Pontormo

Lorna, that recipe is for the malloreddus that a lot of folk have been making, though your link provides a more substantial, wonderful sauce. One thing we've mentioned here and in the short write-ups of the region would be perfect for adventurous meat-lovers, whether the Daddy-A Vancouver gang that did the pig roast at Deborah's (called "Porceddu" Arristito in Sardegna), or perhaps the Mistral crowd on their day off . It's called pastu mistu, in which one animal is stuffed inside another, inside another. This caught on during Napoleon's occupation of the island and became fagiano in cocotta: pheasant inside a turkey (yes, shades of turducken). The method of cooking it is also appropriate for summer: in caraxiu, or pit-roasting, flavored with mint and other herbs. There is one more weekend left in June...

I might have mentioned this in a post some time back. It was regular picnic fare when I was a kid. Loved it. Basically a spice cake with buttery frosting. There are lots of Russian, Slavic & Northern European cakes that require vegetables, aren't there? Not as "weird" as the dillweed* cake that inspired this thread, but I've also made a chocolate one with mashed potatoes. (Someone's already mentioned another that calls for sauerkraut.) Long before Clotilde's C & Z blog, I used an excellent Gourmet magazine recipe for chocolate-zucchini cake sent in by a reader. ETA: Not a baked dessert per se, but BIG TIP: tarragon is FABULOUS in French toast with maple syrup !!! *As for the musings that inspired this thread, I confess I am not a fan of dillweed as a flavor, largely because I OD'ed on the stuff when I first was introduced to the fresh herb in college. The only thing I still enjoy with dill is an onion cottage-cheese bread; the smell of it baking is incredible, so maybe... There are teacakes that call for savory herbs such as thyme, no? As long as there is lots and lots of butter, why not? I'd perhaps go for something with a complementary "outsider" quality, like the tang of buttermilk. Also, carrots and dillweed go together, so try it or another listed vegetable. Just omit raisins, pineapple, walnuts... I might start with muffins to experiment, adding dillweed in various quantities to SOME of the batter just in case you decide it is the attempt and not the deed that was most enjoyable.

For Channakah/Christmas, I made a Tunisian blood orange cake (Claudia Roden was the original source according to the friend who gave me the recipe) that includes entire oranges, skin, pith et al, and olive oil. We all LOVED it. There was a faint greenish tint, gorgeous and appropriate for the season against the stunning fuschia blood of slices I glazed and placed on top.

Of course, you could cook them prior to sale, but it looks as if a dissertation on the subject was written over a decade ago, so I guess I just haven't seen these things for sale: Click. And picture.

I'm bumping this up due to recent discussion of the open letters exchanged between the author and John Mackay. I am going to wait until I finish until I defend the author further or qualify previous expressions of appreciation, though I have to say Pollan knows how to make agricultural science compelling. One little quibble, so far, though, in response to an image I otherwise love. The issue raised will resonate with many members who have discussed Jamie Oliver's lamb, Bill Buford's stint with an Italian butcher, and even now, the policy regarding the sale of live seafood at Whole Foods: Can you do that with POTATOES? With a special vacuum-sealed packaging and an envelope of water around the cubes to retain their whiteness, like a plastic uterus or something?

I'm surprised this hasn't been turned into its own thread, except for the fact it's a good day to be outside: Why Guys Should Drink 17 Beers and Eat Pizza.

Thanks for the info. This is new. How exciting. They didn't carry it in April when I first called, actually several times. Balducci's claims it's impossible for them. I will check it out soon since the stuff I bought as a substitute at Eastern Market is not very good.

Thanks. The meatballs sound good, the ceci kind of boring. It's almost Midsummer Night's Eve, so why not reflect? Actually, I have a fondness for Piemonte, especially since I was so ignorant of a region I now consider particularly rich in culinary pleasures. I also have been quite happy in Liguria because I still feel about pesto the way hathor does......maybe. (I don't like eating first thing in the morning, so even though construction workers woke me up at 6, I haven't had breakfast and I don't think it will be eggs slathered in ground up leaves, nuts and olive oil. ) It was the maro and the other lovely vegetables...

