Not long after meeting virtually thanks to my fagioli, Patricia and I met in person at the first Women's PowerStrategy™ Conference that she organized.
The Women’s PowerStrategy™ Conference is
a gathering of leaders from diverse backgrounds and areas of expertise who are joining forces to educate and inspire women of all ages to believe and invest in their own talents, skills and potential. [more details on the About page of the conference web site]
Patricia's organization of the conference was inspiring and so were the people I listened to there, from the organizer herself, of course, to Red Room's founder Ivory Madison, from literary agent Verna Dreisbach to pastry chef Marisa Churchill (whom I interviewed) to name just a few. A mishap made me miss the inspiring keynote speaker, Malissa Ferruzzi Shriver, but fortunately her speech was videotaped, so I enjoyed it later.
The second edition of the Conference is coming up this Saturday, June 15, in a bigger venue (the Wells Fargo Center for the Arts in Santa Rosa, CA), with a larger program and a list of speakers that makes my head spin every time I read it. As the announcement I have on the side bar says, I have the honor to be in great company.
The program is full of interesting panels and interviews and, above all, people. If what happened last year is any indication, conference participants will laugh, be moved, make connections, and learn about wonderful individuals and organizations and the difference they make in this world.
Like last year "for every adult ticket purchased, The Women’s PowerStrategy™ Conference will sponsor one girl or woman who could otherwise not afford it, to attend the entire conference, meet the speakers, and enjoy a delightful lunch, free of charge." [more details on the About page] Isn't it wonderful?
On May 8, 1999, at the San Francisco Center for the Book, I had my first experience with letterpress printing. I learned about the California job case, how to set type and prepare the press, and together with the other class participants, printed a chapbook under the imprint of the "created for the day" Tiramisu Press.
In the years that followed, I took a few other printing classes in the same location, and every time I was reminded how much I like the blend of boundless creativity and tight concentration that goes into printing. Mary Dern's short piece titled Printing, therefore, resonated with me. As it is only one page long, I invite you to go to the Star 82 Review website and read it all.
One of the fascinating things about not just printing but any form of arts is the special language each uses, a combination of unusual words (quoins anyone?) and common words given a special meaning (furniture).
If you are not familiar with letterpress printing, I won't have you wondering: A quoin is "a wedge or expanding mechanical device used for locking a letterpress form into a chase" and furniture describes "pieces of wood or metal placed around or between metal type to make blank spaces and fasten the matter in the chase." The chase is "a metal frame for holding the composed type and blocks being printed at one time" (Oxford Dictionaries).
In her piece, Dern remains very close to the senses, as she describes the handling of type to compose words, inking the press, the various sounds the latter does when it is set into motion:
I ink the press. The ink in the can shines succulently; it is delicious,
shining black. I spread some on the plate with my palette knife.
The press runs, hums, a small ching of metal. The rollers move
up and back and down and up and down, spreading the ink in a glistening
sheen.
The end result of the process, a printed poem, feels almost edible:
The chase is locked in, the press starts up, the rollers ink the type. I
feed the paper onto the platen, press the lever. The kiss. The poem.
As soon as my eyes reached the final word, I started thinking about sheets and ink and printing. For the nth time I wished I could get my hands on some cuttlefish (seppie), whose black ink (nero di seppia) would have been a nice echo to the "succulent" printing ink. Alas!, no such luck and even finding unclean squid (i.e., squid with still the ink sac) is so complicated, I stopped trying some time ago. I have already made pink pasta and green pasta, so something different was called for.
When I looked at my hand-cranked pasta machine, I realized that it resembles a printing press, though it does not click to signal the end of the run for its rollers. I was reminded of a class on relief and pressure printing I took some years ago and thought this would be the right time to try to make so-called stained glass pasta, so I geared
into action.
brighly colored and edible
I chose petals from nasturtiums, which grow wildly in our garden. Using rose petals is more romantic and aromatic leaves may lend some of their
flavor, but in terms of color, it is hard to beat nasturtium's petals.
deconstructing flowers
A mistake in ordering from King Arthur Flour means I am now the happy
owner of a bunch of pastry blend, but an unhappy not-owner of pasta
blend (note to self: check the order receipt carefully next time). Had I had the pasta blend, I would have used my normal egg pasta recipe, but since I didn't, I made up a blend with semolina flour and all-purpose flour, but I'll go back to KAF pasta blend as soon as possible. I have also made a batch of pasta using only egg white (albume) rather than whole egg: this makes a dough of a lighter color.
Ingredients:
1 extra-large egg or two egg whites
80 g (a teaspoon less than 3 oz.) flour [see paragraph above] plus more as needed to obtain the dough by
my measuring, 80 g of King Arthur's pasta blend correspond to 1/2 cup,
but this is not what the packaging states and in any case, I recommend
you weigh the flour
On your working surface, create a well
with the flour and crack the egg directly into it (or pour egg whites). Scramble the egg
with a fork. Draw flour from the sides of the well into the center,
mixing well with the egg. Trade the fork for your fingertips. Draw flour
until a soft dough forms. Add more flour if needed. Continue to knead
the dough, 8-10 minutes. Cover and let rest for an hour or so.
Roll pasta by hand or with a machine. The basic idea is to roll the dough until fairly thin, then
distribute the petals on half the sheet, then fold the sheet to sandwich
the petals between two layers and finally roll again to preferred
thinness.
nasturtium petals on rolled pasta
The first rolling can occur by machine or by hand, while the second, in my opinion, is better done by hand, as the rollers have a harsher effect on the petals. This is a personal preference.
Cut the pasta in a shape that allows the person eating it to see the petals. I cut the pasta into maltagliati, one of the many variations on the theme of irregularly cut pasta. Maltagliati
literally means badly cut. Usually this pasta shape is cut into
lozenges (rombi). As precision is not required, different sizes of the
pieces of pasta are acceptable.
cutting maltagliati
Lay out the pasta on a lightly floured surface. Cook and dress as desired. I did this in two ways.
maltagliati in brodo
1. In brodo My husband having a cold and chicken soup becoming a daily menu item,
maltagliati recommended themselves as being suitable for a
steaming bowl of my chicken broth/stock. Bring the broth of choice to a boil, toss the pasta in it and cook until tender. Ladle into bowls, distribute some freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano on top and serve immediately.
