Spezzatino di Capretto is a traditional Italian stew made with kid or goat. Italians tend to cook kid. It is one of those rustic dishes that rewards slow cooking, allowing the meat to become beautifully tender while absorbing the flavours of herbs, vegetables and white wine.
I am always delighted to find good-quality goat meat in Australia. Recently, I discovered some at the Farmers Market in Albury–Wodonga. The meat came from Myrrhee Premium Boer Goats, a farm on the Benalla–Whitfield Road between Benalla and Wangaratta, close to Victoria’s beautiful King Valley food and wine region.
The farm raises free-range Boer goats—the distinctive white and chestnut-brown breed—and produces both milk-fed capretto (kid goat) and chevon, the meat from older goats. I could not resist buying some of each, including their excellent goat sausages, which contain a little pork to add richness and flavour.
*In Australia, goat is still something of a rarity, but it deserves to be better known. Milk-fed capretto is delicate and tender, while chevon—the meat from older goats—has a fuller, richer flavour that is ideal for slow cooking.
Fee Range Boar goats and kids
Capretto and the Italian Spring
In Italy, capretto is especially associated with spring and Easter. Across much of the country—and particularly in Sicily—it is a celebratory meal that has long featured on family tables during the Easter season.
The photograph below was taken in the market in Catania during spring. In Sicily, as in many parts of Italy, whole carcasses or sides of meat are traditionally displayed with the head attached. You may also notice that one hoof is often left with a little fur. My mother always explained that this reassured buyers that they were purchasing exactly the animal they had asked for.
The display also includes the innards, which are highly prized and often cleaned, seasoned, threaded onto skewers or wrapped in caul fat before being grilled.
Kid goat displayed in Catania’s market during spring, with the head attached—a long-standing Italian tradition that identifies the animal
A Simple Country Stew
Although this recipe is made with kid or goat, the same method works equally well with veal or lamb.
Many Italian spezzatini include potatoes, but I like using fennel instead. As it slowly braises, the fennel becomes sweet and silky, complementing the delicate flavour of the goat without overwhelming it.
This is uncomplicated country cooking at its best.
Ingredients
1.5 kg kid/ goat, chopped into serving pieces (bone-in)
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 onion, sliced
2 carrots, cut into large pieces
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 cup dry white wine
2–3 fresh bay leaves
1 cup chopped parsley
1–2 fennel bulbs, quartered
Method
Heat the olive oil in a heavy braising pan over medium-high heat. Brown the goat well on all sides until lightly caramelised. Work in batches if necessary.
Remove the meat and sauté the onion until softened. Add the garlic and cook briefly before returning the goat to the pan.
Pour in the white wine, allowing it to reduce slightly, then add the carrots, bay leaves, parsley, salt and pepper.
Cover and cook gently over low heat for at least one hour.
Add the fennel quarters and continue cooking until both the meat and fennel are tender. Depending on the age of the goat, this may take a little longer. Check the stew occasionally and add a little water or stock if necessary.
Taste and adjust the seasoning before serving.
The stew is delicious with crusty bread, creamy polenta (northern Italy choice) or roasted potatoes to soak up the fragrant cooking juices.
Cassata Deconstructed is my postmodernist take on the Iconic Siciliandessert – Cassata.
But can there be such a thing? Probably not in Sicily.
While I strive for precision and authenticity, I occasionally employ a shortcut and this one has proven effective. This dessert, that I have since refined, I have made multiple times.
ONE CANNOT ALWAYS BE AUTHENTIC
I always want to be Authentic.
When my children were young they used to refer to me as the Food Police; everything had to be just right and particularly when we went to a restaurant I often seemed to find fault. .This is not the case in my later years!
But the often seen as the less important side of authenticity is that making things that are not particularly “authentic” can actually be a lot of fun.
CASSATA DECONSTRUCTED
As you will see I have remained faithful to Traditional Sicilian Ingredients and Ingredients that I have used when making Cassata.
I used sponge fingers, dipped in Cointreau. These formed the casing of the sweet – the bottom and top layers.
In between I used a sweet ricotta filling, in fact it a similar ricotta filling that I use when making a cassata.
