In memory of Zia Licia, my aunt from Trieste – recipe for Fritole

My last surviving aunt, Zia Licia, died last week. She died in Adelaide and the funeral was a couple of days ago, but because I live in Melbourne I was unable to attend.

I was visiting friends in Pambula, on the south coast of NSW when my brother rang  last week to give me the news about Zia’s death and since her death, I have been remembering many things.

Zia Licia was from Trieste and was married to my mother’s brother, Pippo.

My mother’s family moved to Trieste from Catania, Sicily, when my mother was five years old.  She lived in Trieste till my father, mother and I come to Australia. I was eight years old but my memories remain strong.

I consider myself very lucky to have roots in Trieste, Sicily and Australia.

Just like my Sicilian aunts, Zia Licia liked to cook.

 

 

When we came to Adelaide we shared a house for a while with my  Zia Licia and her husband, Zio Pippo.

My mum did not cook much in Trieste, my parents went out to eat or  Zia Renata, my other aunt in Trieste would often cook.

When we came to Australia, mum and Zia Licia cooked together. It was a form of entertainment… what else could you do in a new country when things were so different? Of course my uncle also enjoyed cooking and because he worked on weekdays, he joined in on weekends. There were the three of them on a Sunday morning cooking up new things for the guests we often invited for Sunday lunch.  Those lunches were special, and I was required to help in the kitchen.

Maybe that is where my love of cooking comes from?

My Zia Licia had a good sense of humour and a way of laughing that brought fun into any situation; as expected we all  laughed a lot during these cooking sessions.

One of the very first things that I can remember really enjoying  was the making of Fritole (Frittole in Italian, from fritto, fried).

So what are they?

Fritole are fragrant  and flavourful balls of sweet dough. Once fried they are  coated in granulated sugar (and cinnamon, optional); the spoonfuls of batter were once most likely fried in lard but in recent years, olive oil.  Some may use vegetable oil but I think that olive oil has a special fragrance that enhances the taste of Fritole.

The batter is made with flour, yeast, milk, eggs, sugar, lemon zest,  raisins or sultanas soaked in sufficient dark rum (sometimes in grappa) to rehydrate the raisins. In most recipes  pine nuts are also added, but not always.

Frìtole are also a well established sweet in Venezia, especially during  the Carnevale. The Venice Carnivale takes place each year in February. It begins around two weeks before Ash Wednesday and ends on Shrove Tuesday, also known as Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras in French or Martedi Grasso in Italian).

Trieste and Venice are neighbours, so sharing this recipe is not surprising, but in Trieste Fritole are popular at Christmas time. Bakeries, pastry shops and Christmas street markets all have Fritole and they are also made at home.

We had no recipe for Fritole, so we relied heavily on Zia Licia’s memory of making Fritole because Zia  would have helped her mother make them in her Triestinian kitchen. Having eaten them very frequently in Trieste we also relied on our collective memories of how Fritole should look, taste, smell and feel…and always eaten warm and fragrant – so important when it comes to reproducing recipes.

I cannot remember how the adults felt about the Fritole, but I remember enjoying them very much as a child.

In those days we did not add pine nuts to our Fritole; we had no access to them and it was a nut not familiar in Australia at that time.

I found various recipes for Fritole in the large number of books about the cooking of Trieste (in Friuli Venezia Giulia) and in the Veneto regions of northern Italy and  the recipe below is probably  the closest to what we would have made. The instructions in the ancient Italian recipe I’ve chosen, are not very specific because it is assumed that cooks would know what steps to follow, so I  will spell them out.

Ingredients: 3eggs, 30g fresh yeast, 400g plain flour, cinnamon, milk, 50g sugar, lemon peel (grated), rum, 50g raisins (or sultanas), 40g pine nuts.

To the above, add a little salt to the batter. If you wish to use dry yeast, 10g should be sufficient. As for the milk , you will need at least 2 cups, but maybe more – the mixture should be like a thick batter.

Place the raisins or sultanas in a small bowl and pour some dark rum or grappa over them (to cover). Set aside for a few hours or overnight.

Place about a cup of warm milk in a mixing bowl and sprinkle in the yeast. Mix well to incorporate the yeast into the milk. Add about half of the flour and mix it in gently. Cover the bowl with a cloth and set aside to rest for half an hour. The mixture will bubble as the yeast activates.

Drain the raisins or sultanas and reserve any rum in a small bowl. Toss them around in a little flour to coat lightly; this will prevent them from sinking to the bottom of the Fritole as they fry.