2. Pastasciutta Bring a pot of water to a boil. Add
some coarse salt (sale grosso), stir and then add the pasta. Bring water back to
boiling. Cooking time depends on flour used and thickness of pasta, but
it is in the order of a few minutes, so don't wander away.
Depending on the kind of sauce you are using, you may need to prepare it ahead and have it ready at hand while the pasta cooks. In my case, I decided to use a bit of freshly made (regular) pesto, so I took an amount commensurate to the quantity of pasta, placed it in a bowl and thinned it slightly with some of the pasta water.
When the pasta is ready, turn off the
heat, pour a glass of cold water in the pot, stir and then drain the
pasta, leaving a little bit of water clinging to it. Empty the colander into the bowl with pesto and stir delicately but thouroughly. Serve immediately.
This is my contribution to the 19th edition of Novel Food, the literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I started some time ago and that I continue to host.
[Depending on your set-up, the audio
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application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]
I am hereby announcing a new
edition of Novel Food, a culinary/literary event with a long history, going back to the fall of 2007. I am a
bookworm and therefore this event is close to my heart as it brings
together two of my passions.
Every
edition of Novel Food is a little voyage of literary discovery and also a delightful
banquet made up of the literary-inspired dishes contributed by the
event's participants.
I hope
you will join the party. I am looking forward to learning about a
published literary work (a novel, novella, short story, memoir,
bio, poem, etc.) that provided you with culinary inspiration.
Here are the simple rules for participating in Novel Food:
Prepare
a dish of your choosing that has a connection to a published
literary work (novel, novella, short story, memoir, bio, poem) you've read.
Publish
a post about it on your blog by the end of Monday July 1, 2013
(midnight, Pacific Time), referencing the Novel Food event. Include a
link to this announcement. If you wish, you can use the Novel
Food logo.
Link your post by using the linky tool at the bottom OR send an
e-mail to simosite AT mac DOT com and include your name, blog
name and blog address, and a permanent link to your post. Please,
include the words "Novel Food" in the email subject, so I can more
easily retrieve the message in my inbox.
Non-English submissions are fine. If possible, include an introduction in English.
If you
don't have a blog, send me an email telling us about the dish, the
literary work that inspired it, and, if you have it, a picture of
what you made: I will add it to the roundup as well.
Note #1:
If you don't receive an answer to your email within two days of sending me the email, please contact
me again: sometimes email messages get lost in cyberspace.
Note #2: If you follow this link,
you will be able to browse my portion of the roundup of all
previous editions. In relevant posts, you will find a link to Lisa's
portion of the roundup.
Note #3: It so happens that I am hosting also the current edition of Cook the Books Club. The official announcement will be out in a few days, but in the meantime, you can find the title of the book chosen on the homepage and the rules for participating in the event here. They are different from the rules for Novel Food.
I have sometimes thought about the menu of my own small café. I don't believe it will ever exist outside my imagination, but I enjoy adding to the list something that I think would go well there, like these scones — or the ones with red beet, apple and pistachios I made recently.
I love scones, I always have, from the day, many years ago, when I tasted my first one during my first visit to the UK. They are flavorful and not sweet,
nourishing and versatile. They prefer to charm you with their flavor and texture rather than polished looks. I could bake a batch every day. When I do bake a batch,
I feel like the day starts on the right note.
The theme of opening a café is present in the book we are currently reading in our Cook the Cooks Club: The Color of Tea by Hannah Tunnicliffe. I wish I could find an elegant way to say this, but I didn't like the novel — and I don't like macarons, which feature prominently in it. The scones were inspired by the novel in the sense that they were a reaction to it. They are unadorned, crisp outside and tender inside, a bit rustic, a bit surprising with their nuanced flavor of carrot punctuated by the small pieces of candied ginger, simply irresistible. Scone are traditionally served with tea and without roses, but I was too excited about cutting the first pink rose of the season from my bush not to share it here.
Today's scones start with two pounds of freshly harvested small carrots, which I prepared using this simple yet lovely recipe by Lynda of TasteFood with a couple of minor adjustments (see below). The result was very much appreciated at the table. As I was putting away the leftovers, I thought about using some to make scones.
The morning after, I had to solve the problem of turning the roasted carrots into a form suitable for scone-making. After some deliberation, I decided to chop them and add them to the food processor after the butter had been cut into the flour. It worked and the scones were a success, so the following week, when I found more carrots in my CSA share, I was ready to repeat the sequence of roasting followed by scone making. As an aside, this time I had a smaller amount of carrots, so I added to the pan a mix of baby turnips (rape novelle) and radishes (ravanelli), a great duo of root vegetables (I will soon share a recipe featuring them).
Ingredients (see my earlier post for additional information on the original recipe and the ingredients; overall, I halved the quantities):
3 ounces (85 g) leftover roasted carrots, chopped
3 1/2 tablespoons (1.75 oz.) unsalted browned butter (or 4 tablespoon unsalted butter and no ricotta)
2
tablespoons buckwheat flour + 1 tablespoon cornmeal + 1 tablespoon teff flour + enough
all-purpose flour to make 1 cup OR 1 cup (130 g) all-purpose flour
1/2 cup (65 g) whole-wheat pastry flour
1/4 cup finely chopped uncrystallized candied ginger (zenzero candito)
1/2 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/8 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon ultra-fine or granulated sugar
1/2 tablespoon ricotta or plain kefir cheese or cream cheese
1/2 cup
(120 ml) homemade kefir; original recipe alternatives: buttermilk (latticello),
plain yogurt or sour cream (low-fat or non-fat is fine)
How to roast the carrots The evening before I baked the scones, I prepared the carrots using this recipe with the following minor adjustments:
I used thyme leaves rather than whole sprigs
I used only 1 tablespoon of balsamic vinegar
I did not add the sugar in the last step
Since my carrots were more like toddlers than babies, I cut the
bigger ones lengthwise and/or crosswise, and it took me some 25 minutes
to get them to the tenderness I desired.
You can, of course, choose your favorite method for oven-roasting carrots.
The morning after, weigh the amount of carrots needed for the scones (making sure to incude a nice amount of thyme leaves) and chop them. Set aside.
golden mix
How to make the scones Preheat
oven to 425 F. Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or a piece
of parchment paper and sprinkle flour over the surface.
Take the
browned butter out of the fridge and let it soften slightly while you
prepare the other ingredients. Measure the flours and set aside a tablespoon or so to flour the pieces of candied ginger, so they stay separate when you add them to the dough at the end. Put the rest of the flours, baking powder, baking soda, salt and sugar into the food processor
fitted with steel blade. Cut butter into pieces and add to the food
processor. Pulse a few times for several seconds until the flour mix
resembles coarse meal.
