Side dishes have an important role in Italian cuisine. These, often vegetarian, preparations are meant as an accompaniment to a second course, whether it’s meat or fish, a piatto freddo (literally, cold dish) of cheese and/or cold cuts, or a vegetarian preparation. To have a side of braised fennel was common in my family while growing up, and I now make it regularly.
Fennel is known for its aromatic seeds and as a vegetable consisting of the lower part of its stalks, which form an enlarged bulb-shaped bundle(1). As the stalks separate, they become fibrous and are discarded in cooking. Fennel belongs to the umbellifers family along with celery (which it visually resembles), carrots, parsnip, parsley, cilantro, dill, anise, and other plants which tend to produce flowers in umbrella-shaped clusters.
Fennel bulb (raw)
Fennel has a strong anise aroma due to the presence of anethole, an organic compound also found in anise seeds. Some say that fennel tastes like licorice, but this is really because many licorice candies are flavored with anise.
Nutritionally, fennel is a good source of vitamins (e.g.: C, A), minerals (e.g.: potassium, manganese), as well as carbohydrates in the form of dietary fiber (non-digestible) and sugar (3.9% in weight).
Fennel is consumed raw (e.g.: thinly sliced and added to salads) or cooked (e.g.: roasted, braised, or au gratin). In this recipe:
I sliced the fennel perpendicularly to its fibers to tenderize it.
I pan roasted it in olive oil and butter to caramelize the sugars and develop flavor through browning.
Then, I added salt to enhance the flavor and to extract some water (via osmosis).
Allowed the fennel to braise in its own juice covered with a lid at a low temperature.
Interrupted the cooking after 15-20 minutes or when the fennel was cooked through but still had a slightly fibrous texture.
Braised Fennel
Yield: 2 servings
Total Time: 25 minutes
Prep Time: 5 minutes
Cook Time: 20 minutes
side dish
Ingredients
2 fennel bulbs
1/2 Tbsp butter
1/2 Tbsp olive oil
Salt
Preparation
Slice the fennel perpendicularly to its fibers, discarding the stalks.
In a non-stick pan, warm up olive oil and butter, then add the fennel.
Roast the fennel at a high temperature, tossing and flipping it frequently.
Add a pinch of salt, lower the temperature, cover with a lid, and allow the fennel to braise.
Cook for 15-20 minutes, stirring from time to time, just until the fennel is cooked through.
Back in May 2014, I published an unusual episode of Thoughts on the Table, but also an episode that meant a lot to me. I had just returned from a trip to Italy, where I had a chance to record a conversation with my grandmother, Chiara, on her life in northern Italy during World War II. In this conversation, I realized that I didn’t actually know most of these stories, so I asked a lot of questions focusing specifically on food and cooking during those difficult times.
This post presents the same interview in textual form.
Grandma Chiara has since turned 95, she still lives in her home and is doing great.
I wanted to ask you a few questions on when you were young, so we're talking about… You were born in 1920, right?
Chiara
Oh, I have to say my age? Well, I was born in 1920, so, in 1941 the war began. When I turned 25, the war ended.
Paolo
And what did you have to eat during the fascism?
Chiara
Well, during fascism, before the war, people used to live well. It's when the war started, that scarcity began. Scarcity of food, and the bombing of the wagons that transported food… Uncle Mario, my brother also fought in that war (World War II), when I got married he hadn't returned home yet. Instead my father fought in another war (World War I). Mussolini, il Duce, used to hold speeches in the squares – it was a mess…
Paolo
And so, during the war, how was it? What did you manage to eat?
Chiara
During the war we ate what we could – not everyone had enough even for basic needs. For me, in the home I grew up in, near Milan, before the war, I didn't suffer hunger because farmers had everything – we had bread, because we had flour, and also we used to raise our own cattle… Pigs we didn't have but other farmers did… and when they used to kill a pig there was a lot to eat. Take those farmers with pigs – they were able to raise the pigs because they had hay, bran, all those things. So when they killed the pig they had food in abundance. But there were also families which didn't even have bread to eat.
Paolo
But was there a "minimum" provided by the government? Did you use to have a rations badge?
Chiara
Yes, the badge was established by the government of war – that set amount of food per person: e.g. 100 g of bread per day, one kg or 2 of rice however often they gave it to you (must have been 2 months, 3 months – whenever the truck arrived, with 2 cardboard boxes of rice, those with the badge would get it – the last ones in line sometimes had to return empty-handed). But there was also the black market – those who could get oil under the table, maybe from warehouses, I don't know where they used to get it from, it was really expensive, but at least you could get it.
Chiara
During the war your grandpa used to work with a person whose father worked on the railway. On the railway line from Milan to Switzerland, they used to put salt on the tracks – for winter when there was ice, so the trains wouldn’t slip. The father of this friend of grandpa – he used to collect the salt! He brought home big sacks of 4 or 5 kg. We used that salt for cooking – because there was no salt otherwise, they gave you maybe a 100 g of salt per month – so, you know what we used to do? That salt from the tracks, we used to boil it in water, then we strained it, and it would turn out still brown, because it was from the railway and there was iron in it! My father in law used to use a cloth as a strainer… and it was still full of debris! They used to put it into a jar, and we had it there to salt the food during cooking… like 1 or 2 tablespoons for every time that we made pasta, or soup, or something that needed salt. So it was salty water that we used to collect from the tracks… Look what I have seen!
Paolo
No, I wouldn't have guessed that you had to do that… How was the kitchen? Did you have a wood stove?
Chiara
Yes, we had a wooden stove.
Paolo
Was it easy to find wood?
Chiara
Wood, we used to go to the bushes. And heating was also wood… nobody had heaters… maybe the rich? Perhaps they already had it. But us, the farmers, we had just a wood stove… or the fireplace – not even the stove! I didn’t have a stove until the last years, before getting married. Before there was only the fireplace. And we would go get wood in the bushes, long thin branches, with thorns. At home we had big chests in the corner for storing wood. When we had to start the fire, we would go get some of those branches, we would break them up (poking our fingers with the thorns), and also we would use some straw – we always had it from harvesting the wheat and rye.
Chiara
We used to hang the cauldron on the fireplace, and it turned all black underneath, and then we used to get burnt flying debris, that would end up in the food. Any time you used to make soup or pasta, or you boiled water to make soup, there were those things in it, the things that when you burn wood fly in the air…
Paolo
So you had your own wheat… did you make your bread?
Chiara
Yes, I did make bread.
Paolo
So this is because you were farmers and had flour?
Chiara
Yes, because we were farmers and farmers didn't suffer as much from hunger because had the land and cattle. But those who used to work in factories had more issues finding food.
Paolo
But the government, did they ever take some of your harvest? Did you have to pay taxes on your harvest?
Chiara
No, there was nothing to pay – whatever the farmer wanted to cultivate for themselves on their land, they were allowed to. With the rations badge you would pay for what food you bought, but it was cheap. Though there wasn't much to buy, so the amounts allowed to each person were very limited… There was also the black market, the black market was expensive because it was dangerous… if they caught you selling things, they would put you into jail…
Chiara
Like for example those who had the pig. If they ate it and keep it in the family, that's one thing, if they sold it in the black market then it's a different story: if the authorities found out they could have come to confiscate everything.
Paolo
Anyway, was there any meat from time to time?
Chiara
Ohh, meat – there was 100 g per week.