When the yeast mixture has risen, use a wooden spoon or spatula to incorporate all the ingredients  – the remaining flour, raisins sugar,  egg, lemon zest, rum and pine nuts (if using).  Add more warm milk as necessary to ensure that the mixture is like a thick batter. Cover the bowl with cloth again and set aside in a warm and draft-free area for at least 30-45 minutes to rest – it should double in size and the batter should be bubbly and airy.

Use a heavy-bottomed pot to heat sufficient oil (for the batter to swim/float in). The oil needs to be hot. Use a spoon to carefully drop the batter into the hot oil. It is better to fry a few Fritole at the time and not overcrowd them in the pan.

Once fried, drain the Fritole  with a slotted spoon or tongs and place them on paper towels to absorb any excess oil. Roll them in sugar and cinnamon.

In the last few days I  have  found myself bursting into old Triestinian songs…like Le Ragazze di Trieste and Trieste Mia. I will need to stop myself otherwise i will drive my partner mad!

I have returned to Trieste on many occasions and the photos  of Trieste have been taken over a number of years .

 

 

 

 

Do I take making coffee at home too seriously?

Do I take making coffee at home too seriously? Here is a photo of the coffee-making equipment I have at home.

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In times before the Corona Virus lockdown, when a group of us went to gym classes at the Melbourne City Baths we would go for a coffee and a chat after our session. Now that we are socially isolating, the same gym group catches up for a chat on Zoom.

During one of our Zoom sessions I brought out the coffee making equipment pictured above on a tray and I staged a performance of having made a coffee for each of us. There were the expected laughs but one person said that it looked as if I was hording. That was the end of that. I kept on thinking about this and wondering if I did have too many coffee makers.
I do not know if my friend  knew just how important is a ritual making coffee at home.

As an Italian, I take the preparation and consumption of coffee very seriously. I have a range of macchinette da Caffè of various sizes: one, two, four and six cups. I do not have a three or five-cup machine, but if I have three people wanting coffee, I use both my one- and two-cup machines. For five people, I use my one- and four-cup machines. If I anticipate that someone may require more than one cup, I ask beforehand and prepare coffee in one or more of the larger machines.

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I grind my coffee beans just before I place the ground coffee in the chosen macchinetta because freshly ground coffee is likely achieve the best flavour and aroma. If I am making coffee for one, it has to be in the one cup macchinetta, for two people, it has to be in the two cup, etc. Usually Italians are happy with just the one coffee per time and they only make the right amount because, after all, it needs to be freshly made and never rewarmed. I have had that grinder for about 30 years old.

Any left-over coffee can be saved to make a caffè freddo in summer or a granita di caffè.  The left-over coffee can also be kept if there is someone in the household who mixes left over coffee with milk to eat with bread,  broken into pieces and dropped in. This is no different to the French doing the same thing. My father used to have this for breakfast. Of course, he did not do this when we lived in Italy – there he would go to the bar on his way to work to have a quick coffee and a chat with the barista at the counter.
No lingering. (Crem Caffè in Piazza Goldoni, Trieste). His Tailoring business was a couple of doors to the right and upstairs and our apartment was just around the corner.

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CremCaffè in Piazza Goldoni, Trieste.

There was no way that my dad could continue this ritual in Australia when we came to Adelaide from Trieste in 1956.

Lucky for us, times have changed and those who wish can do this. You will not see Italians carrying takeaway coffee or sipping it as they walk along and I find it difficult to appreciate those who sit in a coffee place for a long time, chatting and having only one coffee or reading their papers or writing on their laptops. Especially if it is a small business. Some beliefs are difficult for me to dismiss. Maybe it is to do with the coffee place having a  relatively quick turnover so as to make a living.

If we (father, mother and I and perhaps friends) wanted a leisurley coffee and luxurious cakes we would go to  Caffe degli Specchi in Piazza Unità on the waterfront.

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Trieste has numerous coffee bars.Caffe degli Specchi in Piazza Unità.

Our Napoletana coffee-maker travelled with us to Australia.  At the time it was the top domestic extraction coffee-maker available before the stovetop espresso macchinette became popular. This is not a photo of what we had. This piece of equipment was discarded years ago. We also brought with us a little milk heating saucepan to heat the milk. I have memories of inviting one of our Australian neighbours for coffee. I can remember the man’s face and irrespective of the amount of warm milk we poured into the coffee, it was was much too strong. He was used to Chicory Essence.

We tried.

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This is called a Napoletana.

The Napoletana has a tank for the water, the ground coffee holder and filter, a small hole for steam to escape and the server.

Once it is assembled, the part that holds the water is put on the heat to boil and once it has boiled and the steam begins to come out, the pan is flipped upside down and the boiling water trickles through.

