It is the season to begin thinking about fish and how to cook it to make it special.
Baked Fish With Potatoes, Vinegar And Anchovies Sicilian – Pisci o furno chi patati is a recipe from my book Sicilian Seafood Cooking (now out of print), and it is so simple to cook that I could do it with my eyes closed.
The fish is a locally caught sustainable Snapper. You can see that I make slits in the fish’s sides and in the slits I insert a couple of anchovies. If you don’t like anchovies use fresh herbs; good for this fish are wild fennel, thyme, rosemary or tarragon.
I made the marinade and marinaded the fish in your baking tray for an hour before cooking.
In the marinade you can see that I have used consists of chopped parsley, quite a bit of onion and grated lemon peel. The liquid is: extra virgin olive oil, some wine vinegar and some lemon juice. Add a bit of salt and pepper also. I have included some quantities in the recipe below, but really, the fun of cooking is also experimenting.
Mix up the marinade and let the fish steep in it for about an hour. Turn it over a few times before you bake it. You can bake potatoes with it if you wish and the potatoes take on that lemon flavour that often Greek baked potatoes have when baked with lemon (usually cooked with chicken). The Greeks did settle in Sicily after all!
I usually part-cook my potatoes and put them in to bake with the fish about 15mins before I think the fish is ready. Raw slices of potatoes are used in the recipe and these will require longer cooking time, but do whatever you think is more practical for you.
PESCE INFORNATO CON PATATE/ Sicilian – Pisci o furno chi patati
Baked fish with potatoes (and vinegar and anchovies)
Ingredients
1–1.5kg (2lb 4oz–3lb 5oz) whole fish
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 onions, finely chopped a small bunch parsley, finely chopped
250g (9oz) potatoes, thinly sliced or par-boiled potatoes in chunks
3–6 anchovies, finely chopped (see above)
juice of 2 lemons, plus grated zest of 1 lemon
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Suitable fish
Any whole fish or large, thick fillets of medium to firm fish, preferably with the skin on. The fish is cooked whole, filleted and portioned at the table.
Method
If using whole fish or fillets with skin, make a series of slashes in the skin. Mix
the oil with the vinegar, onions and parsley. Add seasoning and marinate the
fish for about an hour, turning frequently.
Place the fish in an ovenproof dish, spoon half of the marinade over it and bake for 10 minutes in a 200°C (400°F) oven. Arrange the sliced potatoes around the fish. Sprinkle the potatoes and the fish with more marinade, the anchovies, lemon juice and grated zest. Bake for another 20–35 minutes, depending on the type of fish. Serve hot.
To see if the fish is cooked to your liking, you can test the fish with a fork held at an angle. Insert it at the thickest point of the fish and twist the fork. it should flake easily.
Variation
Place rosemary and bay leaves underneath the fish in the baking pan.
Somehow, I ended up eating fish for most of the week, and part of the first recipe lead into the second, and part of the second led into the third, but each dish was unique.
Of course there were also left overs.
I made Baccalà Mantecato on the weekend. The baccalà has to be soaked for a couple of days before it is poached in milk with some bay leaves and a clove of garlic. It is a dish that comes from the Veneto region and is also particularly popular in Trieste (Friuli Venezia Giulia).
Cooking the garlic in milk softens the taste and once blended with the baccalà and extra virgin olive oil, the taste of the garlic is less aggressive.
I always save the poaching liquid whether I poach the baccalà in milk or in water, and I did this a couple of days later when I made Baccalà Mantecato for a friend who is allegic to diary.
I cooked fish again. I bought some fish cutlets, slices cut horizontally, each steak usually has four distinct fleshy segments and each segment can be studded with a different flavour. Below is a photo of what I expect when I buy this cut of fish that I use regularly. I have included a link to a full recipe at the end of this post.
The photo below shows the four distinct segments of fish that surround the central spine, each receptive to a different flavour. It looks like on that occasion I studded the segments with cloves, oregano, fennel and garlic. At other times I have used sage, cinnamon, dill, thyme, rosemary or tarragon. The flavours I use for the stuffing will also determine what use to deglaze the pan after I have sauteed the fish, for example on various occasions I have used dry marsala (especially for Sicilian cooking), vermouth, Pernod and a variety of white wines that impart different flavours to the fish. Lemon juice or vinegar is also good.
