Goat’s cheese, dogs, pasta and the sound of music

‘Don’t get out of the car’, Roberto warned, ‘toot the horn, I’ll come and get you’.

‘Sure, I got it’ I replied, hurriedly scribbling directions. Carlo, who was standing next to me, was mumbling something in thick Piacentine dialect about being eaten by dogs and I couldn’t make out what Roberto was saying. Did he say turn left or right after the town?

‘Do you want to drive’? I asked Carlo, with a tone that said shut it old man. He didn’t take the hint.

‘Stay in the car’, Roberto repeated for the umpteenth time and put the phone down. I’m no stranger to the Cisa Pass, a winding mountain road in the Apennines that connects the provinces of Parma in Emilia Romagna with Pontremoli, a town in the province of Massa-Carrara in Tuscany. I take the pass every year on trips to Pontremoli when I go mushroom picking. That said, the farm we were going to supposedly was off the beaten path – well off!

It doesn’t take much to coax me to go on a road trip – especially when there’s cheese involved. Good goat’s cheese is much prized in Italy, especially those made by small artisan producers and it’s generally better to buy direct from source. Plus, when Carlo offered to throw in lunch at Da Giovanni, a restaurant/ hotel just outside Pontremoli, I didn’t hesitate. The pasta, always home made, is an absolute favourite of mine. When in season they make a tagliatelle with fresh porcini mushrooms that is hard to beat. Local specialties of the Lunigiana such as testaroli (a type of pancake served with a pesto sauce) and herb pie are also excellent. On this occasion I opted for lasagnette (small ribbons of pasta) served with a meat ragù. It didn’t disappoint. The food was everything I remembered it to be. Giovanni’s food defies time.

By 2.30 we were on the road again and starting the winding 1,040 meter (3,414 feet) ascent to the top of the Cisa Pass. Records of the road date back to 109BC. In medieval times, it was one of the main thoroughfares for pilgrims on their way from northern Europe to Rome. You could say we were pilgrims of a kind – the Holy Grail of cheese.

After 10 kilometres of constantly winding road I began to regret that third… I mean second… bowl of pasta! Roberto’s directions to the farm were good but we still managed to miss our turn off. We doubled back a few miles down the road, passed it again and eventually took a left hand turn that led to nowhere. I crumpled up the useless directions, scowled at Carlo and looked for signs of life. An old lady hanging her washing told us we should have turned right.

The Mulino della Vaccarezza farm is situated at the very bottom of a steep valley. As we crept slowly down the hill I opened the passenger side window. Carlo, who has a thing about dogs, almost had a fit! Porco mariana and a string of obscenities followed. As we pulled up outside the gate I was still laughing. Immediately, out of habit more than foolish bravado, I opened the door. I couldn’t see the dog but the growl was enough. I slammed the door shut, checked my window was closed and tooted the horn. By the time Roberto arrived five very large dogs were circling our wagon. We were surrounded.

Roberto and his partner Elena make goat and sheep’s milk cheese and salami. The bulk of what he makes he sells to a couple of nearby restaurants. What’s left he sells direct to the public from the farm – to anyone able to find the place and get past the dogs that is. But once you’ve tasted his cheese, the risk of being eaten seems a small price to pay. He beckons towards the small farmhouse and we follow quickly, the dogs on our tail. I’m forty years younger than Carlo but the 80-year-old still makes it through the door two steps ahead of me. Inside it’s dim and cool – the perfect conditions for cheese. We each buy three medium-sized rounds for ourselves and Carlo buys what’s left to fill the orders from his neighbours. A few would just have to wait until our next trip.

Back outside the dogs have been joined by a crowd of goats. Several are sniffing around my car – one has its nose in the boot and is eating through Carlo’s emergency supply of sandwiches. Roberto pays it no attention. Somewhat eccentric, he starts barking orders to one of the dogs, a border collie, in heavily-accented English. Apparently the dog was trained back in England and to this day only responds to instructions in English. Despite Roberto’s less than fluent command of the language the dog understands and enthusiastically bounds off up a steep slope to retrieve the rest of the herd. Within moments the valley comes alive – not exactly with the sound of music – but goat’s bells.

