding, it happened months before Columbus Day—on June 18, 1971. And he was leading a rally to celebrate a holiday he had fabricated: Italian Unity Day. Christopher Columbus apparently had enough problems with Haitian Indians without being associated with wise guys a few centuries before the fact.

Celebration though, is in order. To paraphrase Calvin Trillin, Columbus didn’t come all the way to America just to have a city in Ohio named for him. Although as I think about it, Admiral Columbus may not actually have made it to America at all.


Nevertheless, no Columbus Day celebration would be complete without pesto. Given he was one of Genoa’s native sons, and the man who brought linguine al pesto to the new world, how could I not include pesto in my plans?

As part of my celebration, of course I’ll spend some time in reflection about the man and his accomplishments. After all, for tonight’s meal, I’ll need simply to combine basil, Parmigiano, pignoli, garlic, and olive oil in the Cuisinart. In Columbus' day, if I wanted to go out for a dish of linguine al pesto, I would have risked falling off the edge of the earth.

Addendum 9:16 p.m.: As you can see from the photograph, I didn't have linguine for dinner after all. I discovered some gnocchi that I had forgotten about, and thought they'd be pretty good with pesto. Also, when I had cooked and drained the gnocchi, I tossed them briefly with melted butter, then with the pesto; hence the pesto looks more brown than green. I assure you, though, it was delicious.

Linguine al Pesto

Ingredients:

2 Cups basil leaves, loosely packed
2 Cloves garlic, peeled
2/3 Cup pignoli (pine nuts)
1/3 Cup grated Parmigiano
3/4 – 1 Cup olive oil
1 Lb. Linguine

Preparation:

Place all ingredients but the olive oil in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse ten times for approximately one second each pulse, until the ingredients are finely minced. With the machine running steadily, add the olive oil in a slow stream, pausing to scrape down the sides of the bowl if necessary.

Continue adding olive oil until the mixture develops the consistency of a sauce. Reserve at room temperature.

Bring a large pot of salted water (at least six quarts) to a boil, then add the linguine. Cook until the pasta reaches the al dente state. Remove from the heat and drain in a colander.

To Serve:

Divide the pasta equally among four dishes, place a large dollop of the pesto over each, and toss briefly before bringing them to the table.

Serves four.

Technorati Tags: Pesto, Columbus Day, Skip Lombardi

Pasta con Salsiccie e Peperoni

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rdinarily, by this time of year, I've already moved into an area of Italian cooking I refer to as "bean cuisine." That is, the treasure trove of Tuscan recipes—most of which involve pork—for cannellini and borlotti beans. But the plants and vines here in southeastern Connecticut continue to reward us with their bounty, so the Zuppa di Fagioli will remain, at least for the time being, on the figurative back burner.

I've been fortunate to have been rewarded frequently this season, most recently, by a dear friend who brought me a large bag of peppers. They included some large, thick-skinned red bell peppers, and an abundance of yellow, or 'banana' peppers. While the bell peppers will very likely become peperoni arrosto, roasted peppers, their yellow bretheren came to dinner last night as a component of Pasta con Salsiccia e Peperoni, Pasta with Sausage and Peppers.

Of course, sausage and peppers evoke an image of an Italian street festival, but they can also make you happy, prepared in combination with tomatoes and served over pasta. The Napoletani, who lay claim to the origin of this dish, serve it over penne, or rigatoni. I served mine over Campanile simply because I got a deal on four pounds of them at my local mega store. While the pasta wasn't strictly traditional, it was a deal I'm sure Saint Gennaro himself couldn't refuse.

Pasta con Salsiccia e Peperoni

Ingredients:

Olive oil
2 Cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
1 28 oz. Can Italian plum tomatoes, preferably San Marzano
1 Small carrot, peeled, and grated
1/2 tsp. Crushed red pepper flakes
4 Tbs. Fresh basil, finely chopped
1 Lb. Italian sausage, cut into 1 in. pieces
2 Green bell peppers, or 4 - 6 yellow frying peppers,cut into 1 in. chunks
Salt & freshly ground black pepper
1 Lb. Penne or Rigatoni
2 - 4 Tbs. Fresh basil, finely chopped (for garnish)
Pecorino-Romano, freshly grated

Preparation

Heat a large sauce pot over medium-high heat, then add enough olive oil to cover the bottom. Add the garlic, and sauté for a minute or two, until the garlic begins to give up some of its oils.

Lower the heat to medium-low, and add the tomatoes, breaking them up with the back of a fork as they go in. Add the grated carrot, the red pepper flakes, and the basil. Season with salt and pepper, and regulate the heat so the sauce simmers gently. Add the sausages and cook, uncovered, for approximmately 45 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat a large sauté pan over medium-high heat, then add enough oil to cover the pan bottom. Add the peppers, season with salt and pepper, and sauté, shaking the pan and stirring often, until they've begun to wilt. Add the peppers the sauce pot, and stir to combine with the tomatoes and sausages.

As the sauce nears completion, bring a large pot of salted water (at least six quarts) to the boil, then add the pasta. Cook until the pasta reaches the al dente, then drain in a collander.

To Serve:

Pour the pasta onto a platter, then top with the sauce, garnish with the additional chopped basil, and serve family style. Pass the Pecorino-Romano separately at the table.

Serves four

Technorati Tags: Italian Recipes, Sausage & Peppers, Skip Lombardi