Now back to my macchinette da caffè and do I have too many? I do not think so.

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Alfonzo Pupplieni e figli (and sons) made these Coffee Macchinette.

There are the macchinette I use at home (as above) but we also have some that travel with us. We never travel overseas with out taking these. They are very light weight. These are much more modern than all my other caffettiere, the little blue Bialetti used to be my mum’s – I cannot get rid of that! Coming to think of it, that little blue Bialetti must be at least 15 years old.  The ones in the photo above were made by Alfonzo Pupplieni e figli (and sons) and I notice that my research indicates that they are classified as “Vintage” and are in high demand. Good things last.

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Simple BIALETTI macchinette.

This one (photo below) is heavy.  It comes camping with us and gets taken when we go and sleep at friends’ houses or Airbnbs or rental holiday accommodation.
We like our “proper” coffee.

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Fortunately, none of our friends drink instant coffee … or at least they do not let us know. Some friends have plunger coffee … this is not the coffee I like to drink. My partner drinks plunger coffee if he has to, but prefers coffee from the macchinetta that travels with us. He even prefers this to the coffee made from electric Coffee Machines – pod or automatic so it gets included in our luggage.

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The Atomica was designed by Giordano Robbiati in 1946 in Milan Italy.

But he doesn’t like strong coffee in the morning, so he uses the distinctively designed Atomica, which makes two large cups. I never drink coffee from the Atomica. It is far too weak for my taste. This vintage coffee maker can also froth milk to make cappuccino or caffè latte.  The Atomica was designed by Giordano Robbiati in 1946 in Milan Italy. I do not know the age of my Atomica but just like our car, it goes in for a regular service. This used to belong to a friend and was given to me many, many years ago.

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I want to make special mention of this macchinetta. It was a gift from one of my Sicilian aunts. With this heavy macchinetta, I can make coffee for four people or six; this macchinetta must also be getting to be elderly.

I  had a taste for coffee when I was pretty young. My mother made me “caffé col’uovo sbatutto” (coffee with beaten egg) for breakfast.
If it wasn’t a “uovo sbattuto” it was “un uovo all’ ostrica”…this was an egg yolk with a squeeze of lemon juice, just like having an oyster.
This with a cup of hot chocolate was breakfast.

Caffè col’uovo sbattuto

Beat an egg yolk with a few teaspoons of sugar until foamy, then pour in a little good strong coffee, and mix it up. The coffee deletes the sweetness. If I had been an adult, more coffee would have been added.

If I am going to have good coffee at home, I do want proper equipment…. and I take pleasure remembering.

BEING ELDERLY, TRAVELLING and COFFEE

MY ITALIAN KETTLE and Russian tea

 

SAUERKRAUT with Dried Mushrooms and golden CHICKEN BROTH, Polish secrets

Everyone should have a Polish friend. In Adelaide recently, I stayed with my Polish friend and during the first two days of being  back in Melbourne I have already made two Polish inspired dishes.

Not only that, I came home with a bunch of sorrel from her garden and I made an omlette (sorrel = bottom right hand side of photo). When i am fortunate enough to have some sorrel  I usually braise it with potatoes, or make a green borscht, or add it to it to a braise of meat.

My friend celebrates Christmas eve with some of the traditional Polish  foods that her parents used to enjoy. She and her two sisters get together and make Pierogi stuffed with sauerkraut and dried porcini mushrooms.

She knows how much I like sauerkraut and if I am visiting her after Christmas I know that she would have saved some Pierogi for me in her freezer.

This time (October) she prepared the sauerkraut and dried porcini mushrooms as a side dish for duck breasts, a green salad , steamed herbed potatoes and beetroot….potatoes and beetroot are almost a must in all Polish meals. The dried mushrooms make the sauerkraut a darker colour.

Having lived in Trieste, I am very used to eating and preparing sauerkraut and it is one of my favourite ingredients, but I generally I do not add dried mushrooms nor do I cook sauerkraut as long as she does.
Like all who have cooked a particular recipe for a long time, she does not measure quantities.

Vary the amounts of mushrooms, sauerkraut and cooking times as you wish.

1/4- 1/2 cups dried Porcini mushrooms soaked in water to cover
splash of olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1k-900g sauerkraut, jars are usually 900g – drained, rinsed and squeezed
salt and ground black pepper to taste

Leave mushrooms too soak at least for a couple of hours or combine water and dried mushrooms in a saucepan over low heat, simmer,and cook until tender – about 10 minutes. Drain mushrooms, reserving cooking water. Slice the mushrooms into smaller pieces if necessary.

