Whatever its national origins, noodle paste is a primitive unleavened dough, and a natural way to prepare grains for cooking. The manufacture of pasta is an even simpler process than bread making, so it seems likely that the technique evolved simultaneously in several different places–India, China, the Middle East, and Central Europe. The earliest European pastas were probably variations on trahana, a simple grated or rolled dough noodle which looks and cooks like rice.
Today, the pastas of Italy are the most sophisticated and highly developed of what is most probably the most ancient of all grain foods. Popular mythology credits that energetic traveller, Marco Polo, who visited the noodle-making Chinese circa 1270, with the introduction of pasta to Italy. However, Italian literature of the time seems to indicate that macaroni and ravioli were already well established in the Italian kitchen. The poet Iacopone da Todi, a contemporary of Marco Polo’s, has a reference to lasagne in one of his moral tales. Half a century later Boccaccio, in the Decameron, spins an image of peasant gluttons dreaming of limitless macaroni and ravioli cooked in capon broth. The early forms of Italian pasta were probably dumpling-like gnocchi, and only began to assume their recognisable modern shapes during the 18th century, when machines for moulding and cutting the pasta appeared in Naples. The bourgeoisie took to the new machine-extruded pastas with enthusiasm. The peasantry continued to roll its own and it was not until the 1930s that country people began to accept the change. Today the average Italian eats around 65 lbs of pasta a year.
As for Marco Polo, he might even have reversed the accepted theory and been teacher rather then pupil. Certainly the Chinese were rolling noodles with their customary skill by the first century AD. But one of their early writers on food suggests that after the Chinese peasants invented noodles, they learned how to make them delicious from foreigners.
The basic Italian pasta dough is best made with fine-milled durum semolina (from ‘semola’, the hard core at the centre of the grain), although strong bread flour will do. Soft wheat flours which are used in cake and bread making have a weaker gluten content in order to allow the dough to stretch and rise when leavened.
Pasta dough is comparatively stiff, made with only 25% liquid, whereas the water content of bread is 35%. Machine-extruded varieties of pasta usually sold dried, asciutta–spaghetti, macaroni, multitude of bows and shells and shapes–are moulded from a semolina dough made with hard durum wheat. The Mediterranean variety is an appetising natural yellow, makes a robust dough which can stand up to machine pressure, and dries out without cracking. While eggs are sometimes included for flavouring and colour in commercially prepared doughs, rural housewives, concerned with providing the family with a healthy diet, make all-egg pastas if the hens are laying well. These rolled pastas such as the many varieties of tagliatelle, lasagne, cannelloni and the rest, are at their best and most nutritious when you make them yourself and prepare them fresh.
You will have to experiment to find your own preferred mix if you are making your pasta at home. You may need less liquid if the weather is damp, the flour is very rough ground, or the eggs are very large. Home-made dough which can be rolled on a little hand machine needs to be wetter than that rolled out in the heavy commercial rollers.
Sauces were a refinement of the court cooks, an extension of the broths of earlier times. In 1553, when Catherine de Medici came to Paris to fulfil her duties as wife to Henri II, her courtiers gave the French court chefs their grounding in the sophisticated art of saucing. A taste for sauces which are independent of what is being sauced, which are not based on the juices of the food they accompany (such as a jus or a gravy) but serve to alter and mask its flavour, was fully developed in Italy many centuries earlier by those arch-priests of the kitchen, the Romans. The first century author Apicius details a large repertoire of fragrant sauces common in the Roman kitchen of the day–milky baths of pounded nuts, pungent garnishes based on fermented salted fish, herb sauces, reductions of wine, delicate honey and herb-scented relishes for anything and everything.
The country cooks of Italy make their sauces from whatever happens to be in season–most households still tend a vegetable patch and gather herbs from the hillside, a few put up their own winter stocks of sausages and hams, cheeses and oils. Perhaps it was a natural skill as sauce makers which led Italian cooks to develop so perfect a vehicle as pasta for their talents. No other substance can provide such a magnificent foil.
BAKED LASAGNE
Lasagne al forno (Italy)
I was only seventeen when I first learned how to layer a lasagne, a dish every country girl learns at mother’s knee–but which for me, fresh from a childhood in wartime London, was a revelation. My mentor, Michaela, worked during the week in the pension where I was billeted for the furtherance of my artistic education, but her real home, visited only on Sundays, was in the hills above Florence in the village of Fiesole–at that time no more than a little cluster of dwellings clinging to the side of a ravine. The roofs were of baked terracotta, golden as apricots, nestling among grey rocks bright with cistus blossoms, lavender and rosemary. Old cooking pots and empty cans cascaded geraniums and sweet basil from every crack and crevice. In between the dwellings, stony terraces had been planted with a few rows of stumpy vines sheltering a catch crop of lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, peppers, aubergines.
In the city, Michaela cooked for us all every evening–wonderful broths, thick minestrone and clear soups with home-made dumplings. Her speciality was the pasta she would always make herself, piling the kitchen table with elegant pyramids of the yellow and green strings and hanging them up to dry on a washing line strung between the kitchen chairs. How she sauced her beautiful pastas would depend on what was fresh in the market that day. I would help her in the kitchen whenever I could, chopping the garlic and herbs, slicing purple eggplants into creamy rings for her to fry and layer into a dish with meat sauce and white sauce to be baked much as she made her lasagne.
Michaela would sometimes take me, on her one day off a week, back to her little house in Fiesole to spend Sunday with her family. There I would be allowed to help her make what was known as the best lasagne in the village. Her children were grown and had babies of their own, but it was always Michaela who cooked the family’s Sunday lunch, setting it out on the wooden table under the back porch shaded from the early afternoon sun by a neatly trimmed vine. The pasta was preceded, since it was the feast day, by an antipasto–sometimes a few slices of raw Parma ham and salami sausage sliced and served with a pat of butter, sometimes a few chicken livers fried and then spread on slices of toasted bread. There was always a bowl of olives, a big basket of fresh bread, and plenty of wine for the adults. The children came and went from the table at will, and ate as they pleased.
The ragu Michaela made to sauce the dish is found under various names throughout all Italy. In the pensione’s kitchen, she made a large pan of it once a week, and then kept it on the back of the stove, ladle conveniently to hand, ready to add its richness to a sauce or stew.
The Italians rarely put water into a sauce: they appreciate strong, concentrated flavours which give character and piquancy to the chosen grain food–pasta, polenta, rice. Subtlety is found in contrast: bland with spicy, cold with hot, sweet with sour, cooked with raw; it’s this pleasure in surprise which makes the everyday cooking of Italy so sophisticated. Add a natural understanding of texture and form–most obvious in the dozens of different shapes into which pasta is cut, the better to absorb its sauces–and it is no wonder the Italians can claim to have taught the rest of Europe how to cook.
Quantity: Serves 6 as a main dish
Time: Preparation: about 90 minutes
Cooking: 25-30 minutes
For the dough
500g/1 lb strong flour (preferably the special hard durum wheat flour)
1 teaspoon salt
5-6 eggs
1 tablespoon olive oil
Cornmeal or semolina flour for sprinkling (ordinary flour will do)
For the ragu (tomato sauce)
1-2 stalks green celery
1 mature carrot
1 large onion
2 garlic cloves
2 tablespoons prosciutto or pancetta scraps
or 100g/4 oz minced meat
or a scrap of cheese rind–pecorino or parmesan
Oregano and Italian parsley
4 tablespoons olive oil
750g/1½ lb ripe tomatoes (or 600ml/1 pint passata)
1 tablespoon concentrated tomato paste
300ml/½ pint stock or wine
For the béchamel (white sauce)
75g/3 oz butter or oil
75g/3 oz flour
1 litre/2 pints full cream milk
2 tablespoons mascarpone or cream cheese
About 4 tablespoons grated pecorino, or fontina and parmesan
Salt and pepper
Utensils: A rolling pin or pasta roller cutter, two small saucepans, one large saucepan, large gratin dish
Pour the flour and salt together directly onto the clean scrubbed surface of the kitchen table, or into a large bowl. You will need plenty of elbow room.
Mix the eggs together. Make a dip in the flour and pour in the eggs and the oil. Work the liquid into the flour with the hook of your hand, using a circular motion to draw in the flour at the edges. Add an extra tablespoon of water if you need it to make a soft pliable dough. This process can be started in your mixer and finished by hand, but you should knead steadily for 10 minutes.
You will soon develop your own method: Michaela used the flat of one hand to turn the ball of dough, while she knuckled the edges into the middle with the other (an action she also used to knead her bread dough for pizza). When the dough is smooth and elastic, oil the outside lightly, cover it with a cloth or clingfilm, and leave it to rest for 20-30 minutes while you make the tomato sauce.
Wash and chop the celery and carrot finely. Peel and chop the onion. The neatest way of chopping an onion is to make close, parallel cuts from the top to the bottom (without cutting right through) which you then cross at right angles with another set of parallel cuts. Now you can slice the onion as if across for rings, and it will yield little squares. Peel and crush the garlic. Finely chop the ham, if using. Chop the herbs. Heat the oil gently in a frying pan. Fry the onion and the garlic first until transparent–they should not be allowed to caramelize or the sauce will taste bitter. Add the celery, carrot, ham and (optional) meat and fry for a moment, until the meat stiffens and loses its pink colour. Meanwhile, pour boiling water over the tomatoes to loosen the skin if you are using fresh ones. Peel, de-seed, and chop them. Add the tomatoes and tomato paste (and a teaspoon of sugar if you are using the non-Mediterranean variety of tomato). Stir in the stock or wine. Put the sauce, lidded, on the back burner to simmer until you are ready to use it–an hour is not too long. Adjust the seasoning at the very end.
Return your attention to the pasta. Divide the dough into 6 pieces. Flour the board or table, and roll each piece out so fine you can nearly see the wood of the board through it. Sprinkle the rolled out dough with a handful of coarse-ground polenta or semolina and leave it for another 15 minutes to rest under a damp cloth or covered with clingfilm.
