Coco is my 12-year-old granddaughter and my tireless helper in the kitchen. Her ambition in life is to open a restaurant that she will call ‘il ristorante della Nonna’, where she will recreate all the dishes we have cooked together.
Coco liked being in the kitchen from a very early age. I used to sit her down, with a spoon and a piece of bread, or a sprig of parsley and a clove of garlic in front of her, and she would try to copy whatever I was doing. Like any other child, she enjoyed it because she liked being with me and being talked to. And of course I liked it too – a lovely cheerful face smiling at me; far easier for me than playing and also far more productive, since I had to be in the kitchen in any case to prepare a meal. I taught Coco to smell food and I gave her titbits to taste during the different stages of cooking. Soon enough she was able to do the simplest jobs, like arranging decorations on a cake. Her favourite job was weighing out ingredients, which we did with old-fashioned weighing scales. I would put the flour or the sugar in the bowl and she would put the weights on the flat plate – she put the copper weights on or took them off or changed them; and so she also learnt some arithmetic along the way.
When Coco first began to help me she loved to shower grated Parmesan onto a mound of risotto. She would pick up the cheese with her fingers and then try to sprinkle it over; it usually finished up all together in a lump. But she soon enlarged her repertoire and now, after several years by my side in the kitchen, she can make many dishes all on her own – such as custard, biscuits, mousses and some sauces. At the moment she is passionate about Moroccan cooking, thanks to her mother’s tantalising descriptions of the delicious food she ate while she was on holiday there. So Coco now forgoes meat pies in favour of tagines, she experiments with kofta and pilaf and couscous, and leaves risotto and pasta aside. Of course we don’t just make foreign food; I teach her my Italian dishes but I also want her to learn the English dishes that are part of the culture of her country.
Coco loves shopping, by which I don’t just mean buying toys and tops, but also tomatoes and lamb. I have shown her what to look for when we buy fennel bulbs (the bottom and the outside should be creamy and have no brown spots); French beans (they should snap when you bend them and not just floppily bow); beef (it should have a yellowish fat, not spanking white); prosciutto (with a lovely strip of fat around it); Parmesan (its colour and texture), and so on and so forth. She listens and absorbs.
We also talk about the seasons and I have tried to teach her how important they are to good cooking. Unfortunately, in Britain seasons hardly matter any more. You can buy almost anything all year round. Children nowadays, alas, do not have the thrill of eating the first cherries in June and making a wish, as we used to when I was a child in Milan, or the first peaches in July and the first mandarins in November. But I tell my grandchildren that a tomato salad in the middle of January, for instance, is not only tasteless, but also is not in harmony with the weather. A rich risotto of mushrooms is far more enjoyable in the autumn, while one made with fresh vegetables can only be eaten in the spring. Who wants a beef stew or baked lasagne in July? Dishes, like ingredients, have seasons.
My mother used to say that ‘a good dish begins in the shop’ and I will add that a good chef begins in the shop too. During our time together in the kitchen, I know that Coco has learnt the basics of cooking. She has also learnt the importance of the ingredients you buy, the respect you must have for each of them, and the ability to taste and criticise and improve.
Tasting is a very important part of cooking, yet it is so often overlooked. ‘But how do you teach a child the criteria for judging a dish?’ How indeed? Well, through experience and discussing with your young helper the merits or otherwise of what you are making. Encourage your Coco to make comments, negative as well as positive, and to try to express the reasons behind those comments. Your taste might be slightly different, but you will soon find out that if she judges that a little more chilli is needed or an extra pinch of salt, you will agree. Just as a child learns how to appreciate paintings by being taken to galleries, or to understand and love music by listening, the same applies with food: frequent exposure to good food and systematic analysis will teach so much.
There is no main course as such in Italian cooking. There are usually two principal courses, which are never brought to the table at the same time. After a pasta, a risotto or a soup, your taste buds get ready for the next dish, which is often a vegetable dish or a fresh salad. I have passed on to my grandchildren the Italian habit of having more than one course in a meal. I agree that one course can be as big as three smaller courses, but it is boring to eat the same thing until you are full. Far more satisfying – and civilised – to have a change. So, in this book, you might find that the quantities are a bit on the mean side, if you want to cook only one dish as a main course. In that case, just increase them, remembering that when you increase the quantity of the main ingredient you don’t have to increase the amount of butter or oil in the same proportions. For instance, if the recipe calls for 400g pasta and 6 tablespoons oil but you want to cook 600g pasta, you only need 7 tablespoons oil, not 8. You have also to be more parsimonious with spices and all other strong flavourings.
Also remember that these recipes are to be shared with children – many of them make enough for four people, but I am thinking of gatherings that include little ones. For instance, one egg per child is certainly enough, as is 100g boned chicken.
I find it extremely difficult to give the exact cooking time for some dishes – there are so many factors to take into consideration: the strength of the heat (which may be gas, electricity or induction); the size and thickness of the pan; the size and quality of the ingredients, and so on. After 40 years of professional cooking, I am still learning. No dish is ever the same the second time round – and this, for me, is one of the many appeals of cooking.
The precise cooking time does not matter when the dish in question is something like a casserole, nor when you can taste the dish and decide for yourself. But when frying a piece of meat, or making custard, for example, a minute makes all the difference. My suggestion is to learn to use your eyes, not only to keep an eye on the clock but also to look at the food you’re cooking; to use your nose – you can always smell a cake or French beans when they’re done, because cooked food always has a stronger smell; and to use your ears, as, for example, when making custard the noise of the wooden spoon against the pan will change as the mixture thickens. And, of course, it also depends on your own preferences. Learn by experience and try to be your own judge. You will see that cooking can never really be an exact science.