Heat olive oil in a saucepan and over medium heat sauté onion until soft. Add mushrooms and drained sauerkraut and mix well. Add salt and pepper.

Add mushroom water, cover, and simmer until sauerkraut is soft. Add more water as it cooks if necessary. My friend cooks it for over an hour.

The second Polish thing I did in the last two days was to add a beetroot to the chicken broth I cooked. I have done this before and what it does is to colour the broth…not red, but a rich, golden colour as is evident in the photo above.

I make chicken broth the Italian way, adding a whole onion, celery sticks, carrots, whole peppercorns and salt.

My mother also added a little tomato, and perhaps this was done to colour, but I only do this when tomatoes are in season.  My Polish friend had recommend adding a beetroot years ago.

I use a whole, free range chicken and eat the meat.

BRODO DI GALLINA (Chicken Broth)

Follow the above recipe, just add a whole beetroot (unpeeled).

You could also add dried porcini to this recipe:

CHICKEN WITH SAUERKRAUT, from the Carso, in north eastern Italy, near Trieste

 

 

CHICKEN WITH SAUERKRAUT, from the Carso, in north eastern Italy, near Trieste

Chicken with Sauerkraut is a simple dish with flavours from north eastern Italy, lose to Trieste called the Carso (Karst in German, Kras in Slovenian). This area is between Slovenia and the Adriatic, south of Monfalcone.

Cultural History

The ingredients in the recipe are simple and reflect the flavours of Hungary and Germany, Russia and countries in Eastern Europe. But these are the flavours also of Trieste – chicken, sauerkraut, onion, lardo and white wine. It is not surprising as Trieste used to be part of the Austro- Hungarian Empire.

I first came across a version of this recipe in Fred Plotkin’s book, La Terra Fortunata, (published in 2001). I have made versions of this dish before but have used chicken with bones as the recipe suggests, but this time I used boneless chicken and some fatty bacon. Having lived in Trieste I am very familiar with sauerkraut and cooking with smoked pork and pork fat (on the odd occasion) and I invariably have jars of sauerkraut at home, especially in winter for making dishes like iota.

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Lardo

Lardo is an Italian salume that is eaten and widely used in Italian cuisine especially in northern Italy; it is made from the thick layer of fat from the back of a pig and cured with a mixture of salt, herbs, and spices;  the most esteemed Italian lardo is aged in the warm, fresh caves in the area of Carrara (famous for its marble) and no additives or preservatives are used.

Lardo Affumicato is Speck. This also is used widely in cooking of Trieste and Italian regions that used to be part of the Austrian- Hungarian Empire.

The rendered fat from the  lardo or bacon is the fat used in this recipe. (Pork fat, or rendered pork fat is also called lardo in Italian and is lard in English).

THE RECIPE

It is not necessary to specify amounts as this recipe and like most Italian recipes it relies on estimations and what you like, but I used roughly 1k of chicken, 5 rashes of fatty bacon and about 500g of sauerkraut (drained and squeezed in a colander).

If you want more bacon use it, more sauerkraut…yes, by all means.

Fry the bacon or lardo in a heavy bottomed pan.

Gently fry the bacon or lardo in a heavy bottomed pan over medium heat and when there is sufficient melted fat in the pan sear the chicken pieces till golden.

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Fry the chicken in batches.

Fry the chicken in batches so as not to crowd the chicken pieces in the pan while searing.

Do not to crowd the chicken pieces in the pan while searing.

Once you have seared the meat, add a sliced small onion and cook it gently till softened and golden.

Seared Chicken, onion and sauerkraut .

Add some peppercorns , bay leaves and the sauerkraut and cook it gently for about 10 minutes.

Mix the ingredients together.

Add the chicken, some white wine (about 1/2 cup) and bring to a boil. Cover with a lid and cook gently for about 20 minutes. If necessary add more wine or water to keep it moist while it is cooking,

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Add white wine, bring to a boil, cover and cook gently.

If you are using chicken with bones cook it for longer (30-40 mins, depending on the size of the chicken).

ITALIAN RUSSIAN SALAD, no beetroot

I was in Russia recently and I came back to Australia with a yearning to make  Italian Russian Salad. I ordered it in a restaurant in Saint Petersburg and in one in Moscow and in both cities it contained beetroot.

Italian Russian Salad has no beetroot.

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Italian Russian salad.

My mother’s Russian salad was simple and contains potatoes, carrots, french beans, peas, giardiniera or citriolini (pickled vegetables and cornichons), hard boiled eggs and egg mayonnaise.

