A year of Italian cooking

[Pontormo]

Oh, and the heads are cut in half without separating them into cloves, so they can simmer first. When soft and flavors blended, you shuffle off the mortal coil, emptying the skins by first squeezing the goo back into the soup, then throwing them away.

[Kevin72]

I did a couple adjustments to Kramer's recipe. First, since I only wanted to make enough to serve two for a primo, I cut all the requirements in thirds, though I only used one head of garlic for two people and it was plenty. And, I did separate them out: I just didn't like the idea of having loose papery husks getting into the soup, not to mention fishing out the two soggy halves and squeezing them out. While it was a pain initially, it helped in the long run. And, with then out of their husks, maybe the gave a stronger flavor to the broth, so I didn't need to use as much garlic.

[Kevin72]

This looks a little closer to Italy's answer to cheese in a can.

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Well, hey, I'll just order that instead of make it from scratch and call it a day!

[Pontormo]

Kevin, tweaking the recipe made a lot of sense. I am sure throwing two heads of garlic into the soup would have been fine, too. (I love squeezing garlic cloves out of deflated roasted heads. One roasted head might be nice, too.)

How did you like the sage? The original recipe calls for quite a bit.

Based on my own experience, some of the instructions in Kramer's recipes call for modication as good as the book is in all other respects. I appreciate not only the greater degree to which the author integrates personal experiences & cultural history into his text (this seems to be a trend in cookbook publishing, and not just relegated to the role of "background" in glossy coffee table souvenirs), but thoughtful decisions, such as exclusion of recipes that call for white truffles.

Edited January 10, 2006 by Pontormo (log)

[Kevin72]

I found his brassato al barolo recipe particularly refreshing; that he advocates brisket over round or shoulder and that he's been somewhat disappointed at how dry and tough it can get; an observation I've had myself previously when I've made it. And then, to advocate carbernet instead of a local (expensive) wine . . . ! Well done. I'm quite glad I tracked this book down.

[Kevin72]

Friday night’s meal: risotto with sausage and green cabbage.

This may or may not be Piemontese; it seemed to suit the ingredients of the region, but I cooked it off the top of my head. I'm not saying there isn't a recipe out there for this (I'm almost positive Marcella Hazan has one in one of her books), but I don't recall what source would have inspired this dish.

Yellow onions are sautéed in butter, then sausage is added and cooked until it gives up some of its own fat. Then the cabbage was added and slowly stewed until it nearly collapsed. Now, finally, came the rice and the normal risotto cooking method was employed. During the mantecare step at the end (when more butter and cheese is swirled in vigorously) I decided to add a bit of finely chopped raw garlic, in a nod to the Piemontese’s fondness for garlic in their dishes. Very satisfying and comforting, a solid one-dish meal.

[Kevin72]

Saturday night was a sweep of Piemontese antipasti. Like Puglia on the diametrically opposite side of the boot, Piemonte is one of the very top regions for antipasti, three or four are customarily used to precede a meal instead of the normal single antipasto.

Broiled polenta with gorgonzola:

“Pickled” winter squash with an egg:

This is a Batalification of one of Kramer’s recipes in Passion for Piedmont. In that book, zucchini is used, and then, oddly, layered over fried eggs, then the whole is submerged in vinegar and put up for a few days. I chose the more seasonally-appropriate winter squash (buttnernut), seared in a very hot pan with olive oil, then doused in vinegar. I cooked the vinegar completely off, then added slivered onion and cooked for just a few seconds, then set it aside for a few hours. I then fried eggs in the same pan and topped them over the pumpkin. My wife thinks there should have been more eggs; their yolk was a perfect counterbalance for the puckery vinegar.

Next up, a sformato of roasted pepper:

I do my sformati differently than Kramer or Batali do in their respective books. The big main difference in how I do it (based on Pamela Sheldon Johns’ recipe for Swiss chard custard in the cookbook Parmigiano) is to omit the béchamel. It’s an added and, I think, unnecessary step, and besides, I really don’t like making béchamel unless absolutely necessary (I inevitably scorch some onto my pot). So, I use a whole egg, several yolks, a little milk, cream, or evaporated milk—whatever’s around—and grated parmigiano. I’m not sure what the béchamel adds, but these turn out quite well and set up perfectly, so I probably won’t experiment with the béchamel version anyway.