Now you’re ready to roll the pasta. The easiest method is with a pasta roller, an implement which bolts onto the kitchen table like a tiny mangle, and operates on the same principle. Cut the dough into 6 long sausages, cover all but one, and feed it through the mangle. Roll the dough thin enough by progressively decreasing the gaps between the rollers. (You will not need the cutter slots for lasagne.) While the pasta rests for another half hour, make the béchamel sauce.
Melt the butter in a small pan. Stir in the flour and cook it gently until it looks sandy but has not yet taken colour. Heat the milk and whisk it in, beating to avoid lumps. Simmer the sauce for 5 minutes, till it no longer tastes floury. Beat in the cream cheese or cream.
Set your largest pan of salted water on to boil. Have ready a bowl of cold water and lay a clean dish cloth ready for draining the pasta.
Back to the rested pasta: cut the sheets into 4-inch squares. Throw them into the boiling water in small batches. Give the water a stir to keep the leaves separate. Make sure the water reboils fast, and cook the pasta for 1 minute only. Lift each piece out with a draining spoon and pass it through the bowl of cold water as it comes out, then transfer it to the cloth to wait for the next step. The cold water stops the pieces sticking together.
Now assemble the dish: spread a ladleful of the white sauce over the base of your gratin dish. Cover it with a single layer of pasta, overlapping the squares. Ladle a generous layer of tomato sauce over all and top with another layer of pasta, a layer of white sauce and sprinkle with a tablespoon of grated cheese. And so on until all is used up. Finish with white sauce and top with cheese. You can make as many layers as the shape of your dish dictates, but always start and finish with white sauce. Sprinkle a few flakes of butter over the top. At this stage, you can leave the assembled lasagne to be baked later.
Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C/Gas 5.
Bake for 20-30 minutes (depending on how cool it was), until the top is brown and bubbling. Follow with a salad–perhaps fennel dressed with lemon juice and the thick fresh first-pressing olive oil of Tuscany, or a crisp salad of curly endive. No need for anything else–though a Florentine might feel short-changed if he didn’t get his teeth into a bistek. Red wine should accompany. Michaela would be proud of you.
Suggestions:
• This makes plenty of pasta–maybe more than you need. If you think you have too much (and it is up to you how many layers you use) cut the rest into noodles for another meal: slice the leftover raw sheets of pasta into strips (see the tagliatelle recipe which follows) or push them through the cutter of the pasta roller; then drop handfuls from a height onto a floured board and bag up for storage after 15-20 minutes. They will keep in a plastic bag in the fridge for a week, as long as you like in the freezer. Or they can be dried for storage: loop them over a string in a current of air, and leave to dry till brittle. Or leave handfuls on the board, pick them up and drop them down every now and again, and let them dry out in hanks.
• Flavour the béchamel with a couple of handfuls of spinach, cooked and drained and finely chopped.
• For a vegetarian version, replace the meat with mushrooms. Or use both.
• To make cannelloni al forno, prepare the pasta and sauces as above, but roll the squares of cooked pasta round a tablespoon of the ragu, pack the rolls into an oiled gratin dish, cover with béchamel, finish with grated cheese and bake as for the lasagne.
SPINACH PASTA WITH ANCHOVY SAUCE
Tagliatelle verde (Italy)
Ribbon pasta or tagliatelle are the most usual home-made type of pasta. They are good sauced simply with fresh butter and black pepper, with cream simmered with mushrooms, with a pesto, with a tomato-based ragu. Michaela, my friend the cook at the pensione in Florence, would make this instant sauce on the days she had made a big batch of pasta for drying and was late with the rest of the cooking. It takes no time at all.
Quantity: Enough for 6
Time: Preparation: 40 minutes
Cooking: 10 minutes
For the pasta
2 handfuls spinach leaves
500g/1 lb strong pasta flour (Italian 00)
1 teaspoon salt
5 eggs
1 tablespoon olive oil
1-2 tablespoons spinach water
For the sauce
1 small can anchovies (8-10 fillets)
2 cloves garlic
1 large handful parsley
150ml/¼ pint olive oil
Pepper
Utensils: A rolling pin or pasta roller, a pestle and mortar and 1 or 2 roomy saucepans, a large bowl for serving, a blender would be useful
For the pasta: strip out and discard the tough stalks of the spinach and wash the leaves thoroughly if you are using fresh spinach. Cook the spinach in a covered saucepan, in the water which clings to its leaves after washing, for 10 minutes if fresh, less if frozen. Drain the spinach and then chop it very finely–the blender will do the job well.
Pour the flour and salt into a pile on a clean table–one with a marble top is best of all as it keeps the dough cool. Make a well in the middle of the flour. Mix the eggs together with the oil and the spinach water and pour the mixture into the well. Work the flour and the liquid together with your hands. You may need a little more flour–it depends on the flour and the size of the eggs. Knead thoroughly for ten minutes to develop and stretch the flour. At the end of this pummelling, the dough will be smooth and elastic. Put it aside to rest, lightly oiled and covered with a cloth or clingfilm, for 15-20 minutes while you make the sauce.
Put the anchovies to soak in a little water for 10 minutes if they are from the barrel. Tinned ones will not need the attention. Peel the garlic. Don’t ever use a garlic press–it does horrible metallic things to the taste. Wash and chop the parsley. Put the anchovies, garlic, and parsley into a little mortar and pound them to a paste. Trickle in the oil. This is very easy to do in the blender. Finish with plenty of milled black pepper.
Back to the pasta: cut the dough into 6 pieces and roll each piece out on a floured board with a floured rolling pin, until the paste is nearly thin enough to read a newspaper through it. Sprinkle the rolled out dough with a handful of polenta or semolina flour, and then leave it to rest again, oiled and covered, for another 15-20 minutes.
Roll each piece of pasta up loosely as you would a carpet for storage, and slice across into strips of the width you require–about 0.5cm/¼ inch is right for tagliatelle, narrower for linguine. Loosen the strips and drop them in handfuls onto a board well dusted with coarse-ground polenta or semolina. The pasta is now ready for cooking.
Or use a pasta-rolling machine (see the notes in the lasagne recipe). Since you are making ribbon noodles, roll the flattened dough through one of the slots equipped with cutters. There is a choice of two ribbon widths: use the wider one for tagliatelle and the narrow one for linguine. Dust the paste regularly with plenty of polenta or semolina flour to stop it sticking to itself. After you cut it, it is wise to hang the long ribbons over a washing line or the back of a chair to dry its surface a little so the strings do not stick. The pasta is now ready to be cooked.
Put the serving dish in the oven to warm and set a big pan of salted water to boil. You will need at least 5 litres to cook this quantity of tagliatelle–you may need to do it in 2-3 batches.
When the water reaches a rolling boil, drop in the tagliatelle by the loose handful. Try not to let the water go off the boil. Give the pasta a quick stir with a wooden fork to make sure it has not stuck together. Wait for 2 minutes and test with a nibble. Drain well, passing it quickly under the cold tap to stop the cooking process.
Transfer it to a warm bowl and sprinkle in the green sauce. Toss it and take it to table. Make sure there’s a pepper grinder and a bowl of grated Parmesan cheese to accompany.
Follow the pasta, if you are hungry, with grilled lamb–leg steaks cut straight across the bone, a pair of fat chops–basted with a rosemary branch dipped in olive oil. The Italians like their lamb well cooked: crusty on the outside and still succulent inside, but not pink as the French prefer it. Set a couple of contorni, side dishes, on the table at the same time–green beans dressed with balsamic vinegar, braised fennel. Plenty of bread, always.
Suggestions:
• Egg pasta will keep fresh in a sealed bag in the fridge for a week. Pasta freezes very well for at least three months and can be cooked straight from the freezer.
• If you want to dry the tagliatelle for keeping, drop it in handfuls on to a clean cloth so that it settles loosely. Leave to dry and then store in an airtight tin.
Leftovers:
• Toss the cold pasta in more olive oil, freshly crushed garlic and plenty of chopped parsley. It will make a delicious little salad.
TORTELLINI WITH BUTTER AND SAGE
Tortellini al burro (Italy)
Plump crescents of fresh pasta, filled with a delicate chicken stuffing. The stuffing can be used to fill other shapes as well, but is at its best in these seductively curved envelopes. The romantic Italians say they were inspired by the shape of Venus’s navel–use your imagination. There are a great many regional and household variations on the theme, but the principle is the same: the stuffing is pre-cooked and the envelopes are poached in hot liquid for 4-5 minutes. Most Italian country cooks make their own, taking great pride in the dish and serving it for very special celebration meals. These are sophisticated little morsels, depending for their excellence on a fresht-asting well-flavoured stuffing and they do not need heavy saucing.
Quantity: Serves 4 Italians
Time: Preparation and cooking: 1 hour 15 minutes
For the pasta
500g/1 lb strong pasta flour (Italian 00)
5-6 eggs
1 tablespoon oil
1 teaspoon salt
For the filling
2 chicken breasts
2 tablespoons grated parmesan or pecorino cheese
1 garlic clove and a teaspoon of fresh herbs
1 egg
Salt and pepper
Butter and sage to finish–go easy: sage is a very strong herb
Utensils: A rolling pin or pasta roller, one small and one large saucepan, and a pretty serving dish
Make the pasta dough as for the tagliatelle. While it is resting, make the stuffing.
Poach the chicken breasts gently for 5 minutes in a very little water flavoured with a bay leaf, some peppercorns, and a little salt. Drain (strain and save the liquid) and mince the chicken very finely indeed with the cheese, the peeled garlic, and the herbs. Bind into a stiff paste with the egg. Add a spoonful or two of the chicken liquor to moisten the mixture, add salt and pepper to taste. Simple. Put the stuffing aside while you finish the pasta making.
Cut the dough in half and roll it out on a well-floured board with a well-floured rolling pin. It must be fine enough for you to see the wood grain through it. Cut out circles of the dough with a wine glass. Put a little pile of filling one side of each circle, wet the edge, and then double the semi-circle over it. Join the two little wings to make a ring, pinching them lightly together with damp fingers. Now you can see what they mean about Venus’s navel.