I then covered the top layer of sponge fingers with a whipped cream with a little ricotta, topped it with summer strawberries and leaves made from marzipan.
The result is very much like a summer cassata and very suitable for the Christmas season, or Easter, or anytime.
REFLECTION ON MY PROCESS
The flavours and process of dipping sponge fingers or sponge cake in liqueur and layering with a cream filling are very much Italian. After all, I have been making cassata, zuppa inglese and tiramisu for years.
I have maintained the Italian colours. The only problem is what do I call this dessert?
The marzipan can be made days beforehand, wrapped in cling wrap and left in the fridge. The leaves can also be made beforehand and placed in a sealed container with baking paper in between each leaf.
This dessert fed 6-8 people – the strawberries were huge and because of their large size they give a wrong sense of scale.
CASSATA DECONSTRUCTED RECIPE
INGREDIENTS
500 g fresh ricotta,
100 g caster sugar,
1 cup Cointreau or to taste
50g of chopped blanched almonds
vanilla concentrate
some orange and citron peel previously soaked in Cointreau for at least 1 hour
small pieces of dark chocolate
cream to cover the dessert, add as much as you like
PROCESSES
Arrange sponge biscuits in a square container lined with cling wrap. Sprinkle them with orange flavoured liqueur.
Beat 450g ricotta with a dash of cream, sugar and vanilla. The mixture should be creamy but stiff.
Fold in nuts, chocolate, and drained peel. Reserve the Cointreau.
Place this on the layer of sponge fingers and finish off with a top layer which you have sprinkled with more Cointreau – I used what I drained off the peel.
Leave it for at least 5 hours.
Close to serving, (I did this an hour before my guests arrived) decorate it with the whipped cream (mixed with a little vanilla, 50g of whipped ricotta and a little caster sugar to taste).
Place strawberries on top and decorate with leaves.
Marzipan leaves:
100g blanched almond meal
100g g icing sugar
1 egg white
¼ teaspoon vanilla extract
1 drop green food dye
Mix contents together and use your fingers to knead the mixture; add more sugar of meal if the mixture is too wet.
Place the marzipan in between two sheets of baking paper and roll it out thinly. Cut it into shapes of leaves.
One of the cassate (plural of cassata) I have made covered with green marzipan. Too much food colouring.
Magazine, a Melbourne publication called Italianicious
This is the cover of the January – February issue of 2012 Italianicious magazine.
It is a beautiful bi-monthly publication about food and wine, Italian regional recipes, travel stories and features on Italian restaurants and chefs and cultural events both in Italy and Australia. The photos are also stunning.
The current editor, Danielle Gullaci, is continuing to develop the quality and look of the publication established by previous editor, Jane O’Connor. In the January-February issue Danielle has written a feature about me.
Marisa Raniolo Wilkins
FUELLED BY PASSION
And these are the two beginning paragraphs:
“Although Marisa Raniolo Wilkins spent most of her early childhood in Trieste before moving to Australia with her Sicilian parents, a love for Sicilian food and culture has remained close to her heart. Her first book, Sicilian Seafood Cooking, represents eight years of hard work and a lifetime of culinary experiences.
Despite the fact that her parents both hailed from Sicily, Marisa says that she was born on the Italian island “by accident”. Marisa’s mother had lived in Catania, Sicily, before moving to Trieste in northern Italy with her siblings; and her Sicilian father (from Ragusa) was stationed in Trieste during the war, learning to be a tailor. “
From Left – Marisa Raniolo Wilkins, Marianna Di Bartolo (dolcetti Pasty shop), and queen of Sicilian Cooking – Mary Taylor Simeti
I was also featured in Italianicious magazine in the November-December issue when Mary Taylor Simeti and I discussed a Sicilian Christmas at Dolcetti, Melbourne’s little gem of a pastry shop. Naturally Pastry Chef Marianna Di Bartolo contributed to the discussion and we ate some of her delectable sweets. The editor was Jane O’Connor (now group editor of all Prime Media magazines), the three camera shy women and the photographer Patrick Varney of Raglan Images all had a grand old time.