When I opened the parcel and was ready to stud my fish, I noticed that only one slice was as I expected (cut from the tail end of the fish), but the other slices included what I call ‘flaps’, the often long and bony sides of fish encasing the gut of the fish.
It is part of the fish’s anatomy, but what I objected to was that the slices in the display cabinet were all the same size. These slices were not at all suitable for inserting with four different flavours; they were also difficult to fit into the frypan comfortably.
I cut the flaps off and only used two flavours to stud into the flesh of the fish – garlic and thyme.
I pan fried the fish, added some herbs – fresh fennel fronds and parsley. I deglazed the pan with a splash of white wine, evaporated it, added a little of the stock from the baccalà, added some capers.
What to do with the flaps?
The next day I poached the flaps in water flavoured with some onion, whole peppercorns, bay leaves, a little celery. This gave me some extra fish stock as well as an opportunity to remove the flesh and discard the skin and bones. I discarded the greenery.
I had the makings of a fish risotto.
Making a risotto is easy. I decided to add peas, frozen at this time of year and herbs of course, as in all of my cooking.
I softened one chopped onion in butter and extra virgin olive oil, added 1 cup of rice to the pan and toasted the rice. A splash of white wine, evaporated it, added 1 cup of peas and some chopped parsley and fennel. Tossed them all in the hot pan, added a little salt and then proceeded to add the milk stock from the baccalà and the stock used to poach the flaps of the fish to cook the risotto.
I added the fish pieces to the risotto when it was nearly cooked (to warm it), the grated rind and juice of a lemon and at the very end some butter and black pepper.
There was enough for lunch the next day and the evolving fish meals stopped there!
Richard Cornish’s first article this year in his Brain Food column is on Bottarga (The Age, January 25 issue, 2022).
What a great start!
He says that we love bottarga because it has the power to enrich and enhance dishes, much the same way as Parmesan cheese improves pasta and jamon makes everything more delicious. I always think of anchovies and how widely they are used not just in Sicilian cooking but in Italian cooking generally an how much they enrich the taste of many dishes.
The bottarga that Richard is writing about is Bottarga di Muggine: ‘the salted, processed and sun-dried mullet roe that is pale orange to yellow in colour.”
Having roots in Sicily, I am more accustomed with Bottarga di Tonno, made from tuna. In comparison to the mullet roe, bottarga from tuna can be darker in colour and more pungent in taste.
I bought this lump of bottarga (in the photo below) from Enoteca Sileno in Melbourne. Mullet bottarga is easier to find.
In Sicily bottarga has been used for millennia and is only one of many parts of the tuna that is salted.
Many years ago, when bottarga would have been next to impossible to purchase in Australia, I purchased many packets of plastic wrapped bottarga and various salted parts or the tuna from a vendor in the Market in Syracuse who specialised in salted and dried fish. I brought them back to Australia in my suitcase. I declared them, but because they were sealed securely I was cleared through customs.
In my book Sicilian Seafood Cooking, I begin the section of the book PESCE SALATO (Salted Fish) by saying:
Salted fish has been greatly valued and an important industry in Sicily. During medieval times the standard Lenten diet was based on pulses and dried salted fish. Still popular in Sicily, salted fish were popular with the ancient Romans. Anchovies, which still flavour many dishes, probably replaced the gurum used widely by ancient Romans.
Gurum was made by crushing and fermenting fish innards. It was very popular during Roman times, an import from the Greeks. It was a seasoning preferred to salt and added to other ingredients like vinegar, wine, oil and pepper to make a condiment used for meat, fish and vegetables – much like the fish sauce used in some Asian cuisines.
Two early cookery books, The Art of Cooking: The First Modern Cookery Book by Martino of Como and On Right Pleasure and Good Health by Platina, praise the taste and quality of salted tuna (particularly the middle section of tuna called tarantellum or terantello). Salted tuna (sometimes called mosciam in Sicily) was introduced by the Arabs (who called it muscamma) in about the 10th century. It has firm, deep red-brown flesh that needs only paper-thin slicing and is mainly eaten softened in oil with a sprinkling of lemon juice.
Salted tuna is also produced in southern Spain; they refer to it as air-dried tuna or sun-dried tuna and Mojama tuna.
Bottarga (called buttarica or buttarga in Sicilian) are the eggs in the ovary sacs of female tuna. These are pressed into a solid mass, salted and processed. The name bottarga is thought to have evolved from the Arabic buarikh or butarah – raw fish eggs, once made made by dipping the sac in beeswax and leaving it to dry. Making bottarga is a much more complicated process now and is only produced in Favignana. It is grated to flavour dishes, or sliced finely and eaten as an antipasto.