Put on a very large pan of well-salted water to boil. Stuffed pastas are as perishable as their contents and are at their best cooked on the day they are made. Put the serving dish in the oven to warm. Chop the herbs.
Poach the tortellini in 2 or 3 batches, for 5 minutes, timed after the water comes back to a rolling boil. Drain them thoroughly–they must not be soggy. Put them in the warm bowl and scatter small pieces of butter over them. Toss them delicately. Sprinkle with the chopped herbs. Serve with extra butter and a bowl of grated parmesan.
Follow with a rich ragu-based stew–and don’t forget to drink a toast to the goddess of beauty whose navel inspired the dish.
Leftovers:
• Heat gently in a little cream.
SPINACH AND RICOTTA RAVIOLI
Ravioli alla fiorentina (Italy)
Ricotta is Italy’s favourite ravioli stuffing, and is usually in combination with spinach or whatever comes easily and is fresh and green–finely chopped parsley, borage, beet tops. Canelloni–big fat macaroni tubes–can be stuffed with the same mixture.
Quantity: Serves 4 Italians
Time: Preparation and cooking: 1 hour
For the pasta
100g/4 oz fresh spinach
500g/1 lb strong pasta flour (Italian 00)
5 eggs
1 tablespoon olive oil
1-2 tablespoons spinach water
1 teaspoon salt
For the filling
175g/6 oz ricotta (or any fresh curd cheese)
500g/1 lb fresh spinach
2 tablespoons grated parmesan
1 egg
Salt and pepper
Butter to finish
Utensils: A rolling pin or pasta roller, one medium and one large saucepan, a dish for serving, a beautiful white one would complement the green pasta, a zigzag pastry cutter makes neat ravioli if you have one and a perforated spoon
Make the spinach pasta as in the recipe, not forgetting to cook the extra spinach for the stuffing at the same time as you prepare the spinach for the pasta.
While the dough is resting, make the stuffing. Mix the ricotta and chopped cooked spinach together very thoroughly with the egg; season with salt and pepper (ricotta will not need much salt).
Now make the ravioli: with the back of a knife mark one half of the pasta sheet lightly into squares. Drop a teaspoonful of the filling in the centre of each square. Dampen the margins between the stuffings, and fold over the other half of the dough sheet to enclose the stuffing piles. Cut through both layers with a knife or a zigzag pastry cutter to give you little sealed square envelopes.
Put a serving dish to warm in a low oven, and put on a large pan of salted water to boil.
When the water comes to a rolling boil, throw in the ravioli and cook them for 4-5 minutes, until the pasta is tender. The stuffing is already cooked so it needs only to be heated. Fish the ravioli out with a draining spoon and drop them onto a clean cloth, and then transfer them to the warm serving dish. Scatter the ravioli with slivers of butter and a perhaps a few torn leaves of basil (Michaela, who taught me to make these, would never chop a basil leaf. She said it brought bad luck and would always tear them in her fingers). Serve with a bowl of grated parmesan.
Suggestions:
• Follow with a roasted chicken, or, for a light supper, a salad of curly endive or slices of fennel dressed with the thick fresh olive oil of Tuscany.
Leftovers:
• Heat gently with a little cream. Sprinkle with chopped fresh basil or parsley.
RAVIOLI WITH SAUSAGE STUFFING
Ravioli alla calabrese (Italy)
A recipe from the harsh mountainous region to the south of Rome–Calabria, shepherding country, one of the most remote provinces of Italy.
Quantity: Serves 4 Italians
Time: Preparation and cooking: 1 hour
For the pasta
500g/1 lb strong pasta flour (Italian 00)
5-6 eggs
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
For the filling
175g/6 oz Italian sausage (mortadella or bologna will do well)
2 tablespoons grated pecorino or another strong cheese
1 teaspoon finely chopped herbs (parsley, oregano, a sage leaf)
1 egg
Salt and pepper
Utensils: A rolling pin or a pasta roller, 2 large saucepans and a deep serving dish
Prepare the pasta dough as in the preceding recipes.
To make the stuffing, empty the sausage meat out of its skin and pound it up to make a paste–you may need a little broth or water to moisten. Mix in the cheese and the herbs. Bind with the egg. Season lightly.
Finish the ravioli as above–dropping teaspoons of the stuffing on the pasta sheet and enclosing it to make little envelopes.
Put a serving dish to warm and a large pan full of plenty of salted water to boil.
When it boils, throw in the ravioli–they will take no more than 4 minutes. Serve with a tomato sugo or toss with mascarpone–buffalo is the milk-beast of the area.
TAGLIATELLE WITH FRESH TOMATO SAUCE
Tagliatelle al pomodoro (Italy)
Pomodoro, Italy’s golden apples, are deliciously meaty and sweet–a revelation when compared with their hot-house cousins. As a New World import–botanically unknown in the Old World–they claimed their place in the Italian kitchen garden during the course of the 16th century, and the cooking of Italy–particularly the sunny south, since they love a little hardship–was never the same again. Here, they’re used to best advantage, without embellishment.
Quantity: Enough for 4-5
Time: Preparation and cooking: 1 hour 15 minutes
For the pasta
500g/1 lb strong pasta flour (Italian 00)
5-6 eggs
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
For the sauce
750g/1½ lb ripe plum tomatoes
2 garlic cloves
½ teaspoon salt
A little sugar (if needed)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
Pepper
4 tablespoons olive oil
Basil leaves to finish
Utensils: A rolling pin or pasta roller, a medium-sized saucepan, a roomy boiling pot or tegame, and a deep bowl for serving the pasta
Make the fresh pasta as in the previous tagliatelle recipe, but without the spinach: the simple scarlet sauce is prettiest on plain pasta.
Scald the tomatoes with boiling water to loosen the skins. Peel them and chop very thoroughly. Peel and crush the garlic with the salt (a single blow with the flat of your heaviest kitchen knife will do the trick). Warm the olive oil in the saucepan and add the garlic. Stew gently for a moment without allowing it to take colour. Add the chopped tomatoes, tomato paste and season with pepper and a pinch of sugar. Simmer the sauce for 15 minutes or so, unlidded so that the flavours can be concentrated.
Just before you’re ready to serve, rub the serving bowl with a cut clove of garlic, trickle with olive oil and put to warm.
Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil. When the water gives one big belch, throw in a few handfuls of the pasta–only as much as will not cause the water to come off the boil. Cook for no more than a minute and a half, remove with a draining spoon and transfer to the bowl with a scoop of the sauce. Continue till all the pasta is done. Sprinkle with torn basil leaves and turn the pasta over gently once or twice to mix. Serve with a bowl of grated parmesan.
Suggestions:
• The more southerly the provenance of the tomatoes, the riper and meatier, the less time they need to cook, nor will they need tomato paste or additional sugar. In short, if it’s summer and you’re within sight of the slopes of Mount Vesuvius or Etna, where specially adapted varieties thrive in the volcanic soil, just chop the tomatoes, dress with oil and basil, and leave them in a bowl in the sun, to stand on the kitchen table for an hour or so to infuse.
• The tomato sauce is delicious spooned over an egg fried crisp in olive oil and set on a slice of home-made bread rubbed with garlic. Also good served as a sauce for boiled meat.
Leftovers:
• Put the tagliatelle dressed with the sauce into a shallow oven-proof dish. Cover all with a well-flavoured béchamel (see lasagne recipe). Sprinkle with plenty of grated cheese and reheat in the oven 350°F/180°C/Gas 4 for 15 minutes.
FETTUCCINE WITH BASIL AND PINE KERNELS
Fettuccine al pesto (Italy)
Genoa claims to have invented pesto: to prove it, every scrap of garden up and down the coast of Liguria has its own bright green basil patch. A soft-leaved herb of tropical origin–all the way from India thousands of years ago–it can’t stand a single night’s frost. Make a supply for your larder at the end of the autumn, stripping the summer’s crop of basil plants before the first frosts nip the tender leaves.
Quantity: Enough for 4-6 servings
Time: Preparation and cooking: 1 hour 15 minutes
For the pasta
500g/1 lb strong pasta flour (Italian 00)
5-6 eggs
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
For the sauce
2 garlic cloves
1 teaspoon rough bay salt
300ml/½ pint basil leaves, packed down
4 tablespoons pine kernels
6 tablespoons olive oil
4 tablespoons grated parmesan or pecorino or Sardinian sardo
Utensils: A rolling pin or pasta roller, pestle and mortar or processor, a large cooking pot or tegame, draining spoon and serving bowl
Work the pasta ingredients together to make a dough and proceed as for the tagliatelle recipe, but rolling the dough a little thicker and cutting the strips a little finer to give you fettuccine–fine strings.
In the mortar with the pestle, work the garlic to a paste with the salt. Work in the basil leaves one by one till you have a smooth silky sauce. Work in the nuts; add the oil gradually until you have a thick creamy paste. Work in the cheese. The whole job can be done in the liquidiser or blender–though there is a superstition in Italy about cutting basil leaves with a sharp blade, and your sauce will not be quite as silky.
Prepare the pasta just before you’re ready to eat.
Bring a large panful of salted water to the boil and throw in the pasta–only so much as will not let the pasta go off the boil, and cook them for 1-2 minutes, depending on thickness. Remove with a draining spoon, and toss with a little oil in a warm bowl.
To dress, dilute the pesto with a little cooking water before tossing it with the pesto. Hand more grated cheese separately. A very light and delicious dish. Serve it, as with all pasta dishes, on its own. The Italians never mix business–meat–with pleasure–pasta.
Suggestions:
• In Genoa, the traditional vehicle for pesto is hand-rolled trofietti, scraps of pasta given a corkscrew twist–quickly done, but hard to perfect–and the pasta is cooked with a diced potato and (in season) tossed with a handful of lightly cooked green beans. The starch in the potato sticks the pesto to the pasta.