Paolo
This with the badge?
Chiara
Yes, with the badge.
Paolo
And outside of that? When they killed a pig was there extra?
Chiara
Yes, but it wasn't much. In fact our cow once had a calf – are you recording? – that then the calf died. So my father wanted to eat it, but you had to get the city veterinarian's approval that it was OK to eat. So the veterinarian came and said: "No, you have to dispose of it, throw it in the cesspit". So my father threw it out in front of the veterinarian. Then he waited until he exited the gate and he pulled the calf out. We washed it inside and out and we ate it.
Paolo
What did you use to cook for dinner? Let's say, a common meal? A bit of everything?
Chiara
Oh… in my home there wasn't much to eat… also because they weren't really good cooks. We used to prepare big pots of soup, and that's what we used to eat. We had soup, we cut down bread slices and soak them with milk or hot water and ate them. And then we had chickens – those we ate, boiled. And for Christmas – look what we had to do to make a bit of money – we used to raise ducks. So my father, to make a bit of money which we really needed, he used to keep one duck for us and another 4 or 5 he sold to people he knew, before Christmas. Every year we had those who we used to sell the duck to. But they would pay for it. It would be now, let's say, 10 Euros. Those days it would have been 1, 2, 3 Lira, it wasn't much but it was to have a bit of extra… Life was hard, really.
Paolo
And then, with the money, we're you able to buy some extras?
Chiara
Yes, also something to wear… Also: there was no soap! They used to give me the sugar badge and…
Chiara
Paolo, on Saturdays, when I was riding my bike home after work, to be able to have soap to wash clothes, to wash ourselves, to wash the sheets, we didn’t use the kilogram of sugar that they used to give us monthly. But instead, my coworkers and I, who used to work together on the looms, we had a store in town that would take the sugar and give us soap, or a bit of money. For instance, for 1 Kg of sugar we would get a piece of soap. The soap they used to make themselves, with animal fat – not like the soap that we have now… it was what it was – we used it to wash clothes… Look what we had to do in war times…
Paolo
So, sometimes you had excess sugar, that you didn't need, and you traded it for soap or money…
Chiara
Yes, for us using sugar seemed like a waste, we had more use for a piece of soap to wash ourselves, to do laundry… soap was more useful, they didn’t give you soap.
Paolo
Maybe for those who had kids, they needed more sugar.
Chiara
Yes, probably. Soap: you use it all the time – when they came home from the fields, all dirty, the clothes all covered in dirt… you needed soap. With a brush and some soap you cleaned them a bit. There was no laundry machine; it was a "disaster".
Paolo
Well, off course – there was no hot water, right?
Chiara
Hot water?! No, the water was always cold. There were those who used to wash clothes with ash, the fireplace ash.
Paolo
How could they wash with ash?
Chiara
I'm asking you!… they used to boil it, then strain the water and use it to wash – they used to say that things turned out clean… I don’t know.. . My mother never used ash – we always were able to go get some soap.
Paolo
And also you were saying that there used to be curfew. RightÉ
Chiara
Yes, but what I am telling you right now refers to the first period of the war – then towards the end we started to live a bit better… I don’t know why. In the month of April 1945 there was the armistice and thing gradually improved. Then from April to September (the actual end of the war), we started to live better those months… provisions started to arrive, there was no more curfew, and food started to be available. I remember I was in the field with my father and I heard church bells from all neighboring towns… And one person was coming on a bicycle saying "the war has ended! It's over, it's over!" This was the month of April. I got married the 12 of May – the month after. My brother (uncle Mario) was serving in the war and he couldn't come in time for my wedding. He came home in September when they started to discharge the soldiers (those who didn't die, of course).
Paolo
I see, and then the post war times – how was it? I know there was crisis…
Chiara
Yes, for some time there was crisis, but then jobs started to resume, the factories started to increase in number… I was OK, I never stopped working.
Paolo
So the crisis in the first after war you didn't feel it?
Chiara
No, we were ok, we didn't lose our jobs, there was no unemployment – we, my family and friends, all worked. I remember that during war times they used to take us to the city square, in Arconate where the plant was, on the street to Busto Arsizio, they used to take us to the square because Mussolini was speaking. And he used to go up on a balcony of a house in the square, and repeat in the microphone: "Believe! Fight! Obey! – Believe! Fight! Obey!" And it was loud, speakers everywhere…
Paolo
How many times did you have to see him? Did the dictator come around often?
Chiara
Yeah, he came – during war times il Duce was in command – he was the dictator. And us, in the factory, along with those that used to live in the area, other factories (foundries, mechanical) used to gather in the square to listen to him. He was talking about the war; and he was talking about the rations badge: "We will give you a badge…" Every now and then he would talk, there was a set day: in the factory they used to put out a sign, like: "this Wednesday at 3pm, il Duce will speak in the square", they used to stop all work, stop the looms, and get all workers out to the square. And the square was full of people, and he was up high on a balcony, with the flag, and he talked. He used to say all that was happening, for example: "we will give you the rations badge, don't worry – now we are at this stage of the war…". And he continued talking all throughout the war… until they caught him, and they killed him! He had a mistress named Petacci and "donna Rachele", his wife. And the story continued that way, until the end of the war. Then in September everything ended and we could all do what we wanted again. Before, there was the curfew and we had to cover all lamps in black fabric, so you wouldn't be seen, also in our home. This was so we wouldn't be seen by the airplanes. Because when they were coming we had to escape to the fields! During war time, when we heard the airplanes we ran to the fields in our pajamas – my father used to take me inside the irrigation canals, because we were worried that they would bomb and kill us. So without flashlights or anything we used to go down on our knees to hide until there was the end of the alarm… this because before the airplanes arrived they used to sound a siren "uuuuu…" and then go! We were all running to escape. You used to see everyone running to the fields. So, we were going into the fields, lying down on the ground. In Milan they bombed – so much bombardment there, also in Legnano – Milan though it was very bad.
Paolo
So the big cities, the most populated centers were bombed more, whereas the countryside was left more alone.
Chiara
So when we were hearing the alarms, we were ready – the head of the family always had a bag with the documents, the little money that he had and all the documents demonstrating property of the house, any insurance, etc. Because – if they were to bomb the house, you would have ended up with nothing. You wouldn't have had anything that said that it was your house – so they had a bag with all the important documents.
Paolo
Grandma, you know I did not know all these things… Thank you so much, very interesting – and also hearing from your voice was incredible. Thank you, we are closing here the recording – then when it comes out I will let you know, OK?
Back in March 2014, I had the pleasure of having Frank Fariello (Memorie di Angelina) on a podcast. In the episode, we discussed the differences between Italian-American cooking and the food of Italy, a topic on which Frank is remarkably insightful, being a third generation Italian-American who lived in Rome for 10 years.
This post presents the same interview in textual form as an enjoyable read, and as a searchable reference.
Hello, and welcome to the audioblog. Paolo here again for another episode. Today I have a special guest with me, Frank Fariello from the fantastic blog, Memorie di Angelina. Hi, Frank. Good morning.
Frank Fariello
Hey Paolo, how are you doing?
Paolo Rigiroli
Good. Thanks so much for accepting to connect with me. It’s an honor.
Frank Fariello
Oh, it’s my pleasure.