I have eaten bottarga mainly grated over pasta dishes and eggplant caponata, but in Syracuse I enjoyed baked eggplant stuffed with seafood and topped with grated bottarga.
Richard Cornish says :
‘Grated bottarga is sensational over buttered pasta. You need nothing other than a glass of wine to complete the dish. Try it grated over spaghetti with tomatoes and a little chilli, or on hot flatbread drizzled with oil as an aperitivo. Make a delicious salad of finely sliced fennel and radicchio topped with bottarga. Grate bottarga into aioli to make a dressing for a Caesar salad. Make softly scrambled eggs, grate over 50g of bottarga and enjoy on hot buttered sourdough’.
Sounds good and I am looking forward to trying some of these.
‘Artichokes’ is the topic of Richard Cornish’s regular column. (September 21, Brain Food in The Age). His commentary has certainly provided me with an excess amount of food for thought – artichokes are one of my very favourite vegetables and I have written many recipes for artichokes on my blog.
Artichokes in Acireale Sicily
I have included some recipes in this post and more can be found on my blog.
In Italian artichokes are called carciofi, in Sicilian they are cacocciuli.
As Richard says, artichokes are thought to have originated from Sicily, and therefore Sicilians have had plenty of time to appreciate their versatility and have come up with some excellent recipes for artichokes cooked in many interesting ways.
This is not to say that the other regions of Italy don’t have their own local recipes for artichokes, but Sicilians seem to have the lot.
Versitility:
Artichokes in Italy are eaten as appetizers, contorni (sides), first and second courses, and stand-alone dishes.
Artichokes can be stuffed with a wide variety of fillings, fried whole or sliced, and crumbed before being fried, sautéed, boiled, baked, braised and stewed, roasted in ashes, used in frittate (plural of frittata), pasta and risotti (plural of risotto).
When they are young, they are sliced thinly and eaten raw in salads. They are canned commercially and, at the end of plant’s life, the last of the artichokes that will never mature, but will stay small and underdeveloped, are conserved, mostly in olive oil. When they are old, they are stripped of all the leaves and the bases are eaten.
You may be familiar with Cynar, one of the many Italian bitter, alcoholic drinks (of the Amaro variety) and made predominantly with artichokes. Below is some information.
It is spring in Australia now and the very best time to celebrate artichokes when they can be combined with other spring produce such as broad beans, peas, asparagus and potatoes.
A couple of recipes in my blog make a special feature of spring flavours:
In his Brain Food column about artichokes Richard says that artichokes contain a compound called cynarin which inhibits your tongue’s ability to detect sweetness. You don’t notice it until you have a bite or a drink of something else: the cynarin gets washed off the tongue, and suddenly, your brain tells you that what you have in your mouth is sweet, even when it is not!
Hence Cynar, one of the many Italian bitter alcoholic drinks (of the amaro variety) and made predominantly with artichokes. Cynar is classed as a digestive and it is said to have stomach-soothing qualities and cleansing and restorative properties for the liver. It can be drunk as an apéritif or after dinner drink.
Richard mentions how Richard Purdue, executive chef at Margaret in Sydney’s Double Bay, beams when the word artichoke is mentioned. ‘‘One of my favourite dishes is one I picked up in Sicily, where the artichokes are cooked in a kind of caponata – tomatoes, celery, pine nuts, currants, red wine and sugar.’’ So to finish off here is a recipe adapted from my book, Sicilian Seafood Cooking for a caponata made with artichokes.
In recipe in my book, Sicilian Seafood Cooking, I suggest using 9 -10 artichokes and it is intended for 6 -8 people.
Caponata di Carciofi (Artichoke Caponata) can only be made with young artichokes. It is also worth noting that you will need to remove the outer leaves and only use the tender centre, therefore reducing the amount of artichokes significantly.
CAPUNATA DI CARCIOFFULI – Caponata Di Carciofi (Artichoke caponata)
Sauté each of the vegetable ingredients separately as is the traditional method of making caponata (as in a well-made, French dish Ratatouille). Frying the vegetables together does save time, but the colours and the flavours will not be as distinct. However, I have provided this method as a variation (see bottom of this recipe).
Remove the outer, tougher leaves of the artichokes by bending them back and snapping them off the base until you come to the softer, paler leaves.