• To store, make the pesto rather thicker, and pack it into small sterilized pots, cover with a layer of pure clear olive oil before you seal down the lids. Store at the back of the refrigerator.
• To freeze, prepare it until the moment before you work in the cheese. Delicious stirred into a vegetable or white bean soup, a sauce for grilled fish, and a salad dressing at times of the year when fresh basil is not available.
STORE CUPBOARD PASTA
Pasta asciutta (Italy)
Shape is all–and there are as many pasta shapes as there are fish in the Mediterranean, or so an Italian housewife will tell you. The basic dough is essentially the same: a firm flour and water paste, well worked, which is then pressed or rolled or extruded into a shape. These differ from each other only in the variety of their lengths and widths, their curves and folds, all of which accept and adapt in different ways to the sauces or dressings with which they are designed to combine.
Among the most widely popular are spaghetti (little strings), tagliatelle, conchiglie (graceful shells), fiochetti (elegant little bows and knots), fusilli (corkscrews), diamanti explain themselves, while cappelletti are shaped like tiny hard hats with zigzag edges (very useful for cupping a cream and mushroom sauce), farfalle and farfallini are, as their name suggests, butterflies great and small, ruote di carro are shaped like cartwheels. Vermicelli (little worms) are used in soup or sometimes as an ordinary pasta and take very little time to cook–2-3 minutes is usually quite enough from dry to al dente.
Then there are the various maccheroni (not to be confused with macaroni, which in Italy are potato dumplings), sometimes used as a generic name for ribbon pasta, sometimes for those hollow tube shapes which are perfect for fresh tomato and cream sauces: tubetti lunghi look like little bent elbows, ditali and ditalini are thimbles for the old grandmother at her darning. There are mouse-sized thimbles for soup, striped rigatoni and spiralled-striped elicoidali, and a variety of penne, quill pen-nibs cut on the cross to give a sharp point–all the images of domestic life.
As a rule of thumb, allow 500g/1 lb pasta asciutta for 4 healthy appetites. Short dried pasta of good quality will be cooked al dente in 5 minutes. Long pasta such as spaghetti will take 7-8, as indeed will elderly dried-out pasta, or pasta of an inferior quality. Bite a piece (it should be slightly tooth-resistant) to see if it is ready–it needs to be firm, since it will continue to swell as it cools. Accompany all pasta dishes (except those dressed with fish) with a bowl of grated parmesan or pecorino cheese. It is very important to serve any pasta dish piping hot and as soon as it is ready. Toss the pasta with its sauce before you serve it and don’t drown it. The Italians like their pasta lightly coated, not soupy.
SPAGHETTI WITH HAM AND EGGS
Spaghetti alla carbonara (Italy)
Charlotte Gower Chapman, a young American sociologist studying the village of Milocca in Sicily in 1928, chronicles the arrival of commercially prepared pasta in a peasant community:
‘At present most of the families in Milocca manage to afford to buy the spaghetti manufactured at the mill. In former days this was a luxury and pasta was used only on festive occasions. Some women still make their own at home, in the form of a sort of noodle. A few possess small presses for making spaghetti. Almost everyone makes homemade pasta occasionally for a change, although as a general rule they prefer the mill variety. The pasta is served in a variety of ways: with the conventional tomato sauce, with the juices from meat which has been cooked in a casserole, or with vegetables. The last fashion is the cheapest and the most common. People are very particular as to the degree to which their pasta is cooked and the form of pasta used, and some can detect the almost imperceptible difference between the Milocchese pasta and that purchased in other towns. (Since the Milocchese mill is owned by the Angilellas, some of the most violent of the Cipolla partisans insist on buying pasta which is imported.)
‘Most of the foods that are used to accompany and dress these farinaceous staples are likewise of local production. All the milk is supplied by local goats, and the flocks of sheep furnish enough cheese for the community and a small quantity for export. The increase of these flocks provides the meat, with the occasional and rare addition of pork or beef when one of the two dozen pigs is slaughtered, or a draught animal meets an accidental death. Chickens are raised in large numbers and their flesh adorns the table at high feasts. However, their most important contribution to the diet and to the local economy is their eggs. These serve as legal tender in the local stores and are also bought up by peddlers from other towns.’
The combination is known as charcoal-burner’s pasta–charcoal burners were accustomed to living rough in the woods for a week or two at a time and the food they took with them had to be portable–spaghetti, oil, prosciutto–and wild bird’s eggs could be found in the forest in spring, the time when it was safe enough to set the charcoal pits alight. No cream, though a splash of wine is possible.
Quantity: Enough for 4-5 servings
Time: Preparation and cooking: 20 minutes
500g/1 lb dried (packet) spaghetti
3 tablespoons prosciutto scraps
2 garlic cloves
4 tablespoons olive oil
3 egg yolks and only 1 white
Salt and pepper
Zest 1 lemon, finely grated (optional)
Utensils: A large boiling pot or tegame, a small saucepan, a serving bowl
Fill the boiling pan with plenty of salted water, and put the serving bowl to warm.
Bring the water to the boil while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. Peel and crush the garlic, put it in a little saucepan with the oil and leave it to infuse by the fire; if you like your flavours tamed, stew it on a low heat. Chop the prosciutto small. Beat the egg yolks and the white together in the serving bowl. Grind in some pepper and a pinch of salt.
When the water comes to a rolling boil, lower in the spaghetti all in a bunch, pushing it down as it softens. Give it a turn with a wooden fork to keep the strands separate. Bring the water back to the boil as quickly as possible. Wait for it to give one big belch before timing the cooking–57 minutes, depending on quality. Keep tasting for the right moment to take it off. Spaghetti is as variable as vegetables–it depends on the basic grain and age. Al dente, sticking to the tooth, is the Italian way to serve grain foods, and requires that pasta in general and spaghetti in particular still retains a slight chewiness, a resistance to the teeth, at the heart.
Drain the spaghetti not too thoroughly–slip it under the cold tap for a moment if you’ve let it go a little–and tip it into the bowl with the eggs. Turn the strands to coat them. The egg will cook a little in the heat from the pasta. Sprinkle with the grated lemon rind, the chopped ham and toss with the warm oil and garlic. Pass round a bowl of grated parmesan and the pepper grinder. Add a dish of sliced tomatoes dressed with a sprinkle of salt and a few slices of sweet raw onion. Fruit and a piece of good Italian cheese should follow–maybe a slice of smoked provolone to give you a breath of the charcoal-burners’ habitat.
Leftovers:
• Put in a baking dish and cover with a well-flavoured white sauce. Sprinkle with grated cheese and heat in the oven at 375°F/190°C/Gas 5 for 15-20 minutes to heat the dish through and gild the top.
FARFALLE WITH CHICKEN LIVERS
Farfalle con fegatini (Italy)
Butterfly bows tossed with lightly cooked chicken livers: the shapes complement each other perfectly.
Quantity: Enough for 4-5 servings
Time: Preparation and cooking: 25-30 minutes
500g/1 lb dried (packet) farfalle
250g/8 oz chicken livers
2 cloves garlic
50g/2 oz butter (Tuscan cooking) or 4 tablespoons olive oil (the south)
1 tablespoon chopped herbs (thyme, oregano)
Salt and pepper
Utensils: A large saucepan, a small frying pan, and a pretty serving dish
Put on a large saucepan of salted water to boil. Put the serving dish to warm.
Pick over the chicken livers, remove any fibres or bitter green bits, and slice. Peel and crush the garlic with a little salt. Put the oil or butter to warm in the frying pan. Add the garlic and then the chicken livers. Cook gently until the livers are stiff but still pink. Mash them a little. Season with salt and pepper.
When the water is boiling, throw in the pasta. Cook at a rapid boil for 5 minutes, then nibble one to test. It should retain a slight bite. Drain the pasta–not too thoroughly–and transfer it to the warm dish into which you have trickled a little oil. Toss in the livers, garlic, the cooking juices, and the herbs. Season with plenty of pepper–roughly crushed is even better than ground. Accompany with a bowl of grated parmesan and a bowl of black olives and radishes for nibbling.
Leftovers:
• Moisten with a little cream and reheat for a moment on top of the stove with a little chopped ham. Sprinkle with more chopped fresh herbs.
PENNE WITH HAM AND MUSHROOMS
Penne alla paesana (Italy)
An everyday pasta dish made with ingredients always on hand in the Italian peasant larder–a ham from the autumn pig-slaughter, and mushrooms fresh or dried from the woods and fields. The shape of the little quill-pen spaghetti accepts the garnish well; it’s particularly good with dried boletus–porcini, which are sold in many Italian delicatessens. They will need to be soaked in warm water for 20-30 minutes first. Save the strained soaking water to use in a soup or stew.
Quantity: Enough for 4-5 servings
Time: Preparation and cooking: 20-25 minutes
500g/1 lb dried (packet) penne
100g/4 oz prosciutto or lean bacon
100g/4 oz mushrooms (porcini, for style)
2 garlic cloves
4-5 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper
Utensils: A large saucepan, a small frying pan, and a pretty serving dish
Put on a large pan of salted water to boil and the serving dish to warm in the oven.
Dice the ham small. Wipe and dice the mushrooms, if fresh (dried will need soaking to swell). Skin and crush the garlic. Put the oil to warm in the frying pan and add the garlic and mushrooms. Fry for a moment, till the mushrooms give up their dampness, then stir in the ham.
As soon as the water boils, throw in the penne. Cook for 5 minutes and test to see if they are ready. They should still have a slight bite to them. Drain not too thoroughly, and transfer to the serving dish with a little olive oil. Toss with the contents of the frying pan. Mix all well together. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Pass a bowl of grated parmesan separately. Follow with a tomato and fennel salad if you are eating lightly, or a rich stew or a broiled chop if this is your main meal of the day.
Leftovers:
• For a delicious little salad, toss with oil and vinegar and more pepper and mix with its own volume of slivered fennel and sliced spring onion.