A Spring Pasta Salad

Spring has arrived. All the signs are here. The market stalls are filled with spring vegetables, the trees are budding and the sun is beaming. Carlo, my neighbour, said it’s time to get to work in the orto – vegetable patch. I dusted down my old boots and went to the consorzio this morning and bought seeds. And if you need further evidence of the changing season, the odd Italian is even braving the outdoors without a jacket – although not before midday.  

Yesterday at the market the asparagus, peas, spring onions and fine green beans were stacked alongside the last of the winter vegetables. The first spring vegetables are always popular and trade was brisk. The lady in front of me was buying long thin asparagus shoots. She had a fistful of asparagus in one hand, a bunch of spring onions in the other, and was waving her arms excitedly trying to catch the farmer’s attention – I figured she was planning a risotto. Peas were selling well too. With a nod of approval from the farmer, I opened a pod. They were small, sweet and tender – perfect for what I had in mind.

Pasta salad is hugely popular in Italy, especially in the late spring and summer. It’s a versatile dish, inexpensive and simple to make and perfect for a refreshing lunch on a hot sunny day, a lunchbox filler or a picnic. There are infinite versions of this dish with practically every family having their own favourites. The key is to choose the freshest seasonal ingredients available.

The only real sticking point – and, believe it or not, a matter of some considerable debate among Italians – is how to cool the pasta after cooking without destroying its texture. The traditional method is to pour a glass of cold water into the pot once the pasta is al dente to stop it cooking and then drain and rinse under cold water. However, many Italians will tell you that by stopping the cooking in this way the pasta absorbs too much water and can become gluey (or soggy). They have a point. A better way, it is claimed, is to begin by rinsing the uncooked pasta under water to remove some of the starch. It should then be boiled in plenty of salted water and drained when just al dente. To finish, the pasta should be tossed in a couple of tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil and laid out onto a cold steel or aluminium tray or surface. As the pasta cools it should be moved every so often to prevent sticking and to speed up the cooling process. Admittedly, this is a somewhat laborious procedure but, take my word for it, it does help to improve the quality of the finished dish. 

Recipe

Spring Vegetable Pasta Salad

Insalata di pasta con verdure primaverile

Serves 4

Preparation time: 15 minutes

Cooking time: 30 minutes

300g short pasta such as fusilli or penne

200g shelled fresh peas

150g fine green beans

200g scamorza cheese, cut into cubes

150g black olives

250g baby cherry tomatoes

Extra virgin olive oil

Bunch of fresh basil

1 Tablespoon finely chopped parsley

Salt & freshly ground black pepper

Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil and add the pasta.  Cook the pasta until just al dente and drain.  Place the pasta back into the pot and add a few tablespoons of extra virgin oil.  Tip the pasta onto a metal tray and allow to cool.  Whilst the pasta is cooling, cook the green beans in salted water until tender.  Two minutes before they are cooked add the peas.  Drain and cool. 

To assemble the salad, place the pasta in a large bowl.  Add the tomatoes, cut into quarters, the olives, peas, chopped green beans and the scamorza cheese.  Season generously with salt and pepper and dress with a few tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil, chopped parsley and basil leaves.   

all’ Amatriciana

Italians love talking about food. It’s a national preoccupation. If they’re not talking about football or politics, more likely than not the subject is food. Last night I went to the bar to eat a plate of pasta with Gigi, the owner, and a few of the regulars. It’s a ritual we take to over the winter months when the weather’s too cold and the night’s too short for doing much else. We take turns cooking in the back kitchen, nothing too strenuous, usually just a simple plate of pasta with salad and cheese or mixed cured meats to follow. It’s informal but yet I’ve had some great meals there.