Prepare artichokes for sautéing. The artichokes need to be sliced thinly and vertically into bite size pieces. Keep them in acidulated water as you work. The cleaned stalk is one of my favourite parts of the artichoke and will add flavour to the caponata. Trim the stalk with a small sharp knife to pull away the tough, stringy outer skin (just like the strings of celery) and leave the stem attached to the artichoke. This will expose the light-coloured, centre portion, which is very flavourful and tender and much appreciated by Italians.
Drain the artichokes from the acidulated water and squeeze dry (I use a clean tea towel).
Select a large, shallow, saucepan to sauté the artichokes. They should not be crowded and if you do not have a large enough pan, sauté them in batches – you want to create as little liquid as possible.
Place some of the extra virgin olive oil in the pan and sauté the artichokes on low heat until they are tender. This may take up to 10 minutes or more depending on the freshness and age of the artichokes (add a little water or white wine if the ingredients are drying out).
Remove the artichokes and set aside.
Add a little more, extra virgin olive oil to the pan (and/or you may be able to drain some from the sautéed artichokes) and sauté the other vegetables in the same pan, separately. Proceed as follows:
Sauté the onion until it begins to colour, remove from the pan and add to the artichokes.
Add a little more extra virgin olive oil and sauté the celery.
Add the olives, capers, salt and tomatoes to the celery. Simmer gently for about 5-7 minutes. Add a little water if needed (this mixture should have the consistency of a thick sauce.)
Remove the mixture from the pan and add it to the sautéed artichokes and onions.
To make the agro dolce (sweet sour) sauce:
Add the sugar to the pan and caramelise the sugar by stirring it until it melts and begins to turn a honey colour.
Add the vinegar and swirl it around to collect the flavours of the sautéed vegetables and evaporate it (2-3 minutes).
Place all of the sautéed vegetables and artichokes into the pan with the agro dolce sauce and gently toss the ingredients, as you would do a salad.
Simmer on very gentle heat to amalgamate the flavours for about 3-5 minutes.
Placecaponata into a sealed container or jar and store in the fridge. Leave it to stand at least a day but preferably longer.
Now, for the easier cheat’s version:
To make caponata, where the ingredients are not fried separately, proceed as follows:
Prepare and sauté the artichokes as in the proceeding recipe.
Add a little more extra virgin olive oil and heat it. Add the onion and the celery and sauté until they begin to colour.
Add the olives, capers, sugar, salt, vinegar and tomatoes. Cover and simmer gently until tender (5-10 minutes or more depending on the freshness and age of the artichokes).
Pasta with cauliflower, sultanas or currants, pine nuts, anchovies and saffron is a Sicilian specialty with flavours that are unique to Sicily. The recipe for this pasta dish is from my book, Sicilian Seafood Cooking (now out of print).
In the Sicilian language the recipe is called : Pasta chi brocculi arriminata. In Italian = Pasta rimestata coi cavolfiori.
Rimestata, seems like a fancy word, but it just means stirred.
In English, I have described this as Pasta with cauliflower, sultanas/currants, pine nuts and anchovies.
In Italian the word for cauliflower is cavolfiore. Just to be different, the Sicilian name for cauliflower is brocculi.
In Sicily coloured cauliflowers are the most common (unfortunately most of the colour fades when they are cooked). As well as the familiar white or cheddar (pale yellow) varieties, there are beautiful purple ones (cavolfiore viola in Italian) that range in colour from pink through violet to dark purple. A friend in Australia is growing a variety called purple cape cauliflower and one that is light green and pink called cavolfiore romanesco precoce.
There are also the bright, pale green ones and a sculpted, pointy pale green variety called Roman cauliflower; I have seen these in Rome and throughout Tuscany.
Every time I cook this pasta dish, there is great applause from guests.
Over time recipes evolve and each time I make it I may vary it slightly, mainly by increasing the amounts of some of the ingredients, for example: I tend to use more bayleaves, pine nuts, anchovies (for people who like them and remove them for those who do not).
I also like to add some fresh fennel (at the same time as I place the cauliflower into the pan) and a little stock and sometimes white wine.
I present the pasta with both pecorino cheese and fried breadcrumbs. Sometimes I add cubes of feta or ricotta whipped with a little pepper. Feta is Greek, but I like it as it adds creaminess to the dish.