Add the chopped carrots to the food processor and continue pulsing until you see that the carrots have been finely chopped into the flour mix, which will turn into a delicate golden color (see photo above).
Pour dry
ingredients into a bowl. Add the floured candied ginger and stir to distribute. In a small bowl, whisk
together ricotta and kefir, then add them to the drier mix. Stir with a
spatula until
ingredients are
just combined.
Turn dough onto the lined baking sheet and, with your hands, shape into a 1/2-inch thick
square. With a bench scrape, cut into four lengthwise and then
crosswise to get 16 small squares. With the help of the bench scrape,
separate the pieces, so that they are at least one inch apart. If the
corner pieces are much smaller than the rest, join them, so you'll end
up with 14-15 scones of comparable size.
Bake for
16 minutes, then check the bottom of one scone: if it is golden brown,
they are ready, otherwise, bake for another two minutes and check again. In my experience, these scones take a bit longer to bake than other types of scones I made with the same base recipe, so besides checking the bottom, I also tap on the top to make sure it is crisp, before deciding that the scones are ready and I let them sit for a minute on the baking sheet before moving them onto a rack to cool. Serve warm or at room
temperature (temperatura ambiente).
These scones are perfect for breakfast and I like to serve them for
dinner as well, as a bread substitute, with creamy homemade kefir cheese or a spread, like my roasted red pepper and almond dip. As I said above: they are simply irresistible.
Once
cooled completely, the scones can be frozen. When I want to serve them, I
put them straight in a 350 F oven for 8-10 minutes.
This is my contribution to the current edition of Cook the Books, hosted by Deb of Kahakai Kitchen. You can find the guidelines for participating in the event here, and here is the announcement.
[Depending on your set-up, the audio
file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player
application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]
I am determined: One day, I will invent a new pasta shape. As an intermediate step, I have created an innovative variation of an existing pasta shape called fainelle. I decided to give my pasta a different name, because it is made quite differently from the inspiring one (see details below).1
According to my source, the "Encyclopedia of Pasta" by Oretta Zanini De Vita, fainelle are typical of Foggia (Puglia). The word fainella in dialect refers to the fruit of the carrob tree (in Italian, carruba), to which the pasta shape resembles. I was not able to find a reference to it outside of the page in Zanini De Vita's book, so the idea I have is based on the drawing and the text on that page.
Fainelle belong to the strascinati family of pasta shapes and are made with a sferre: "A typical knife of Puglia used to make many types of pasta. It has no handle, so it can also be used horizontally to make long strascinati." To approximate the shape, I decided to roll the dough with one of the pieces of dowel I had purchased during my experiments to make garganelli. I realized that using a mini rolling pin meant my pasta would not be a type of strascinato. (A sferre is now officially on my wish list.)
The result reminded me of a patch made of cloth, in Italian pezza. I made a couple of pezze and then the presence on my working surface of my gnocchi board gave me the idea of rolling the pieces of pasta dough on it to get a ridged surface and pezze rigate were born.
Then I thought about a variation: instead of placing the cylinder of dough parallel to the board grooves, I placed it a bit angled and as a result the ridges on the surface of the pezza came out oblique.
You can see my hands at work on both versions in this short video:
Based on Zanini De Vita's description of the flours used for this pasta
shape, I decided to make a blend of whole-wheat flour and semolina flour. I could
have used farina di grano arso, also mentioned in the book, but I wanted to vary.
first batch of pezze
I am reading a cookbook for
an upcoming review that is all about using flowers in the kitchen. I had
some calendulas (calendule) I had obtained to make one of the book's recipes and I added some of their petals (petali) to the pasta dough.
with calendula petals
Pezze rigate are probably
not the best choice to show off the use of flowers in the kitchen, but it was
an interesting experiment and I will certainly work more on the idea.
Ingredients for the pasta:
EITHER 25 g / 1 oz. stone-ground whole-wheat flour + 75 g / 2.5 oz. semolina flour of good quality
OR 100 g / 3.5 oz. semolina flour of good quality
50 g / 1.75 oz. warm water (I recommend weighing the water)
A pinch of salt
How to make the dough and shape pezze rigate Make
a
dough with the pasta ingredients and knead until nice and smooth.
Let the dough rest, well wrapped to avoid drying, for half an hour or so.
Shape the
dough into a thick roll, then cut it into 5-6 pieces and shape each one
into a roll about 3/8 inch (1 cm) in diameter. Cut each roll into approximately 1 1/2-inch (4 cm) long
pieces, then place each cylinder on the gnocchi board with the long sides either parallel to the board's grooves or slightly angled. Run the mini rolling pin — a piece of dowel of 3/8 inch (1 cm) or 1/2 inch (1.25 cm) in diameter — over the piece of dough 2-3 times to thin it and "stamp" it. The resulting pezza rigata will be about 2 inches long. Lay out to dry ridged side up on a surface lightly dusted with flour.
Repeat with the other pieces of dough. Lightly dust the gnocchi board as needed to prevent the dough from sticking too tightly when you roll it.
ready for the fork
Cook the pasta Bring a pot of salted water to a rolling boil, then toss the pezze rigate in it (what in Italian we call: buttare giù la pasta). The time needed to cook is a bit variable, depending on the size of pezze, how dry they are, etc. Taste and stop the cooking when the pasta is ready. Pour a glass of cold water in the pot, stir and drain the pezze.
Place in a
bowl,
distribute some sugo di pomodoro (tomato sauce), reheated if necessary, and toss. Finally, sprinkle some Parmigiano-Reggiano on top
and serve immediately.
Alternatively, while
the pasta is cooking, place a few tablespoons of the tomato sauce in a small skillet
and warm it up. Drain the pasta and drop it into the skillet with the sauce.
Stir well over medium-low heat for a minute. Sprinkle some of
the cheese and stir one last time. Plate and sprinkle a bit more cheese
on the top. Serve immediately.
The recipe makes two small portions (served as Italian first course).
I will add this recipe to my growing collection of pasta shapes. Please, do let me know if you try your hand at making any of them.
1 If you are aware of another pasta shape that is similar to (or the same as) what I made, please let me know.
This is my contribution to the current edition of Pasta Please, a new pasta-centric event created by Jacqueline of Tinned Tomatoes and hosted this month by Simona of briciole. The theme this month is: homemade pasta.