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Vegetables for Russian salad

When my mother was still alive and still capable of cooking Russian Salad , it was something that she made often as an antipasto.

Russian Salad and Zuppa Inglese (dessert) were two dishes that were particularly popular in restaurants when we left Trieste before we came to Australia. Both continued to be presented frequently in Adelaide where we lived on special occasions or for birthdays and when we invited guests for Sunday lunch – the preferred time to have a long lunch followed by a game of cards while the house trembled to the sound of opera.

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ingredients for Russian salad.

Interestingly, not all my recipe sources include beetroot as an ingredient for Russian salad as made in many parts of the world including Russia.

The majority of the Russian recipes prefer French dressing rather than mayonnaise and some recipes contain turnip; this makes sense as root vegetables are common in Russia.

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Egg mayonnaise to dress and coat the top of Russian salad.

Variations of one particular recipe as served by the Russian nobility (probably those who spent time in France) contains a melange of flavours, either or a combination of ox tongue, lobster, ham. Truffles or cooked mushrooms also feature. Some of the French like chicken meat. Capers and anchovies in some.

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Egg Mayonnaise is the wow factor!

The Belle Époque is over: I think that keep it simple is my motto, and egg mayonnaise is the wow factor.

For recipes and more information of  INSALATA RUSSA,  MAIONAISE (mayonnaise in Italian) and other recipes with egg mayonnaise:

INSALATA RUSSA (Party time – Russian salad)

PESCE IN BIANCO (Plain fish). MAIONESE (Mayonnaise)

YEARNING FOR VITELLO TONNATO

VITELLO TONNATO

CHICKEN LAYERED WITH A TUNA AND EGG MAYONNAISE – A cold Chicken dish

POLLO ALLA MESSINESE (A cold chicken dish similar to Vitello Tonnato from Messina)

 

 

 

 

Goulash (Gulyás in Magyar) and Gulasch in Trieste

Travelling recently through Tyrol, Vienna and Russia, I was struck by how often Goulash appeared on menus. Whether called Gulyás in Hungary or Gulasch in Austria and Trieste, this deeply comforting dish clearly travelled widely through the former Austro-Hungarian Empire, adapting to local tastes and traditions along the way.

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Curious once again about its origins, I returned to one of my favourite cookbooks on Hungarian cuisine — Cuisine of Hungary by George Lang — still one of the most detailed and informative books I own on the subject.

Gulasch in Trieste

— for many years. As a child living in Trieste, I grew up with the strong culinary influences of Central Europe. Trieste was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire until the end of the First World War, and many dishes from that period remain firmly embedded in the city’s cuisine.

Triestian Gulasch is usually made simply with beef, onions and paprika. The onions and meat are slowly browned in lard and olive oil, but bacon is generally not used. Unlike many northern European versions, Triestian recipes rarely include potatoes, peppers or additional vegetables, and they are never thickened with flour.

Some cooks add caraway seeds or a little tomato paste, but red wine is not traditional.

My Version of Gulasch

Like many home cooks, I have gradually adapted the dish over time.

I almost always cook with wine and have always added red wine to my Gulasch. Perhaps this came from my mother’s cooking; it is something I have never questioned. I also rely heavily on herbs in my kitchen, so bay leaves naturally find their way into the pot. And because I enjoy a little complexity in flavour, I use both sweet and hot paprika.

I do not add potatoes directly to the stew. Instead, I prefer to serve them separately — perhaps as patate in teccia or creamy mashed potatoes enriched with milk and butter.

More often though, I serve Gulasch with polenta, one of the great accompaniments of Triestian cooking.

In Tyrol I was also served Goulash with braised red cabbage, which worked beautifully.

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I do not add potatoes to the braise and prefer to present then separately, either Patate in teccia or creamy mashed potatoes with lashings of milk and butter. However, I am more likely to present it with Polenta, a favourite accompaniment in the cooking of Trieste.

 

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Goulash as presented in a restaurant in Tyrol. It was accompanied with braised red cabbage.

What Makes a “True” Hungarian Gulyás?

According to George Lang, a true Hungarian gulyás should contain no spice other than paprika and caraway seeds.

He insists that lard, bacon and onions are essential and famously warns:

“Never use flour. Never Frenchify it with wine. Never Germanize it with brown sauce.”

Traditionally, the only additions should be potatoes or galuska (small dumplings).

But, as with all traditional dishes, variations exist from household to household and region to region. Some cooks add tomatoes or tomato paste, garlic, green peppers or hot cherry peppers for extra heat.

That flexibility is part of the reason why this dish survived across borders and cultures.