FUSILLI WITH CHILLI AND TOMATO
Fusilli alla molisana (Italy)
Spiral pasta holds a chilli and tomato sauce in its curves. The southern Italians like heat in all things.
Quantity: Enough for 4-5 servings
Time: Preparation and cooking: about 30 minutes
500g/1 lb dried (packet) fusilli
750g/1½ lb fresh tomatoes (canned plum, or passata will do)
1 small fresh chilli (2-3 of the tiny dried ones, more if you like it hot)
2 garlic cloves
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon tomato paste
Salt and pepper
Utensils: A large and a small saucepan, and a blender would be useful
Put on a large pan of salted water to boil, and the serving dish to warm.
Scald the tomatoes with boiling water to loosen the skins. Peel them and chop them finely (use the blender if you like). If using canned tomatoes they may be blended. De-seed and chop finely the chilli (don’t rub your eyes afterwards–chilli gets in everywhere). Peel and chop the garlic. Warm the olive oil in the small pan, and add the garlic and the chilli. Stew it all gently for a moment without allowing the vegetables to take colour. Add the tomatoes, the tomato purée, and salt and pepper. Simmer gently for 15-20 minutes.
When the water comes to a boil, throw in the fusilli. Cook them for 5 minutes at a rolling boil. Test to see if they are done–they should still offer a slight resistance to the teeth. Drain–not too thoroughly–and toss them with the sauce. Pass around a bowl of grated Parmesan separately. As contorni, serve a dish of aubergines cut into rounds, dipped in milk and seasoned flour, and then fried crisp in smoking hot oil. In southern Italy, aubergine is the poor man’s steak.
Leftovers:
• Add a little more tomato sauce–say, a tablespoon of tomato paste diluted in a ladleful of boiling water with a splash of oil–and spread in a gratin dish. Finish with a topping of meltable cheese–grated fontina and mascarpone is a good mix–and slip it the oven to reheat the pasta and melt and brown the cheese.
CONCHIGLIE WITH MUSHROOMS
Conchiglie con funghi (Italy)
The delicate shell shape is perfect with wild mushrooms. The boletus species the Italians call porcini, little pigs, for their round, shiny brown caps, has the right nutty flavour and gluey texture. They can be bought dried from Italian delicatessens, when they will then need soaking to plump them out–20-30 minutes in warm water should be sufficient. 50g/2 oz dried fungi substitutes for 500g/1 lb of fresh. Strain the soaking water and save it for a soup or stew. If using fresh wild or cultivated mushrooms, wipe them and chop them. Put them to stew gently in a few tablespoons of sweet green olive oil, spiked with a crushed clove of garlic and a handful of chopped parsley. Toss the contents of the pan with the fresh cooked pasta. Pasta is the perfect vehicle for fresh fungi. Should a precious white truffle come your way, grate it, raw and unadorned, over a dish of plain buttered home-made egg tagliatelle. Delicious too, with a spring haul of morels–crinkle capped, nutty and fragrant–warmed in melted mascarpone or fresh cream, with plenty of crushed pepper to bring out their subtle flavour.
MACARONI WITH CHEESE AND HAM
Maccheroni alla pastora (Italy)
Eliza Puttnam Heaton reported on primitive macaroni making in Sicily at the turn of the last century:
‘Let those criticise Vana’s housekeeping who have themselves kept house and reared live stock in one room. Beside the cold fireplace were heaped brambles and roots of cactus fig for the cooking fire … While she talked Vanna (the local witch or wise woman, elf-locks hanging to the floor) did not neglect the macaroni. Rocca held on her knees a board carrying a lump of dough, from which from minute to minute she pinched off bits. Rolling these between her hands, she passed the rolls one by one to Vanna, who sank into each a knitting needle and re-rolled the paste on the board to form the hole. Each short piece as she slipped it off the needle she hung to dry over the edge of a sieve that balanced the rolled up mattress at the foot of the bed. When enough for supper was ready she tied the rest of the dough in a kerchief and shut it in the chest, throwing the crumbs to the cock with a “chi-chi! cu-cu-rucu!”’
Quantity: Serves 2 starving shepherds, 4 more modest diners
Time: Preparation and cooking: 15-20 minutes
500g/1 lb dried (packet) maccheroni or any tubular pasta
175g/6 oz ricotta (or any fresh curd cheese)
100g/4 oz prosciutto or pancetta
4 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper
Utensils: A large saucepan and a serving dish
Put on a large pan with plenty of salted water to boil. Set the serving dish aside to warm: this is fast food for nomads.
Crumble the cheese. Chop the ham or pancetta–unsmoked bacon, chopped and lightly fried, can substitute. As soon as the water boils, throw in the pasta. Cook at a rolling boil for 5 minutes and then test it by biting a piece. It should be slightly firm to the teeth: al dente. Drain not too thoroughly, and transfer to the warm dish into which you have trickled a little oil. Toss with the rest of the ingredients and sprinkle with plenty of pepper. Pass a bowl of grated cheese separately.
BARLEY-GRAIN EGG NOODLES
Tarhonya (Hungary)
The earliest form of dough food–milled grain slaked with a liquid to make a firm paste which can be rolled or pinched into little pellets and then subjected to the boiling pot–this is the way our ancestors solved the problem of how to make primitive grains palatable, storable, and portable. Recipes for similar preparations are to be found throughout the world, on every continent. The dough-making liquid is not always water but can be a substance which increases food value such as yoghurt, soured milk, eggs.
In Hungary today these barley-shaped noodles are made by kneading flour and eggs into a dough, breaking or grating it into little pellets, and then drying them (sometimes in the postharvest sunshine) until they are completely dehydrated. Tarhonya are still popular in modern Hungary. It can be plain boiled to accompany a gulyas, thrown at the last minute into a soup or a stew to add protein and body, or fried with onions and paprika and cooked like a risotto to be served on their own.
A useful little staple, as observed by Ellen Browning, trawling the markets of Hungary in the 1890s.
‘There were other stalls too, heaped with … sacks of dried pastry, called tarhonya … big black loaves, balls of cheese, strings of sausages, strips of paprikas bacon, inedible looking pieces of dried pig meat, huge jars of pickled gherkins, of salted eggs, of boiled butter, pots of honey … heaps of almond biscuits made in all sorts of shapes lay side by side with gilded gingerbreads, honey cakes and walnut rolls …’
Quantity: 100g/4 oz dry weight serves 2
Time: Preparation and cooking: 25-30 minutes
500g/1 lb pasta or strong bread flour
4 large eggs
1 teaspoon salt
Utensils: A grater
Mix the eggs with your hand slowly into the flour and salt until you have a few pieces of very stiff dough. Work them well. If you need more liquid, add a little water. If the mixture is too soft, add more flour. Leave the dough, covered with a cloth, to rest and dry out a little. If you want to use the dough right away as tiny dumplings in a soup, grate the paste straight into the hot liquid. The little grains will take only a moment to cook.
If you want to dry tarhonya for storage, spread a clean cloth over a roomy tray. Rub the dough through the large holes of a grater onto the cloth, allowing the gratings to fall loosely in a single layer like grains of barley. Leave them on their cloth, tossing them lightly every now and again to keep the grains separate and to allow them to dry evenly, for 3 days in a warm dry kitchen, by which time they should be as hard as catapult pellets and can be stored in an airtight tin virtually forever.
To boil from dried, allow 5-10 minutes in boiling water. When they are cooked, drain and toss them with chopped streaky bacon crisped in a pan in its own fat, or with butter or soured cream. They are excellent in a plain chicken soup made with an old hen, past her laying days, boiled with an onion and a carrot for flavour.
To fry, brown the tarhonya in hot lard or butter, tossing frequently, for 3-4 minutes, until the grains take a little colour. Take the pan off the heat and stir in a sprinkling of paprika and a little salt. Add enough water to cover and simmer for 20 minutes or so, until all the water is absorbed, or bake in a medium oven for 40 minutes. Serve with soured cream or thick yoghurt. Tarhonya can be served instead of rice or potatoes with any Eastern European stews or with a dish of lecso, a thick vegetable and tomato stew which does duty both as a dish in its own right and as the basis for other dishes.
Suggestions:
• For the Bulgarian version, trahana, cook in enough milk and water to allow them to swell to tenderness–tarhonya made with 4 eggs will absorb 1 litre/2 pints liquid. Toss with butter and put them in the heated gratin dish, sprinkle with grated kashkaval or any strong cheese, and brown under the grill or in the oven.
• The Greeks and Turks make a difference between sweet and sour varieties–both sold in Greek and Turkish delis. The sour version is made with yoghurt or soured milk and the sweet version is egg-based. The soured version is treated as a soup-pasta and appears in combination with rice in a pilaf. The sweet version is usually served with thick strained yoghurt and honey or a fruit compote either as a dessert or as a breakfast dish. It’s still made by hand in the more isolated communities, particularly on the islands, where it is rolled into egg-sized balls which are turned daily until they dry, and then crumbled into small bits and finished off on cotton sheets in the sun. Greek fishermen much appreciate sour tarhana cooked in soup as an instant and very nourishing breakfast–good for babies. A southern version of porridge.
EGG NOODLES WITH CHEESE
Spetzle (Germany)
A Black Forester, it’s said, would sell his soul for a bowl of hand-scraped spetzle–treatment which gives them their characteristically uneven shape. The local short cut is an instrument like a giant garlic crusher with irregular holes–you simply press the batter straight into the boiling water. It’s the perfect recipe for unexpected guests, since it’s quickly prepared with ingredients which come readily to hand. Classic proportions are 50g/2 oz flour to 1 egg–basically the same weight of flour as egg.
Quantity: Serves 4
Time: With a little practice, 30 minutes from start to finish
400g/14 oz flour
8 eggs
Salt, pepper and a pinch of nutmeg
To finish
400g/14 oz grated cheese
2-3 tablespoons fresh breadcrumbs
a large knob unsalted butter
Utensils: The correct scraping combination is a small blunt knife and little wooden board with a handle (the wrong side of a butter bat will do), you will also need a mixing bowl, boiling pot and draining spoon
Mix up the ingredients to make a runny dough.