Finally, an item based only on a description in Passion for Piedmont. In the intro to the cookbook, Kramer recalls a “lunch” at a favorite restaurant (Il Belvedere in La Morra), beginning, as usual, with a parade of antipasti, and the waiter just kept insisting on bringing them “one more” item despite their insistence otherwise. One item, according to Kramer, “ . . . looked, at first glance, to be a steak . . . but the fragrance was something else again. I suddenly realized that we each had an enormous porcini mushroom . . . the dish was the essence of Piedmontese simplicity. [The chef had] removed the tough stem . . . and the cap scored diagonally . . . a bit of fresh garlic was spinkled on and the mushroom caps were grilled on each side, like steaks.”

So, lacking the access to a porcini, much less one that size, I went with portabello mushroom caps, which I scored and then rubbed a paste of garlic, parsley, and the beloved Piedmontese anchovies into them, then into the oven . . . Arrgh. This was the disaster of the evening. I cut one of the caps too deeply and it promptly split apart when I went to lift it. Originally, I was going to grill them, but now with one falling apart, I decided to bake them instead; I chose not to broil them because I didn’t want to burn the garlic and parsley topping. So they wound up getting kind of tough and taking on a weird, unpleasant texture and flavor in the oven. And appearance, too; which is why there’s no pics of these shriveled things with a blackish brown, crunchy topping. I don't blame my wife for not finishing hers'.

[Kevin72]

Sunday night was the foray into Val d’Aosta promised for the month.

We started with a dish as beloved in Val d’Aosta as it is in neighboring Piemonte, which has incorporated it into its own cuisine: fonduta. Many who have written on these regions take pains to point out the difference between the Italian fonduta and Swiss and French fondues; notably the absence of any kind of liquor, the use of different cheeses, and for the Italians, the shaved truffles that go over the top right off the heat.

I was pretty nervous about this dish, either it could wind up a rubbery, stringy mass or break up into a curd-riddled porridge. But you soak the cheese in milk overnight and the two blend seamlessly together, and use several egg yolks to thin the product out and bind it. It’s cooked over a double boiler, so there’s a slightly better chance of not scorching. I still didn’t use the $700/lb truffles at our local store—this is the same batch as last week, so now the rice has absorbed a lot of liquid an is unappealingly brown, the truffle is shriveled and coated in the rice. How are they not losing money on this? Nobody would buy at those prices and anybody who does would take pause at the quality they’re getting. Instead, I one of the cheeses I used had truffles in it (strocontore? Stroncontere? Similar texture to Fontina, which was also used), and I also augmented it with the remainder of the robiola with truffles I had opened last week.

Here’s the product:

So it turns out more sauce-like than cheese-like as Swiss fondue does. I’m not sure if this is an error on my part in cooking the dish, or even if the Swiss versions I’ve had were inaccurate and shouldn’t be so cheesey, either. To accompany the fonduta, a loaf of homemade dark wheat bread. Waverly Root writes of Val d’Aosta in his book The Foods of Italy: “Two elements in particular are basic to Aosta cooking: bread, country type, often black, usually made with a mixture of barley and hard wheat flours . . . and the stock pot always simmering on the back of the stove.” A solid complement to the dish. Now, of course, we have a rather alarming amount leftover, though. Anyone know what to do with it? Will it still be good, as in, safe to eat? I’m sure there will be loss of quality in reheating it, but I’m not going to chuck it, either.

The secondo for the meal is based on description alone from Root’s book on how Aostani(?) cook chamois: “ . . . in Barolo wine, laced with a glass of grappa, and among the ingredients for its seasoning are garlic, carrots, celery, thyme, juniper, parsley, bay leaf, onions, cloves, cinnamon, olive oil, consommé, cream, and tomato extract.” Based on his description that chamois and the more rare ibex are in the same family as goat, I took a leap in a more mild direction and chose lamb for this dish. All of the ingredients save the grappa (I forgot it) and the cream (way too much, and it just didn’t seem to fit) went into the wine, which was briefly simmered to incorporate all those flavors. Once it had cooled, I poured it over the lamb and let it sit overnight, then patted the meat dry, browned it in butter, then added freshly chopped “trinity” aromatics, then the marinade, and popped it in the oven for 3 hours until the meat practically fell apart. To accompany it, I winged some contorni based on an extremely limited understanding of the cuisine: kale and mustard greens braised with lots of garlic in olive oil, and potatoes sautéed in lard and with a touch of stock added, then cooked away.