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set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or
by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if
you encounter any problems.]
the photo could be better, but the scones are perfect
The recipe started with yet another batch of small red beets freshly
harvested and promptly roasted. It went on with an apple too large to
eat all as my breakfast. En route, it picked up some fresh dill (aneto) and to complete the party, it invited pistachios to join: what a success!
I had a hard time setting up this shooting session, even within the realm of my minimalist style of food photography. I baked four batches of these scones and every time, my camera wanted to be outside, focusing on large landscapes rather than small edibles.
On the other hand, the scones have a kind of rough beauty that comes across in the photos and that I find quite attractive. I like that the color is not uniform, but somewhat marbled. Above all, I like how the scones taste.
I keep using the same scone recipe, making small adjustments to accommodate each variation I come up with.
Ingredients (see my previous post for additional information on the original recipe and the ingredients; overall, I halved the quantities of the original recipe):
3 1/2 tablespoons (1.75 oz.) unsalted browned butter (or 4 tablespoon unsalted butter and no ricotta)
2
tablespoons buckwheat flour + 2 tablespoons cornmeal + enough
all-purpose flour to make 1 cup OR 1 cup (130 g) all-purpose flour
1/2 cup (65 g) whole-wheat pastry flour
1/2 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/8 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon ultra-fine or granulated sugar
1/4 cup grated roasted red beet (use the medium side of your grater)
1/4 cup grated apple (use the extra-coarse side of your grater)
1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh dill (aneto)
1/2 tablespoon ricotta or cream cheese or plain kefir cheese
1/2 cup
(120 ml) homemade kefir; original recipe alternatives: buttermilk (latticello),
plain yogurt or sour cream (low-fat or non-fat is fine)
1/4 cup (1 oz.) roasted and lightly salted pistachios, chopped
How to roast beets Preheat the oven to 375 F. Rinse and scrub well beets, then wrap each in foil, place on a baking sheet, and bake until easily pierced with a knife. Alternatively, place clean beets in a baking pan or dish, add 1/4 inch of water to the pan and cover tightly with foil or dish's lid, then proceed as with the other method. Let beets cool
until easy to handle, then slip off the skin.
Note: If you are like me and prefer to
buy bunches of beets with their greens still attached, cut the greens
an inch above the beet, then proceed with the preparation. I usually
bake a number of beets at a time, for efficiency's sake. There are many ways
you can use them, for example, this soup or this spread. I also set aside the greens to make a frittata or to add to kale in this dish. And I prepare the stalks in this way.
How to make the scones Preheat
oven to 425 F. Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or a piece
of parchment paper and sprinkle flour over the surface.
Take the
browned butter out of the fridge and let it soften slightly while you
prepare the other ingredients. Grate red beet and apple.
Measure ingredients number 2 through 8 and put into the food processor
fitted with steel blade. Cut butter into pieces and add to the food
processor. Pulse a few times for several seconds until the flour mix
resembles coarse meal. Due to the red beet, it will be pink.
Pour dry
ingredients into a bowl, add apple and dill. In a small bowl, whisk together ricotta and kefir, then add them to the drier mix. Stir with a spatula a couple of times, then add the pistachios. Stir briefly until ingredients are
just combined.
Turn dough onto the lined sheet and shape into a 1/2-inch thick
square. With a bench scrape, cut into four lengthwise and then
crosswise to get 16 small squares. With the help of the bench scrape,
separate the pieces, so that they are at least one inch apart. If the
corner pieces are much smaller than the rest, join them, so you'll end
up with 14-15 scones of comparable size.
Bake for
15 minutes, then check the bottom of one scone: if it is golden brown,
they are ready, otherwise, bake for another two minutes and check again.
When ready, move them onto a rack and serve warm or at room
temperature.
marbled, fragrant, excellent scones
These scones are perfect for breakfast and I like to serve them for
dinner as well, as a bread substitute, with creamy homemade kefir cheese or a spread.
Once
cooled completely, the scones can be frozen. When I want to serve them, I
put them straight in a 350 F oven for 8-10 minutes.
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la foto non è gran che, ma gli scone sono perfetti
La ricetta comincia con un po' di piccole barbabietole rosse appena raccolte che ho subito cotto al forno. Continua con una mela un po' troppo grossa per essere mangiata tutta per colazione. Per strada, dà un passaggio a dell'aneto fresco e per completare la festa invita dei pistacchi tostati. Il risultato: un successo!
Ho avuto un po' di difficoltà a fare foto, anche nel mio stile minimalista. Ho preparato gli scone quattro volte e ogni volta la mia macchina fotografica voleva essere all'aperto e puntare a vasti paesaggi piuttosto che a piccoli oggetti commestibili.
D'altra parte, questi scone hanno una loro bellezza rustica che le foto mostrano bene e che io personalmente trovo molto attraente. Mi piace il fatto che il colore non sia uniforme ma un po' marmorizzato. E soprattutto mi piace il sapore di questi scone.
Continuo ad usare la mia ricetta base degli scone e faccio piccoli cambiamenti per adattarla a ciascuna variazione che invento (vedi il mio post sugli scone zucca e zenzero con curry per ulteriori informazioni riguardanti la ricetta che mi ha ispirato).
Ingredienti:
50 g burro nocciola (oppure 57 g di burro normale e non usare la ricotta)
2
cucchiai [30 ml] farina di grano saraceno + [30 ml] fioretto di mais +
abbastanza farina di grano per arrivare a 130 g, oppure 130 g di farina
di grano
65 g farina integrale fina (da dolci)
1/2 cucchiaio (7,5 ml) lievito per dolci
1/4 cucchiaino bicarbonato di soda
3/8 cucchiaino sale fino
1 cucchiaino zucchero bianco fine
1/4 tazza (60 ml) barbabietola rossa cotta in forno e grattugiata con la grattugia a buchi medi o grossi
1/4 tazza (60 ml) mela grattugiata con la grattugia a buchi grossi (un quarto di una mela medio-grossa)
1 cucchiaino aneto fresco tritato
1/2 cucchiaio (7,5 ml) ricotta o formaggio cremoso
120
ml kefir fatto in casa; alternative:
latticello, yogurt bianco o panna acida (va bene anche parzialmente
scremato o magro)
30 g pistacchi tostati e leggermente salati, tritati
Come cuocere le barbabietole rosse Scaldare il forno a 190 C. Pulire
bene la barbabietola (o barbabietole), avvolgere in pellicola di
alluminio, porle su una lastra da forno e cuocerle in forno fino a
quando è facile perforarla con una lama. Lasciar intiepidire e poi
rimuovere la buccia.