Oh, Shaya! Gorgeous--though you always have had a way with food photography. However, I am longing for narrative, especially since I don't have Lorenza's book. The meatballs look scrumptious and I am curious about the ceci, having posted yesterday about my need to use up some of the dried beans in my cupboards. Tell us more.

Sounds like a perfect combination, but many, many cookbooks caution against adding salt at the beginning since they claim it toughens the beans and prolongs cooking time considerably. It's recommended to wait until the beans have softened noticeably, after around 45 minutes. (I've never had much luck with not soaking the beans, but I've tried that only twice.) * * * I can't recall having your problem with black beans, Sandy, though they break down considerably when I make soup or black bean chili (i.e. when I deliberately cook the dickens out of them). I have some very old cannellini, that is, they were old upon purchase, ones that require four entire hours of cooking JUST to begin to lose their grainy uncooked interiors. With this much time on the burner, some of the more compliant ones begin to disintegrate while the reluctant ones are still softening. In this kind of scenario, it's best to put the beans in a casserole that can you can move from stovetop to oven. Bring them to boil, skim off the foam, then pop them in a slow, preheated oven--around 300 F. Just check every so often to make sure there's enough water. The beans have a smoother ride there and tend to remain intact. I have NEVER heard of over-soaking beans and confess I am skeptical. I've soaked beans forever when I just don't feel like cooking them, leaving them soaking in the refrigerator (recommended for hot weather) for days on end without noticing damaging consequences. Try sending Rancho Gordo a PM and have an expert weigh in on the situation. * * * After letting the soaked beans come to a boil and skimming off the foam, I like to add a bay leaf, a small quartered onion and/or clove of garlic, a sprig or two of parsley, and epazote. The latter took me a while to find several years ago, although now even local supermarkets are catering more to our diverse Latino population. Its smell while cooking is described as unpleasant by some, though it never bothers me. It lends a very decided, if not overwhelming taste which I find addictive.

Yes, yes, big whoops. He's both. I realized as soon as I got up to wash the dishes that the guy's probably in the School of Journalism because of a distinguished career that led to his current role. What I should have done is my own quick research first, then tried to explain that he was writing as a journalist in the George Plimpton, Calvin Trillin, Bruce Buford School....though none of those comparisons quite work, really. Point was this was not an expose', but personal narrative, cleverly and creatively organized. As for the bit about scholarly role, I simply was expressing my own admiration for members of the academy who engage in the world as they perform their duties in teaching and research/writing (called "scholarship"). They are not more valuable than the chemist who discovers something important in her lab after fifteen years of collaboration with the small number of members of an international community who also know her field. It's just different, and in this case, relevant to what interests us here at eG.

For the record, Michael Pollan is not a journalist. He is a professor at Berkeley, one of California's best public universities whose professional responsibilities are divided thusly: 40% teaching, 40% research, 20% service to the university if he holds a regular faculty position. I confess I do not know the details of his professional status; there are many universities who hire writers of his reputation and provide unusual freedoms so that his name might be associated with the institution and accordingly, increase its prestige. OD is similar to his best known book-length publication prior to its publication, The Botany of Desire. Unlike many scholars who contribute to their fields by addressing their peers in highly specialized works that are often difficult/impossible to comprehend unless one is fully ensconced in that discipline, and of very limited interest even when written in simple, direct prose, Pollan is one of those academics who genuinely grounds his research and writings in the world outside of the academy and addresses a wider audience. Advocacy and passion, yes, drive his work. He is writing from a definite POV, but an informed one. There is no pretense at objectivity, just a desire to understand and analyze what he perceives. Moreover, he is able to take advantage of a recent trend in publishing; just as documentaries have been more marketable these days, non-fiction has been selling. He is a good, thoughtful writer and I urge you to read a book that I have only started, so I can't speak for the strengths of its central arguments with tremendous knowledge either. I only know what I have read in long book reviews, and what I have heard him say during his appearance at our local farmers' market in concert with a farmer he features in one of his chapters. (And yes, I am wearing Birkenstocks as I write this. I am one of Those and therefore predisposed to be sympathetic to much of what he has to say.) In his defense, I can say that his book is not written out of a desire to critisize WF per se. It is no counterpart to Fast Food Nation where McDonald's is emblematic of the culture Schlosser critiques. Instead, it is a personal narrative, unfolding as the author expresses a desire to understand how we as omnivores eat and how the process by which we choose to create our meals determines the nature of our culture and our lives. He divides the book into sections based on the nature of four different meals: one from a fast food establishment; one from supermarkets; one from the farmer's market; and the last supper, from foraging as a hunter and gatherer himself. Each experience is placed in a larger sociological, economic and cultural context as part of his examination of its significance and implications. However, the first-person narrative dominates the story. Thus, while it is not exactly Comfort Me with Apples, it is not Before Silent Spring or even Organic, Inc. which he graciously mentions since the latter book by a journalist simply is not getting the buzz that his book enjoys.