Mary Taylor Simeti is one of my heroes – I think that sometimes it takes a “foreigner ‘ with a passion to rediscover and tease out the history behind the food ( not that she is a foreigner, she is part of Sicily, having dedicated so many years to it.).
Mary and I talked to Gus about his produce at the Queen Victoria Market.
Gus from the Queen Victoria Market showing Mary and I one of his special sculptured cauliflowers
The time before that Italianicious published an article and my recipe for Caponata, that was in December 2009 – February 2010 and the editor was Glynis Macri now Director/Editor of The Italian Traveller – Food, Wine and Travel Consultant.
Marisa Raniolo Wilkins
Mr Bianco’s recipe for Goat with Nero d’Avola (recipe from Italianicious)
For the garnish:
12 baby carrots, peeled and roasted with olive oil, garlic and rosemary
4 potatoes, peeled and cut into quarters, then roasted with olive oil, garlic, sliced lemon and rosemary.
Reader’s Feast Bookstore
The Logo for Readers Feast Bookstore – my favourite bookshop
The other nice thing that happened this week is that I went into Reader’s Feast Bookstore. Sicilian Seafood Cooking has been featured in their Summer 2002 Book Guide and has been written by Helen.
Helen is only one of the helpful, knowledgeable and personable staff who has been working with Mary Dalmau at Reader’s Feast for a very long time.
“Our bookstore will be a place of interest and enjoyment, peopled by committed and enthusiastic staff, who present a range of books to suit all visitors” Mary Dalmau, 1991
Finally my cookbook of the year is Sicilian Seafood Cooking by Marisa Raniolo Wilkins.
I use a Florentine ancient Liquer called Alchermes (or Alkermes) to make the famous Italian dessert called Zuppa Inglese.
Zuppa Inglese — Italy’s Interpretation of Trifle
Zuppa Inglese is the Italian version of the English trifle that is generally made with sponge cake, moistened with fruit syrup or/and sweet sherry, layered with cream/and or custard, jam, and most times red coloured jelly made with jelly crystals.
Trifle is still being made in UK and countries like Australia (that initially inherited much of the British cuisine) especially at Christmas. Over time there have been some little variations to the recipe, for example I have often eaten trifle in Australian homes that included preserved fruit – particularly canned peaches. Recently fresh fruit has become a popular edition, particularly strawberries.
The Origins of Zuppa Inglese
The roots of Zuppa Inglese are shrouded in mystery, with several theories about how the dessert came to Italy. Some suggest it was introduced by Italian diplomats who tasted trifle during visits to London. Others believe it emerged in the kitchens of English expatriates living in Florence in the late 1800s and early 1900s, many of whom employed Italian kitchen staff. These Italian cooks would have adapted the traditional English trifle recipe using local ingredients: , savoiardi,crema pasticcera and perhaps some signori inglesi missed some of their cooking from home and this was what their Italian kitchen maids prepared as trifle Alchermes, the ancient Florentine, red liqueur commonly used to moisten and flavour cakes.
From Trifle to “English Soup”
And thus, Zuppa Inglese was born, earning its nickname “English soup” due to its layered, somewhat “messy” appearance, which some say resembles a soup more than a neatly arranged dessert.
There are many stories about how this English dessert came to be part of Italian cuisine. Some say that perhaps Italian diplomats tasted trifle on a visit to London and this may have been their interpretation of this dessert. Others say that it probably eventuated in the kitchens of the well-off English; there were many living in Florence in the late 1800’s till the lead up of the Second World War. Most of them employed Italian staff; . They had to use Italian ingredients – savoiardi (sponge fingers – mostly used in layered Italian desserts) and Alchermes the ancient Florentine, red liqueur commonly used to moisten and flavour cakes. Fresh cream was (and is) rarely used in cakes in Italy, butpastry cream called crema pasticcera (also crema inglese – crème anglaise) is very common. And it is easy to see how this sloppy mess could be called “soup”(zuppa).
Modern versions
I have seen modern Italian versions of recipes for Zuppa Inglese, which include red fruit (like berries) and many include chocolate. My mother’s version sometimes included grated dark chocolate on the top; I think that this was partly for decoration; I sometimes top it with cherries and torrone. Other modern versions I have seen have a sprinkling of coffee beans and I wonder if the makers are getting confused with Tiramisu, which because it contains coffee is often decorated with coffee beans.