Nota: Se siete come me e preferite
comprare barbabietole con ancora attaccate le foglie, tagliate i gambi 2-3
cm sopra alla radice e poi proseguite con la preparazione. Di solito
cuocio un certo numero di barbabietole per volta, per amor di
efficienza. Potete usarle in diversi modi, a parte quello descritto in
questo post (per esempio, questa zuppa o questa crema da spalmare). Io utilizzo le foglie per fare una frittata o insieme al cavolo riccio in questo gratin. E gli steli li preparo in gratinati.
Come prepareare gli scone Scaldare il forno a 218 C. Foderare
una lastra da forno con un tappetino di silicone per forno o carta da
forno e spargere un po' di farina sulla superficie. Togliere dal
frigorifero il burro nocciola e farlo ammorbidire leggermente mentre
preparate gli altri ingredienti.
Grattugiare barbabietola e mela. Misurare gli ingredienti dal numero 2 all'8 e
metterli nel robot con la lama d'acciaio. Tagliare a pezzi il burro e
aggiungerlo agli ingredienti. Pulsare un po' di volte per diversi
secondi per sabbiare. La barbabietola rossa fa diventare il composto rosa.
Versare
gli ingredienti secchi in una ciotola, aggiungere mela e aneto. In una ciotola
piccola, mescolare ricotta e kefir e poi aggiungerli agli ingredienti secchi. Con una spatole, mescolare brevemente, poi aggiungere i pistacchi. Mescolare solo fino a quando si ha un impasto coeso.
Rovesciare l'impasto sulla lastra foderata e dargli la forma di un quadrato
spesso 1,25 cm. Con un raschietto, tagliare il quadrato in quattro per
lungo e per largo in modo da ottenere 16 quadretti. Con l'aiuto del
raschietto, separare i quadretti in modo che siano distanti almeno 2,5
cm. Se i quadretti d'angolo sono molto più piccoli degli altri, uniteli a
due a due in modo da avere 14-15 scone di dimensioni simili.
Infornare
e cuocere per 15 minuti, poi controllare il fondo di uno scone: se è
bello dorato, gli scone sono pronti. Se no, cuocere per un altro paio di
minuti e controllare di nuovo. Quando sono pronti, trasferirli su una
griglia e servirli caldi o a temperatura ambiente.
marmorizzati, fragranti, buonissimi
Questi scone sono ottimi per colazione e a me piace anche servirli per cena, al posto del pane, con formaggio di kefir cremoso o una crema salata da spalmare.
Una
volta raffreddati, surgelo sempre una parte degli scone. Quando poi
voglio servirli, li metto direttamente in forno riscaldato a 175 C per
10 minuti.
You look at the image and you want some, right? That's what happened to me: I read about cappellacci dei briganti in the "Encyclopedia of Pasta" by Oretta Zanini De Vita and I immediately made a batch.
The word cappellaccio comes from cappello
(hat). The suffix has a negative connotation, which matches the idea
that they are worn by lawless characters. According to Zanini De Vita,
this pasta is typical of Molise, the Italian region sandwiched between Abruzzo and Puglia. (Note that there is another type of pasta whose name includes cappellacci, namely cappellacci di zucca, a type of stuffed pasta typical of Ferrara.)
the hatmaker's production
The name of
this pasta shape evokes tales of travellers being ambushed and robbed
by men wrapped in dark cloaks, their faces shadowed by tall hats. Despite the fearsome name, this pasta is quite cute and not particularly difficult to
make, but it requires close attention to the movements of your hands.
My first attempt was successful, but I was not totally satisfied with
the way my cappellacci looked after the required rest, so I searched the
web and found an image in this article
(in Italian, click on the magnifying glass icon to see the whole
image), which gave me the idea of pressing the front of the brim against
the conical portion of the hat. I tried it and liked the result, so that's how I have made my cappellacci dei briganti ever since.
You can see my hands at work in this short video — in which you can also hear my husband say "Action!"
As usual, my recommendation is to start by making un uovo di pasta, a small amount of dough, so you don't get overwhelmed by the task. When your hands become proficient at making cappellacci, you can increase the amount of dough and delight more people. To make the pasta dough, I used the KAF Pasta Blend previously mentioned and was happy with the result. For one extra-large egg, I weigh 80 g of
flour. I then add more flour, as needed, to get a dough of the
right consistency. It is better to have to add flour than to find
yourself with a hard dough (my mother's wisdom).
Ingredients:
80 g (a teaspoon less than 3 oz.) flour [see paragraph above] plus more as needed to obtain the dough by
my measuring, 80 g of King Arthur's Pasta Blend correspond to 1/2 cup,
but this is not what the packaging states and in any case, I recommend
you weigh the flour
1 extra-large egg
A pinch of sea salt
On your working surface, create a well
with the flour and crack the egg directly into it. Sprinkle the salt. Scramble the egg
with a fork. Draw flour from the sides of the well into the center,
mixing well with the egg.
Trade the fork for your fingertips. Draw flour
until a soft dough forms. Add more flour, as needed. Continue to knead
the dough, 8-10 minutes. Cover the dough and let it rest for an hour or so (at least half an hour).
circles and cutouts
Roll dough by hand or with a pasta machine. On my machine, I stop at the penultimate notch. Zanini De Vita mentions an inverted liqueur glass as implement to cut the circles from which to shape the cappellacci. A two-inch biscuit cutter is perfect for the task and actually, in my opinion, more comfortable to use than a glass.
Wrap one circle around the tip of your index finger (indice) to form a cone. Fold back the side of the brim opposite to the seam and press it against the cone, then slide the cappellaccio off the finger and place it upright on the lightly floured working surface, resting on the lateral sides of the brim.
Make sure the index finger you are using as support to shape the pasta
is floured, otherwise you won't be able to take the cappellaccio off at the end
without misshaping it.
Knead together the cutouts (ritagli di pasta) and cover them while you work, then roll them again. Continue until all the dough is used. Let the cappellacci dry for at least a couple of hours, so they will hold their shape better while cooking. I usually make cappellacci in the morning, if I plan to cook them for lunch.
