The grand, airy top-floor apartment of the Ministerial Residence in Rome, La Consulta, was one of the most luxurious homes in which the family had ever lived. It was such a relief to have a settled home in Italy after their recent experiences in Constantinople, Peking and Corfu. Now, my grandfather, Carlo, was able to stroll across the cobble-stoned piazza, past the splashing fountain and into the Quirinale, the Italian government building, where the view from the terraces is still one of the most impressive that Rome has to offer. My mother and her brother settled into a happy routine under the ever-watchful eye of their Irish nanny, Mischa, while Valentine eagerly caught up with family and friends. Yet this period of calm was not to last.
It was the early 1920s, a decade known in Italy as “gli anni ruggenti”, a dynamic period of growth and advancement that was bound to bring about great social change. There were modern developments such as the explosion of jazz music, Art Deco and a burgeoning feminist movement that brought about great changes in fashion and behaviour in all Italian women. It was typified by the famous Italian tomboy flappers known as maschiette: young women of any social class who dressed and behaved in a manner uninhibited by tradition and considered shocking by their elders. Newly independent, unchaperoned and uncorseted Italian women emerged. No longer fragile flowers like their mothers and grandmothers, in the 1920s they became adventurous and daring. They raced cars, flew airplanes, wore make-up, smoked and drank. All of it fuelled by innovations such as radio broadcasting, the phonograph and the cinema and novelties like the creation of cocktails, including the famous Negroni.
But Italy’s rejoicing over the end of World War I and a return to political normality was to be short-lived. A seemingly unstoppable wave of dark pessimism began to tighten its grip around the country and it made Carlo’s job, and that of the entire Cabinet, very hard. Taxes were high, wages low. The cost of living was exorbitant and there was a shortage of food, consumer goods and functioning public amenities. Riots, strikes, pilfering and violence began to increase throughout Italy, and behind the troubles Mussolini’s voice was becoming increasingly powerful. Steadily, Mussolini’s ideas for dramatic change found more and more fertile ground on which to grow, and support for him spread in a general atmosphere of deep-felt frustration and discontent. He seemed to offer the people of Italy order, discipline and progress in a time of great chaos and misery.
Carlo worked hard at the Quirinale, convinced from the very beginning that Italy under Mussolini would lose more than it would gain. Despite the support of Valentine, who was always ready to discuss anything with him, he felt increasingly isolated. When, in November 1919, Mussolini officially formed the Fascist Movement and joined the rest of the government in the Quirinale, Carlo watched with unease. Mussolini, though powerful, stood against all the beliefs that he and Valentine held so dear: freedom of expression, democracy and, above all, human dignity. Carlo was determined that the only way forward was to restore order through democracy and education, and repeatedly and fearlessly expressed his beliefs in his political speeches, newspaper articles, letters and books. Each time that he did, there was some form of violent reprisal. Most of Carlo’s colleagues seemed to think that everything would soon “blow over” and, despite his efforts, he found it increasingly difficult to persuade the King to understand his views or heed his warnings.
Valentine understood completely Carlo’s position and shared his every fear and concern, so it was with profound relief and few regrets that she packed up their lovely Consulta apartment to take her place alongside Carlo when he was elected ambassador to Paris on 29 January 1922. Their ambassadorial residence in Paris was a large, grey building with a big garden on the Rue de Varennes. Fiammetta and Sforzino, aged eight and six, were educated at home by a French governess, but still cared for by Nanny Mischa.
Valentine threw herself wholeheartedly into her glamorous role as the Italian ambassadress. Her favourite Parisian designers were Molyneaux and Beer, who created some fabulous gowns for her. My mother told me how Valentine would come up to kiss her goodnight before going out to a party, and she remembered one evening in particular, when her mother wore a beautiful low-waisted, pale-grey dress with a sparkling tiara in her hair.
Top, the Sforza morning room at La Consulta. Left, Nonno Carlo with Sforzino and Fiammetta on the beach.
Waiters, valets and butlers, wearing black knickerbockers and long white socks, staffed the house. There were glorious parties held in the large, elegant reception rooms. There were always after-dinner entertainments laid on and sometimes Valentine would organize a performance by the well-known dancer, Loie Fuller, who would dance in the style of Isadora Duncan with much waving of chiffon scarves. Fiammetta and Sforzino would watch from the garden, their noses pressed up against the glass of the window.