In the Zuppa Inglese below I have placed a sprinkling of crushed pistacchio nuts and choccolate on top .
I often make Zuppa Inglese especially when I am stuck for ideas, or have little time to prepare a dessert; it is so easy to prepare and never fails to impress.
I still use the traditional way to make it. I always assemble it in layers: sponge fingers moistened with Alchermes (either homemade or purchased at a good wine shop), cover these with crema pasticcera, repeat x 2-3 layers finishing with a layer of sponge fingers.
I use a large glass bowl to assemble the layers of ingredients (it is a pretty dessert) and keep the zuppa inglese, in the fridge for at least four hours or overnight before I intend to present it – it gives the dessert time to settle and the flavours to develop. I finally cover it with a layer or tuffs of panna montata (literally meaning cream made into mountains – isn’t the Italian language marvellous!). it is also known as Chantilly cream, whipped cream with a little caster sugar flavoured with vanilla bean –Italians would never think about using plain cream in cakes.
Alchermes LiquEUR
At some stage during my research about Alchermes I found out that the name is likely to have been derived from the Arabic “al” (a) and “qirmiz” (worm). This is because it contains cochineal, which gives the liqueur its red colour. Cochineal used to be made with a particular insect which was crushed and dried, this produced a rich, red dye.
In the photo I have included a bottle of purchased Alchermes (32% volume). I also make my own , see link below.
Recipe for Crema Pasticcera
Crema Pasticceracan be a litttle scary to make. This is the easier way to make the egg custard.
For a more authentic recipes see link below.
INGREDIENTS
3 egg yolks, 3 tablespoons caster sugar infused with a vanilla bean, a pinch of salt 3 tablespoons of cornflour, 1 litre of milk, rind of 1 lemon, and a cinnamon stick, a lump of unsalted butter.
PROCESSES
In a saucepan, mix the egg yolks with the sugar and slowly add the flour, salt and a little milk to make a smooth paste – a whisk could be useful. If you do not have sugar that has been infused with a vanilla bean, use a little vanilla essence (not artificial).
Add the rest of the milk and incorporate to dilute the mixture evenly.
Using a vegetable peeler remove the rind in one piece from ½ lemon. Add this to the milk mixture. Add the cinnamon stick.
Use low – medium heat, stir it constantly with a whisk or a wooden spoon and slowly bring it to the boil – the custard should have thickened. if it thickens too much, add a little more milk. Add a lunp of butter and stir it in: this will enrich the custard. Cool before using. To prevent a skin from forming, I place a piece of baking paper or butter paper on its surface until you are cready to use it.
This Zuppa Inglese looks quite impressive in a round glass bowl.
This one is topped with preserved cherries (link below), and bits of torrone.
Zuppa Inglese – decorated.
Zuppa Inglese in progress.
zuppa inglese ready for filling.
Zuppa Inglese, nearly ready for final layer.
Zuppa Inglese is the kind of dessert that’s perfect for any occasion. It’s versatile enough for a family dinner, but elegant enough to serve at a special gathering. While modern variations with berries or chocolate are delicious in their own right, there’s something about sticking with tradition that feels just right.
In Adelaide in 2010 I attended a Tasting Australia event called Mondo Di Carne and it dealt with using pork to make salumi (small goods), sausages and porchetta.
It was held at Rosa Matto’s cooking school – Rosa has been the queen of Italian cooking in Adelaide for many years.
Some of you may remember the film/documentary about bizarre local rituals called Mondo Cane (literally translated as a Dog’s World – 1962). This is a collection of disconnected snippets from around the world on rather repellent cultural customs and ritual practices, among which there is one showing the slaughter of pigs in New Guinea and an other of Asians who eat dog meat.
Vincenzo Garreffa is a famous butcher from Western Australia and Mondo Di Carne is the name of his business. Vincenzo seems to have a good sense of humour (having spent five hours with him at the workshop) and I hope that he intentionally named his business with the film in mind, however he is also very serious about his meat – he bought all of his own meat to the event including a small suckling pig which was 3-4 weeks old and weighed 5.2 kilos.