Boil in plenty of salted water. Always handle the cappellacci with a delicate touch, when you transfer them into the pot, when you stir them while cooking and then when you dress them. You will be rewarded with a truly pretty plate of pasta that will delight the eyes and palates of your guests.
cappellacci dei briganti al sugo
I dress the cappellacci with my usual sugo di pomodoro. I have been carefully drawing from my stash of frozen strained roasted tomatoes, which is a joy to use and will last me until the new tomato crop comes around.
I will add this recipe to my growing collection of pasta shapes. Please, do let me know if you try your hand at making any of them.
[Depending
on your set-up, the audio file will be played within
the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please,
contact me if you encounter any problems.]
Welcome to the roundup of the 18th edition of Novel Food, the literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste
and I created in 2007 and that I continue to host with great pleasure. Novel Food is about
literary works (prose or poetry) that inspire the preparation of dishes. The event brings together two of my passions: literature and food.
Like all its predecessors,
the current edition includes a lovely set of posts, each describing a literary work that the blogger read and the dish that the reading inspired. Please, follow me on a short literary/culinary tour. For
each contribution, I will offer a small bite to whet your appetite for
more: follow the link to read the details. I hope that by the time you reach
the end of this post, you will have a nice reading and cooking list to
be used in the near future.
Ruhama of rumahama presents What the Moon Saw by Laura Resau, which inspired her to parepare some Mexican Hot Chocolate
"Clara's parents don't know what to do with her, as she keeps disobeying on a grand scale." They send her to live with her grandparents in a remote area of Mexico, where she discovers, among other things, the magic of Mexican hot chocolate. In her post, besides giving a recipe, Ruhama shows us a Mexican molinillo (wooden whisk) in action.
Lucia of Torta di Rose read Blackberry Wineby Joanne Harris (published in Italy as Vino, patate e mele rosse) and prepared Ciambelline al vino di visciola (ring-shaped cookies with sour cherry wine)
In this novel, the unusual narrator is a bottle of wine from the year in which the protagonist was
born. "The story inspired me to bake ciambelline
(ring-shaped cookies) with sour cherry wine... a special wine based on an ancient wild cherry species widespread in the
Marche region, in Italy." The cookies can be prepared with any kind of wine, not only of grape but also of other fruits.
"Near as I can tell from my online research and her books, this was a
variety of “johnny” or “journey” cake – a rough equivalent to today’s
trail mix or granola bar. You made them ahead and they’d keep, even if
they needed dunking to make them palatable after a few weeks in a
rucksack or a saddlebag.
Corn dodgers can be as simple or as fancy as you like."
"I couldn’t help but be fascinated... Mattanza is a powerful, captivating story of man, fish, life, death and love. Perhaps, I should have prepared some kind of tuna meal. However, I... felt like preparing a simple pasta dish... Making pasta and steaming up the windows during winter (or anytime of the year) sounds like a good idea to me."
In her novel, "Morrison explores the different facets of love, its proximity to hate, and its destructive effects on the psyche when it is missing from one’s life, especially the life of a child." This smooth-as-silk smoothie reminds Ana of Silk, the fictional town in which Love is set, once famous for Cosey’s Hotel and Resort, on the Southern East Coast.
Inspired by The Shape of Water by Andrea Camilleri, Simona of briciole(your host) baked reginelle (sesame seed cookies)
"Sicily smells of sesame seeds. Not the actual island, but the Sicily of my memory. I close my eyes, I whisper "Sicilia"
and I smell toasted sesame seeds. The same thing happens if I read
about Sicily: I open one of my Montalbano books and my nose smiles."
"One
recurrent motif in the novel is [the protagonist's] wish to start eating better, a
resolution that gets repeatedly postponed to the following day when,
supposedly, he will have more time to choose mindfully how to feed
himself. But the healthy, nutritious salad in his thoughts never
materializes on his plate, so I thought I would make one for him."
My special "thank you!" goes to the event's participants: I hope you had as much fun as I always do when I host this event. You will find a link to this roundup and to those of the earlier editions on this page.
The next edition of Novel Food will be in early summer: I will announce it here, on The Food Blog Diary, and other venues, so stay tuned. The Food Blog Diary is the lovely event announcement site created and maintained by Jacqueline of Tinned Tomatoes.
Visit the site to read about current events and let her know about your
event and she will post it on her well-organized site. Thank you,
Jacqueline!
In
the meantime, read good books (maybe with the next Novel Food in
mind), cook good dishes, and otherwise savor life's local and seasonal
offerings.
The first scene brings us to a large rapeseed field. Our eyes luxuriate in the saturated colors of tall yellow flowers under a blindingly blue sky. As our mind wonders where such a beautiful place is, a painful sense of foreboding starts to distort the idyllic image. The young woman in the middle of the yellow ocean is panicking and the middle-aged men trying to reach her is anxious. The tension builds up as the camera switches vintage point until the scene goes up in flames — literally.
Sidetracked, the first episode of the BBC movies Wallander turned me into a terrified fan of the series. I could not stop watching that and the other two episodes of the first season: the movies held me in their power. But the horror of the deaths and crimes shown in them terrified me. A part of me wanted to flee, while the other part was glued to the couch, totally focused on the screen and the events shown on it.
I like everything about the movies and find the character of police inspector Kurt Wallander fascinating and poignantly rendered by Kenneth Branagh. After watching three movies, I had to read the novels by Swedish author Henning Mankell. I started from the first one Faceless Killers, which introduced Kurt Wallander to the public 23 years ago. In 1999 Mankell published The Pyramid, a collection of five stories that follows Wallander career from his beginning as a patrolman who helps solve a crime and gets moved into the investigative branch of the police, to the middle-aged, seasoned investigator recently separated from his wife that we meet in the first novel. (This is the book I am reading right now.)
Faceless Killers opens with a brutal, inexplicable murder of a farmer and his wife. As Wallander applies known investigative techniques, based on looking very carefully at the available information, spiced up with a bit of gut feelings and intuition, to find who did it and why, we follow his having to come to terms with his wife's recent decision to leave him.
The chaos without is reflected in the chaos within Wallander's life. Of course, a murder is not at the same level as a separation and an estranged daughter, Linda — whose suicide attempt he thwarted some years prior. However, the need to rationalize and act upon them has similarity. In the end, he cannot do anything to recreate the family nucleus, which in practice had ceased to exist for a while, but he can bring the murderers to justice, thereby resetting the scales, so to speak — albeit temporarily.