Paolo Rigiroli
Frank accepted to be interviewed, and I have prepared a lot of questions. I’m sure, like me, you’ll be very interested to know his answers. We want to know a lot more about you, Frank.
Frank Fariello
Uh oh…
Paolo Rigiroli
So let’s start from, of course, from you. Do you want to introduce yourself to our listeners?
Frank Fariello
Sure, why not? My name is Frank, as you know. I’ve got an Italian last name, Fariello. I am from New York originally. I was born in New York City actually, but lived in the suburban part of New York for most of my childhood. I am a lawyer by training and by profession, and still continue to practice law, but I’ve spent a great deal of my adult life outside of the United States. I actually took some time off [from the profession]. I was thinking about leaving the law at a certain point in my life. I had about ten years under my belt as a corporate lawyer in New York and was kind of tired of the rat race.
Paolo Rigiroli
I see.
Frank Fariello
So I took some time off. I was thinking about becoming a professional chef. Cooking has always been my passion. I went and lived for a few years in Paris. There are great hotel schools, as you probably know, in Switzerland, in the French speaking part of the country. So my plan was to go to France, perfect my French, and then go on to [the Hotel School in] Lausanne. As you know, that was [where] one of the great Italian chefs of the time… a Milanese, named Gualtiero Marchesi [had been trained].
Paolo Rigiroli
Oh yeah, of course. Super famous.
Frank Fariello
Do remember him? Very famous. A little bit controversial, I understand, among some Italians. They called him “Il Francese” because he had a certain different way of approaching Italian cooking, but I had studied his work and found him quite inspiring. I knew that he had gone to Lausanne, to the [hotel] school there and wanted to kind of follow in his footsteps.
Frank Fariello
In any event, [I never made it to Lausanne.] I was [in Paris] for a couple years, then lived in Vienna for a couple more years. At that point, I had returned to the practice of law. Some old colleagues from New York had convinced me to get back into the profession, and they were based in Vienna and Moscow, so I was doing some work there. Then, in about 1995, so this is going back a few years, I saw an ad in the paper for an international organization based on Rome. Of course, I’m an international lawyer by trade, [but my practice had been in private international law]. I had always been interested in [practicing public international law] in an international organization. I applied [for the job] and “only” 9 months later, I was hired. I went down there and spent 10 years living in Rome.
Paolo Rigiroli
In Rome, in the city.
Frank Fariello
Yeah. That was a fantastic thing. I had always kind of wanted to… It sounds like a cliché of course, but wanted to sort of discover my roots. Actually, my roots are not in Rome, they’re farther south in Campania and Puglia. But still, it was a great opportunity. So I took it.
Paolo Rigiroli
Very interesting that you were at one point pursuing the career of becoming a chef, and considered changing [job] entirely. You know, it takes a lot of courage to do that. I’m not surprised that you were pulled back…
Frank Fariello
Yeah, well it takes a lot of courage, and maybe that’s why I didn’t do it ultimately!
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, but you did do something else. You started writing this blog that has become the most popular blog about Italian food today. So it is a fantastic achievement, and it obviously speaks to the quality of your work. I’m not surprised to see that your interest went as far as to bring you to Paris. So that really makes a lot of sense now.
Frank Fariello
Yeah. Thanks. Yeah, it is a great… That’s one of the great things about the blog. It allows me to enjoy the [culinary] world without, of course, the back breaking work and the horrendous hours of actually being a restaurateur.
Paolo Rigiroli
I see. Well, I’m sure it takes up a lot of time anyway, but certainly it is a different activity. Yes, I can see that. So when did you start Memorie di Angelina?
Frank Fariello
Well, it actually started out when I joined Facebook.
Paolo Rigiroli
Oh.
Frank Fariello
I didn’t set out to be a blogger, to be honest. I joined Facebook and, like a lot of people on Facebook, I started discovering old friends from high school and college and law school and all the rest of it. I decided I wanted to share some recipes with my friends, so I started posting recipes to my profile. That was a lot of fun and people were enjoying the recipes, but I was frustrated by the platform. It wasn’t really as flexible as I wanted it to be, so I cast around [for ideas] and decided to start a blog. Just for my friends, initially. That was the only ambition I had was to continue sharing those recipes, but to do it in a way that was easier to get the point across. And… the rest is history. The blog got some attention and, next thing I know, 5 years later I’m still blogging!
Paolo Rigiroli
Yes, and thank you for that. It’s a great resource for me as a cook, and of course a great point of reference (that I often quote) to talk about what I talk about, which is authenticity and Italian food of Italy today, which is something that has become sort of my battle – so to speak – to try and fix Italian food in North America. As you know, my battle is against the type of Italian-American food that is not advertised as such. I have respect for Italian-American cuisine, but I really think it should be called for what it is. I’m all for certification as well to try and, whenever possible, certify Italian food – continental Italian food of Italy today – as such. And I applaud any kind of certification like Pizza Verace, which is a great association based in Naples that certifies around the world, and Tuscanicious, which by the way you were just recently awarded. Congratulations.
Frank Fariello
Yes. Well thank you. That was a tremendous honor for me. It’s a great validation of the work I’m doing… My blog is about Italian cooking of all kinds, not really focused on Tuscan cooking in particular, so the award was, in a sense, a surprise. But a wonderful one.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, it is a great honor, and you deserve so much. So yeah, authenticity is important, but I also find that many of those self-proclaimed Italian restaurants simply serve food that is just plain bad food. That is really sad to me. I really think that there is such thing as good food and bad food in general, and in fact a lot of my friends who actually have been to Italy told me that they really liked the real Italian food so much better. Which may signify that there is an absolute value to flavor. I don’t know how you feel about that.
Frank Fariello
I certainly agree. All kinds of cooking can be good, and I enjoy all different kinds of cooking. But I firmly believe there is such a thing as good food and bad food. Even as a kid, I remember comparing the Italian food that you might have in a restaurant with the food that my grandmother made, and I knew liked my grandmother’s food a lot better! To some extent, Italian food is a victim of its own popularity. And unfortunately restaurateurs-some of them who should know better, others who perhaps don’t-take advantage of that popularity to frankly make a buck on the cheap. I hate to put it that harshly, but I think in some cases that’s what it is.
Paolo Rigiroli
It’s marketing.
Frank Fariello
Yeah.
Paolo Rigiroli
Following a popular trend. When you say “Italian,” it seems to sell more. Right now they’re starting to say “Tuscan” or you know, “Sicilian,” trying to go down to the region which makes it [sound] even more authentic.
Frank Fariello
Yes, indeed. I don’t know if you know Nicoletta Tavella – she’s a fellow blogger. She also has a cooking school in Amsterdam, and I heard an interview with her with an Italian radio or TV… I can’t remember which. She was talking about some of the funny products that they sell in Holland, like “Tuscan pesto”, whatever that might be! So this is not just North America where this kind of thing happens. As you say, “Tuscan” has that caché. Never mind that there is no such thing as Tuscan pesto. But anyway…
Paolo Rigiroli
So Frank, speaking of authentic food, I would like to go back a little bit to your grandmother. Because you’re a third generation Italian-American, but yet you seem to have such a precise image of Italian food. Yours is not distorted at all. I’m Italian born and raised there. I spent my first 30 years there. I read you… I really cannot detect any difference in how I would describe it. You just describe it better than I would. It’s true.