The ingredients and the method of cooking the pasta with cauliflower below is how the recipe appears in the book. The recommended amount of pasta is 100g per person. In our household this is far too much and 500g of pasta is OK as first course for 6-8 people. As with all recipes I hope that you vary it to suit your tastes.
500g dry, short pasta
2 tablespoons sultanas or currants
1 medium cauliflower
1 large onion, chopped
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
4–5 anchovies, finely chopped
2 bay leaves
1 tablespoon fennel seeds
2 tablespoons pine nuts
1 small teaspoon saffron soaked in a little warm water
grated pecorino and/ or toasted breadcrumbs
salt and crushed dried chillies (optional) to taste
Soak the sultanas or currants in a cup of warm water. To prepare the cauliflower, remove the outer green leaves and break the cauliflower into small florets.
In a frying pan large enough to accommodate all the ingredients, saute the chopped onion in the olive oil. Add the anchovies and let them melt in the oil, stirring with a wooden spoon. Then add the cauliflower florets, bay leaves and the fennel seeds. Stir gently over the heat to colour and coat the vegetable with oil.
Add the pine nuts, the saffron (and water) and the sultanas or currants with the soaking water, salt and crushed chillies.
At this stage I add a splash of white wine and a little stock. Cover, and allow to cook gently for about 20 minutes, until the florets are soft.
Cook the pasta. Drain and toss with the cauliflower sauce. Coat the pasta evenly and allow to absorb the flavours for about 5 minutes. Serve with toasted breadcrumbs or grated pecorino cheese.
The breadcrumbs add texture and flavour. Over time, instead of tossing coarse breadcrumbs, (100 grams made with day old, quality bread – sourdough/pasta dura) lightly fried in some extra virgin olive oil, I also add grated lemon peel, a little cinnamon and sugar to the breadcrumbs while they are being toasted.
Below: Breadcrumbs served separately.
For another iconic Sicilian Pasta dish with similar flavours see:
The Inspector Montalbano’s series of books and his favourite dishes were the brainchild of the Sicilian director and author Andrea Calogero Camilleri, born 6 September 1925; died 17 July 2019.
The entire nation is in mourning: RAI 1 news, the state broadcaster, dedicated 80 per cent of its time slot to this news; writers, intellectuals and the highest representatives of the Italian state have expressed their condolences. Even his arch-enemy, Matteo Salvini, minister of the interior and leader of the xenophobic Northern League party — with whom Camilleri had several heated exchanges over the years — has paid tribute to the popular Sicilian writer.
The paragraph above is from an article published in The Age and The Sydney Morning Herald on July 20. It is written by Barbara Pezzotti, a lecturer in Italian Studies at Monash University. She is the author of three monographs dedicated to Italian crime fiction and has extensively published on Andrea Camilleri.
Camilleri is the author of numerous books, but in Australia he is perhaps best known for his Montalbano novels and has become one of the most-loved crime fiction writers in the world.
His books have been published worldwide and translated into 32 languages, including Catalan and Gaelic. The highly successful television series, inspired by Montalbano’s books, became an international success and was broadcast in Australia by SBS. The series’ depiction of beautiful Sicily has undoubtedly encouraged many travellers.
Following the death of Andrea Camilleri last week, a relative from Ragusa, Sicily, sent me an article from Ragusa News. This online publication covers news and interest stories from the Ragusa Province and nearby towns, including Vittoria, Modica, Comiso, Scicli, Pozzallo and Ispica.
The article is called Domenica a pranzo onoriamo Camilleri con la pasta ‘Ncasciata (On Sunday for lunch let us honour Camilleri with pasta Ncasciata).
The house on the beach where Montalbano lives in the series.
Sunday lunch is still an important family occasion in Sicily and Pasta ‘Ncasciata is a Sicilian version of oven baked pasta; it is one of Montalbano’s favorite things to eat. It is prepared for him by his housekeeper, Adelina.
In his Montalbano series, Camilleri describes almost every dish that the character consumes, all of which are traditionally Sicilian.
Marzipan fruit.
Sicily has many variations of Pasta ‘Ncasciata, each with distinct ingredient combinations. The most notable is from Messina, and the recipe in this article appears to be the Messinese version. It is made with commercial, short-shaped pasta layered with tomato meat sauce, mortadella or salami, fried eggplant, caciocavallo cheese, salami and hard-boiled eggs.
Sicilian Cassata.
Apart from Pasta ‘Ncasciata, Montalbano has other favourites, which I have also written about in my blog and first book, Sicilian Seafood Cooking.