Solid food, again missing appropriate weather outside. But I must say that after last week’s brasato al’vino rosso, this was probably too far down that same road. Maybe space them out a bit more. That’s one of my ongoing problems with this style of cooking, though; these are fairly standard ingredients in a red wine braise. When I made the beef shortribs that capped off cooking from Friuli last January, the braise liquid was identical, save for some ginger added in, and this tastes very similar, even with the different meat. Ah, well.

Edited January 17, 2006 by Kevin72 (log)

[Kevin72]

Last night we had the most un-photgenic tacchino tonnato.

This is, of course, a much cheaper turkey modification of vitello tonnato, the famous Piemontese dish wherein a roast of veal is poached, cooled, then thinly sliced and layered with a sauce made of pureed capers, tuna, anchovies, mayonnaise, and a touch of the cooking liquid. I cut the turkey breast into cutlets, pounded them thin, then sautéed them in butter, giving them a more assertive flavor than poached meat would reach. In retrospect, I should have just poached the whole tenderloins, then sliced them. Otherwise, good stuff, and excellent with a nice salad alongside. Sadly, this cool dish was more appropriate for the weather outside than any of the braises I’ve done.

[kanljung]

Solid food, again missing appropriate weather outside.  But I must say that after last week’s brasato al’vino rosso, this was probably too far down that same road.  Maybe space them out a bit more.  That’s one of my ongoing problems with this style of cooking, though; these are fairly standard ingredients in a red wine braise. When I made the beef shortribs that capped off cooking from Friuli last January, the braise liquid was identical, save for some ginger added in, and this tastes very similar, even with the different meat.  Ah, well.

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The braised lamb looks really tasty, I'm glad I've had lunch! I can relate to what you are saying about these northern italina braises. I love these braises but you don't get much variation between them and can't have them too often. Basically it is just the cut of meat and the contorni that changes. Lombardy is yet another region that seem to have similar tasting dishes.

The fonduta also looks excellent. In Piemonte, fonduta is also used as a sauce for potato gnocchi and in risottos.

[Pontormo]

Kevin, as always, very interesting. Since Val d'Aosta used to be a part of Piemonte (I have absolutely no knowledge of its succession; anyone more informed, please jump in), is the food basically the same---just maybe a bit closer to Swiss home cooking (alps, etc., no anchovies) that far from the Savoy capital? More emphatic about the use of fontina since it's the recognized DOP source?

As for the leftover fonduta, have you made any attempts yet to reheat it? I once found the broad buckwheat noodles (D & D's, NYC) in Marcella Hazan's recipe for noodles, chard & potatoes with fontina and think it would be fun to try to make the pasta yourself.

A good SOLID mac & cheese gratin ?

P.S. You cite Waverly Root. Have you had a chance to check Anna Del Conte's translated Gastronomy of Italy?

[Kevin72]

Kevin, as always, very interesting.  Since Val d'Aosta used to be a part of Piemonte (I have absolutely no knowledge of its succession; anyone more informed, please jump in), is the food basically the same---just maybe a bit closer to Swiss home cooking (alps, etc., no anchovies) that far from the Savoy capital?  More emphatic about the use of fontina since it's the recognized DOP source?

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My understanding of Val d'Aosta is that its geography and relative isolation has always made it a fairly autonomous region that even when it was attached to Piemonte was allowed more or less an independent reign. Somewhere along the line they must have just finalized it and granted it full "region-hood". And, from what I can discern from the scraps of information out there, it is indeed much more Swiss and alpine in nature than anything: lots of whole grain breads, cabbage, and game is a dominant meat.

As for the leftover fonduta, have you made any attempts yet to reheat it?  I once found the broad buckwheat noodles (D & D's, NYC) in Marcella Hazan's recipe for noodles, chard & potatoes with fontina and think it would be fun to try to make the pasta yourself. 

A good SOLID mac & cheese gratin ?