George Lang’s Kettle Gulyás Recipe

This recipe Kettle Gulyás comes from “The Cuisine of Hungary” by George Lang (Penguin Books, 1971)

Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons lard (or vegetable oil)
  • 2 medium onions, coarsely chopped
  • 1.1 kg beef chuck or round, cut into cubes
  • 225 g beef heart (optional), cubed
  • 1 garlic clove
  • Pinch of caraway seeds
  • Salt
  • 2 tablespoons paprika
  • 1 ripe tomato
  • 2 green frying peppers or Italian peppers
  • 450 g potatoes

Method

Peel and roughly chop the onions.

Heat the lard in a large heavy pot or Dutch oven. Brown the beef cubes in batches, taking care not to overcrowd the pan. Remove the meat as it browns.

Add the onions and cook gently over low heat until glossy rather than browned.

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Return the beef to the pot.

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Crush the garlic, caraway seeds and a little salt together using the flat side of a knife.

Remove the pot briefly from the heat. Stir in the paprika and garlic mixture quickly with a wooden spoon, then immediately add warm water. George Lang warns against adding cold water at this stage because it can toughen the meat.

Cover and simmer slowly for about one hour.

Meanwhile, peel and chop the tomato, slice the peppers into rings and dice the potatoes.

After the meat has braised for an hour, add the tomato, peppers and enough water to create a soup-like consistency. Season lightly with salt and continue simmering for another 30 minutes.

Add the potatoes and cook until tender. Adjust seasoning and add hot cherry peppers if you prefer a spicier version.

Food, Memory and Empire

What fascinates me most about Goulash and Gulasch is not simply the recipe itself, but the way food travels across borders and becomes absorbed into local identity.

A Hungarian shepherd’s dish became part of the everyday cooking of Trieste, Vienna and much of Central Europe. Each place adapted it slightly, yet the essential character remained — slow-cooked meat, onions, paprika and warmth.

These are the dishes that tell stories of migration, empire, trade and memory.

And perhaps that is why I continue to cook Gulasch after all these years.

Trieste, Ponte Rosso

For my recipe of Gulasch, as cooked in Trieste see:

GULASCH (Goulash, as made in Trieste)

 

 

MELANZANE – eggplants – AL FUNGHETTO or TRIFOLATE

Sometimes, some recipes are just so simple that I do not bother writing about them, but then I buy a new cookbook and notice that simple recipes are what we like and want…and besides, not everybody grew up in an Italian household and they may not be familiar with this style of cooking.

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One simple way of cooking some vegetables, for example eggplants, zucchini or mushrooms is a funghetto in bianco or trifolate.

A funghetto, translates as mushroom, i.e. in the style or method of how you would cook mushrooms – simply sautéed in extra virgin olive oil with garlic and parsley.

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In bianco translates as in white, i.e. without tomatoes. Photo above is of king mushrooms cooked a funghetto.

This style of cooking is a common way to cook either of these three vegetables throughout Italy, but it is typical of the Veneto. I grew up in Trieste, so I identify with this style of cooking very much.

Once again, I will write this recipe as an Italian – no measurements. The recipe is so simple, and the photos tell the story so who needs measurements!

C8EC1013-26A8-4459-9BCD-E8C05CD26471eggplants/aubergines, cut into cubes

extra virgin olive oil, 

cloves of garlic, chopped (to taste)

chopped parsley

pepper and salt

extra virgin olive oil

Use gentle to medium heat throughout the cooking – the ingredients are not fried, they are sautéed till softened.

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Heat a splash of oil in a frypan (I like to use a frypan with a heavy base). Add the garlic and stir it around for a very short time so that it begins to soften.

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Add the eggplants and stir often until they have softened and have coloured. Add pepper and salt.

Add the chopped parsley and keep on stirring through for about 30 seconds…and I hate to say it…until it has softened.

Eat hot or cold – fabulous as a starter, side dish….as a dressing for pasta?

 

 

 

Pork Hock, Polish Wedding Sausage, Borlotti and Sauerkraut =IOTA (a lean version)

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Iota is made with Pork Hock, Polish Wedding Sausage, Borlotti and Sauerkraut = IOTA (a lean version) sounds very complicated, but it is not.

Iota (also known as Jota) is one of those dishes that always brings a smile to the table—not just because it’s delicious, but because it sparks great conversation. Many of my friends are genuinely surprised to learn that this hearty, rustic soup is actually an Italian traditional dish from Trieste, in the region of Friuli Venezia Giulia, just north of Venice.

Classic Iota can be quite rich, especially when made with fatty cuts of pork. But it doesn’t have to be a heavy dish at all. With just a few tweaks—mostly in the choice of meat and how you handle the broth—you can make a beautifully fragrant, deeply satisfying lean version without losing any of its soul.

Beans to start: Borlotti

Begin with borlotti beans—those gorgeous pink-flecked beans that turn creamy and chestnut-like once cooked. Soak them overnight so they soften up, and then simmer them until tender. Their earthy sweetness is one of the foundations of a good Iota.

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Borlotti beans soaked and ready—creamy, earthy, and essential for a good Iota.

The pork element: Hock for flavour, not fat

Instead of adding fatty cuts, use a pork hock. It still gives you that deep, savoury flavour but with much less richness. Place the hock in a pot of cold water and let it come to a gentle simmer. Slow cooking is key here—let it bubble away until the meat is soft and ready to fall off the bone.

About half an hour before the hock is done, drop in some peeled potatoes. They’ll cook in the porky broth and help thicken the soup later. Once everything is tender, lift out the hock, pick off the lean meat, and set it aside. The broth will have a layer of fat on top—skim this off to keep the dish light.

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Lean pork hock simmering slowly to create a rich, flavourful broth without the heaviness.

Sauerkraut in IOTA

Sauerkraut is what gives Iota its distinctive zing. Cook it gently in the skimmed pork broth—it softens, mellows, and absorbs a lovely depth of flavour. When the sauerkraut is tender, stir in roughly half the cooked borlotti beans and some of the potatoes. Use a potato masher to lightly mash this mixture. You’re not aiming for a purée—just enough to create body and texture.

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Assembling your Iota

Now for the satisfying part: bringing everything together.

Add the remaining whole borlotti beans, the rest of the cubed potatoes, the chunks of lean pork hock meat, and slices of Polish Wedding Sausage. I love using this particular sausage because it’s traditionally made from lean cuts, lightly smoked, and subtly seasoned. It adds protein and flavour without making the dish greasy or heavy.

Stir it all together, let it warm through, and enjoy how the flavours mingle—tangy, smoky, earthy, comforting.

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Wedding sausage.

And there you have it: a lighter, leaner version of traditional Iota that still feels like it has been simmering on a Triestine family stove for generations.

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Sauerkraut cooking gently in the skimmed pork broth, adding tang and depth to the IOTA.

There are other posts for making Iota and these include quantities of ingredients:

IOTA (Recipe, a very thick soup from Trieste) Post 1

IOTA FROM TRIESTE, Italy, made with smoked pork, sauerkraut, borlotti beans – Post 2

LUGANIGHE CON CAPUZI GARBI – Sausages and sauerkraut, and yes, it is Italian regional cuisine

As a child, I lived in Trieste with my parents, and Ragusa, Catania and Augusta were the towns in Sicily where my Sicilian relatives lived. Both Trieste (located at the head of the Gulf of Trieste in the  region Friuli-Venezia Giulia) and Sicily are at the extreme ends of Italy, and as you would expect, the cuisines are very different.

I grew up with both cuisines and appreciate them both for very different reasons.

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Capuzi garbi  (or crauti/krauti) is sauerkraut in Triestino (the Triestine dialect) and it is a very popular ingredient in Triestine cuisine especially when mixed in Gulash (made with pork or beef), or with a lump of smoked pork, or luganighe (Triestine) – salsicce di maiale in Italian, and pork sausages for us mere mortals in the English speaking world.

When you look at a map of Italy, it is easy to see why this part of Italy has common roots with the cooking of Austria, Hungary, Slovenia, Croatia and Istria.

I have German and Polish friends and they too are fond of sauerkraut, and like my relatives and friends from Trieste, they tend to overcook it; my mother also did this when she cooked capuzi garbi.

But as we know, cuisine evolves and some of us have taken on new methods of cooking traditional foods.

In my kitchen, I cook sauerkraut for about a quarter of the time as the traditional method and at times, I also like to add a little fresh cabbage to lighten the taste and to add a different texture.  A little flour  browned in a little oil is added to the sauerkraut towards the end of cooking, but not me, and unlike my Triestine contemporaries I also add caraway seeds, bay leaves and a dash of white wine.

The ingredients are: pork sausages, sauerkraut, bay leaves and caraway seeds. Onion, extra virgin olive oil and pepper (the sauerkraut could be sufficiently salty). Fresh cabbage and a dash of white wine are optional.

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Drain the sauerkraut and squeeze out the moisture. Soften some onion in a little oil (in Trieste lard is also common and added to the oil).

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Adding a little white or savoy cabbage is optional.

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And with the cabbage also add the sauerkraut and the rest. A dash of white wine will keep it moist while it cooks.