In Bologna, I visited Café Marinetti, where Filippo Tommaso Marinetti who started the Futurist Movement, hung out with his futurist friends and discussed the evils of eating pasta.
Café Marinetti was once called a Bar.
In Italy, “bar” and “caffè” (only one f in the Marinetti Café ) are often used interchangeably. A bar is usually an informal place serving coffee, pastries and alcohol throughout the day, while a caffè may suggest a more traditional or elegant setting. Both are important social spaces where locals
Ironically, Marinetti’s attack on pasta helped make Futurist cooking famous. Although most of the culinary ideas were never widely adopted, the movement anticipated later interests in experimental gastronomy, food presentation and the idea that dining could be a form of artistic performance.
I did not expect to find Café Marinetti, to be part of a Grand Hotel.
The towers in Bologna.
Grand Hotel Majestic – Café Marinetti
Café Marinetti is located in the Grand Hotel Majestic “Gia Baglioni”. It is an 18th-century palazzo across the street from the Cattedrale Metropolitana di San Pietro and only a 5-minute walk from the Towers of Bologna.
The hotel is decorated with Baroque details, expensive paintings and photographs of famous visiting celebrities – Frank Sinatra, Eva Gardner, Princess Diana, Sting, Bruce Springsteen and others. It has continued to be famous.
Famous personalities, guests in the Hotel.
The hotel is very luxurious and when was entering there was a Bentley, a Ferrari and a sports BMW collecting and dropping off guests.
Café Marinetti is frequented by well heeled guests as I imagine it was then during Marinetti’s time.
But who was Marinetti?
Filippo Tommaso Marinetti (1876–1944) was an Italian poet, writer, editor and someone who loved to stir things up, best known for starting the Futurist movement—one of the most daring artistic and cultural movements of the early 20th century. Born in Alexandria, Egypt, to Italian parents, Marinetti went to school in Paris and made some pretty good connections with both French and Italian writers.
Back in 1909, he put out the famous Manifesto of Futurism on the front page of the French newspaper Le Figaro. This manifesto was all about celebrating speed, machines, technology, young people and modern city life, while saying goodbye to old traditions. Marinetti and the Futurists were big fans of cars, factories, electricity and movement, thinking that modern life needed a whole new way of making art. They loved trying new things in poetry, painting, sculpture, architecture, music and theatre.
Marinetti is still a pretty important person in modern European culture because Futurism really shaped modern art, graphic design, advertising, typography, architecture and avant-garde literature all over the 20th century.
Manifesto of Futurist Cooking
Filippo Tommaso Marinetti gained a bit of a reputation for his pasta-bashing, seeing it as a symbol of Italy’s hold on tradition and what he thought was a cultural lull. In the 1930 Manifesto of Futurist Cooking, co-authored with a painter called Fillìa.
Marinetti claimed that pasta made Italians sluggish, gloomy and slow. He thought modern Italians should eat foods that mirrored speed, energy, machinery and innovation—the very essence of Futurism.
Marinetti suggested swapping pasta for more experimental dishes made from meat, veggies, essences, textures and dramatic presentation. Futurist banquets often turned into shows, with wild flavour combinations, tactile experiences and even scents designed to tickle all the senses. I have seen copies of this book and can confirm that some dishes had intentionally strange names and presentations meant to shock diners and shake up culinary norms.
His pasta-hating campaign really stirred things up in Italy, where pasta was a big part of regional identity and everyday life. Many folks laughed at his ideas, especially in the south where pasta was king. Newspapers and cartoonists poked fun at the movement, and pasta producers were dead set defending their traditional food.
But it is interesting to see that pasta features on the menu at Café Marinetti.
John McGrath reviewed my book, Sicilian Seafood Cooking in the Adelaide Review. he mentions Filippo Tommaso Marinetti:
And when in Bologna (in the region of Emilia-Romagna) we must acknowledge the Bolognese Ragù.
This recipe can be found on The Great Italian Chefs Web Site.
N.B. My mother used to add cream rather than milk, and a little grated nutmeg. She also added a little rosemary.
BOLOGNESE RAGÙ
300g of beef mince
150g of pork mince
50g of unsalted butter
50g of onion finely chopped
50g of carrot finely chopped
50g of celery finely chopped
125ml of red wine
30g of tomato paste, triple concentrated
125ml of whole milk
salt to taste
black pepper to taste
Place a large thick-bottomed saucepan over a medium heat. Add the minced pork belly to the pot and cook until all the liquid from the meat has evaporated, then add the minced beef and cook until golden, stirring frequently. Transfer the meat to a bowl and set aside.