Bring a large pan of salted water to a rolling boil. Heat up a serving bowl, and set a draining spoon and the grated cheese ready to hand. Spread a couple of spoonfuls of the runny egg paste onto the end of the dough board. Using the full length of the knife blade, flick slivers of the egg paste into the boiling water–just enough to cover the surface. Or you could press the noodles in small batches through a draining colander with large holes.
The spetzle will puff up and firm in a minute or two. Scoop them up with the draining spoon and drop them into the warm bowl. Sprinkle with cheese. Carry on layering until the paste and the cheese is all used up. Top with breadcrumbs fried in butter, and serve immediately. In my household this is enough for 4–but I am assured a true son of the Schwartzwald could manage the whole thing.
NOODLE TURNOVERS
Schlick Krapfen (Austria)
Italian ravioli, Austrian-style, these little envelopes are cooked in a clear chicken or beef broth, or served with melted butter and a grated strong cheese of the gruyère family: in Austria, a chewy cooked curd cheese from the mountains.
Quantity: Serves 4
Time: Preparation and cooking: 1 hour
For the dough
250g/8 oz flour
½ teaspoon salt
2 eggs
Approximately 2 egg shells of water
For the filling
175g/6 oz chopped cooked meat
2 tablespoons meat gravy
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1 egg
Utensils: A rolling pin or a pasta roller and a pastry brush, an electric mixer would be useful Sift the flour and salt together directly onto the kitchen table. You need plenty of elbow room. Make a dip in the middle and crack the eggs into it. Work them into the dough with your hand. Add water, measured in the egg shell–a natural measuring cup that will give you a good proportion of water to egg. Knead as you go, until you have a soft pliable ball of dough. (This can be started in your mixer and finished by hand.)
Roll out the noodle dough into a flat sheet. Make a stuffing with minced cooked meat moistened with the gravy, mix in the parsley, and the egg lightly beaten. Put small teaspoons of the meat mixture well spaced out over half the dough. Brush between the piles with water and then fold the empty half of dough over. Cut into neat squares. Poach gently in clear soup for 10-15 minutes.
Suggestions:
• The dough can be used to make fleckerl, square noodles–good to fortify a broth.
• Suessen Nudelauf (noodles with fruit): Butter a deep casserole and layer into it noodles boiled in water rather than stock, alternating with sliced apples and pears, sprinkling each layer with sugar and a few currants. Finish with a layer of apple and top off with breadcrumbs fried in butter. A powdering of cinnamon makes this particularly delicious. Bake at 350°F/180°C/Gas 4 for 20-30 minutes. Serve the noodles hot with thick cream. The same dish can be made with stewed plums.
• Mohn Nudeln (noodles with poppy seeds): Toss ribbon noodles, cooked till tender, in melted unsalted butter and scatter them with poppy seeds and sugar as a robust dessert after a nourishing soup.
SAVOURY PUDDINGS AND DUMPLINGS
The divorce of salt and sweet came late to Europe. For centuries meat puddings and dumplings were as likely to be flavoured with plums and raisins, nuts and honey, as they were with herbs and salt. Roman recipes mixed their flavourings with abandon. In Germany, Austria and the Balkans the division is less marked than it has become in Britain, and fruit or curd dumplings made with yeast-leavened dough still often actually replace the meat course. The English, as befits their culinary expertise and raw materials, specialised in suet pastry dumplings, basics from which grew their acknowledged skill as pastry chefs and cake makers.
STEAK AND KIDNEY PUDDING
(England)
Boiled puddings made with a suet crust are of very ancient date and have fed many generations. The original boiled puddings were solid affairs made with flour and suet mixtures–preferably beef-suet from the Englishman’s favourite meat animal–worked into a ball and tied up in a clean floured cloth to be suspended over the boiling pot, a group to which the traditional round Christmas pudding belongs. Known in Scotland as a cloutie dumpling, the dough ball was boiled along with a piece of meat or a bit of bacon, and a net of vegetables, all of which hung suspended in boiling water in a cauldron hanging over the hearth fire. There was no distinction between sweet and savoury, and it was a taste for unusual combinations, such as mutton or pork with apples, game with wild berries, which fathered our modern predilection for sweet sauces with meat. The cauldron broth provided a nourishing soup as well as a plate of dinner. Later, as cooks became more expert, the puddings were made hollow, the crust being supported by a pudding bowl, and then stuffed with a filling–most often a mixture of savoury and sweet. Boiling and roasting remain the techniques best understood in the English kitchen, along with a considerable skill, shared by the rest of the British Isles, in baking pies and cakes. Thickened stews and ragouts took a long time to establish themselves in the British culinary tradition.
Quantity: Serves 4-6
Time: Preparation: 1 hour
Cooking: 3 hours
For the filling
500g/1 lb stewing steak (chuck is good)
250g/8 oz beef kidney
1 tablespoon malt or cider vinegar
1 medium onion
250g/8 oz mushrooms (optional–field mushrooms are the best for this)
Small bunch fresh herbs–parsley, thyme, sage
Salt and pepper
150ml/¼ pint water (or claret or port)
For the pastry
175g/6 oz suet
350g/12 oz self-raising flour (If you have a light hand with pastry, you can use plain flour)
1 teaspoon salt
150ml/¼ pint cup cold water
Utensils: You will need a small bowl, a mixing bowl, a 2 litre/3 pint pudding bowl; a rolling pin, greaseproof paper, string, and a clean pudding cloth or silver foil
Slice the meat into finger-length fillets no more than 1 cm/½ inch thick. Sprinkle each piece with salt and freshly milled black pepper. Skin, rinse, and cube the kidney and put in a bowl with water acidulated with the tablespoon of vinegar. Skin and finely chop the onion–grating it is even better. Wipe and dice the mushrooms. Chop the herbs. Reserve all while you make the pastry.
Sieve the flour and salt into a bowl and prepare the suet (much better bought fresh from the butcher). Suet is the fat which encases a beef kidney. To be properly prepared it must be freed from its fibres (use your fingers, dusted with flour) and flaked–easiest to do through the large holes of a grater or in a food processor. You’ll need to dust everything with flour to stop the suet sticking. Whatever the method, it must be chopped small. Stir the suet into the flour. Add cold water slowly (you may need more or less liquid) to make a smooth soft dough which leaves the sides of the bowl clean. Grease the pudding bowl. Cut off two thirds of the pastry and roll it out on a well-floured board with a rolling pin, until you have a big enough circle to line the bowl–ease rather than stretch the pastry so that it does not shrink too much in the cooking. Roll out the rest to make a lid and set aside.
Put on to boil a large pan of water which will accommodate your basin. Drop a metal ring or a heatproof saucer on the bottom to keep the base of the pudding bowl away from direct heat.
Leave the water to come to the boil while you turn your attention to the pudding filling. Drain and dry the kidneys, and roll each piece up in a steak fillet. Pack the meat rolls with the chopped onion and the mushrooms into the pastry-lined pudding bowl, sprinkling all with more pepper and salt and the herbs. Pour in the water, though claret or port would be even better. Damp the edges of the pastry and fit on the lid. Mark the lip with a fork to seal the edges. Cut a small hole in the centre for the steam to escape. Cover either with a round of wax paper and a clean white cloth or a sheet of aluminium foil, either one pleated in the middle to allow room for the pastry to rise. If you use a cloth, tie it on with string below the bowl’s lip. Stretch a string handle across the bowl for lifting it in and out of the boiling water, which should reach no more than two thirds of the way up. The water must be boiling when you put the pudding in. Add boiling water when necessary and make sure it never boils dry. Boil for 3 hours–longer, if that suits you. Traditional recipes give even longer cooking times–from seven to fourteen hours–but modern meat does not need such drastic treatment; just as well since the pastry has little chance of surviving this without getting soggy. The pudding must not be allowed to come off the boil at any time, or the pastry will be as heavy and grey as a school dinner.
Serve still in its basin but with its top wrappings removed, swathed in a clean white napkin. To accompany, finely shredded cabbage cooked lightly in the water which clings to leaves after rinsing, and a generous knob of butter, or finely sliced carrots cooked in the same way. Beer to wash it down, unless you can lay your hands on the Englishman’s favourite imported claret. A syllabub will round off the repast.
Suggestions:
• The foregoing recipe gives you the basic dumpling pastry which also can be baked as a pie crust, or bits can be twisted off to poach as dumplings.
• If you would rather make an oven-baked pie, use the same pastry and filling, but flour the meat and fry it with the onions and mushrooms first, then add enough water to cover and stew it until tender before you make the pie. Allow it to cool before you cover it with the crust (half the recipe should be enough–use the rest to make a rhubarb dumpling for another day).
• To make a steak and oyster pudding, replace the kidneys with a dozen oysters.
• Suet pastry can be used as a topping for a Lancashire hot-pot: simmer the meat and veg until tender, allow to cool, top with the suet crust and bake for the pie. A speciality of the English midlands.
• Alternative fillings: ham or pork with sharp apples; small game birds such as woodcock, partridge, neatly jointed pheasant, pigeon (good with bacon); rabbit (good with field mushrooms and thyme); chicken (combine with ham and parsley). Rook pies, made with the skinned breasts and legs of young rooks with bacon to add flavour, were an old country favourite. There’s still no shortage of the raw materials out there: to identify the birds, remember that a single rook is always a crow, a flock of crows are always rooks.
GNOCCHI WITH BUTTER
Gnocchi al burro (Italy)
These little dumplings are probably the original pasta of Italy. Today there are three main varieties made, using three different starch bases–semolina, potato, and an elegant egg-and-flour choux paste. All are first poached and then either grilled with cheese, or sauced. Semolina is the heart of the grain of a particularly hardy and hard-kernel species of wheat, Triticum durum, the type used to make pasta and nowadays mostly grown in Canada. The softer bread wheat, T. aestivum, prefers a more temperate climate.