We made pancetta and cacciatore (a hunter) is a type of small sized salami and called this because it is ideal for a long day’s hunt.
A squirming sight – small boned and stuffed pig in the oven
I was not expecting a piglet, but there it was. Vincenzo boned it and stuffed it with three whole pork fillets (it had to be flesh as tender as the piglet), blanched almonds and a few slices of pork liver. Salt, pepper, extra virgin olive oil and rosemary are a must. I have written about roasted suckling pig once before (a different recipe). As you can see he had trouble fitting it in the oven; there is a drip plate underneath.
Boning and stuffing the piglet
And we all ate it and it tasted wonderful, but I had to tell myself that there is no difference between slaughtering and eating a mother pig and a baby pig.
Those of you who may be thinking that you might like to try cooking a baby pig, can have one dispatched to you by Vincenzo within 24 hours. As for the price, it will cost you as much as a large pig, so you may think again.
Carving the porchetta
Here is a happy photo:
2010 TASTING AUSTRALIA (Adelaide), one other Piggy event
It was a piggy weekend.
On Sunday I also attended A Word of Mouth session called: Is Spanish the new French?
Pork features strongly in Spanish cuisine. I heard chef and co-owner Frank Camorra from Movida (in Melbourne) and his travelling companion and writer Richard Cornish (books = Movida and Movida Rustica) discuss the delights of travelling and eating pork with writer John Barlowe .
John Barlowe is an Englishman, lives in Galicia, with his Spanish wife and two sons and in the book we encounter his travels and his experiences of eating every bit of the pig. (Book = Everything But the Squeal, recently republished by Wakefield Press.)
It is a fabulous read.
I feel all pigged out but they were great sessions to attend.
This cassata was prepared for a celebration. I was particularly pleased that my friend followed the cassata and marzipan fruit recipes on my blog (links below).
She got in touch and sent me some photos—it was her New Year’s Eve cake!
Doesn’t the cassata and the fruit look absolutely wonderful?
Hand-made marzipan fruit.
SHE writes: Your recipe works a treat and it is a great celebratory dessert. Everyone on New Year’s Eve thought it was very special!
Some even ate the marzipan fruit!
With more time I would have created a fancy edging with small leaf shapes. Your sponge recipe was most successful! The cake was delicious and I was generous with Cointreau. Everybody was delighted with the cassata – it was the highlight of the meal.
I followed your recipe closely but added more couverture choc (which isn’t so sweet) and glace orange and citron to the ricotta. The glace orange doesn’t have the intense flavour of candied orange peel so you need a bit more of that. I would be inclined to bump up the use of Cointreau next time to make the sponge even moister and to bring out the lovely orange liqueur flavour even more.
Could you also try adding honey to replace some of the sugar in the ricotta mix? It could make the ricotta a little moister too but wouldn’t make it too sloppy as it is stored in the fridge (the honey becomes more viscous when cooled). It has stored well in the fridge (hasn’t gone weepy at all). We had some for morning tea today with friends and it was greatly enjoyed.
Cassata cut.
MY reply:
Honey would alter the flavour and although this is not considered “traditional”or “authentic’.
But authenticity has very little to offer us in terms of practicality, individual tastes or even updates to what we know now about healthy food.
I am very well aware that you have bee hives in your back garden andI know how tasty your honey is. So why not?? just don’t invite any Sicilians around when you eat the Cassata.
Cannulicchi a la Favurita – Cannolicchi alla Favorita is a Sicilian pasta dish that celebrates three of spring’s finest vegetables: fresh broad beans, peas and artichokes.
In Sicily, as in much of Italy, these vegetables arrive at much the same time and are natural companions. Their flavours are different but complementary: broad beans are slightly earthy, peas bring sweetness, and artichokes add their distinctive gentle bitterness. Together, dressed generously with extra virgin olive oil and pecorino, they make a particularly good sauce for pasta.
In Melbourne, spring brings the same opportunity. Broad beans and fresh peas appear in the markets, along with beautiful fleshy artichokes, and this is the time to make the dish while the vegetables are young and tender.