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Cover and cook for about 15- 20 minutes on low heat until the sausages are nearly cooked and the flavours have had a chance to meld.

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Remove the sauerkraut and slightly brown the sausages – only for appearance.

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A few of the other recipes from Trieste:

MARINADED FISH and a recipe for PESCE IN SAOR

IOTA (Recipe, a very thick soup from Trieste) Post 1

IOTA FROM TRIESTE, Italy is made with smoked pork, sauerkraut, borlotti beans-Post 2

Traditional Easter Sweets in Trieste in Friuli Venezia Giulia

INSALATA RUSSA (Party time – Russian salad)

APPLE STRUDEL (TRIESTE: Strucolo de pomi)

GULASCH (Goulash as made in Trieste)

PATATE as a contorno (Two recipes for ‘squashed’ potatoes).

MARINADED FISH and a recipe for PESCE IN SAOR

Sousing fish was a way of preserving it before refrigeration by saturating the fish with acid – vinegar in this case which, like salt,  prevents the growth of microbes. Sugar is also added and to create an agro dolce dish (sweet and sour). The fish is first fried in olive oil and then marinaded in the vinegar base. Slowly sautéed onions are a common ingredient in soused fish and different flavourings are added to the pickling mix. My Sicilian grandmother would put mint, bay leaves and slivers of garlic in her vinegar marinade (pisci ammarinatu in Sicilian), but the pesse in saor made in Venice and in Trieste where I lived as a child, has raisins and pine nuts in it. Pesse is Triestiane for pesce – fish in Italian.

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Soused fish is found all over Italy, for example pesce alla scapace is cooked in central and southern Italy and the Molise version is flavoured with saffron, minced garlic and sage. Pesce in carpione from Lombardy has celery and carrot for flavourings, the Ligurian scabeccio has garlic, whole pepper and rosemary, and the Sardinian marinade has chilli, garlic, and tomato sauce.

Soused fish is also common in other cultures – Nordic countries thrive on soused fish and different versions of escabeche are found in Spanish, Portuguese, French and in North African cuisines. I have a German friend who also cooks soused fish – he adds coriander seeds to his.

My maternal grandmother always had soused fish (in pottery terrines and covered with plates as lids) in her kitchen in Sicily.

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When she visited us in Trieste she did the same and our kitchen then also smelt of fish and vinegar. She particularly liked to souse eel – eel was good in Trieste. We would walk to the Pescheria together, she would choose the eel she wanted from a big tank and the fishmonger would kill it and chop it into pieces.

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I did not much like this part, but I liked going to the Pescheria on the waterfront in the bay of Trieste. The imposing building is now home to Eataly.

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Triestine pesse is mostly made with sardines and is often eaten with white polenta (yellow polenta is usually an accompaniment to meat).

Traditionally, the fish is lightly dusted with flour and salt before it is fried in very hot, extra virgin, olive oil. Although the flour helps to hold the fish together, the oil used to fry the fish will need to be discarded (the sediment will taint the taste of the oil) and the flour coating will often come away from the fish in the marinade.

On my way to Adelaide from Melbourne I drove through Meningie (at the northern end of the Coorong on the shores of Lake Albert) and I bought freshly-caught Coorong mullet. On this occasion I used them instead of sardines to make pesse in saor.

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2-3 fish per person /12-16 fresh sardines or small fish (sand whiting, mullet, garfish, flathead, leather jackets), cleaned and filleted with heads and backbone removed.

plain flour and salt for dusting
olive oil for frying
2-3 large white onions, sliced finely
1 cup of raisins
1 cup of pine nuts, toasted
sufficient white wine to soak the raisins
250 ml of white wine vinegar
freshly ground black pepper

Dust the fish fillets in a little flour and salt, shake off as much flour as possible and fry them in plenty of oil until golden and crisp. Place them on kitchen paper to remove excess oil and set aside.
Soak the raisins in the white wine for about 30minutes.
Sauté the onions gently in some olive oil until they are soft. Add the vinegar and pepper and cook the mixture for a few minutes. Set aside.

Select a terrine deep enough to hold the fish, ingredients and vinegar marinade – a narrow, deep terrine is best. Place a layer of fish, add some onions (dig them out of the vinegar mixture), raisins (drained) and pine nuts. Continue layering the ingredients, finishing with a layer of onions, raisins and pine nuts on top. Pour the vinegar over the layers. Cover it, place it in the fridge and allow to marinate at least 24 hours before serving.  Serve at room temperature.

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See: PISCI ALL’ AGGHIATA – PESCE ALL’AGLIATA (Soused fish with vinegar, garlic and bay)