The novel includes more than one personal thread: Wallander's father, a painter, appears and his mental and physical decline requires attention. And Rydberg, Wallander's mentor and most trusted colleague, is diagnosed with cancer. The mood of the novel is definitely somber. And the fact that it starts in early January, in the dead of winter, adds some more darkness. The one steady light is Wallander's determination to solve the crime that haunts him. And he will do that.
bean and albacore tuna salad for Wallander
Often Wallander is so engrossed in his investigations that food and sleep are pushed aside, sometimes with dangerous consequences. One recurrent motif in the novel is his wish to start eating better, a resolution that gets repeatedly postponed to the following day when, supposedly, he will have more time to choose mindfully how to feed himself. But the healthy, nutritious salad in his thoughts never materializes on his plate, so I thought I would make one for him, one that, with a bit of planning, he could prepare for himself at home.
The combination of beans and canned tuna (we called it fagioli col tonno) reminds me of childhood summer vacations (vacanze estive), when salads of various kinds rotated on the menu. Its simplicity leaves room
for interesting variations, like this one. The baby kale pesto with cashews I
described yesterday smoothes the edges of the two
bold flavors of beans and albacore. I cook beans
whenever I have time and if I don't need them right away, I freeze
them. The pesto can also be made in advance and frozen. Particularly useful are the two-tablespoon cubes you can obtain by freezing it in an ice tray. And canned albacore is an item always in my pantry, the kind I
discovered some years ago: troll caught and preserved in its own juices, flavorful, low in mercury and without added ingredients besides salt.
Paul's mix, a medley of organic beans
Once you have the elements of the salad, combining them together takes
little time and the result is satisfying and nourishing, just what Kurt Wallander and we all need.
How to cook dry beans The
way I cook beans for further use comes from Vegetarian Cooking for
Everyone by Deborah Madison (Beans with Aromatics). After soaking a
cup of dry beans for several hours or overnight in enough water to
cover them by about an inch (I use 3 1/2 cups), empty the whole bowl into a
saucepan and add
A small onion (or half of a medium one), halved
A large bay leaf
A large clove of garlic, or two small ones, sliced
A few sprigs of fresh parsley
A piece of kombu or other seaweed of choice (optional)
If it feels that there is not enough water to cook the beans well, add 1/2 cup. Bring
the water to a lively boil quickly, and keep it there for five minutes,
then turn down the heat and let the beans simmer, covered, until they
are ready. How long this takes depends on the type of beans and their
freshness. Let them cool in their broth, then remove the aromatics
and discard them. Let the beans rest in their cooking broth until ready
to use.
How to assemble the salad Drain the beans but leave them a bit moist. Open the can, empty it in a bowl, and with a fork flake the albacore to incorporate its juices. Add kale pesto and mix thoroughly to combine the ingredients. Serve (at room temperature).
To my palate, this salad does not need additional salt an neither does it need olive oil, since the albacore provides its oil.
Besides choosing healthier dishes, hopefully Wallander will learn to enjoy the food, instead of just stuffing
himself, which is what he does when eating on the run. When it comes to his relation with food, he can
learn from Montalbano.
This is my second contribution to the 18th edition of Novel Food, the literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I started some time ago and that I continue to host.
[Depending on your set-up, the audio
file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player
application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]
Sicily smells of sesame seeds. Not the actual island, but the Sicily of my memory. I close my eyes, I whisper "Sicilia" and I smell toasted sesame seeds. The same thing happens if I read about Sicily: I open one of my Montalbano books and my nose smiles.
My first visit to Sicily, the summer before I turned 18, overloaded all of my senses in a joyous way: the beauty of churches and other buildings in Palermo, the sticky smell of the hot July days, the pleasant coolness of the sea, the sound of the dialect (of which I learned a few words), the taste of new foods. Of all the novelties my senses encountered, the smell of sesame seeds (semi di sesamo) is the one with highest emotional content. I had never tasted sesame seeds before, not even set my eyes on them. I only knew the name and that they were small.
First, I ate bread with the surface sprinkled with sesame seeds and I was amazed at the amount of flavor the small seeds packed. So, when I saw reginelle, cookies covered with sesame seeds, I did not need any special encouragement to pick one up (gently, to avoid seed loss) and bring it to my mouth. As each bite crumbled in my mouth, sesame seeds were scattered around. The cookie softened but retained a bit of crunch and the seeds teased my teeth into chasing them. A light swetness supported the pleasure without distracting the taste buds. One reginella was a dose of pure and simple pleasure, the memory of which lasted a long time.
I have vivid memories of other foods I tasted during that vacation, from rich gelato eaten in a soft, sweet bun, to fresh fish, from light mini cannoli to intense cheeses, but it's reginelle that feed my nostalgia. When I visited Palermo with my husband a few years ago, I carefully chose the bakery in which to purchase reginelle: I wanted the very best. A bite, stolen when hardly out of the store, sent me back to that summer of many years before, when I first discovered the pleasure these cookies provide.
brought back from Palermo
Until recently, I had never tried to bake them at home, afraid, I suspect, of taking out of the oven something so different from the original that the disappointment would be crushing. Reading again The Shape of Water by Andrea Camilleri (1994), the first of the novels that have as protagonitst police inspector Salvo Montalbano, brought me back to my first visit to Sicily and back to the yearning for reginelle, so this time I didn't skirt their calling and set about to make them. First, a note on vocabulary. In Sicilian dialect, sesame seeds are called cimino or giuggiulena. Just let this word tingle your ears: giuggiulena. It comes from from Arabic جلجلا (juljulān, "sesame").
I made several batches, trying a slightly different combination of ingredients each time, in search of the elusive bite of recognition. As I expected, none were exactly the same, and some were further from the archetype than others. The recipe I settled on is good: it makes reginelle that are a pleasure to eat and that have already made a couple of converts to their cause.
Ingredients:
200 g all-purpose flour
50 g whole-wheat pastry flour or 50 g all-purpose flour
70 g ultrafine sugar
a pinch of salt
2 g baking ammonia
40 g cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
20 g cold strutto (rendered pork fat) or 20 g cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 large egg (possibly from pastured poultry), lightly beaten to mix white and yolk
1-2 tablespoons milk
flavoring of choice: a pinch (1/16 teaspoon) saffron powder + grated zest of 1/4 Meyer lemon; or vanilla sugar + 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract (see Notes)
plenty of sesame seeds (I used unhulled ones)
Notes:
The whole-wheat pastry flour is my way of making cookies a bit more nutricious.