Last night it was Gigi’s turn to cook and he made bucatini all’ Amatriciana. It’s a dish I make often myself at home, a personal favourite. My family’s originally from Lazio where it’s considered something of a regional specialty. In fact, such is its popularity in Rome that many people (our host last night included) mistakenly assume it originated in the city or region. However, all’ Amatriciana is in fact a sauce for pasta that took its name from the town of Amatrice, in the province of Rieti in Abruzzo. Gigi, of course, disagreed and the argument was only resolved (an hour later) after sending his son upstairs to his apartment for a copy of his Cucina Nazionale encyclopedia. Like politics and football, food talk always degenerates into heated argument in Italy. It’s part of the main course!

The misconception around the dish in large part no doubt stems from its popularity. It’s a sauce served over pasta that you can find in pretty much every restaurant in Rome. The Romans, cheekily, even have their own name for it – alla matriciana – as if by calling it so they can claim it as their own. Like most of the Italian classics, it’s fairly straightforward, resting its status not so much on technique as in the favourable combination and quality of the ingredients used. There are variants on the dish but normally it is made with diced guanciale (cured pigs cheek), cooked with chopped onion in oil, with a colouring of pelati (peeled plum tomatoes), pecorino cheese and red hot chilli. The tomatoes should not be used to such an extent that they overwhelm the dish. The sauce is more often than not served over either bucatini or perciatelli (both hollow spaghetti-like pasta), although some restaurants use rigatoni or spaghetti.

The predecessor to Amatriciana was the Gricia (or Griscia), a sauce which predated the arrival and use of tomatoes in the kitchen.  Acceptable variants on the dish include the use of pancetta instead of guanciale, lard instead of olive oil or adding a couple of cloves of garlic before frying off the guanciale. However, using parmesan as an alternative to pecorino cheese is generally disdained as it changes the character of the dish.   

Recipe

Serves 4

Preparation time: 5 minutes

Cooking time: 10-12 minutes

Ingredients

320g bucatini pasta

150g diced guanciale (or pancetta)

1 medium onion finely sliced

6 ripe plum tomatoes (if in season) or a tin of roughly chopped tinned tomatoes

4 heaped tablespoons of freshly grated pecorino cheese

1 small fresh or dried chili finely chopped with seeds

A few tablespoons of olive oil

Salt/pepper

Method

Begin by bringing a large saucepan of salted water to the boil.  While you are waiting, gently fry the onion in a few tablespoons of olive oil.  The water should be boiling at this point, so throw in your pasta.  Whilst the pasta is cooking add the pancetta to the onions and cook until browned.  Next, add the tomatoes. If they are in season, use fresh tomatoes that have been roughly chopped - alternatively use tinned. Add the chili and check for seasoning.  Allow the sauce to simmer until the pasta is cooked.  Once the pasta is cooked, drain and add to the pan, stirring well to combine all the ingredients.  Top with plenty of freshly grated pecorino cheese and serve immediately.

Tagliatelle alla bolognese

 

Ragù alla bolognese is traditionally served with fresh egg tagliatelle (not, as some would have it, spaghetti)! The secret to a good ragù alla bolognese is ‘time’. This is not one for a quick evening meal, best you leave it for a leisurely Sunday lunch. It’s a substantial plate so you need only follow with a simple green salad and perhaps a platter of cheese.

The recipe uses milk in the cooking, which some might find a little odd. But the end, in this case, justifies the means. One word of warning; the aroma as it cooks will test your patience. You have to be firm. Open a bottle of wine, slice some salami and prosciutto and wait it out. The result, in my view, is without a doubt one of Italy’s greatest culinary achievements. But what would you expect coming from a city nicknamed ‘the Fat’!

Serves: 4

Cooking and preparation time: approx 2.5 hours

Ingredients

300g beef mince

150g pancetta

50g carrot

50g celery

30g onion

5 tablespoons of tomato passata

½ glass of dry white wine

1 glass of full fat milk

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Method
Finely chop the pancetta with a half-moon chopping knife and place it into a heavy-based (terracotta, if you have it) frying pan.  Over a very gentle heat allow the fat from the pancetta to melt. 
While you are waiting, finely chop the carrot, celery and onions. When the fat has melted add the vegetables to the pan and allow to soften.  Next add the beef mince and fry until it begins to colour (but not brown).  Finally, add the wine and tomato sauce, stir and leave it to simmer on a gentle heat for approximately two hours. 