Add the butter to the saucepan and place over a medium heat. Add the onion, carrot and celery and cook until the onions are very soft and translucent. Finally, add the tomato paste and sauté for 5 minutes more, stirring occasionally.
Return the meat to the saucepan, turn up the heat and pour in the red wine. Cook over a high heat for 2 minutes, then cover the pan and turn the heat down to low
Leave the ragù alla Bolognese to simmer very gently for at least 3 hours. The meat must not be excessively dry. Pour in the whole milk and cook for a further 40 minutes just before serving
Ragù alla Bolognese is very tasty when just cooked, but is even better the next day. Reheat the sauce over a very low heat with a little bit of milk and use it to season pasta.
In my first book, Sicilian Seafood Cooking, I explore the rich flavors of Sicilian caponate (plural of caponata), dedicating an entire chapter to this iconic, Sicilian tradtional dish. One of the highlights is the Caponata Catanese that features the combination of eggplants and peppers. But the beauty of caponata lies in its versatility: you can find variations that include pumpkin, potato, artichokes and even celery (known as Caponata di Natale, a winter Christmas caponata) and a fennel caponata for those looking to try something different. Caponata from Palermo uses eggplants and no peppers and there is also a version that adds chocolate.
For the best results, remember to make your caponata at least a day ahead of time. This allows the flavors to develop and deepen.
I am writing this post for a friend to demonstrate that making caponata is not difficult and I have therefore included many photos to illustrate the process.
Caponata Catanese is made with a colourful mix of eggplants, peppers, celery, onions, chopped green olives, and capers. To make its signature agro-dolce sauce, you’ll combine a little sugar, vinegar, and a splash of passata. For an extra layer of flavor and texture, consider garnishing with toasted pine nuts (or blanched almonds) and fresh basil. Pan toasted breadcrumbs (pangrattato) tossed in a hot pan in a little olive oil is also a favourite. Sometimes I also add grated lemon peel, a little cinnamon and a pinch of sugar while the crumbs are toasting.
The quantities: I typically use about 1 kilo each of eggplants and peppers, along with 3 sticks of pale green celery, and 1 onion. You’ll also need roughly 125 grams each of capers and chopped green olives. Most Italians and true Sicilians rarely weigh their ingredients— adjust the ratios to your taste!
It is important to consider that while this recipe provides a guideline, the beauty of making caponata lies in its adaptability!
Always use high-quality extra virgin olive oil to sauté the vegetables, adding enough to prevent sticking. It is also used to preserve the caponata. The flavorful oil pairs beautifully with bread, making it a perfect accompaniment to all caponate. Any excess oil can be drained off later, but this flavourful oil can be added when cooking other dishes – fish, meat, eggs or vegetables.
The vegetables have different rates of cooking and you want to preserve the individual flavours as much as possible. Each vegetable is fried separately, but I sometimes I combine the celery and the onion at the same time.
A frypan with a heavy base is good to use. I am making large quantities this time to take to a family gathering, so I am using my heavy wok (Le Creuset).
You may wish to soak the cubed eggplants in some water with a little salt – this stops them from discolouring while you are cooking and especially if you are frying vegetables in batches to avoid crowding. Drain the eggplants and blot extra water: I use a tea towel.
Fry the eggplants in some extra olive oil. Drain the eggplant in a colander with a container underneath to collect any oil. In the same pan add some new oil and the oil that you have drained from the eggplants.
Fry the peppers and add a little salt. Drain them as you did the eggplants, collect the oil and add this to some new oil in the same pan.
Fry the celery and the onion.
When they have softened (but the celery still has some crunch) add the green olives and capers. Salt may not be necessary for this component of the dish.
Make a small depression in the centre of the vegetables and add about a flat tablespoon of sugar – this varies, some add more, some add less. Melt the sugar (caramelise it) and then add about 3 tablespoons of wine vinegar. Evaporate on high heat.
Add a splash of passata. Mix through the ingredients in the pan and cook it for a few minutes.
Incorporate all of the ingredients .
The caponata is now cooked. It needs to be placed in the fridge in a sealed container till you are ready to eat it and it will not suffer if it is made 5-7 days beforehand.