Valentine spent those nine months in Paris in a whirl of exhibitions, dinners, theatre outings and gaiety. She also got involved in charity work, organizing the care of impoverished Italians living in Paris and trying to resolve the families’ day-to-day difficulties. She hoped so much that Carlo might put some of the current problems in Italy behind him for a while. Her role had always been one of support for her husband, but in Paris she thought they might enjoy themselves a little too. They both loved good food and, as Parisian cooking at this time was at its peak and highly respected internationally, it offered plenty of luxuries and indulgences such as ripe cheeses, pâtés, fresh oysters, delicate pastries, silky-smooth sauces and the elusive pleasures of my Nonna’s favourite feather-light soufflés.
Yet for all this, it was impossible to ignore what was going on in Italy. Mussolini’s voice, as Carlo had so accurately predicted, was growing louder and more powerful as more and more Italians heeded his words. The culmination came in October 1922, when Mussolini organized the March on Rome and took control of Italy. Carlo felt completely unable, morally or politically, to represent his country while it was governed by Mussolini and he resigned from his post as ambassador immediately. His friends and political colleagues tried to urge him to stay on, but Carlo, quite rightly, felt the situation would get much worse before it got any better.
Once Mussolini came to power, his policies and ideas affected every detail of people’s lives, even the food they ate. For instance, the Battle of Wheat was established to boost cereal production in order to make Italy self-sufficient in grain, reduce the balance of trade deficit, lower the necessity for foreign imports of bread, and most of all to show Italy off as a major force. Land that was often more suitable for growing other crops, such as olives and fruits, was taken over indiscriminately for the production of wheat. Mussolini ordered that loaves of bread should have the word “Dux” (meaning “leader”) moulded or branded into the crust to further underline his much publicized philosophy: that bread is a symbol of simple Italian family life. Bizarrely, although in time there was a surfeit of wheat in Italy, pasta was declared by Mussolini as being “non virile”, so it was left off the approved menu.
Carlo returned to Italy as a Senator, hoping to take up his fight against Fascism from within his own country, at the Quirinale. Meanwhile, the family, with Nanny Mischa, took up temporary residence with the Sforzas at the Sforza Palace in Montignoso while they looked for a suitable home in Rome. Carlo often commuted back and forth, a journey that took almost a day.
In the little village of Montignoso, perched on the lower slopes of the Apuan Alps just a few kilometres inland from the pretty Versilian coast, Valentine also had to contend with her in-laws. They had always deemed her unworthy of Carlo and were invariably cold and unwelcoming towards her. Determined to have a role in the house, and with Carlo away for long periods in Rome, Valentine took control as mistress of the household. She began with the kitchen, an area where she felt most confident, having had years of experience overseeing the various cooks in the many ambassadorial residences where the family had stayed, and where she had run all matters relating to the domestic arrangements.
Situated conveniently close to the back door of the kitchen was the huge wood-fired stove. Here, once a week, all the bread required by the household would be baked in one go. The bread dough would be placed in the madia, a kind of wooden trunk, to rise overnight on Tuesdays. Each Wednesday morning the loaves would be shaped and transported to the oven to be baked.
Valentine, being Belgian, did not like the unsalted Tuscan bread that the household was used to eating. She insisted that at least a part of the dough should have salt added to it, and that this bread should be baked separately. So every week two loaves would appear, marked with a “V” for Valentine, for her exclusive pleasure. It was a small victory, but a precious one nevertheless, given the austere household rules imposed by her father-in-law.
Valentine was also adamant that fresh coffee should be provided and she gave the job of toasting and hand-grinding the coffee to the housemaid, Maria. My mother would tell me how Maria would stand for hours, steadily turning the handle of the coffee bean toaster – la parchetta – in front of the kitchen fire, her face growing red from the heat, while the whole house filled with the gorgeous aroma of freshly toasted coffee beans.
Valentine spent hours in the kitchen at Montignoso, teaching the cook to make a few new dishes, and introducing some lighter recipes to her standard repertoire of thick soups and stews. She encouraged the planting of a more varied selection of vegetables in the vegetable patch. One of the dishes with which she impressed everybody was the famous galantina di pollo, her own very complicated version of Galantine of Chicken (see page 84), as well as her delicious turbante di riso ai gamberi (rice ring mould with prawns), which was served on special occasions and remains one of my favourite dishes.
Attempts at her much-loved soufflés were rather less successful in the kitchen’s somewhat rudimentary wood-fired oven, especially as Maria would never heed my Nonna’s warning: “Don’t open the oven door yet, or it will collapse!” However, her Cherry Clafoutis (see page 89) always turned out beautifully and my mother told me that she would look forward to the fruity pudding, made with the cherries from the tree growing in the garden. It was the children’s favourite teatime treat.
The family stayed at Montignoso until the spring of 1923 when they moved into their house in Via Linneo in Rome. Unquestionably, Valentine did manage to change a few things during her stay and certainly made her mark in the kitchen, earning a little grudging respect from her father-in-law.
Here is the original recipe from Montignoso for making the household bread, which I found among my Nonna’s papers. It is the perfect base for so many of Tuscany’s most classic dishes like Pappa al Pomodoro (Bread & Tomato Soup, see page 136) or ribollita (a twice-cooked bread and vegetable soup). If you prefer, you can add 1 teaspoon of fine sea salt to the dough when you add the fermented starter to the flour, although for it to be truly authentic you should avoid adding salt.
Makes 1 large loaf
Preparation time: about 30 minutes, plus at least 4 hours fermenting and 4 hours rising
Cooking time: 40 minutes
25g/1oz fresh yeast, crumbled
500g/1lb 2oz/4 cups strong white bread flour or spelt flour, sifted, plus extra for dusting
Mix together the yeast, 3 tablespoons warm water and 1 teaspoon of the flour in a small bowl and cover with a folded, clean tea towel. Leave to ferment in a warm place for about 4 hours or preferably overnight.
Put the remaining flour in a large bowl and mix in the fermented starter and 3 tablespoons warm water to form a soft but not sticky dough (you may not need all of the water). Turn the dough out onto a floured work surface and knead for 15 minutes, then transfer to a clean bowl, cover with cling film and leave to rise in a warm, draught-free place for at least 3 hours.
When the dough has risen, knock it back on a floured work surface and shape into a round loaf. Put the loaf onto a floured baking sheet, cover with a lightly floured, clean tea towel and leave to rise for 1 hour.
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/Gas 4. When the loaf has risen, bake for 40 minutes, or until it sounds hollow when tapped on the base. Transfer to a wire rack to cool.
My Nonna Valentine’s galantina di pollo is still famous in the small Italian village of Montignoso. When I was a little girl, she usually served it cold, surrounded by a fascinating garnish of chopped aspic. Ask your butcher to bone the chicken for you.
Serves 6
Preparation time: about 30 minutes, plus 10 minutes resting
Cooking time: 1½ hours
400g/14oz minced chicken, preferably leg and thigh meat
2 tbsp tomato purée
2 tbsp pistachio nuts, halved if large
4 tbsp finely chopped herbs, such as parsley, chives, thyme and sage
1.5kg/3lb 5oz whole chicken, boned
3 tbsp roughly chopped dried apricots
250g/9oz thick slice of Italian ham (prosciutto cotto), cut into 1cm/½in strips
3 tbsp olive oil
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
green beans and boiled new potatoes, to serve
Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F/Gas 6. Put the minced chicken, tomato purée, pistachios and mixed herbs in a bowl and season with salt and pepper. Mix together until combined.
Lay the boned chicken, skin side down, on a clean chopping board. Spread half the filling mixture over the centre of the chicken. Scatter the apricots over, then lay the ham lengthways down the centre. Finish with the remaining filling. Bring the sides of the chicken together, sealing in the filling. Reshape the chicken into a cylindrical shape and use a long skewer to secure the flesh together, or sew it closed with cook’s string.
Put the galantine in a roasting tin, breast side up. Coat it lightly with the oil and season with salt and pepper, then put it on the centre shelf of the oven and cook for 20 minutes. Reduce the heat to 180°C/350°F/Gas 4 and cook for a further 20 minutes.
Remove from the oven and turn the chicken over, then cook for a further 40 minutes. Remove from the oven again, turn the chicken breast side up and cook for another 10 minutes (if the chicken skin is still very pale, increase the heat to 200°C/400°F/Gas 6) until the juices from the chicken run clear when the meat is pierced with the tip of a sharp knife. Leave to rest for 10 minutes. Carefully remove the skewer or string, carve the chicken into neat slices and serve hot or cold with green beans and new potatoes.
We always made this for Nonna when she came to supper, as it remained her favourite long after she had left Paris. The secret, my mother would say, to a perfect soufflé is to ensure everyone is sitting at the dining table before it comes out of the oven, that way it can be whisked to the table before it has a chance to collapse! This recipe makes one large soufflé, but to make individual ones use 4 × 310ml/10¾fl oz/1¼-cup ramekins and bake for 20 minutes. You can serve the soufflé as a light main course with a green salad, or as a starter.
Serves 4
Preparation time: 25 minutes
Cooking time: 55 minutes
25g/1oz unsalted butter, softened, plus extra for greasing
5 tsp dried white breadcrumbs
150g/5½oz Gruyère or Emmental cheese, finely grated
2 tsp Dijon mustard
½ tsp salt
½ tsp freshly ground black pepper
3 tbsp plain white flour
250ml/9fl oz/1 cup milk
4 eggs, at room temperature, separated
Lightly grease the base and sides of a 1.25l/44fl oz/5-cup freezer-proof soufflé dish with butter until it is well coated.
Put the dish in the freezer for 5 minutes to set the butter, then brush again with another small amount of butter and sprinkle with the breadcrumbs. Rotate until the dish is well coated, then turn upside down and tap to remove any excess breadcrumbs. Sprinkling the dish with breadcrumbs helps the soufflé grip the sides of the dish and rise evenly, and it also forms a lovely crust.
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/Gas 4. Put a baking sheet on the lowest shelf in the oven, removing all the other shelves (preheating the baking sheet provides instant heat on the base of the soufflé and will help it to rise quickly and evenly).
Put the cheese, mustard, salt and pepper in a heatproof bowl and leave to one side.
Heat the remaining butter in a saucepan over a medium heat until foaming. Add the flour and stir with a whisk for 1 minute.
Whisk the butter and flour mixture until it forms a roux and starts to leave the sides of the pan, but does not colour. Remove from the heat and add half the milk, whisking continuously until smooth. Gradually add the remaining milk, stirring until smooth. Cook over a medium heat, stirring continuously until the sauce thickens and boils. Reduce the heat to low and simmer the sauce, uncovered, for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally, until thickened.
Pour the sauce over the cheese mixture and mix together. Add the egg yolks and mix until thoroughly combined.
Whisk the egg whites in a clean bowl until soft peaks form, taking care not to over-whisk or they will become dry and stiff, which makes them difficult to fold in and gives the soufflé a grainy texture.
Using a large metal spoon, fold a quarter of the egg whites into the cheese sauce until just combined. Pour this mixture into one side of the bowl containing the egg whites (to minimize air loss), then fold in until just combined. The mixture should be spongy with streaks of egg white throughout, but without any large clumps of egg white.
Pour the mixture into the prepared soufflé dish and gently level the surface with a spatula. Run the back of a teaspoon around the inside rim of the dish and just into the soufflé mixture, creating a shallow furrow, which will help the soufflé to rise evenly.
Put the soufflé dish on the preheated baking sheet and bake for 45 minutes, or until the soufflé is well risen and slightly wobbly, and a skewer pushed through the side comes out clean and slightly moist. Serve immediately.
All traditional clafoutis recipes use cherries with their stone still in, which lend a subtle hint of almond flavour to the dish, but you can remove them if you like. My mother was a real wizard at making clafoutis, whether with cherries, greengages or small apricots, and this is her much-loved recipe.
Serves 4–6
Preparation time: 20 minutes
Cooking time: 40–50 minutes
butter, for greasing
125g/4½oz/1 cup plain white flour, sifted, plus extra for dusting
350g/12oz ripe sweet cherries, stones removed if you like
2 tbsp slivered almonds
3 eggs
125g/4½oz/heaped ½ cup caster sugar
1 tbsp soft brown sugar
tsp salt
250ml/9fl oz/1 cup milk
2 tsp amaretto or ¾ tsp almond extract
1½ tsp vanilla extract
icing sugar, for dusting
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/Gas 4. Grease a 23 × 23cm/9 × 9in ovenproof dish with butter, then lightly dust with some of the flour. Tip in the cherries and slivered almonds.
Whisk together the eggs, caster sugar, brown sugar, salt and the rest of the flour in a mixing bowl until smooth. Add the milk, amaretto and vanilla extract, then whisk until smooth. Pour the batter over the cherries and almonds.
Bake for 40–50 minutes or until puffed up, lightly browned and a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean. The clafoutis should tremble and shake a little when removed from the oven. Leave to cool slightly. Serve the clafoutis warm, dusted with icing sugar.
The Sforza residence in Via Linneo.