Cannolicchi alla Favorita and the Charleston
The recipe, and its intriguing name, came to me from the menu of the Charleston, a celebrated restaurant in Mondello, the seaside resort on the outskirts of Palermo.
Mondello, Palermo’s famous seaside resort and the setting for the Charleston restaurant.
The Charleston was known for presenting Sicilian ingredients and traditional dishes with considerable elegance. Its setting by the water added to its glamour, and it had a reputation as a place frequented by pezzi grossi – literally “big pieces”, but colloquially important or influential people.
I have never discovered precisely why the restaurant was given the name Charleston. Perhaps it was intended to suggest the glamour and exuberance associated with the Charleston and the fashionable dance halls of the 1920s. Whatever its origins, the name certainly suited such a grand seaside restaurant.
Its cooking drew strongly on Sicilian tradition but presented familiar ingredients in a more refined and contemporary way. Cannolicchi alla Favoritais a good example: simple seasonal vegetables transformed into an elegant pasta dish.
What Are Cannolicchi?
There is a little linguistic complication here because cannolicchi can refer to different things depending on context.
In this recipe, cannolicchi refers to the pasta: short, smooth, hollow tubes, generally about 5–6 centimetres long. Their cylindrical shape is particularly suitable because the pieces catch the vegetables, cheese and olive oil.
If cannolicchi pasta is unavailable, another reasonably large tubular pasta can be substituted.
The name cannolicchi has also been used in Sicily for certain artichokes, which makes the title of the dish particularly interesting when both pasta and artichokes appear on the same plate.
Broad Beans, Peas and Artichokes. A Sicilian Pasta for Spring
This is not a pasta dish with a heavy sauce. I think of it more as a warm spring vegetable salad combined with pasta.
The vegetables are cooked only briefly so that they remain fresh tasting and retain their beautiful variations of green. For this reason, I prepare the vegetables while the pasta is cooking and bring everything together at the last moment.
For the artichokes, use the tender inner heart and the fondo (the fleshy base beneath the leaves). I also use the peeled stalks because they have excellent flavour and there is no reason to waste them.
Large, fleshy artichokes are particularly suitable. You will need to strip off the outer leaves to reveal a fresh looking crisp heart .When they are in season, I find excellent ones at the Queen Victoria Market.
Large, fleshy artichokes
Fresh Herbs and Ricotta
The original combination is already full of flavour, but I like to add fresh herbs towards the end of cooking.
Mint is particularly good with broad beans and peas. Tender fennel fronds are another very Sicilian choice, while basil works beautifully when it is in season.
I also sometimes place a spoonful of fresh ricotta on each serving. It is not essential, but its mild creaminess is a lovely contrast to the pecorino and the slight bitterness of the artichokes.
The important thing is not to overwhelm the vegetables. This is a dish about freshness, simplicity and the flavours of spring.
What appeals to me most about Cannolicchi alla Favorita is its restraint. There is no elaborate sauce and no need for long cooking. Its success depends almost entirely on the quality and freshness of the vegetables.
Cannolicchi alla Favorita Recipe
Serves 6
Ingredients
400 g cannolicchi or another tubular pasta
5 large artichokes, depending on size
1 lemon
1 kg young broad beans, in their pods
1 kg young peas, in their pods
1 large fresh white onion, finely sliced
100 g pecorino, freshly grated
¾ cup extra virgin olive oil
salt
freshly ground black pepper
fresh mint, fennel fronds or basil, finely chopped
fresh ricotta, optional, for serving
Shell the broad beans
Prepare the Vegetables
Shell the peas and broad beans.
If the broad beans are very young and tender, I leave their pale green outer skins intact. With larger beans, remove the tougher outer skin.
Peel the broad beans if necessary
Prepare a bowl of cold water acidulated with the juice of the lemon.
Trim the artichokes generously, removing the tough outer leaves until you reach the tender centre. Cut away any fibrous parts and remove the choke if one has developed. Retain the tender fleshy base and peel the stalks.
Slice the artichoke hearts, bases and stalks finely and place them immediately into the acidulated water to prevent discolouration.