Quantity: Enough for 4 servings
Time: Start 1-2 hours before
Preparation: 40-50 minutes
Cooking: 20 minutes
250g/8 oz semolina
600ml/1 pint stock or milk
½ onion and 1 bay leaf
50g/2 oz butter
2 eggs
Salt and pepper
To finish
Butter and grated cheese
Utensils: A saucepan, a shallow dish, and a gratin dish
Bring the stock or milk to the boil with half an onion and a bay leaf to flavour it. Just before it boils, remove the onion and bay, and sprinkle the semolina, stirring constantly, in handfuls into the hot liquid. Cook gently until thick and smooth–about 20 minutes in all. Remove from the heat and beat in the butter. Allow to cool a little and then beat in the eggs. Pour into a flat dish to a depth of one finger. When the mixture is cold, cut it into squares, or circles, or crescents, or shape whatever you please.
Preheat the oven to 350°F/180°C/Gas 4.
Arrange the gnocchi like lines of leaning dominoes in a buttered gratin dish on which you have scattered grated cheese. Dot with butter and sprinkle more grated cheese over the top. Bake for 20 minutes until the top is well browned. (Do not under do it–a gratin should be flecked with little burnt bits and nicely crisp.) Serve hot. Contorni–accompanying vegetables–could be ripe tomatoes with basil, green beans, baby artichokes, quartered lettuce hearts dressed with lemon juice and olive oil.
Suggestions:
• For a more substantial dish, sauce it with a ragu before topping with cheese and baking.
Alternatives:
• To prepare potato gnocchi, make a dough with freshly boiled potatoes, (1kg/2 lb, skinned and grated), 100g/4 oz flour and 2 eggs. Yesterday’s cold potatoes can be used–they can be either very hot or stone cold. Poach, finish and bake as above.
• To prepare choux-pastry gnocchi or gnocchi di Parigi (Catherine de Medici, betrothed to Henri II of France, took her retinue of Florentines to Paris to instruct the chefs of the French court in the Italian culinary arts–we can assume the exchange was by no means one way): beat 6 heaped tablespoons flour into 300ml/½ pint boiling milk with 50g/2 oz butter. Wait till it cools a little and beat in 2 eggs. Poach teaspoonfuls of the mixture in boiling water, drain, sauce with a creamy cheese béchamel and finish as above.
BREAD DUMPLINGS
Knockerl (Austria)
When in doubt and you have no more potatoes, add a dumpling: poach in soups, stews, anywhere where potatoes might otherwise be used. The work of a moment, they’re the perfect standby if you have more mouths to feed than anticipated. Austrian housewives can buy ready-diced stale bread from the baker specially for dumplings.
Quantity: Enough for 12 dumplings
Time: Preparation and cooking: 1 hour
100g/4 oz dry bread
1 tablespoon butter or lard
1 egg
150ml/¼ pint milk
3 heaped tablespoons flour
Salt and pepper
Optional but a great improvement: 1 tablespoon chopped fresh herbs–parsley, chervil, marjoram
Utensils: A frying pan, a bowl, and a saucepan of water or soup
Dice the bread and fry it lightly in the fat in a frying pan. Meanwhile mix the egg and the milk. Tip the contents of the pan into a bowl, and pour the egg and milk over all. Stir in the flour and season with salt and pepper. You may need more milk to make a really damp dough.
Allow it to stand for half an hour.
Put a large pan of salted water on to boil, if you have not already a simmering soup pot waiting. Dipping your hand into cold water, roll the mixture into a dozen small balls. Drop the little balls from a teaspoon into boiling salted water. Poach them for 10-15 minutes, until they are light and firm and well risen.
Suggestions:
• Include chopped fried bacon or scraps of pork crackling in the dough.
• A lighter dumpling can be made if the flour is left out. Less liquid will then be needed.
• The mixture can be used to make a cloth-pudding (see steak and kidney pudding) once popular in Britain, still appreciated by the German tradition. To prepare, make the dumpling mixture and spoon it into a colander lined with a clean, floured cloth. Tie up the corners. Put the handle of a wooden spoon through the handles and, using the spoon as a crossbar, suspend the dumpling in to cook in a pan of boiling water for 30 minutes, till light and well risen. Very good with a game stew.
Leftovers:
• Dumplings with scrambled eggs: slice the dumplings and fry them in a little lard or bacon fat. Add forked-up eggs to the pan, and turn gently till set but still creamy. Delicious as a late breakfast, or a light lunch with a green salad.
SAVOURY PASTRIES AND PIES
VENISON PASTY
(England)
Friar Tuck’s favourite picnic, shared with Robin Hood in the greenwood. The traditional pastry-enclosed pies and pasties of Old England developed from the boiled puddings which were all that was available until commoner’s households acquired ovens. With the advent of bread ovens, the same mixtures were often stewed first, then put into a pie dish and lidded with pastry, which then could be baked to a crisp savoury perfection as the oven cooled after the day’s bread baking. The rural housewife whose husband was employed on the land often had access to the manorial oven, while villagers had their own shared resource. A complicated system of rights and duties governed this privilege, usually to the disadvantage of the underdog. The Seldon Society’s records of legal decisions in medieval times outlines the problems of such arrangements:
‘It fell out that on Monday next after St. Andrew that M., wife of the hay-ward, and E., wife of a neighbour, were baking at an oven, to wit that of N., and a dispute arose between them about the loss of a loaf taken from the oven, and the said old crones took to their fists and each other’s hair and raised the hue; and their husbands hearing his ran up and made a great rout. Therefore by award of the court the said women who made the rout and raise the hue are in mercy.’
Any pastry will do–yeast, shortcrust, puff–but a flaky, buttery rough puff, the quintessential butter-and-lard English pastry, is well worth the extra effort.
Quantity: Plenty for 6 diners
Time: Best to start a few hours ahead
Preparation and cooking: About 2 hours
For the filling
1kg/2 lb boneless stewing venison (shoulder is perfect)
100g/4 oz streaky bacon
1 onion
1 tablespoonful lard
Handful field mushrooms (mature black-gilled for flavour)
300ml/½ pint water
1 teaspoon juniper and allspice berries
½ teaspoon peppercorns
For the pastry
175g/6 oz cold butter
175g/6 oz cold lard
500g/1 lb plain flour
1 teaspoon salt
6-7 tablespoons cold water
Utensils: A large bowl, a baking sheet, a saucepan, and a rolling pin
Trim and cut the venison into bite-sized cubes. Crush the peppercorns with the juniper and allspice. It will do no harm to do this the day before and marinate the meat overnight with the bay leaf and spices in a little vinegar and water or sour cider.
Next day, dice the bacon, slice the mushrooms, peel and chop the onion. Put the bacon to melt gently in the saucepan. When enough fat has run to grease the pan thoroughly, put in the onions and fry them lightly. Push them aside and add the lard. As soon as it sizzles, put in the venison, drained and patted dry (reserve the marinade). Fry to allow it to take colour. Push the meat aside and add the mushrooms and the spices and fry them for a moment. Pour in the reserved marinade juices and the water. No salt, yet. Stew all gently until the meat is soft–an hour should be sufficient, unless the meat is very tough. Keep an eye on the pan so that it does not cook dry. There should be only enough well-flavoured gravy left at the end to moisten the stew. Leave it to cool. Taste and add salt.
Meanwhile make the pastry. Chop the butter and lard together. Put the flour and the salt into a roomy bowl and rub in half the fat, crumbling it lightly with your fingertips until the mixture looks like fine breadcrumbs. Sprinkle in the water and press the dough together. Knead the dough lightly into a soft ball of pastry. Cover with clingfilm and refrigerate for 10 minutes. Roll out the pastry into a long rectangle, and spread the rest of the butter and lard over two thirds of it. Fold the unbuttered third into the middle, and then the last third over that, to give you a triple decker layered with fat. Turn the pastry through a quarter circle and roll it out again. Refold in three. Turn and give it another roll. Refold. Put the pastry to rest in a cool place until you are ready for it.
When the stew is cooked and cooled, put on the oven to preheat to 400°F/200°C/Gas 6.
Cut the pastry in half and roll out two large circles. One should be slightly bigger than the other. Put the smaller circle on the baking tray and pile the cooled venison stew onto it. Wet the edges of the pastry and cover with the other circle. Press the edges together lightly with a fork. Rough up the cut sides with a knife so that it looks like horizontal flaking. Cut a hole in the top for the steam to escape.
Bake for 30-35 minutes until the pastry is golden and well risen. Serve hot with new peas or spring greens and English mustard. Or take it to the woods in a basket, gather wild watercress from the stream and drink to the happiness of Outlaw Robin.
Suggestions:
• Make double quantities of the pastry–it freezes brilliantly.
• Alternative fillings are steak and kidney, pork and onion, chicken and mushroom, all manner of furred and feathered game, fish–particularly smoked haddock in a white sauce with chopped hard-boiled eggs–and cheese. There are many purely regional pies–salmon, eel, mutton, veal, ham, bacon, potato–which conform to local tradition.
CHEESE PIE
Borek kajmak (Bosnia and the Balkans)
Big trays of this exquisitely creamy, cheesy filo-pastry pie are sold from special kiosks in the marketplaces throughout the territory–the same outlet also sells other flaky treats such as syrup-soaked baklava and kataife, ‘shredded-wheat’ pastry made by forcing a noodle paste through pinholes punched in a tin sheet. The filling is fresh, clean, and a perfect match for the delicate pastry–well worth the trouble of preparing at home since it’s one of the most delicious dishes imaginable. While the basic combination makes it not unlike a French quiche, the crisp filo makes it wonderfully light.