I had my homemade strutto and pretty much finished it due to all the batches of reginelle I baked. It makes the cookies friabili (crumbly), but it also has a bit of a flavor and that is why I mixed it with butter. You can use all butter.
Based upon my reading, baking ammonia is the leavening agent traditionally used in reginelle. I have some I bought in Italy, where it is easy to find it in grocery stores. As you can read on this page, baking ammonia has advantages over baking powder when used in baked goods like cookies.
The recipes I read used various flavorings, from saffron powder to lemon zest to vanilla. In my first batch I used a small amount of saffron powder (1/16 teaspoon) I had and liked the result, but then I could not find more in the store and using saffron threads did not give me the same result. I then used a combination vanilla and lemon zest and was not happy, so I removed the lemon zest and used my vanilla sugar plus a bit of vanilla extract.
If using saffron powder, dissolve it in a tablespoon of warm milk.
Put flours, sugar (vanilla sugar, if using), salt, and baking ammonia in the food processor and pulse a few times to mix.
Add butter and strutto, and pulse a few times, until the mixture has the consistency of coarse meal.
Empty food processor's bowl onto your work surface.
Make a well in the center of the
mounded flour and butter mixture and pour the beaten eggs into it.
Add the vanilla extract or lemon zest (whichever using) to the well.
Add 1 tablespoon of milk or the milk and saffron powder mix (if using).
Use a fork to incorporate the liquid into the solid ingredients, and then use your fingertips.
Knead lightly just until the dough comes together into a ball. Add a bit more milk, if necessary.
Shape the dough into a flat ellipse
and wrap in plastic wrap. Place the dough in the refrigerator and chill while you get ready for the next phase.
shaping the dough
Take a kitchen towel, spread it on your working surface and pour some
water over it, so about half of it gets wet, but there is no pool of water. Take a
round cake pan and pour sesame seeds in it so you have a nice layer.
Preheat the oven to 400 F (or 350 F, see below). Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat.
Halve the dough and keep one half in the fridge. The following is how I decided to shape the reginelle and to roll them in the sesame seeds. Place dough on your working surface and pushing on its surface with the rolling pin, flatten it slightly (about 1/2 inch / 1.25 cm thick). With the bench scraper, cut strips (3/4 inch / 2 cm wide) and then cut each strip into pieces (1.5 inch / 4 cm long).
prepping the surface
Place a piece of dough on the towel and lightly roll it with the palm
of your hand so its surface becomes slightly damp, then deposit it on
the sesame seeds. Shake the pan so the dough rolls around and covers
itself with seeds. Gently pick up the seeded piece of dough and place it
on the lined baking sheet. Leave at least an inch (2.5 cm) of space all
around each reginella. When you become comfortable with the
process, you can work with a few pieces of dough at a time. And of
course, you can come up with your own version of how to do all this.
I have read two schools of thought in terms of baking: one starts at high temperature (400 F) and then drops to lower 10 minutes after the start and one uses the same temperature (350 F) throughout. I think I prefer the result of the first version, while my husband prefers the result of the second: you can be your own judge. Either way, I follow the advice of leaving the oven door slightly ajar (1/8 inch / 3 mm) to let the ammonia escape but without letting too much heat dissipate.
If starting at 400 F, 10 minutes after the start, lower temperature to 320 F
If starting at 350 F, keep the same temperature throughout
Either way, check the reginelle after 20 minutes from the beginning and estimate the amount of time still needed. The reginelle are ready when the surface is golden. Check the bottom as well: it should be brown but not dark brown. Take the baking sheet out of the oven and move the reginelle to a rack to cool. While the first batch is baking, prepare the second batch as above.
Store reginelle in an airtight container and enjoy. You probably won't think about Sicily when you bite on one, but you should still have a pleasant, crunchy experience.
Final note: reginelle shed sesame seeds throughout their life cycle. I have been collecting them and used them for a second time: the second baking did not affect their flavor, in part, I think, because I used unhulled seeds. I will not use them a third time for reginelle, but I have already used them as toasted sesame seeds on salads.
rolling in the sesame seeds
I have not visited Porto Empedocle
Vigata, where the novels are set, but years ago, I spent a month working at the
Club Med Kamarina and have been to Ragusa, Vittoria and other places in the area, so I
have a sense of the landscape Camilleri describes in his Montalbano novels.
It was interesting to read again the first one of the series. We meet
Montalbano and see his charming human touch at work. For example, he lies about his identity to
the mother of a young man he wants to question to avoid alarming her. He
understands immediately that Ingegner Luparello's wife is a smart woman
and the two of them develop a mutual esteem. He may be a bit rough, but
his first instinct is to try and connect to the person he is dealing
with.
The most memorable part of the novel is probably the improbable
friendship that blossoms between Montalbano and Ingrid, a beautiful Swedish
woman accidentally married to an absent Sicilian. The story moves
forward to reach the solution. We never doubt that Montalbano will
figure out what happened. But the process of uncovering the truth
includes also making sure that innocent Ingrid is not dragged into the
mud, that the Luparello widow's wish is respected, that Saro gets some money to
cure his little boy, in sum, that the chaos of the world in general and of
that corner of Sicily in particular, for at least a brief time, is
organized in a sort of just order that allows Montalbano a few hours of
quiet sleep or a long swim in the sea in front of his house in
Marinella.
a cookie from the heart
In an interview (in Italian), Camilleri says (my translation of the transcription):
I wrote the first, then the second [The Terra-Cotta Dog], and said: the end. I wrote the second to better define the character, but then what happened happened.
"What happened" was that The Terra-Cotta Dog was a huge success. Nineteen
years after the publication of The Shape of
Water, readers around the world still wait impatiently for the next Montalbano to come
out. Long live Andrea Camilleri.
This is my contribution to the 18th edition of Novel Food, the literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I started some time ago and that I continue to host.
This is also my contribution to the current edition of Cook the Books, hosted by Rachel of The Crispy Cook. You can find the guidelines for participating in the event here, and here is the announcement.
[Depending on your set-up, the audio
file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player
application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]
Sono un Esperto di Allrecipes su base volontaria e pertanto non percepisco alcun compenso per il lavoro svolto per Allrecipes.it.
Le recensioni, i contenuti e le opinioni espresse in questo blog sono da attribuire esclusivamente a Simona