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I've made that pasta dish (sounds similar to pizzoccheri, which uses savoy cabbage instead of chard) before and it was a hit. Very fragile noodle, though; they tore easily and just fell apart when I hung the sheets to dry before cutting them. I am thinking of some sort of pasta dish to use up what's left; though since I posted the meal I've used some on the morning eggs to great effect, and last night dipped into it for my dinner. I poured some on a leftover pepper sformato and, while Kramer says that fonduta often goes over sformati, I think this matching was the wrong choice. So actually now there's not all that much left. But I did, earlier, think of possibly tossing it with tagliatelle and baking it, so we're on the same wavelength!

P.S.  You cite Waverly Root.  Have you had a chance to check Anna Del Conte's translated Gastronomy of Italy?

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I haven't. Christmas was very good to me this year, cookbook-wise, and I wrapped up all the regional books I had been aware of until you cited this one. I'll need to finish all of those before I'd want to move on.

[Pontormo]

Yes, re dish with buckwheat noodles and savoy cabbage vs. chard.

P.S. Not worth a write-up in the other thread, but my leftovers as risotto fritto were amazingly good.

[Kevin72]

Friday night’s meal was a combo of two polenta recipes in Matt Kramer’s Passion for Piedmont: polenta with baccala topped with “acciughe verde” sauce.

This was the last of the baccala fillets from Christmas and finally, I cooked it right. Not too firm still, not overly salty, nor was is flaccid and falling apart, either. It was a very simple condimento simmered with yellow onions and a touch of water.

To top the whole dish, acciughe verde, “green anchovies”, a sauce involving three of Piemonte's beloved flavors: anchovies, garlic, and vinegar, pulsed together with parsley. Stirring a little of that into the polenta created a new, unusual flavor.

[Kevin72]

Sunday night’s meal began with a primo of risotto all’vino rosso.

It was served a little more al’onda than the Piemontese prefer their risotti. I’ve made a risotto with red wine before, but the wine itself was much less an element of the dish than it was here, where it constituted the bulk of the cooking liquid. The result was concentrated and intensely flavored risotto.

The secondo was pollo Marengo, braised chicken that is a favorite of both the Piemontese and its bordering area in France. This is the dish that Napoleon’s chef, according to folklore, scrounged up from the countryside after a decisive battle. Chicken is slowly braised with mushrooms and tomatoes (though supposedly the chef originally just fried the chicken), along with cognac and Madeira wine, then removed and set aside. Using the same pan, you sauté some bread in the drippings from the dish, then fry some eggs to top the bread, and finally finish with shrimp, standing in for freshwater prawns that were originally used.

My wife really enjoyed this one; there’s certainly a lot going on in the dish and different flavors to try together.

[Kevin72]

Saturday night was a sort of "greatest hits" dinner party for my wife's work friends. It was quite a challenge for me as I've gotten neurotically attached to to the definitely ordered meals of the past year: antipasto, primo, secondo, contorni. This one we wanted alot more casual, easy to eat kind of food. I still think I went too esoteric.

None of it was Piemontese; it skewed heavily Umbrian and Tuscan, including the ribs and this pasta rottolo. I also made baked ziti with grilled eggplant and bruschetta with three toppings: kale, beans and sundried tomatoes, and braised portabellos. I include this entry only to say that the pasta rottolo is normally topped with bechamel, and I augmented it with the leftover fonduta.

"Is that fonduta?" People kept asking me when they sampled the pasta.

Well, no, no one said that.

[Pontormo]

Whose recipe did you use for the Pollo alla Marengo?

I did a double-take when I saw the eggs and shrimp since neither are included in Kramer's book; his recipe calls for Madeira, too, along with dried porcini, stock, parsley & garlic. That kind of excess does seem to be very much within the spirit of nineteenth-century France if later than 1800.

Pellegrini's recipe (published in 1891) calls simply for dry WHITE wine and stock, then a sprinkling of parsley and lemon juice.

None of the other cookbooks at home have recipes for this dish, though one of the first things I ever made from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of... was a veal stew Marengo with tomatoes, mushrooms, orange peel and white wine.

Anna del Conte dates the recipe precisely to June 14th & calls for the shrimp, if not the eggs. Her chicken is sauteed in butter, then cooked with white wine and mushrooms. River shrimp are boiled in red wine, then added to the plate with fried bread and parsely.

Explaining how the original recipe was gussied up over time, she notes that because the Austrians captured the provisions of Napoleon's army:

"It is therefore most unlikely that the chicken was surrounded by small puff-pastry shapes, or that tomatoes were added to the sauce, particularly as tomatoes were virtually unknown in Piedmont at the time. It seems probable that these two additions were made by Escoffier when he annotated the recipe." [in Gastronomy of Italy (New York: 1987): 257.]

Many Italian online sources include both the eggs and shrimp, including those devoted exclusively to Piemonte.

[Adam Balic]

Some earlier discussion on the origins of the recipe

[Kevin72]

Whose recipe did you use for the Pollo alla Marengo?

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To further bastardize an already bastardized and somewhat controversial dish (see Adam's link for an interesting thread from the cooking board), I combined the elements of Kramer's recipe with those found in Ada Boni's Italian Regional Cooking book, Culinaria:Italy, and Marlena di Blasi's Regional Foods of Northern Italy cookbook. All three of the latter are nearly identical, and do offer prawns/shrimp and eggs. The madeira and cognac comes from Kramer's book; the other three sources do indeed use white wine for the primary braise, then either finish it with lemon juice (Boni and Culinaria) or again, cognac (di Blasi).

[Pontormo]

Thanks for reply. I bumped up that interesting thread in the Cooking forum, thanks to Adam's reference, with a link to your photograph.

[Kevin72]

Last week I tried the Valpellinentze soup from Val d’Aosta that Eden and NathanP attempted earlier this month on the Piemonte/Val d’Aosta thread. Both mentioned being worried about how well leftovers would hold up, and recalling not-too-fondly how long my bread soup lasted when I made it in Tuscany, I made essentially a cabbage soup separately with onion, butter, cinnamon, a huge head of cabbage, and four smoked pork shanks to flavor the dish. It was then just ladled over more of the whole grain bread I made earlier this month and topped with fontina. If I had ovenproof bowls, I most certainly would have broiled these to get a nice browned cheese topping:

So again, not so appealing looking. It’s not found everywhere, but a couple of recipes recommend adding red wine at the very end of cooking and I think it really livened up the dish’s long-cooked, muted flavors. In the time it took me to take pictures of the dish and then get it to the table, the bread had soaked up all the broth, so it actually had a similar effect to baking the whole thing as with the authentic recipes. And the bread's flavors, too, go very well with the soup and lent their sturdy, almost smokey flavors to the dish.

[Kevin72]

This weekend, I did a couple of blowout feasts to wrap up the whole project and celebrate the final meals.

Saturday night was a dinner party with work friends and I decided to mark the occasion with that dish which epitomizes both refined dining and comforting, familial feasting at once: bollito misto.

But, first, to start the meal, bagna cauda, the “hot bath” of olive oil, butter, anchovies, and garlic that you then dip the region’s famed grissini (breadsticks) and raw vegetables into.

(It was then served in little individual bowls, not out of that pot). Here again, note the favored flavors of the Piemontese worked into the dish: garlic and anchovies. And yes, if available, the whole is then blanketed with truffle shavings. I used Matt Kramer’s recipe for the most part as the basis of the recipe. Kramer advocates cooking the dish very slowly for an hour to really tame the rough garlic flavors and suffuse the butter and oil with the rich flavors. He also, as with the garlic soup, urges what I think is far too much garlic: one head per person! I went with a head and half for 6 people and it was plenty. As I have a gas burner and have troubles getting it to a low enough temp to not scorch the garlic, I instead put the pot in an oven on the “keep warm” setting: 160F. Having made this a couple times before, I find that all the butter and olive oil kind of weigh things down, even with garlic and anchovies in there to perk the dish up, so I add just a splash of vinegar to liven up the dish. Interestingly, Kramer gives a variation with red wine in his book, so maybe (well hopefully at least) I’m not so far off base with that flourish.

So there’s the grissini in the back (brutto, like Hathor’s!) then carrots, red pepper, and steamed cardoons. Most recipes call for them to be raw, but no way that would work with the big, fibrous monsters we get here. I gotta say, cardoons just aren’t doing it for me. I vastly prefer artichokes (my favorite vegetable, in fact); these just aren’t worth all the effort, and when cooked they have a somewhat unpleasant, limpid, vaguely metallic flavor, unlike the nutty sweetness of artichokes.

So, the bollito misto and primo. While bollito misto is considered at its best and most extravagant in Piemonte, I added some tweaks from Emilia-Romagna.

For the primo: angolotti in brodo.

I don’t think it’s traditional to serve them in a broth; maybe at the most you reduce a flavorful stock and sauce them, or even more typically, they are sauced with butter and sage. Mario Batali has said that some ristoranti in Piemonte only serve them in a kerchief, no sauce at all! These were obviously made shortly after Thanksgiving, back when I was doing Emilia-Romagna: the filling was leftover roasted capon and some of the roasted veal from earlier in that month, as well, along with either prosciutto or mortadella, and parmigiano. Okay, so, really, these aren’t even agnolotti; except that I did make the dough with only egg yolks. And the broth, obviously, is from the bollito.

My version of bollito misto, which has evolved over time to be some feast we make during the Holidays, leaves out the more exotic ingredients: calves’ head or tongue, though I was tempted on the latter given FoodMan and azereus’s successes with it this past month. Still, it would have been a tough sell on everyone at the party, my wife included. What does go into mine: beef (chuck steak this time; I find that beef is always the weakest player in the bollito), cotechino, pork spareribs that have been separately blanched to leach out some of their fat, and Cornish game hens. Normally, capon is called for in a bollito, but even my stockpot isn’t big enough to hold one of those monsters, and I’m not splurging for one just to boil it.

To accompany the meats: balsamic syrup and salsa verde, which I make with mustard, chives, mint, fennel fronds, vinegar, capers, and olive oil. Tastes outstanding with the game hens in particular.

This is a really, really good dish. Like the equally mythic ragu Bolognese, I first read about this in Marcella Hazan’s Classic Italian Cookbook and it fascinated me from the start; her intro for the recipe goes on a couple of pages, and she quotes lavishly from “The Passionate Epicure” to make her point as to how far beyond the name of the dish the final product really goes. It’s fun to always introduce it by calling it “boiled meat” to guests and then watch them get won over after hearing such a plain title. The cotechino has, every time, been the standout hit of the meal and there’s always a tense moment when there’s only a couple slices left.

After the meal, a tart salad of bitter greens is a must to get the digestion going. I tossed fennel slices (a known digestive aid) and oranges in with radicchio and arugula and a balsamic vinaigrette.

Finally, inspired by the many great attempts at Hazelnut cake on the Piemonte thread, I gave it a spin myself, this one being the chocolate variation in Kramer’s book.

I used baking powder, though, instead of yeast which Kramer goes for. This wasn’t too dry, either, but the chocolate did dominate and wash out the hazelnut flavors. I had originally intended to serve it with zabaglione as posters have done on the other thread, but ran out of time and stovetop space.

[Kevin72]

Sunday night’s meal was a little celebration with my wife and I: seven years together. The items were not so much strictly Piemontese, but definitely inspired by the region.

We started with a gratin of the leftover peppers and cardoons from the previous night. I layered the vegetables with some leftover bagna cauda, then topped the whole with béchamel and baked for 20 minutes in a very hot oven.

The next was a “ravioloni” stuffed with blue cheese and topped with mostarda. To lighten up the pungent punch of the blue, I mixed in ricotta as well. There was also just a little bit of butter and broth cooked together to moisten the pasta.

Last was duck breast “martini style”, in a nod again to Piemonte being the home of vermouth. The duck breast was marinated overnight with white wine, ample juniper berries, and thyme, then seared, outside again on the cast iron skillet atop the burner attachment on my grill. A pan sauce was made with the strained marinade, a little broth, shallots, butter, and ample dry vermouth.

Here’s another region where I’ve really given the short end to desserts, and this time, it’s not for lack of recipes. We’re still living off of Christmas cookies!

[Kevin72]

The last meal.

I chose for this one not something so extravagant, but a perfect example of why I love Italian food, culture, and cooking so: pasta with leftovers. I saved a bit of the brassato and a bit of the lamb from earlier in the month in my freezer, reconstituted them a bit with white wine and broth, augmented them with peas, and tossed them with buttery tajarin noodles, then topped the whole with grated parmigiano. Suddenly, what would have been a mundane meal of leftovers for the third night in a row becomes wholly different. A new way to celebrate the same food again. And that’s what’s great about Italian food.

[Kevin72]

Pure self-indulgent geekery to follow; read at your own risk.

Observations and reflections on the year:

Most Fun month: Sicily. I was absolutely giddy when I started cooking from this region in July, and a number of times just found myself grinning widely while cooking as one new, exciting, enticing aroma after another filled my kitchen. Every dish and meal was an adventure; I got a chance to cook a lot of stuff I was always curious about and try a number of new and different flavors.

Biggest Surprise: Liguria. I originally chose an abbreviated month, March (our trip to Italy took up the first half), to do Liguria since I originally figured I’d run out of things to cook. Instead, after reading Fred Plotkin’s Recipes From Paradise, I found myself with a whole bounty of dishes I never even got to get to. Very light, fragrant, and delicate: you can definitely see how the Mediterranean Cooking boom of the ‘90s had a number of influences from this region. It’s perfect spring and summer cooking and will definitely get added to my roster of go-to regions.

Most unusual: Friuli Venezia-Giulia. About the furthest I’ve gone from Italian cooking that could still be called Italian. Horseradish, sauerkraut, baked ham in pastry crust, rye bread dumplings, plums, gulasch. . . . but yet no heavy-handedness, lots of delicate flavors and restraint running through each dish. Now that we’re back in the winter I find myself nostalgic for that month and wanting to start there all over again.

Biggest Frustration: Tuscany. Nothing endemic to the region itself, just a mid-month run of bad luck caused me to botch a bunch of dishes that I’ve done before and know could’ve been standouts. It started and ended well enough, but in between I just kept screwing up.

Biggest Disappointment: Abruzzo. I’ll own up to the fact that I probably didn’t give this region its full due since from mid-June on I was chomping at the bit to get to Sicily. Too, I messed up some of the key traditional dishes. And it was unseasonably hot, which really sapped the appetite for some of the more robust fare. Hathor very astutely pointed out once that so many of the simple, rural cuisines (Puglia, Abruzzo, Umbria) don’t travel well because they are so dependent on local ingredients. That said, there’s not much out there on this region, supposedly home to some of Italy’s best cooks, and by month’s end I was really scraping the bottom for things to cook.

Favorite Meals: The Bologna Kickoff Meal, with Tagliatelle al’ Ragu, is always a favorite. Just about all of the Sicily meals. The “chili assault” meal that began the Calabria/Basilicata month. These two antipasti meals from Puglia (one,two). Rome’s fried artichokes, bucatini all’amatriciani, and lamb scotaditti. Real Fetuccini Alfredo needs to be carefully monitored, regulated, and distributed by some sort of neutral medical board. The baked ham in crust, fricco, and gnocchi di cjalson is a perfect example of Friulian cooking. The Valentine’s Menu from Venice, and also the Scallop Frittata, Baked Spaghetti and shrimp, and sea bass in potato crust . Despite the baccala drama, the Vigilia meal is worth the anticipation and effort. Umbria’s rib meal is a must for us right around the start of fall. My wife wants me to make piadine again, soon. I quite enjoyed our St. Joseph's Day Ligurian repast. La Fiorentina never fails to satisfy, provided I don’t scorch the hell out of it.

Worst, biggest mistakes, frustrations, etc:

The shriveled, tough baked portabello cap I made earlier this month for my Piemontese antipasti meal. The duck from Abruzzo dish from my birthday was flabby, fatty, undercooked, and lacked any depth of flavor despite the number of herbs rubbed on it. The "soft, softer, softest of all" lamb that was rock hard from a critical mistake on my part, also from Abruzzo. These chestnut gnocchi, made with rancid chestnut flour, were probably the worst single thing I made all year: we didn’t even make it through the first serving! The Ligurian fritters that were leaden and absorbed an obscene amount of oil when frying. The cod that fell apart when it hit the oil for the Christmas Eve meal. The fritters and mushroom torta from my Puglia meal attempting to recreate Tempo Perso’s food. From my “October Curse” in Tuscany: undercooked quail with tough pancetta and bland polenta; the bitter, hard, first attempt at panforte, the game hens with a lovingly made marsala and lemon sauce that vaporized to nothing in a too-hot oven (conversely, however, the mushroom papardelle that began the meal were a favorite from the month).

Edited January 31, 2006 by Kevin72 (log)