Frank Fariello
That’s very kind of you to say. I think I have two advantages maybe over other Americans or other foreigners who are pursuing [the study of Italian cuisine]. One is I actually grew up with Italian cooking. My grandmother is the reason why my blog is called the way it is. It’s a tribute to her, because she really imprinted those flavors on my palate, if I can put it that way.
Paolo Rigiroli
That’s a good way [to put it].
Frank Fariello
At a very tender age, it’s so natural. She was special because she did not [compromise on authenticity]. Of course, she was first generation, and there’s a big difference as the generations proceed, in terms of assimilation and adaptation. She made her dishes just as she learned them growing up in Italy, in that small town in Campania. I verified that when I went to Italy and ate those same dishes, some of which I didn’t realize existed outside of my grandmother’s kitchen, by the way. I was almost shocked to see them on menus, in store windows. I remember once, it was around Christmas time, and we went down to the Amalfi coast for a vacation to get away from Rome for a bit, and I looked in a pastry shop window and found my grandmother’s honey balls: Truffoli! I had no idea they actually existed other than as an invention my grandmother had made. But she recreated all of those things, and quite well, I think, given what she had to work with. Of course she had to make some compromises, because not all ingredients were available in the US, especially back in those days. The other thing, of course, is that I spent 10 years living in Italy. That’s irreplaceable, too.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yes.
Frank Fariello
You know, getting to know Italian cooking, especially Rome because that’s where I was. But I liked to travel a lot, all throughout the country. And being a foodie, the first thing I wanted to do was try the local dishes. I used to ask people, “What should I try?” and “How do you make this?” And I’m an avid collector of cookbooks.
Paolo Rigiroli
Oh, I see.
Frank Fariello
Anywhere I went, I always bought a little local cookbook to find out what the local dishes were and try to recreate them when I get home and all of that.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, and I love how you put these cookbooks as reference in your blog posts whenever you can, because… you can quote them, and use the collective knowledge that they accumulated into themselves. So we were talking about adaptation and the fact that Italian food sometimes, as generations go by, changes. Evolves. Why do you think this is happening? Is it a matter of adapting to the local palate, or is it more the fact that the ingredients are not available, or that the ingredients are different?
Frank Fariello
That’s a good question. I think originally, of course, it was about availability of ingredients. I think if you look at first generation, Italian Americans in particular, that was a big thing. [And then some differences reflect an expression of the diaspora community.] I sometimes talk about Italian American cooking as a sort of celebration of plenty. This is immigrant cooking, so it was made by people who came from very humble backgrounds. Certainly in my family that was the case. [They celebrated] the fact that they now could afford to have meat any time they wanted. So Sunday dinners were often kind of “meat fests”: We’d have the pasta dish, dressed with Neapolitan ragu`, with sausages and beef and all these other things… And then yet another meat course would come after that, usually roast chicken or something of this kind. So it’s a lot about just kind of enjoying the fact you can afford to have all of this food that perhaps back home you couldn’t. That’s of course the first generation.
Frank Fariello
I think the second generation is a bit different. And I saw this also, by the way, in reverse when I was living in Italy. Children of immigrants put a huge premium on fitting in and assimilating, and feeling that they were part of the country they were born in. Sometimes even almost in opposition to their parents’ generation.
Paolo Rigiroli
Oh yeah.
Frank Fariello
You’ve seen this probably–
Paolo Rigiroli
I have seen this. I know a lot of Italians. They have Italian last names so I approach them in the workplace, and often they actually… reject their origins. They don’t speak Italian, pretty much by choice. Yeah. It’s strange, but in a way, it’s assimilation. It is forcing yourself to stop being typecast, because I suppose it happens.
Frank Fariello
Absolutely. I think that that goes for the cooking as well, and eating habits and the rest. You kind of, you want to be kind of more American than the Americans.
Paolo Rigiroli
Right.
Frank Fariello
Of course, when you try to go back and recreate the dishes, that’s going to have an influence. And then there’s the third generation… I’m third generation – I think there’s a bifurcation here, because there’s some, like myself, who kind of want to recapture something.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Frank Fariello
Then there are others who just kind of keep on going and proceed with further Americanization, to the point where basically, other than the name, they are more or less indistinguishable from any other Americans.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, absolutely. The problem is that some of them own a restaurant…
Frank Fariello
Yeah. Yes. That’s when things go awry!
Paolo Rigiroli
I saw this thing just yesterday. We were in this Italian café, I’m not going to say the name, and they had “Italian burgers”, okay? (You don’t see Frank, but he’s shocked!) With a side of pasta, of course (!) And I really like the place, actually. I go back there because they make really good omelettes, actually. They cook something that is not really an Italian dish, but they do it really well, and I really like them. But then they do these things… Just because they call themselves Italian, I think.
Frank Fariello
Yeah, that’s the marketing thing again. You sprinkle a little oregano on top of it or a little melted mozzarella or whatever, and suddenly it’s Italian this or that.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, I know. What’s even worse is when you throw in ingredients that totally don’t fit in with a dish. You just posted today your carbonara, and you talk about cream as a common addition in North America, into carbonara. Obviously, that does not belong in the dish. It’s totally unnecessary, it changes it entirely. You know, in this case, the addition of ingredients is done in the attempt to… I don’t know, make the dish more rich. To make it more flavorful. I don’t know. What do you think?
Frank Fariello
Well… I think that’s often very true, and I agree about the cream. I think it actually, if anything, takes flavor away. But yeah, it’s probably meant to make the dish richer and more [appealing]. Again, this celebration of plenty that I talk about, and it can go a bit too far. It becomes almost an overdoing- extravagant. That’s true for example, in the use of herbs and spices and so on, which in fact is, as of course you know very well, not at all typical of good Italian cooking. Just the opposite. It’s all about discretion and balance.
Paolo Rigiroli
And balance. And I think, you know, the problem probably is that the fewer ingredients you have, the more they have to be right. They have to be flavorful, and they have to have the correct flavor. So maybe I’m thinking it could be that sometimes one adds more ingredients to try and compensate for the lack of flavor of local produce, which… wasn’t grown in the same sunny lands of Italy. I’m thinking tomatoes, as an example.
Frank Fariello
That’s the classic example, of course. It’s the bane of any Italians I talk to who come to the States, and I’m sure Canada is the same way… They always ask me: “Where are the good tomatoes?” It’s an endless search. Of course, you can find them if you go to a farmer’s market, but you have to really make an effort. The great thing about Italy is any old supermarket will offer you wonderful produce. Of course, it’s even better if you’re growing your own… I was very lucky because although I spent most of my stay in downtown Rome, for the last three years, we lived outside of town.
Paolo Rigiroli
I see.
Frank Fariello
In a kind of a rural area. I grew my own vegetables, my own tomatoes, my own zucchine. We even had hens, a hen house, and we got the eggs. If you’ve ever eaten eggs right from the hen, it’s just something incredible.
Paolo Rigiroli
And I have. My grandmother had eggs from her chickens. You’re right. It was incredible.
Frank Fariello
And we had peach trees, too. The peaches off the tree were something else. Of course, if you have a peach like that that’s dripping and sweet and lovely, you don’t need sugar on it. You don’t need anything on it. It’s just beautiful the way it is. I think you’re quite correct about how best quality ingredients makes lots of different extraneous flavors unnecessary. But if you don’t have that kind of quality ingredients, then of course, the temptation is to make up for it in other ways.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah. I can see that. Frank, I wanted to also talk a little more about you as a food blogger and the food blogging activity itself, and becoming as popular as you have become. The question that I have for you is, did popularity change you? Do you feel the pressure of having so many viewers to keep up and produce always more interesting [posts] and continue the volume of production?