Quantity: Serves 6 depending on appetites
Time: Preparation: 30 minutes; longer if you make your own filo
Cooking: 40-50 minutes
1 packet filo pastry (about 250g/8 oz)
175g/6 oz melted clarified butter
500g/1 lb kajmak cheese (or cream cheese mixed with grated kefalotiri or any other well flavoured hard cheese)
4 eggs
2 tablespoons double cream
Salt and pepper
Utensils: A brush, bowl, whisk and 20 × 30cm/12 × 8 inch deep-sided baking tray, a blender would save time
Unwrap the filo and lay it out on a lightly floured board. Take care to keep the filo pastry covered while you work–it dries out and cracks very easily. Melt the butter in a small pan. Clarified butter is ordinary butter, melted and then allowed to cool so that the whey, salt and colouring matter settles on the bottom. The top, cleaned of its impurities, can then be lifted off and stored almost indefinitely even without a fridge. This butter has a far higher burning point than ordinary butter so it is very good for frying. It will also keep sweet for a very long time.
Prepare the filling. Beat the cheese, the eggs, and the cream together in a bowl. Add salt in accordance with the saltiness of the cheese you are using. Be generous with the pepper. The whole operation is easily done in the liquidiser.
Using a pastry brush and the clarified butter, butter and line the baking tray with 2 thicknesses of filo pastry, leaving an edge which can be tucked up and over the filling. Brush lightly with butter, then put on another 2 layers and sprinkle generously with butter, and so on until you have 8 thicknesses of filo. Spread on the layer of filling–lightly so that you do not press the air out of the layers–then cover with 6-8 more sheets of filo pastry and butter in layers as before. Pour any butter which remains over the top.
Preheat the oven to 350°F/180°C/Gas 4.
Mark the pastry into diamonds without cutting right through to the filling, and sprinkle with water. Bake for 40-50 minutes, until well risen and golden. It puffs up like magic and will stay puffed and crisp even when cold. Serve as an appetizer, or as a main course with a salad of sliced peppers, tomatoes, and onions dressed with lemon juice and salt.
Suggestions:
• Possible additions: finely chopped parsley or spring onion or shredded spinach (lightly cooked and well drained); nutmeg.
FILO PASTRY TRIANGLES
Boreki (Turkey, Greece and the Balkans)
Small–bite-sized–triangular stuffed pastries made with strips of filo, neatly folded zigzag fashion to keep the filling securely under wraps. The Turks are the experts, bringing the pastry making and delicate spicing of the fillings to a fine art. Throughout the Middle East, where these little pastries are very popular, the enclosing dough can be considerably thicker–requiring less folding at the expense of lightness–and is sometimes made with lemon juice or yoghurt. The composition of both dough and filling is a matter of passionate debate–every family in every region has its own special recipe. Find a mix which suits you and form an equally passionate break-away group. The precise composition of the filling is a matter of choice, but it should be delicately spiced and well minced, and can range from a simple handful of chopped spinach to the most sophisticated Topkapi Palace mixtures. Lamb’s sweetbreads and brains make a particularly delicate filling. Here are few of the most popular combinations to get you started.
Quantity: Make several different fillings for a party–yields 40-50 boreki
Time: At least an hour–but only if there are several of you to do the folding
The dough
500g/1 lb strong bread flour
½ teaspoon salt
3 medium eggs
About 4 tablespoons water
1 tablespoon melted butter
Or use ready-made filo pastry. One packet of filo yields 24-30 sheets
Utensils: Clingfilm, a deep pan for frying, and a perforated spoon
First make the dough. Pour the flour directly onto a clean tabletop. Make a well in the flour, and put in the eggs and salt. Work all together thoroughly, adding enough water to give a soft pliable dough. Work in the butter. Cut the dough into 40 walnut-sized pieces and roll each out until it is as fine as paper. Or stretch it on your fists as in the strudel recipe.
The following fillings are given in quantities to stuff pastries made from a dozen 27cm/12 inch sheets, yielding 40-50 little boreki. If you want a choice of fillings, adjust the quantities. Keep the filo pastry rolled up and covered with cling film while you work–it dries out in no time and becomes too brittle to fold. You will also need oil or clarified butter for brushing.
Cheese filling: Beat 500g/1 lb of grated cheese with 2 eggs. Use Greek halumi, or substitute cheddar, gruyère or mozzarella plus a spoonful of grated parmesan. Season with salt and pepper.
Curd filling: 500g/1 lb soft fresh white cheese mashed with chopped mint, dill or parsley. Use Greek feta, or any fresh cheese plus plenty of salt and pepper and a spoonful of grated parmesan.
Spinach filling: have ready 500g/1 lb fresh spinach or other greens, finely shredded and 100g/4 oz grated hard cheese (halumi or cheddar). Cook the spinach in the water which clings to its leaves after washing–5-10 minutes will be enough. Drain very thoroughly, chop very finely and put it back into the pan with a knob of clarified butter and cook gently until it is as soft and dry as possible. Allow to cool, then beat in 1 egg and the grated cheese and freshly milled pepper–only add salt if the cheese is not already salt enough. Freshly grated nutmeg is a good spice for this mixture.
Aubergine filling: 2-3 plump shiny-skinned aubergines, cubed and fried gently in a little oil, with 1 finely chopped onion. When the vegetables are well browned, add the flesh of 2 tomatoes, chopped. Simmer until deliciously mushy. A minced clove of garlic or a tablespoon of lightly fried pine kernels make a good addition. Mash well.
Meat filling: 500g/1 lb lean minced meat stiffened in a spoonful of olive oil with 1 finely chopped onion. Moisten with 150ml/¼ pint of water, add salt and pepper and any seasonings you like. Cook gently for 10-15 minutes. Lamb is the best meat for this and a tablespoonful of pine kernels, fried with the meat, is a good addition. Allow the mixture to cool before using. Cinnamon or allspice are good spices to include.
Sweetbread filling: 500g/1 lb brains or sweetbreads (calf’s or lamb’s). Prepare the meats by soaking them first for an hour in water with a tablespoonful of lemon juice. Drain them, peel off the outer membrane and clean away any traces of blood. Simmer the meats in water with a little salt and a tablespoonful of lemon juice, for 10-15 minutes. Drain them carefully and then mash them up with a tablespoon of chopped herbs (dill, parsley, chervil, marjoram), salt and pepper. As a rural dish, confined to slaughtering time, the only time when the raw materials were available. In the towns, offal, the rich man’s leavings, was the only meat the poor–and those who needed to turn a profit in the fast-food trade–could afford. Nevertheless, the most exquisite of all the fillings.
To assemble the boreki, leave the filo pastry in the roll and cut it into strips about 3 fingers’ wide. Unroll the first bundle, remove a single ribbon of pastry and lay it on the table. Working from the corner nearest to you, brush with oil or melted butter. Put a teaspoon of your chosen filling on the near corner of the strip. Fold it over to make a triangle, and then fold again to make another triangle, and so on up the strip, always rolling away from you, until you have a well-wrapped little borek covered in half a dozen thicknesses of pastry. Continue till the pastry and filling is all used up.
Put a deep pan of oil on to heat. As soon as it mists over, slip the little packets in the hot oil–a few at a time–and fry for 5 minutes, turning them once, until the pastry is well puffed and golden.
Remove with a draining spoon and transfer to kitchen paper. Boreki should be served warm, with a thumb-sized glass of raki or ouzo. You will not regret the effort.
CORNISH PASTY
(England)
A satisfying, well-balanced meal enclosed in a robust pastry crust, versions of which are to be found throughout Europe, although nowhere was it taken to its logical perfection as in Cornwall. The plate-sized Cornish pasty, large enough to carry a working man through the day, is as easily transportable down the mine as it is into the fishing boat or out into the fields at harvest time. For variety, it was sometimes stuffed with a sweet filling (jam or apple sauce) at one end, a savoury one at the other, with a solid disposable ‘handle’ at one extremity of the half-moon to accommodate the miner or field worker’s blackened thumb. When Cornish miners translocated their skills as well as their pasties to the New World, immigrant workers from other traditions adapted it to their own culinary preferences. The Finns included salt fish in the mix and washed it down with soured milk. The Italians spiced it up with chillies and tomatoes. The Germans stuffed it with pork and sauerkraut. The Hungarians included paprika for heat and claimed it as their own.
Quantity: Makes 4 man-sized pasties
Time: Preparation: 1 hour
Cooking: 50-60 minutes
For the filling
500g/1 lb beef
500g/1 lb turnips
1 small onion
Salt and pepper
For the pastry
500g/1 lb flour
½ teaspoon salt
250g/8 oz grated beef suet or lard
About 150ml/¼ pint water
Utensils: A bowl, a rolling pin, a large saucepan and a baking sheet
Prepare the filling first. Slice the meat into fine slivers, and then chop into small squares; peel and dice the turnips small; peel and chop the onion finely (grating is perfect). Mix all together in a bowl and season with salt and pepper.
Now make the pastry. Sift the flour with the salt. Bring the water to the boil in a large pan with the suet, and simmer rapidly until the suet melts (if you are using butter instead of lard this will happen much quicker). Beat in the flour and cook until the paste comes away from the sides of the pan. It’s a hot-water paste and at this point it will look slightly transparent. Tip it out onto a well-floured board, knead into a ball and cut into quarters. Work each piece into a ball and roll out into a round the thickness of a pound coin. Work quickly because the pastry will crack if it is allowed to cool.
Preheat the oven to 350°F/180°C/Gas 4.
Divide the meat mixture between each circle, piling it up in the middle. Dampen the edges of the pastry and pull them over the filling to meet in the middle. Pinch the edges together to make a wavy edge–the Cornish crimp. Leave a little hole in the middle for escaping steam. Glaze with egg if you like a shiny crust.
Bake for 50-60 minutes, until the pastry is crisp and golden and the filling is cooked right through.
Suggestions:
• Even in Cornwall, the fillings are variable: the beef and turnip filling can include raisins, mutton is paired with leeks, chopped egg with bacon, lamb with parsley, fish with potato, pork with apples, turnip and carrot with cheese. Some families like a corner filled with chopped fruit or jam. Mark with the recipient’s initials and stuff and season the pasty to his or her particular taste.
• Shortcrust pastry can be used instead of the hot water crust–but don’t expect it to survive a morning down the mine.