I keep logging out with the intention of getting something accomplished, then something else grabs my attention on the board index... No, apparently there are two principal types of fillings that are traditional, though I am sure there are many, many more. I did what Klary and MrBJas did: Chard and cheese since I also had just purchased a bunch of beets with beautiful greens to incorporate. However, Marlena de Blasi has an interesting "quick" version of the type you're about to make, baked as a pie with what sounds like a delicious crust. I was going to make that this week, but never got around to it. This weekend for sure.

Here's John Mackey's open letter to Michael Pollan. ETA: I am glad Mackey finds the Berkeley professor "highly intelligent"!

Thank you for posting a link to the letter. This is one of the sections that resonates most with me: Organizers of one of my area's farmer's markets met with representatives of Whole Foods last summer. I heard no reports back of any success, but I would like to ask them about the experience after reading this letter. I have spoken at length with a few employees at one of the WF stores I frequent about this very issue, including one guy who moved up to middle management who liked his job very much, but was not all that happy with the decision made in corporate headquarters to forbid "backdoor sales" and to limit the relative autonomy the departments of individual stores had when it came to the items they sold. (He also had things to say about WF meetings for employees and indoctrination.) Niman Ranch supplies pork to WF throughout the United States, but not all the products it makes. I called them about the guanciale they sell to individuals and small enterprises such as DiBruni's in Philadelphia. WF is just too big, they told me and they don't produce enough quantities of guanciale for the company to carry the product. "Not even to the head of the meat department at one of my local Whole Foods stores?" I asked. "No can do," he replied. Part of the problem is not just the regional distibution system, but the chain of command, or nature of the institutional hierarchy in a corporation that has grown as large as Whole Foods has. In the height of the season for beautiful red and yellow bell peppers where local retail businesses are offering them for around $1.99 a pound, Whole Foods will therefore be shipping them in from the Netherlands and charging $6.99 a pound. The newly picked organic peppers are selling for a whole lot more than $1.99 down at the farmers' market, but less than $6.99 and well, they look more like the kind Edward Weston photographed. And these are just peppers. Tomatoes? Peaches? The gorgeous, fragrant California produce I bought in Colorado just is not so glorious here on the east coast where it is gratefully accepted in the winter, but not so appealing when our own food is grand. I am heading out to Whole Foods shortly and will have to check signage, but from what I recall, the only local business I know that supplies the store on a regular basis is in PA. Mushrooms. Those signs went up due to criticism that was levied long before Michael Pollan's book came out. It is good that WF is feeling defensive. Maybe it will change. However, while the company was gobbling up Fresh Fields, Bread & Circuses, and making sure Wild Oats (Boulder, CO) did not present serious competition, I didn't see signs of concern for local farms. Logistics mattered. How to handle such expansion? Volume? Now that Wegman's is presenting competition (if of the Bigger, Better variety), and there's Real Food Markets (interesting that WF has moved to London, no?), maybe....

This thread is a good idea. My freezer is just about full and while all the dried beans on my shelves are pretty to look at, some of them are going to need pension plans and walkers soon. On a somewhat related note: Arroz con Mango. * * * For us city folk, being able to augment the items in one's pantry by going out to the garden seems to be cheating except, I suppose, for the fact that one really is simplifying: making due with what one has and not picking up a honeydew melon, oranges, bananas, and celery along with the milk. I am always running out of the things that I would consider pantry items: coffee beans, olive oil and mayo (sorry, but yes) this week. Once the summer begins, I buy less and less at traditional grocery stores or supermarkets, and without an indoor smoker or legal place for even a small hibachi, much less meat. Then, pantry items dominate my shopping lists, though I rely heavily on what's being sold from local farms at the market. * * * Returning home after three months abroad, I opened the pantry to find canned tuna, Italian plum tomatoes, a jar of capers, spaghetti and olive oil. The combination is best with garlic and chopped parsley, but...

I got the impression that Sardinian cooking is relatively obscure, even if its cheeses are quite well known. Therefore, I was amused to learn of the Sardinian restaurant in Texas. Now see this review of a venerable local restaurant that just experienced the departure of a beloved, high-profile chef* and the description of a dish with fregule, or "pearls of Sardinian pasta"! *OT for this thread, but 1789 was the location of the big bash for Julia Child that was filmed for PBS; Ris Lacoste, the chef who just left to start her own restaurant, was in charge of the dinner. She's known for a kind of Italian/Alice Waters sensibility and still appears each weekend in one of best farmers' markets.

Robert, the topic's the longest MEAL, not the longest string of quotes ! BTW, do home-cooked meals count when it comes to the sit down & eat part, or is this just about taking time in restaurants that indulge patrons instead of trying to turn the table quickly?

I decided to "improve" the recipe in Ada Boni's cookbook in response to this post since the dish also caught my eye. Since I already know what happens when you boil zucchini for five minutes, I decided this step made them kind of blah. I figured if I roasted them, cut side down, THEN filled them.... So I did. Of course, forgetting to set a timer didn't help. A bit too dehydrated and a bit bitter, unfortunately. Still, I had some leftover roasted garlic, chopped that up. Smeared it inside the squash boats. Then a basil-rich tomato sauce, then the roasted red pepper, then the half of the salt-packed anchovy, the fillets each about the length of my small golden and green zucchini. Then the fresh mozzarella. Fridge overnight for flavors to merge. Drizzled olive oil. Baked. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. I adore anchovies, but here, it was all a bit too much. * * * The culingiones filled with Swiss chard, on the other hand, are exceptionally delicious when sauteed lightly in olive oil until golden as is done with ravioli in Liguria. (Since mine were frozen, I had to boil them first). Who knew? * * * Brad, thanks for the information about wines.

See my original post. As I mentioned, there are a LOT of culinary traditions on June 24 in Italy, given, of course, the major role the Roman Church has played and continues to play in that country. Since regional cuisines differ, the culinary traditions differ, with the exception of gathering green walnuts to make a liqueur, perhaps, since the practice seems wide-spread. I started the post here because of the relative youth of Canada as a country. Given the little I've learned about the secularized holiday, I just wondered whether folk in areas steeped in French culture would observe "Old World" traditions tied specifically to John the Baptist, or if they would simply eat any old French thing (a croissant for breakfast, deliberately, instead of Cheerios or the usual bagel, fried egg...) or do as we folk below you do on July 4, a national holiday that most people think of as an excuse for a family picnic or cook-out. The first response suggest the latter. No one's mentioned anything like the special pastries, pastas or liqueurs one finds in Italy.

Last night I finally managed to catch most of the episode of American Masters devoted to Alice Waters. At one point in the hour, Ms. Waters meditates on the glories of the peach, the fruit she adores above all else in the summer. She insists that buying the fruit only for a brief period of time each year, late July through September, makes it all the more special. We see her shop at the market and accept a surprisingly huge globe from a farmer. One of her favorite farmers stands on a ladder in his peach orchard, presenting one of his prized fruits still clinging to the branch. He shows us how the colors on the skin tell the story of the fruit's growth, lifting back a leaf to reveal the elongated, tapered strip of yellow underneath, contrasting shyly with the vivid rose the sun left on the exposed skin. Then, we see a tall, elegantly beautiful young woman, pale skin, yellow hair, bright red lipstick, place slices of perfectly ripe peach, one by one, in spirals across the surface of dough that has been coated with almond paste. The voice of Alice Waters narrates. As we learn more about her philosophy about honoring ingredients, complementing the perfect peach with the purest, simplest forms of presentation, a lute or Spanish guitar strums. The young woman tucks the dough around the edges of the pan in a stunning, regular pattern; a white-coated man draws the finished galette out of the oven. The camera moves in to capture the deep carmelization on the edges of some of the slices, the juice in crevices. It was the strumming, the music and idyllic pace in the rustic wooden kitchen filled with the fresh scrubbed faces of skilled cooks that made an impression. Sure, this was staged, too. Of course there must be moments of frenetic energy, mishaps and so forth on a busy night at Chez Panisse. However, PBS was sellling very different entertainment values. And in a show all about Waters, it was all about the food. In Hell's Kitchen, a show built around the caustic side of Ramsey's personality (the UK thread on his BBC show suggests that Americans get more of a Rambo character than Brits do), a lute simply would not do. Sweat. Calamity. The race around the table at The White Rabbit's tea party as reinacted in white coats in a metallic environment filled with dangerous objects. But more importantly, where's the food? Where's the part about training the amateurs, choosing a menu and prepping all day long before the dining room opens? Granted I did not see both episodes, but all I caught that remotely centered on food was a small segment in which Ramsey quickly cut a 10-oz. sirloin from a hunk of beef, bragged about being able to just tell its weight by virtue of experience, and then, without passing out scales, demanded the Men and the Women eyeball their slabs of meat and replicate what he did in X number of minutes. Cut. Commercial for Outback Steakhouse. It's very interesting that very few posts here actually address food, i.e., what ought to be our focus. I suspect it's because this show simply is not about food.

In posting this topic in the Italian regional forum, I've learned a little about French and Canadian traditions. From what I've read this feast day has become secularized and tied to national traditions. (In the secularized version in Florence, it's tied to tourism, although of course, it still remains an important feast day for many Italians.) Out of curiosity, I am posting here to see if there are any particular foods or dishes associated specifically with celebrations on this day.

Thank you, Kevin, and Lagrassa, for your contributions! This seems to be a rich topic, not simply for Italy. For example, the fireworks in Florence may be linked to the French tradition of bonfires on a day that is tied very much to national identity since the concept of France stems from the conversion and baptism of the Frankish king, Clovis. You would think that bonfires would also inspire grilling or spit-roasts during the summer, outdoors, but I haven't seen anything to that effect. Lamb would be especially appropriate. Of course, anything pertaining to water and John the Baptist makes sense, therefore, fish. However, all the green-filled pasta and the gathering of green walnuts allude to pre-Christian celebrations of Midsummer Night's Eve when herbs are ingested for their magical properties. It's as if the beginning of summer was the beginning of spring, only intensified, and these qualities are grafted on a fiery prophet wandering in the wilderness. Our own Divina writes about the tradition of making walnut liqueur. Abruzzo follows the same tradition. I'd love to hear your reports, Lagrassa, please keep us updated. I hope the link to Divina's recipe for Nocino helps. It seems quite similar to the one you found.

Since there are about a million culingiones in the freezer, I won't be joining the malloreddus cult, but I haven't opened my bag of more rustic-looking fregule. You're on. One thing that I enjoy after your nerdy year of regional cooking, Kevin, is your willingness to improvise, albeit often out of necessity. However, I like the idea that traditional regional cooking does not have to thwart creativity and that it is flexible enough to accommodate personal tastes or what's on hand. In this case, it is a shame that personal tastes include aversion to fish bones, the cause of more posthumous miracles performed in medieval Italy than I could count. (Diner chokes & someone recognizable swoops down from the sky to extract the bones, proving that s/he, the recently deceased, is a saint.) I've only seen red mullet as words in cookbooks. Gulf fish? I still am amused by Elie's remark about only being able to get boar chops from his butcher, not shoulder, down there in Texas. Plus you have a Sardinian restaurant!

Since no one has posted this most relevant article, click to read what Joe Heim reported in The Washington Post on June 4 when diplomats were asked what they eat while watching the games and who will win. Meanwhile, Italy won this afternoon, so eat something from Lombardia to salute Andrea Pirlo whose hometown is Brescia. Risotto, maybe? The Czech Repubic trumped the US, so hearty soup? Beer?