Cook the Pasta and Vegetables
Bring a large saucepan of water to the boil, salt it generously and add the pasta.
While the pasta cooks, make the vegetable sauce.
Heat the extra virgin olive oil in a large pan. Add the sliced fresh onion and cook gently until softened and lightly golden.
Drain the artichokes well and add them to the pan with the peas and broad beans. Season with salt and toss the vegetables over medium heat for about 7–10 minutes, or until just tender.
The exact cooking time will depend on the age and size of the vegetables. Avoid overcooking them — they should retain their freshness, colour and individual character.
Add the finely chopped herbs towards the end of cooking.
Bring Everything Together
Drain the pasta when it is al dente, reserving a little of the cooking water.
Add the pasta to the vegetables and toss gently so that the olive oil and vegetable juices coat the pasta. If necessary, add a small amount of the reserved pasta water to loosen the mixture.
Serve immediately with freshly grated pecorino and plenty of black pepper.
For an extra touch, add a spoonful of fresh ricotta to each plate.
The complete dish is a reminder of something fundamental to Sicilian cooking: when produce is at its best, very little needs to be done to it.
Sedano rapa is celeriac, and whenever I buy one at Melbourne’s Queen Victoria Market, someone invariably asks me: “What do you do with it?”
The same thing happens when I buy cavolo nero, cime di rapa, artichokes and, occasionally, fennel, lthough fennel has now become familiar enough in Australia to attract fewer puzzled looks.
Celeriac is certainly not a beautiful vegetable at first sight. Knobbly, rough-skinned and often trailing roots, it looks rather unpromising. But underneath that rugged exterior is dense, creamy-white flesh with a fresh celery fragrance and a flavour that is earthy, slightly nutty and much more delicate than its appearance suggests.
It is also remarkably versatile. Celeriac can be eaten raw or cooked, boiled, mashed, roasted or turned into soup. In Italy, sedano rapa is particularly associated with the north, although, as I discovered through my own family, it was certainly not unknown in Sicily.
Sedano rapa, or celeriac, may look rather unattractive before peeling, but beneath the knobbly exterior is firm, fragrant white flesh. As you can see, the leaves are like celery.
When Is Celeriac in Season?
Celeriac is a cool-weather vegetable. In Australia it is generally at its best from late autumn through winter, with good supplies during July and August, but I have also found it to be available well into October. In Italy and elsewhere in the Northern Hemisphere, its season extends broadly from autumn into early spring.
Whenever possible, I buy celeriac with its leaves still attached. Fresh, green leaves are a useful indication of freshness, but there is another reason: I use them.
The stronger outer leaves can flavour soups and stocks, while the small, tender leaves from the centre can be added to salads.
We Italians, or at least this Italian, do not like throwing useful food away.
How to Prepare Celeriac
The first task is to deal with that intimidating exterior.
I always buy my celeriac with leaves, this is an indication of how fresh the bulb is. Cut away the root end and peel the celeriac generously with a sharp knife, removing the rough skin, knobs and crevices. Once the rough exterior is removed, celeriac is dense, smooth and creamy-white, with a distinctive fresh celery taste and aroma.
Celeriac discolours quite quickly when exposed to air, much as an apple does. If I am serving it raw, I therefore prepare it last and dress it immediately with lemon juice or another acidic dressing.
Celeriac the Triestine Way
In Trieste, we used to eat sedano rapa bollito e in insalata – boiled celeriac dressed simply as a salad.
The celeriac was peeled, cut into large pieces and boiled in salted water until tender but not falling apart. Once drained and cooled slightly, it was dressed with extra virgin olive oil, lemon juice or vinegar, salt and pepper.
There is nothing elaborate about it, but this kind of simple preparation is typical of so much Italian home cooking: good produce, cooked appropriately and dressed without disguising its flavour.
It can be served warm or at room temperature and makes an excellent accompaniment to meat.
Celeriac in Northern Italian Cooking
Celeriac is much more familiar in the cooking of northern Italy than it is in many southern regions, and traditional preparations vary considerably.