At this point you might want to think about opening that bottle of wine. But whatever you do, don’t forget about the sauce and let it dry out. Check every 20 minutes and as it begins to dry, stir in a little of the milk. You should get through a good glass full. Finally check for seasoning.

Serve the sauce over fresh egg tagliatelle (about 80gms per person). You can buy this at the supermarket or, alternatively, for a real treat make it yourself while you are waiting for the sauce to cook. It’s worth it!

Cats, pasta and Garganelli

Every Italian food has to have a legend. A good story lends its own kind of flavour - colour, character and form. Sometimes the legends are just that – stories designed to entertain and feed the soul, as well as the appetite. Sometimes there are multiple stories - every small town in Italy, after all, has to lay claim to something. And sometimes they are grounded in something more concrete. The question is; how do you tell the difference?

Garganelli, the grooved quill-shaped pasta, is a case in point. They originated in Romagna, taking their name from the dialect word garganel, which is used to describe the cartilaginous rings around the trachea of a chicken.  They are made by rolling out squares of pasta around a pencil-like stick and then rolling the tubes over a wooden comb. This gives them their distinctive grooves.

There are a number of stories accounting for the birth of garganelli. One version has it that they appeared for the first time in 1725 in Imola in the home of the Cardinal of Aragon, Cornelio Bentivoglio, the Papal Legate of Romagna. A creative cook, so it’s claimed, had rolled out squares of pasta to make cappelleti (a stuffed ravioli-like pasta) for the Cardinal’s lunch. But when he discovered that the cat had ate the filling, he was forced to improvise. So he rolled the dough out with the tools he had at hand and served the quills in a capon broth. They were well received and the idea quickly spread to neighbouring wealthy families.

Another story attributes them to the cook of the court of Caterina Sforza (1463-1509), wife of Girolamo Riario, nephew of Pope Sixtus the IV, Lord of Forlì and Imola. Alternatively, it could be that their origins are more humble, originating in the local countryside. If so they would certainly have been reserved for Sundays and special occasions given the use of eggs and the fact that they can be quite time consuming to prepare.   

Making them by hand isn’t that difficult, if you have patience and a little time on your hands. It’s well worth the effort. However, the dried egg-pasta version sold in delis and some supermarkets are also well worth a try. As it happens, the first pasta making machine for making garganelli was invented by Edward Bacchini in 1984, a pasta maker from Romagna.

There are a number of ways for getting the best out of your garganelli. The typical classical versions from Romagna are to serve them with either a meat ragù or with a creamy sauce of peas and ham and a sprinkle of nutmeg. Prawns and courgettes in cream is also a popular combination. Ideally you want something with a sauce, the grooves in the garganelli designed for the very purpose of holding it. I’ve opted for a combination of prawns and peas. It’s a great combination. Just watch the cat doesn’t eat the prawns while you are waiting for the water to boil!    

Garganelli with Prawns and Peas in a creamy tomato sauce

Garganelli con gamberi e piselli in una salsa cremoso al pomodoro

Serves 4

Preparation time: 5 minutes

Cooking time: 10 minutes

300g garganelli

250g large fresh prawns, cleaned

200g fresh peas

200ml tomato pasta sauce

100g mascarpone cheese

Salt

Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil and add the garganelli.  If you haven’t made them fresh, cook according to packet instructions.  Whilst the pasta is cooking warm the tomato sauce and stir in the mascarpone cheese.  In a separate pan boil the peas until just tender (about 3 minutes), drain and add to the tomato sauce.  In the meantime, cook the prawns in a large griddle pan for 2-3 minutes and then add to the tomato sauce also.  When the garganelli are cooked, drain (reserving a small ladleful of cooking water) and add to the saucepan with the sauce.  Toss everything together well, adding a little of the cooking water to loosen the sauce if necessary. Serve immediately.