Unlike all my previous books, this one contains many recipes for sweet things. You can see why. If you want your young ones to help, you must encourage them into the kitchen with the prospect of eating food they like. And in this way they will happily learn how to cook.
Cooking with Coco is divided into four sections, which move through the different stages as children get older: starting at around age 3, then progressing to age 6, age 9 and finishing on the brink of the teenage years. A few of the recipes that appear in the first section are very simple indeed and they might be repeated later, when they are developed into more complex dishes. All the recipes are based on my own experience – first as a child, and then as a mother and a grandmother. But these sections are simply guidelines. After all, every child is different in their development as well as in their likes and dislikes. And even if I seldom cooked food with the children that was suitable only for them, I always took their tastes into consideration. I never asked Nell, my oldest granddaughter, now 16, to cook a fish, because she doesn’t like fish; nor Johnny, her 14-year-old brother, to fry a lamb chop, lamb not being part of his culinary dictionary. I never go into the kitchen with Coco and her siblings just to make treats but I always keep in mind the food that they like best, which naturally is the food they most like to cook, just like any of us. We cook all sorts of food together, although I try to choose recipes that can involve them, like a puttanesca for their spaghetti, a sauce which takes only 10 minutes to make and involves a lot of throwing ingredients into the pan (rather than my tomato sauce, which takes 40 minutes and requires no throwing things in).
I enjoyed working on this book very much because I enjoy being with Coco very much. I hope the book will give you pleasure in the kitchen with your children or grandchildren or great-grandchildren.
As I have a Coco, I have used ‘she’ and ‘her’ throughout the book. But if you have a Jack or an Oliver in the kitchen, then of course read ‘he’, ‘him’ and ‘his’ instead. The cooking is the same and also, I hope, his enjoyment.
When I cook with or for children, I prefer to use organic ingredients because I feel strongly that children should have as few chemicals in their diet as possible.
• I buy only organic lemons, because I often use the zest and do not want to grate wax or pesticides into my food.
• I use only large organic eggs, because I often use raw eggs or eggs that are not completely cooked.
• I buy only unsalted butter because I prefer the flavour and I don’t want added salt in my food.
• I use sea salt because it is healthier.
• I use Italian 00 flour because, unlike most white flour, it has no additives (they call them ‘manufacturing aids’). It is also very finely milled and so more suitable for many dishes.
• I buy farm-raised chicken because, amongst other considerations, it has a far superior flavour.
• I never buy meat in supermarkets because of the pressure put on suppliers to produce cheap food in large quantities.
To sum up, I buy the best-quality food available for two reasons: first, because it is generally superior in flavour and, second, because I believe it is better for my grandchildren’s health.
In this book, you will find quite a few recipes containing breadcrumbs. Of course you can buy them, but the ones you make yourself will be better and you have the reassurance of knowing what they’re made of. It’s also a very good use of bread which otherwise would be thrown away. Use only good-quality white bread, although a mixture of white and wholemeal may be all right, as long as the brown bread does not contain seeds. Brown bread has a more pronounced flavour that might interfere with the flavour of the dish you are making. The bread should have a coarse texture, like a pain rustique.
For dried breadcrumbs, remove the crust and break the bread into small pieces. Spread them out on a baking tray and place the tray in a warm oven. I usually put the tray in just after I have turned the oven off. The oven is hot enough to toast the bread, and it doesn’t matter if you forget about it; it will not burn. When ready, blitz the bread in a food processor to very fine crumbs. I store breadcrumbs in a jar in the fridge, where they keep for about one month. Or you can keep them for longer in the freezer.
To make fresh breadcrumbs, use good-quality white bread that is one or two days old. Remove the crustiest part of the crust and break the bread into pieces. Put the pieces in the food processor and blitz to fine crumbs. Spread the crumbs out on a tray and let them dry for a few hours, before storing them in the fridge, or in the freezer if you have made a lot (there is no need to defrost them before using). You can also buy good fresh breadcrumbs in supermarkets.
Pasta
I am sure you know how to cook pasta, but may I remind you of a few steps that are essential for cooking pasta well.
Use a large pot. A pasta pot should be tall and narrow, like a top hat. The general rule for the amount of water needed is 1 litre water to 100g pasta. The salt should be crystal sea salt added in the proportion of 1 dessertspoon (10g) salt to 1 litre of water. This might seem a lot of salt to you, but please remember that the water in which the pasta cooks is not absorbed by the pasta. The water should be boiling fast before the pasta is added and the pasta should cook over a high heat. The length of cooking depends on the quality and the shape of the pasta. My advice is to taste 1 minute before the end of the given time in the manufacturer’s instructions.
Pasta should be drained as soon as it is ready. Do not over-drain it; it should be slippery. Tip the pasta into a large colander and give the colander two sharp shakes. Immediately turn the pasta into a heated bowl or back into the saucepan and mix in the sauce. It is far easier to dress pasta in a big container than on individual plates. If the sauce is not ready, mix 2 tablespoons of oil into the pasta. Do not leave undressed pasta standing.
And tell your children to start eating as soon as it is on their plates. ‘Pasta should not wait for anybody’, as we say in Italy.