In Verona, for example, celeriac is made into substantial soups with borlotti beans, onion and carrot, enriched with meat stock and fresh pork sausage. This is the sort of hearty, sustaining food that makes sense in the colder climate of northern Italy.
In Piedmont, celeriac also appears in lighter soups made with broth and served with good bread and grated cheese. The way they present it is very much like a French onion soup.
And then there is one of Piedmont’s most distinctive dishes—bagna cauda.
Raw Celeriac with Bagna Cauda
I particularly like celeriac raw, and its crisp texture makes it an excellent vegetable to serve with bagna cauda.
Bagna cauda, literally “hot bath”is the famous Piedmontese warm sauce traditionally made with anchovies, garlic and olive oil, with butter appearing in many versions. Raw and lightly cooked vegetables are dipped into it at the table.
Celeriac is ideal for this dish as its fresh, strong flavour complements the salty richness of anchovy, butter and garlic. It is also crisp and aromatic, making it perfect for dipping into warm Piedmontese bagna cauda. Cut it into batons, rub it with a little lemon juice to keep it white.
Celeriac and Apple Salad
My preferred method of consuming celeriac is raw in a salad. This is not a traditional Italian recipe but one I personally enjoy.
I julienne the peeled celeriac and combine it with apple, then dress everything immediately with extra virgin olive oil, lemon juice, salt and freshly ground black pepper. The lemon adds freshness and helps prevent both the apple and celeriac from turning brown.
From there, the salad can take several directions.
Red Radicchio
Radicchio adds colour and pleasant bitterness. Watercress is another favourite addition, and rocket works well too. A little egg mayonnaise can make the salad richer and turn it into something more substantial.
The contrast is what makes it so appealing: crisp celeriac, sweet-tart apple, bitter leaves and a sharp lemon dressing.
A fresh celeriac and apple salad with radicchio – the lemon dressing adds zing while helping to keep the celeriac and apple pale.
Other Ways I Cook Celeriac
Celeriac also responds beautifully to cooking.
I make it into soup, sometimes on its own and sometimes combined with potato. I also mash celeriac with potato, adding butter and cream for richness, or extra virgin olive oil and lemon juice for a lighter, more Mediterranean version.
It can also be roasted. Cut into chunks or wedges and tossed with olive oil, it develops a sweeter, nuttier flavour and crisp golden edges while remaining soft inside.
And boiled celeriac, simply dressed with good olive oil and lemon or vinegar, remains one of the easiest and most satisfying ways to eat it.
A Sicilian Connection
Although sedano rapa is much more closely associated with northern Italian cooking, it also has a place in my family’s Sicilian memories.
My father spent his youth in Ragusa before moving to Trieste. He remembered his mother boiling celeriac and dressing it simply with olive oil. Apparently, my grandparents also grew it at their mulino, a water mill near Ragusa Ibla.
The countryside surrounding Ragusa once housed numerous water mills, constructed along waterways to facilitate the movement of water for wheat grinding. These places were part of the agricultural life of the region.
My grandparents’ mill was also a place where they kept their dogs and cultivated a few vegetables.
When I visited Sicily as a child, we went to the mulino often. During the hot summers, it was somewhere to walk to and escape for a while from their apartment in the city.
That old mulino became part of my memories of Ragusa.
Years later, while watching an episode of Inspector Montalbano, I saw Montalbano going to a restaurant in an old mill. For a moment I was convinced I recognised my grandparents’ mulino. My relatives in Ragusa soon disappointed me: it was not theirs.
So much for my moment of television fame by association.
The Mulini of Ragusa
On a later visit to Sicily, I visited another old water mill that had been restored and brought back into use. Once again, grain was being stone-ground there, this time producing high-quality flour from organically grown wheat.
There was something satisfying about seeing an old agricultural structure working again for the purpose for which it had originally been built.
And perhaps that is why a celeriac can lead me so far from the vegetable itself.
I may begin with a knobbly sedano rapa at the Queen Victoria Market and a stranger asking, “What do you do with it?” But food has a habit of carrying memories with it—from a simple salad in Trieste to my grandmother’s kitchen in Ragusa and an old water mill in the Sicilian countryside.