Frank Fariello
Well, yes and no. I do try to blog once a week, [although lately I’ve been so busy it’s been more like once every two weeks]. I try to keep to that rhythm and not go beyond it, in part because I don’t want to raise expectations of people. In the middle of the week, or on off weeks, I will post old posts on my Facebook page. The great thing about cooking is, of course, nothing goes out of date. You can take a post from two years ago and send it out there, and people who haven’t seen it before will enjoy it. This posting schedule is realistic for me. I have a day job, like many bloggers. I kind of envy those who are dedicated full-time to the food business. That would be fantastic, but I’m not, so this is kind of a hobby for me. But I do try to stick to this schedule because I know that there are people who occasionally, if I slip, will send me messages like, “What happened? Where is this week’s installment?” Of course, I feel awfully guilty about that!
Paolo Rigiroli
I’m hungry. What happens?
Frank Fariello
Yeah. Right? But I try to keep it realistic. So you know, once a week is a realistic level [of commitment] for me.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative). Do you get a lot of requests? Do people ask you for a certain dish?
Frank Fariello
Yes. Yes. I do get requests from time to time. I try to put them on my list but I have a blog plan, so it can be a while until I get around to them. I’m trying to hit all the major dishes in the various regions. The vision I have for Memorie di Angelina is, more than a blog, as kind of an online cookbook.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Frank Fariello
So I am trying to be, if not comprehensive-because that’s practically impossible when you’re talking about a subject as vast as this one-but as complete as I can make it over time. So I do have a plan that I’m following, and if a request falls well within the plan, I’ll do it. Occasionally, it’ll be a request for something that’s actually Italian-American rather than Italian. That’s the other thing.
Paolo Rigiroli
Right.
Frank Fariello
I keep those requests on the “back burner”, because once in a while, usually on Columbus Day, I do like to feature an Italian-American dish.
Paolo Rigiroli
So you have a plan. Do you think you can just go on forever, just because it’s such a vast world?
Frank Fariello
Yes. Well, forever, perhaps not. But I won’t live forever, either, unfortunately. I think it’ll be a while until I run out of [dishes to write about]. I don’t really need “ideas” in the sense that, unlike other bloggers, I don’t really try to do creative things too much. But occasionally, I’ll feature my own take on a classic dish. Dishes generally have lots of variations, especially the more famous ones, so I’ll express my preference.
Paolo Rigiroli
I see.
Frank Fariello
I bring that much of my own personality to the dish, but I try to be faithful to the classic recipes. That makes it easy in a way. I don’t feel the need to invent things.
Paolo Rigiroli
I see, I see, I see.
Frank Fariello
Of course the repertoire of Italian dishes is so enormous that it’ll be awhile until I run out of recipes.
Paolo Rigiroli
Which is really fantastic. I guess there are also many other ways to present your work. I saw you have a Flipboard, I think it’s called, now.
Frank Fariello
Yes. Yes, my Memorie di Angelina Flipboard has become quite popular. It’s really taken off, and I’m pleasantly surprised. It was kind of a lark. We had a snow day once, and I said, “Let me put one together.” And the response has been excellent.
Paolo Rigiroli
Fantastic. I saw it. It’s really nice. It’s like a digital cookbook, a recipe book. I love the format. It’s awesome. Yeah.
Frank Fariello
I’m quite pleased with it.
Paolo Rigiroli
Have you ever thought about publishing an actual book?
Frank Fariello
I get that question quite a bit. I guess my answer is I’d love to, but when would I possibly find the time? This is the thing. Again, having a day job makes it difficult. But if I ever feel like I can take a couple months off, sabbatical, maybe. Why not?
Paolo Rigiroli
Why not? Looking forward to that. I just want to end this interview – thanks so much, Frank, it was amazing, of course – with one last question about your time spent in Italy.
Frank Fariello
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Paolo Rigiroli
If I were to ask you now, you’ve been back for a few years now, what do you miss the most?
Frank Fariello
Wow. That’s an interesting question. I guess, I mean… the food, I guess, would be one big thing. Probably the biggest, I mean, from the point of view of someone who is so obsessed with eating and food as I am. As we were talking about, the excellent quality of the raw ingredients you have to work with. It makes cooking so… In a way, almost too easy. You know?
Paolo Rigiroli
I know. I do know.
Frank Fariello
There’s so little you have to do to those ingredients to make them taste good. It’s fantastic. And beyond the food, of course the beauty of the country. And the warmth of the people. That’s a cliché, but I think it’s true. Well, Romans can be rough, too. But they’re always honest. I think the thing is that they may not always be polite, but they’re always themselves, and I appreciate that.
Paolo Rigiroli
Fantastic. Thanks, Frank. It was a great pleasure having you here. Well, we’ll keep in touch, and–
In this episode, Elisa shares her research and discoveries in nutrition. Join us to hear which foods are better for our health, why we should try to vary our diet, incorporate raw unprocessed vegetables and whole grains, and limit the intake of sugar and the consumption of meat.
Join Jason and Paolo for this week’s interesting and entertaining episode exploring why certain flavors are acquired tastes. Why do we enjoy “spoiled” products like Gorgonzola and Nattō? Why do we put cream and sugar in coffee? Why some people can’t stand root beer, cilantro, dill pickles, or even sushi?
Pasticcini are exquisite Italian fine pastries which have been perfected over the centuries to achieve the best flavors, textures, and fragrances. In the Italian tradition, assorted pasticcini are served as a dessert, as a treat to accompany coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, or as a cake alternative for celebrations and other special occasions (in which case they are usually accompanied with ‘spumante’, the Italian sparkling wine).
The word ‘pasticcino’ is a diminutive of ‘pasticcio’, which in turn derives from Vulgar Latin pasticium, a dish made by mixing various ingredients, mostly wrapped in dough (‘pasta’).
A pastry shop display.
Pasticcini can be found in two sizes: standard (2-3″ in diameter) and mignon (1-2″). The latter has become increasingly popular thanks to its sampling size, a definite plus, given the great variety of pasticcini.
Since fine pastries are difficult and time-consuming to make at home (especially if a variety of kinds is desired), Italians prefer to buy them fresh in a ‘pasticceria’ (pastry shop). Although some bakeries also sell pasticcini, most pastry shops are independent specialized stores, have extended opening hours (they’re often open on Sunday mornings, for any last minute pastry pickup), and sometimes even double as coffee bars.
A small tray of paste da tè: chocolate and pistachio shortbreads, and ‘Baci di Dama’ (Ladies’ Kisses), a traditional Piedmontese cookie made of two crumbly hazelnut or almond halves held together with a layer of dark chocolate.
Along with pasticcini, pasticcerie often also sell shortbreads and other kinds of cookies and dry pastries. Those, however, are called ‘paste da tè’ (tea pastries) and are considered a distinct product. Nevertheless, pasticcini and paste da tè are often served side-by-side to appeal to every palate.
The Italians are traditionalists when it comes to food, and pasticcini are no exception. As an interesting consequence, it’s on traditional pasticcini that most pastry chefs showcase their best techniques. Every pastry chef needs to know how to execute them flawlessly since it is on them that they are evaluated by their customers.
There are several kinds of traditional pasticcini. Some are available all throughout Italy, some are exclusively regional, and some are only made during particular times of the year. The following can be found nationwide (although some have strong regional origins).
Cannoncini (cream horns). Among the most popular pasticcini. Made with a baked horn of puff pastry (‘pasta sfoglia’), generally filled with pastry cream (‘crema pasticcera’), which may be chocolate or hazelnut flavored. They are not to be confused with ‘cannoli’ (see below), although they sound similar because both of their names derive from ‘canna’ (reed), which they resemble.
Bigné (cream puffs). Also extremely popular. Made with choux pastry filled with pastry cream (vanilla, chocolate, coffee or hazelnut flavored), with Chantilly cream (vanilla-flavored whipped cream), or with zabaione.
Sfogliatelle Napoletane. Made of a shell similar to the Greek phyllo dough and filled with ricotta and candied peel. Originally from Naples.
Crostatine alla frutta (fruit tarts). A base of baked shortbread, with a layer of custard, topped with fresh fruit, often covered with gelatin.
Babà. A spongy cake dipped in sugar water and rum. Also traditional to Naples, though with Polish origins.
Cigni (swans). Bigné which have been cut in half and filled with pastry cream (on the bottom) and whipped cream (on the top). A small squiggle of puff pastry is then applied on the bigné to form the neck and head of a swan.
Cannoli. Made of a fried shell, with a ricotta-based filling and flavored with candied citrus peel or chocolate chips. Originally from Sicily.
Fiamme (flames). Drop-shaped mousse (thick foams, generally chocolate-based), on a wafer or a shortbread base, usually covered in chocolate.
Tronchetti (small trunks). Rolls of sponge cake and mousse, which are then sliced in cylindrical sections.
Tartufi al cioccolato (chocolate trouffles). Chocolate and coffee ganache covered in cocoa powder.
Mini strudel. A small version of the Austrian/German strudel, a kind of pastry filled with apples, raisins, and pine nuts.
Cassatine Siciliane. A small version of the Cassata Siciliana cake, a dessert made with sweet ricotta, sponge cake, almond paste, and candied fruit. Originally from Sicily.
Chiavi di Violino (treble clefs). Liqueur-drizzled sponge cake layered with cream, covered in dark chocolate and decorated with a treble clef made of white chocolate.
Diplomatici. Layered puff pastry, sponge cake, and custard, which is then cut in squares and sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar.
Meringhe(1). Two crisp meringues enclosing a heart of whipped cream.
A basket of pasticcini (2-3 mignon per person) is also a common hostess gift.
Is there more caffeine in an 8 oz medium roast drip, in a single shot espresso, or in an 8 oz dark roast drip? Where does the espresso crema come from? What is the difference between the Percolator and the Drip Pot? What is the Italian Moka? This article answers these and more questions by giving an overview of coffee: from its origins, to its composition, to the coffee machines and the different ways to brew it.
Let’s start from the core: the brewing process. The extraction of desirable substances from the coffee beans into water depends on three factors: the temperature of the water, the amount of time that coffee and water remain in contact, and the extent of the surface of contact (which is lower for a coarse grind and higher for a fine grind). As we will see, these parameters vary substantially between the different brewing methods.
The extraction ratio can be measured as the weight of dissolved grounds in the drink, relative to the total weight of the ground coffee used. Ideally, it should be between 18 and 22%, but higher ratios are sometimes desirable. The strength of a brew depends on the extraction ratio but also on the amount of water used: it can be expressed as the weight of dissolved grounds relative the weight of finished product. The strength ranges from 1.3% for the average drip coffee to 5.5% for espresso.
Besides its intensity, the extraction percentage affects the flavor of the brew. The acidic components, in fact, are easier to extract and tend to dominate in under-extracted coffee. Astringent and bitter components, instead, are harder to extract and therefore prevail in over-extracted coffee. This, combined with the type of coffee beans used and depending on the type of roasting, determines the overall the composition of the brew and its flavor.
Which has more caffeine? Espresso or drip?
Knowing the desired extraction and strength, we can calculate how much coffee grounds are needed for any type of coffee. Particularly:
– To make an 8 oz cup of drip coffee, at 1.3% strength, we need 0.1 oz of dissolved coffee grounds. Since the Drip Pot has a 20% extraction rate, we need to start from 0.5 oz (14 g) of ground coffee (20% of 0.5 is 0.1).
-To make a 1 oz cup of espresso (single shot), at 5.5% strength, we need 0.055 oz of dissolved coffee grounds. Since espresso machines have a slightly higher extraction of 22.5%, we need to start from 0.25 oz (7 g) of ground coffee (22.5% of 0.25 oz is 0.055 oz).
The interesting conclusion is that 1 single-shot espresso contains about half of the dissolved grounds than an 8 oz drip coffee. Therefore, if the same kind of beans is used, one espresso contains about half of the caffeine of one small drip coffee.
There are two main varieties of coffee beans: Arabica and Robusta. Arabica has higher amounts of oils, contains twice as much sugar (and as a result has higher acidity due to sugar breakdown), and has half of the caffeine found in Robusta.
During the roasting process, both varieties undergo major transformations. When the coffee beans reach a temperature of 160°C (250°F) the Maillard browning reaction causes them to develop the characteristic roasted color and aroma. Medium roasts are heated up to 190°C.
At around 200°C (390°F), part of the oils are driven to the surface and burn off causing a more intense burnt flavor. Some of the caffeine also burns off, while carbon dioxide (CO2) starts to develop and remains partially trapped in the beans. Dark roasts are heated to 220°C and therefore have less caffeine and oils than medium roasts. They do however contain CO2, which, as we will see, plays an important role in the production of the espresso crema.
Since the aromatic compounds and the CO2 are quite volatile, brewing should ideally take place within a few days of roasting, and within minutes of grinding.
As we mentioned earlier, the depth of the extraction depends on the brewing method used. Over the course of history, several brewing techniques have been developed, each with unique properties. Interestingly, most of them are still in use today in various parts of the world. Let’s go through the main ones in chronological order.
Circa 1450 – 1700. Coffee is born in the Sufi monasteries around the city of Mocha (in Yemen, southern Arabia). Legends indicate that the practice of brewing coffee is tied to the discovery of the reinvigorating effects of caffeine. Coffee then spreads to Egypt and North Africa. During the 16th century, it reaches all of the Middle East and starts to be traded throughout the Mediterranean. As it enters Italy through the trading post of Venice, coffee expands to the rest of Europe. In the 17th century, England, France, the Netherlands, and Austria all become regular coffee importers.
During these times, coffee is exclusively brewed by direct infusion. Roasted powdered beans are boiled in sugared water (fig. 1). After bringing the mix to a boil, the unfiltered coffee is poured into cups, where it rests for a few minutes to allow for the suspended particles to sediment. Since the ground coffee can be in touch with water for a long time, direct infusion tends to over extract. Moreover, the extraction continues even after pouring, turning the coffee more and more bitter as time goes by. This simple technique is still in use in the Middle East, Greece and Turkey.
Fig. 1 – Direct Infusion
1700. In France, the grounds are isolated from the water using a cloth bag and can now be easily removed after the brew is complete.
1750. Still in France, the Drip Pot (or Filter Drip) is invented. This is the first example of percolation: hot water is poured over coffee grounds, it percolates through them (pushed by gravity), and then it passes through a filter (fig. 2). Drip Pot prevents over-extraction by limiting the amount of time that the water is in contact with the grounds and by operating with water below its boiling point. This method will become today’s American favorite, also thanks to automatic drip machines.
Fig. 2 – The Drip Pot
1800. A number of new methods are introduced:
The Plunger Pot (also called French Press). An improvement over direct infusion thanks to a built-in filtering system (the plunger), which pushes the grounds to the bottom through a metal mesh after the desired extraction is reached (fig. 3). The metal filter allows small particles in the drink, resulting in a more velvety coffee, whereas the lack of a paper filter allows for some of the oils to be emulsified into the drink. The Plunger Pot operates a slow extraction that requires relatively coarse grinds.
Fig. 3 – The Plunger Pot (or French Press)
The Percolator. Using steam pressure, water is pushed up into a tube and forced to drop on the grounds. After percolating through, the water lands in the same container where clear water used to be. The cycle can then restart until the desired strength is reached (fig. 4). Since it operates at boiling temperature and recirculates brewed coffee through the grounds, the Percolator may over-extract. This method will become America’s favorite in the 1950s.
Fig. 4 – The Percolator
The Napoletana, or Flip Pot. Originally a French invention, the Napoletana is adopted by the Italians, and from the city of Naples, it spreads to the entire country. The Napoletana is a variation of the Drip Pot where the water is brought to a boil in a lower chamber over a source of heat. The coffee maker is then flipped upside down, the hot water percolates through the grounds and is collected into the other chamber (fig. 5). The Napoletana will remain popular until gradually replaced by the “Moka” (see below).
Fig. 5 – The Napoletana
Vacuum, or Siphon Brewer (1830). Steam pressure pushes hot water from a lower chamber into an upper one, where it mixes with ground coffee. The pressure sustains the column of water and the infusion can occur for as long as desired. When the device is removed from the heat, the pressure of the water column drops, allowing the infusion to go back down to the original chamber, through a metal filter (fig. 6). Despite the name, no actual vacuum is created by this coffee maker – the force that pushes the coffee through the filter is exclusively gravity. The Vacuum Brewer is appreciated in Japan because of its ceremonial character.
Fig. 6 – Vacuum Brewer
1855. The first espresso machine is presented at Paris Expo. The machine is capable of producing individual shots of coffee expressly “on demand”, hence the name. The operating principle is simple: hot water is pushed at high pressure through finely ground coffee (fig. 7). The result, however, is a completely new product. The process extracts the oils contained in the coffee beans, which are emulsified into droplets that bound to the coffee particles in suspension in the water. The emulsification gives the drink a syrupy consistency that binds to our taste buds, accentuating the coffee flavor. The fast brewing process also rapidly extracts the CO2 stored in the grounds, causing the aeration of the emulsion and producing the persistent foam known as crema (Italian for “cream”).
Fig. 7 – The Espresso Machine
1905. Desiderio Pavoni founds in Milan the first company that mass produces espresso machines. Throughout the 20th century, the espresso machine becomes more refined and new standards are determined in terms of ideal brewing parameters. The best results are obtained by heating water to 93°C, and by pumping it at 9 bars through a 7 g patty of compressed grounds (for a single-shot). The extraction takes 20 – 30 seconds and produces 30 – 40 ml of coffee (1 – 1.5 oz).
1933. The Italian “Moka” is patented by Luigi De Ponti for Alfonso Bialetti. Also known in Italy as ‘caffettiera’ (coffee maker), the Moka is a particular kind of percolator where the water goes through coffee grounds while still on its way up, as it is pushed into a funnel by steam pressure (fig. 8). Just like the espresso machine, the Moka operates a quick extraction and requires finely ground coffee. Since it operates at boiling temperature, it produces a slightly over-extracted coffee, which is however popular in Italian homes.
Fig. 8 – The Italian Moka
1970. Home espresso machines appear, but they have limited success because expensive and hard to operate.
1990-2000. More practical home espresso machines enter the market. These can be fully automatic (with a built-in grinder) or based on coffee pods or capsules. The new machines are more reliable and increase in popularity.
To conclude the overview, here is a summary of the various brewing methods with their distinguishing properties.
Brew Type
Brewing Method
Brewing Pressure
Filtering Material
Filtering Pressure
Greek/Turkish
Direct Infusion
None
None
N/A
Vacuum Brewing
Direct Infusion
None
Metal
Above Gravity
French Press
Direct Infusion
None
Metal
Above Gravity
Drip Coffee
Percolation
Gravity
Paper, metal, plastic
Gravity
Napoletana
Percolation
Gravity
Metal
Gravity
Percolator
Multiple Percolation
Gravity
Metal
Gravity
Italian Moka
Percolation
Steam
Metal
Steam
Espresso
Percolation
Pump
Metal
Pump
Links and references:
– David Joachim, Andrew Schloss, A. Philip Handel. The Science of Good Food: The Ultimate Reference on How Cooking Works. 2008.
– Harold McGee. On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen. 2nd edition (2004).
Everyone who has visited Italy agrees – Italian tomatoes are much more than a condiment for burgers or a colorful decoration! They are indisputably full of flavor, a fundamental part of the diet of the Italians, and a defining ingredient in their cuisine.
Originally domesticated in Mexico and only brought to Europe by the Spanish traders in the 1700’s, similar tomato varieties are found in both North America and Italy. Why is the flavor so much different then? The composition of the soil and the exposure to sunlight are certainly involved, but the determining factor in the difference of flavor is that most tomatoes found in North America have been cut while still green to facilitate distribution. In Italy, instead, they are generally grown locally and allowed to ripen on the vine. Note that tomatoes sold “on the vine” in North America may still have been separated from the plant well before ripening.
Ethylene.
For the fruit and vegetable industry, the advantage of unripe distribution is enormous. Green produce is easier to handle – it doesn’t bruise as easily and doesn’t need to be delivered as promptly. However, only climacteric fruits(1) (of which tomatoes are part) have the ability to ripen after they have been cut. During their development, climacteric fruits store sugar in the form of starch. When they are fully grown, the plant starts producing ethylene, a colorless gas that operates as a phytohormone in organizing the ripening process. When exposed to ethylene, fruits increase their respiration and the accumulated starch is converted back into sugar. During this process, the fruits themselves start producing ethylene, which in turn creates a ripening cycle that affects the entire plant and the ones nearby.
Ethylene can also be artificially supplied to picked unripe produce with a similar ripening effect. This allows the fruit distributors to maintain the produce green until it’s about to reach the shelves, and then gas it to cause it to ripen. Unfortunately, despite their mature appearance, fruits that have been cut too early severely lack flavor. Moreover, these fruits tend to have a shorter shelf life than their naturally ripened counterparts.
Among climacteric fruits, bananas, avocados, kiwis, and pears can fully ripen after being picked – there is no particular advantage to allow these fruits to ripen on their trees. On the other hand, tomatoes, apples, apricots, peaches, plums, mangoes, figs, cantaloupe, and nectarines keep on improving the longer they stay attached to their plants.
Non-climacteric fruits like citrus, pineapples, strawberries, and melons don’t store sugars in the form of starch and, when cut off their vines, they arrest their development and only start to degrade, rather than ripen(2).
Tomatoes had a very slow diffusion in Italy. In addition to their late introduction, they encountered a strong resistance due to their resemblance to the botanically related and highly poisonous nightshade. It took until the beginning of the 20th century for tomatoes to become popular. At that point, however, they became so deeply intertwined with Italian cuisine, that they changed it forever. They brought a depth of flavor that never before was found in a vegetable, and it’s nowadays impossible to imagine Italian food without tomatoes.
The remarkable complexity of tomatoes is well represented by their distinct parts, each contributing in different ways to the flavor.
Cuticle(1); outer fruit wall(2); central pith (3); seeds and semi-liquid jelly and juice (4).
Most of the tomato flavor lies in the outer wall (the sweetest part) and in the cuticle (the thin and resistant skin). The jelly and juice surrounding the seeds are instead acidic. As a result, seeded and peeled tomatoes lack flavor and acidity. In cooking, it’s recommended to keep all parts of the tomato fruit together(2), and then strain the resulting product to eliminate any unwanted seeds and skins.
The proportions of skin, walls, jelly, and seeds vary across the different cultivars. Therefore, each of them has different culinary uses. Here are some of the most common Italian preparations that are normally associated with the main tomato varieties. To be noted that tomato juice as a drink is not listed since it isn’t popular in Italy.
Standard globe tomatoes
(Round, smooth, and flattened at the top and bottom. Generally 4-celled, with plenty of juice and seeds.)
Tomatoes are healthy, both raw and cooked. While raw tomatoes contain higher levels of Vitamin C, the antioxidant lycopene (the carotenoid responsible for the red coloring) is boosted by the cooking process and protects the human body from the cell and tissue damage caused by free radicals.
Partly or barely ripe globe tomatoes are used in salads, either by themselves, cut into slices or wedges, or with other veggies (e.g.; cucumbers and bell peppers). Salt, vinegar, and oil are normally used as a dressing. Globe tomatoes are also excellent when paired up with fresh cheese, such as mozzarella, bocconcini, fior di latte, cottage cheese, or burrata. Caprese salad, for instance, consists of tomato and mozzarella, with olive oil and optional basil or oregano. Green globe tomatoes are pickled in vinegar and oil and had as a side.
Coeur de Boeuf (or Beefsteak)
(Big and irregularly shaped, wider than tall. Multi-celled, moderately rich in juice and seeds.)
The stupendously flavorful coeur the boeuf is used in big slices in salads or in sandwiches.
Beefsteak tomato with burrata, olive oil, and oregano.
Cherry or Campari tomatoes
(Small and 2-celled.)
Also used in salads, whole or halved, fully ripe Campari or cherry tomatoes are added to meat or fish stews.
Campari tomatoes on the vine.
Plum tomatoes, e.g.: Roma or San Marzano
(Oblong and smooth, more “mealy” and with fewer seed compartments.)
Strained raw plum tomatoes are used on pizza. Their mealy texture makes them not as appealing to be eaten raw, but they are the preferred choice for all tomato sauces, generally flavored with onion, or with garlic (as in ‘marinara’), or with chili pepper (as in ‘ arrabbiata’, which also has garlic). Plum tomatoes are also best for canning, either strained, chopped or whole (usually peeled, as in the typical “pelati”). In the south of Italy, where in the summer the production of tomatoes often exceeds the consumption needs, canning of strained tomatoes (“passata”) is a common family activity.
Grape tomatoes
(Small plum tomatoes, the size of cherry tomatoes but oblong and mealier.)
Grape tomatoes are generally used in salads, usually whole.
(1) Tomatoes are fruits, being the development of the flowers’ ovaries and containing the plant’s seeds.
(2) Harold McGee. On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen. 2nd edition (2004).
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Personal Space – Why Italians Seem to Require Less of it
Tiramisu (or Tiramisù, as written in Italian) is arguably the world’s most popular Italian dessert after gelato. Featured by many Italian restaurants in North America, Tiramisu is for the Italians more of a homemade party cake and an unpretentious dessert found in pizzerie and trattorie.
Even though Tiramisu is a modern creation and many claim its paternity, its origins are actually unknown. The consensus is that Tiramisu as we know it became popular in the 1980s, possibly as a variation of the British trifle in which ladyfingers (called ‘savoiardi’ in Italy) and a cream of mascarpone are used instead of sponge cake and custard. Part of the dessert’s success may be due to its odd name. Although it’s the subject of another debate, most concur that it originated in the literal meaning of the Italian words ‘tirami su’: “pull me up” or “pick me up,” possibly referred to the “uplifting” or even “aphrodisiac” effects of coffee and chocolate.
As described in the recipe below, Tiramisu is commonly flavored with rum (or brandy), coffee and cocoa powder. However, around Italy, there are also versions with very different flavors (e.g. amaretto and peaches, or limoncello and strawberries).
All versions of Tiramisu are centered around a mascarpone filling which traditionally contains raw eggs (as in the recipe below). There are also egg-less versions in which the mascarpone is blended with whipping cream and sugar, resulting in a richer, but also heavier dessert. North American versions often contain more sugar than their Italian counterparts.
Like trifle, Tiramisu needs to rest in the fridge for several hours to set and develop flavor. It is common to prepare it the day before and let it rest in the fridge overnight.
Tiramisu, the Uplifting Dessert
Yield: 8-10 portions
Total Time: 45 minutes
Prep Time: 45 minutes
Ingredients
400 g savoiardi
For the cream
500 g mascarpone cheese (choose a good quality brand - good mascarpone tastes creamy, not cheesy)
5 eggs (at room temperature)
5 Tbsp sugar
2 Tbsp rum (or brandy)
For the coffee dip
6 shots espresso (or an equivalent amount of strong coffee)
2 Tbsp sugar
1 cup milk
2 Tbsp rum
For the finish
½ Tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
Some shaved dark chocolate (optional)
Preparation
Whisk together egg yolks and sugar (fig. 1) until the mixture becomes lighter in color.
One tablespoon at a time, incorporate the mascarpone (fig. 2). This operation is considered difficult because mascarpone and egg create an emulsion that can suddenly separate. To help prevent this, use egg yolks at room temperature* and begin by incorporating a "starter mix" made by combining a tablespoon of mascarpone and some beaten egg yolk. If the mascarpone is soft, another great option is to stir the beaten egg yolks into the mascarpone, instead of the other way around.
Add the rum (fig. 3), stir slowly until absorbed.
Add the beaten egg white, mixing gently from the bottom upwards in order to incorporate air (fig. 4). The egg whites will work as a stabilizer and help the mascarpone remain emulsified*.
Set the cream aside (fig. 5).
Prepare the coffee dip by mixing espresso and sugar, then adding milk and rum. Let it completely cool off. Dip each ladyfinger in it for a couple of seconds (fig. 6).
Lay each ladyfinger in the baking pan forming a first layer of cookies (fig. 7).
Add a layer of mascarpone cream, then add one more layer of cookies (fig. 8).
Continue alternating the two ingredients, finishing with a layer of mascarpone (fig. 9).
Using a sifter, generously cover the top with unsweetened cocoa powder (fig. 10).
Then, optionally, add the shaved dark chocolate (fig. 11).
Chill the finished Tiramisu (fig. 12) in the fridge for at least 8 hours, covered with tinfoil.
Notes
*Harold McGee. On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen. 2nd edition (2004).
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