The easiest option for a topping is to decorate it with toasted pine nuts and fresh basil leaves when you are ready to present it.
There are other recipes on my blog for caponate made with different vegetables.
In Italian, the word “zucca” can refer to both an overgrown zucchini, a marrow and a pumpkin, but to avoid confusion, we call a pumpkin “zucca gialla,” (yellow pumpkin).
When it comes to Sicilian caponata, the delightful dish is commonly made with eggplants (Caponata Palermitana), and eggplant and peppers (Caponata Catanese). But the creativity doesn’t stop there! You can find variations featuring celery, fennel, and even potatoes. One other standout is the Caponata di zucca gialla, which showcases the sweet, earthy flavors of pumpkin as the star ingredient. Each version of caponata offers a unique twist on this iconic classic, highlighting the versatility of Sicilian cuisine.
The principle for making any Sicilian caponata is the same: onion, celery, the key ingredient (eggplant or eggplant and peppers, fennel, potato etc.), capers, green olives, sometimes a splash of tomato puree, toasted pine nuts, or almonds and agro-dolce sauce – caramelised sugar and vinegar.
The ingredients a fried separately. Pumpkin first – sauté and then set aside.
Sauté onion and celery. Add olives and capers.
Add sugar, thenvinegar and salt to taste. Add the fried pumpkin and toasted almonds (or pine nuts).Let rest overnight or for at least half a day.
The other popular Sicilian way to cook pumpkin is also in an agro-dolce sauce.
For this recipe, slices of pumpkin are also fried. I bake mine but it is not the traditional way of cooking it. The recipe is one of a number of Sicilian caponate in my book Sicilian Seafood Cooking (now out of print).
The recipe is called Fegato con sette cannoli. To see the recipe and find out why this recipe is called Liver with seven reeds:
An important ingredient for making Pasta con le sarde is wild fennel. The season for wild fennel has well and truly passed and all you will find at this time of year are stalky plants, yellow flowers/ seed pods and no green fronds.
What we call Florentine fennel is also going out of season and you will find for sale specimens with very small stunted bulbs. If you are lucky, your greengrocer may sell them with long stalks and fronds attached – perfect to use as a substitute for wild fennel and I certainly would not go near these stunted specimens otherwise.
Sardine fillets are easy to find. I use the paper that my fishmonger has wrapped the sardines to wipe dry the fish.
Remove the small dorsal spine from the fillets. Once again the paper comes in handy to wipe fishy fingers.
Prepare the ingredients:
Sardine fillets, chopped spring onions, the softer green fonds of the fennel, saffron soaking in a little water, currants soaking in a little water, fennel bulb cut finely, toasted pine nuts and chopped toasted almonds, salt and ground black pepper (or ground chili).
The preferred pasta shape are bucatini, but spaghetti or casarecce are good also.
You will also need some breadcrumbs (made from good quality day- old bread) toasted in a pan with a little oil. Add a bit of sugar, some cinnamon and grated lemon peel. toss it around in the pan so that the sugar melts and the flavours are mixed. This is the topping for the pasta. I have seen this referred to as pan grattato – this would not be my preferred tag – in Italian pan grattato is the term for breadcrumbs, but I accept that over time the terminology has evolved. The traditional Sicilian breadcrumb topping would not have had/ does not have the cinnamon or grated lemon peel.
The larger fennel fronds and stalks are used to flavour the water for the cooking of the pasta. Place them into salted cold water, bring to the boil and simmer for at least 10 minutes – you can leave the fennel in water as long as you like. The greenery can easily be fished out with tongs before the pasta goes into the boiling water to cook.
And then it is a very simple matter of cooking the ingredients.
Sauté the spring onion in some extra virgin olive oil. Add the fennel and chopped fronds and sauté them some more.
Depending on the quality of the fennel (degree of succulence) you may need to add a splash of water or white wine, cover it and continue to cook it for a few minutes more.
Add salt and pepper and put the sautéed vegetables aside.
Cook the pasta.
Fry the sardines in a little extra virgin olive oil – they will cook very quickly and begin to break up. Combine the sardines with the cooked fennel, add saffron and drained currants and mix to amalgamate the flavours. Add the almonds and pine nuts.
Dress the cooked pasta with the sardine sauce.
Put the dressed pasta in a serving platter and sprinkle liberally with the toasted breadcrumbs – these add flavour and crunch to the dish.
For a more conventional Sicilian Pasta con le Sarde:
