Author: lhadmin

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Washington Probably Ate Here

If you have the misfortune of finding yourself on Washington’s Capital Beltway,  alias Hell’s Freeway,  where snails can get to your destination well ahead of you,  there is an exit that will take you westward to a land virtually unspoiled by urban civilization, noise and pollution.  It lies at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.  Taking the Interstate 66 exit you will glide past the clutter and cacophony of Washington’s overbuilt Virginia suburbs and enter a region loaded with history,  natural beauty and people in no hurry at all.

In this particular rural neighborhood one can visualize a long line of soldiers in grey uniforms,  accompanied by assorted cannons,  caissons,  horses and random camp followers making their way to the nearby Shenandoah Valley where their leader,  a certain General Stonewall Jackson,  will begin a brilliant campaign that soon will lead everyone to believe that ultimate victory by the South in the Civil War is a foregone conclusion.  This is Civil War country and a place worth visiting.

On one recent excursion to that area,  requiring a passage around the character-building DC Beltway my GPS guided us off  onto I-66,  heading west toward the Blue Ridge foothills,  toward the bucolic Virginia farmland landscapes and ultimately to the intended destination for this trip,  a town called Washington in Rappahannock County and to a famous bed & breakfast called the Inn at Little Washington.

Little indeed.  The town is basically one intersection – no light –  with shops and houses stretching for about two blocks in all directions.  The connection to George Washington is a bit murky but he supposedly passed through the neighborhood at one time or another for a pit stop before he took on the British.  The Inn itself is as little as the town  but it is home to one of America’s greatest kitchen magicians  –  the Inn’s chef-owner Patrick O’Connell.

Chef O’Connell is a person who can probably duplicate any classical dish from any ethnic or regional cuisine in the world with his eyes closed.  However his masterpieces are not strictly classic.  They are original creations in every sense yet they have features easily and gratefully recognizable by classical one-track-minded amateur cooks like me.

For proof I refer to his superb cookbook,  the somewhat curiously titled “Refined American Cuisine” (Bullfinch Press,  New York,  2004).   Refined indeed,  as if there is a version of traditional American cooking that is not refined??  Well,  if not then Chef O’Connell accomplishes the refinement with subtle touches from the classical repertory that give American cuisine an added measure of respect.  In the words of the well known Boston-accented Portuguese-American celebrity TV chef,  “he kicks it up a notch.”

The perfect example is his version of mac ‘n cheese prepared with Virginia country ham and shaved white truffle,  all of which is enclosed in a parmesan crusted basket.  It’s an inspired reinvention of an everyday American household dish that echoes classical themes.  The obvious classical connection is shaved white truffle – a staple accent in all sorts of dishes from France and Italy mostly,  but also found in many other European traditions.  The American star ingredient is of course the Virginia country ham,  a close cousin of Italian prosciutto.  Close but not too close mind you.

Some background on mac n’ cheese that you can and should skip:

Chef O’Connell’s combination of ingredients recall a highly popular dish from Rome and Central Italy called Maccheroni alla Gricia Tartufati. The name “Gricia” comes with a long story as to its origin but in short is associated with a town called Grisciano,  just as pasta all’ amatriciana is linked to the nearby town of Amatrice.  Other continental relatives of “mac ‘n cheese” are Rome’s famous pasta cacio e pepe,  and pasta alla carbonara.

All three varieties have cheese,  usually pecorino romano,  coarsely ground black pepper ,  creamy sauce and a cured pork component,  whether pancetta,  guanciale or prosciutto.  Truffles slices are not always a part of the old country versions but many upscale Italian restaurants,  Pagnanelli at Castelgandolfo outside Rome for example,  finish the dish with a sprinking of shaved black or white truffle.

So, putting all this together,  upon returning home from a fairy tale experience at the Inn,  I decided I would someday soon attempt Chef O’Connell’s formula for mac ‘n cheese straight from his cookbook  (p. 108)  and then,  in the spirit of friendly competition,  maybe at my next house party,  include also a serving of my recipe for Maccheroni alla Gricia Tartufati.  I then would ask unbiased volunteers to sample each one and render an opinion.  Of course as a person who,  if nothing else,  can tell the difference in a dish between Virginia country ham and pancetta or prosciutto I already have an opinion but I’ll keep it to myself.

Not wanting to leave the wrong impression I can testify that Chef O’Connell’s elevated version of American macaroni and cheese is five-star and could easily bring me back to Little Washington many more times henceforth.

Before presenting his recipe I should note that fresh truffles are tough to latch onto and in any case will put a big hole in your wallet should you find any.  Truffle oil on the other hand is readily available in specialty stores like Balducci’s or on line.  So in a pinch a drizzle of truffle oil will provide you with a rough idea of what the real thing can do in a dish like this.

Chef O’Connell’s Mac ‘n Cheese

For 4 persons

  • 3/4 cup cut pasta of your choice (this quantity strikes me as way too low for 4 pasta addicts so make it 2 cups)
  • 1 tbsp. olive oil
  • 2 tbsp. butter
  • 1/4 tsp. minced garlic (quite a tiny amount seems to me)
  • 1/2 tbsp. minced shallot
  • 2 cups heavy cream
  • 1/2 cup freshly grated aged Gouda (pronounced “Howda” by the Dutch)
  • 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan (not the stuff in the green can)
  • pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
  • salt & freshly ground black pepper (the Italian versions often call for cracked black peppercorns)

Garnishes:

  • Parmesan crisps or wafers formed into a basket or bowl shape (See recipe below)
  • two slices Virginia country ham thinly julienned
  • 2 tsp. finely chopped chives
  • Crispy fried onions (not the canned stuff, see recipe below)
  • White truffle slices

The following narrative on preparation is paraphrased from the Chef’s published recipe.

Cook pasta in 4 quarts boiling salted water until roughly half done. (See my comment below).  Drain and place in a small bowl.  Add a drizzle of olive oil and toss to keep from sticking.  Set aside to cool.  In a large saucepan over medium low heat melt the butter.  Add garlic and shallot and sweat for 5 minutes (not you,  the garlic and shallot).  Do not brown (nothing worse than burned garlic).  Add the cream,  bring to a boil,  and simmer on reduced heat until cream has reduced by 1/4 and coats the back of a spoon.

Whisk in the grated cheeses and stir for a minute or so until all is melted and smooth.  Season with the nutmeg,  salt and pepper.  Chef O’Connell suggests the optional step of passing the sauce through a strainer.  This is not necessary.  Any particles of fully minced garlic and shallot will be undetectable once mixed with the pasta.  Add the partially cooked pasta and simmer all ingredients “for a minute or two to make sure the pasta is warmed through.”

The words in quotes are verbatim from the cookbook and give me some concern.  Note that Chef O’Connell recommends cooking the pasta until about half done.  Warming it up later on for a “minute or two” in the white sauce will not complete the cooking as sure as I’m sitting here in front of my laptop!  So best to cook the pasta until at least “al dente” and save yourself a potential embarrassment.

Place a parmesan wafer basket on each of four dinner plates and top with 1/2 cup of the pasta.  Ladle a portion of the sauce on each and top with the julienned Virginia ham,  chives and crispy onions. Finish with shaved slices of white truffle.   (Honestly I would skip the onions and opt for toasted bread crumbs.  The fried onions are a bit of a stretch for most people.  It is unnecessary if the only purpose is to add a sort “gratin” crunch to the dish.  In any case the onion flavor is a little tough to detect since the slices are so thin).

All right,  and now. . . . .

 Chef Ludovico’s Mac ‘n Cheese “alla Gricia”

For 4 persons

  • 1/2 lb. or more cut pasta such as ziti or rigatoni
  • 2-3 tbsp. olive oil
  • 2 tbsp. butter
  • 1/2 tbsp. minced garlic
  • 1 tbsp. minced shallot (can substitute onion,  no problem)
  • 2 cups heavy cream
  • 1/2 cup freshly grated imported pecorino romano cheese
  • 1/2 cup freshly grated imported parmesan
  • pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
  • 1/2 cup or more thinly sliced short strips of pancetta, guanciale or prosciutto (thick-sliced “country” ham or bacon will do also)
  • salt and cracked black pepper (take 1 tbsp. peppercorns and work them over in a mortar and pestle)
  • 1/4 cup truffle oil
  • optional 2 or 3 oz. sliced white truffles (which you obtain by taking a fast side trip to Turin in Northern Italy)
  • 1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs lightly toasted in 1 tbsp. garlic-infused olive oil (optional,  but the crunch is a nice touch and provides a convenient link to traditional American mac n’ cheese)
  • 7-inch rounds of parmesan cheese crisps formed in basket or bowl shape

Cook pasta in 4 qts. boiling salted water until “al dente.”  Drain and place in a bowl with a drizzle of olive oil to prevent sticking.  Allow to cool.  Meanwhile saute’ pancetta or guanciale in a large saucepan until most fat is rendered.  Remove from pan and drain off fat,  leaving a little coating in the pan for flavor.  Add butter and 1 tbsp. olive oil and at low heat saute’ garlic and shallot until softened and translucent.  Return pancetta or guanciale to the pan and add the cream,  bring to boil,  then reduce heat and allow cream to reduce by 1/4.  Whisk in the grated cheeses and stir until melted.  Add the cooked pasta salt,  pepper and nutmeg and warm thoroughly.

Serve pasta on baked parmesan baskets or bowls.  Top with a sprinkling of the garlic-flavored bread crumbs and sliced white truffles (hope you had a good trip).  Otherwise drizzle with truffle oil.

For the parmesan crisps: Preheat oven to 300 degrees.  Have four cereal bowls standing by upside down. Start with 6 oz. or more grated imported parmesan cheese.  Line a baking sheet with oven paper lighly oiled on top.  Divide the cheese into five mounds,  around 2 heaping tbsp. each one,  and place on the sheet (five because one of them is bound to break apart when being molded into a basket or bowl shape).  Spread each mound around to form a thin flat circle making sure there are no spaces within the circle.  Each disk should be about 7 inches in diameter with at least 2 inches of space between each.  Bake for 5 minutes or so until disks just barely beginning to turn brown.  If they brown start over because burned parmesan tastes like stale tobacco.

Remove from oven and place the warmed disks on top of the cereal bowls.  Allow the edges to fall so that a basket shape is obtained but make sure the top surface is flat against the bottom of the bowl so the basket will stay in place on the plate.  Once hardened carefully remove from the bowls and lay the baskets onto the serving dishes.  If they set up properly and don’t break apart you can apply for an honorary certificate of achievement from the Cooking School at the University of Parma,  Italy,  the home town of Parmigiano Reggiano.

For the crispy fried onions: Using a mandolin thinly slice 1 Spanish onion into rings.  Dredge in flour,  shake off excess and deep-fry in 350 degree oil for about 30 seconds.  Drain on paper towels.  At my dinner at the Inn the onions were crumbled  and sprinkled atop the pasta.  In the cookbook photo they lie whole in ring form on the plate.  Now if you can make a batch of paper thin onion rings without having them stick to one another in a tangled mass you should apply for an honorary certificate of achievement from the Cooking School of the University of Seville,  Spain,  home town of the Spanish onion.

If all this sounds like too much you can always reach for the the Kraft mac n’ cheese, drizzled with a tablespoon or two of truffle oil,  which by the way costs about five times as much as the mac n’ cheese box.

 

 

 

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Biotech Throws a Party!

Here is an insider’s view of a full-blown no holds barred reception and party held not long ago in Milan, Italy at the five-star Hotel Principe di Savoia.  The host and chief party giver was the U.S.-based Biotechnology Industry Association,  affectionately known to us insiders as “BIO.”  The event was the annual European Partnering Conference.  We’re talking about business partnering,  not the social kind.

I was there on my own hook as one who every now and then has a need to get filled in on the latest issues affecting the gene-splicers of the world despite being a no-longer-involved dedicated retiree.  I figure these guys and their biotech discoveries hold the key to my longevity.  Besides,  Milan is in Italy,  which is the only excuse I needed to make the trip.

Setting the stage one needs to imagine a business conference and exhibition populated by around 7 or 8 thousand souls wandering from exhibit booth to exhibit booth searching for a key contact or connection that could turn their expensive biotech research investment into a blockbuster market success.   Little did they know that their particular unique method for turning out a monoclonal antibody,  or maybe chimeric antigen receptor,  for rheumatoid arthritis or Alzheimer’s is being hijacked by just about all the other people in the room!

Nonetheless at the end of the day and all necessary business partnering having been accomplished,  it’s party time.  The 7 thousand make their way from the Milan Convention Center to the Gala Reception.  The venue is the aforementioned Hotel Principe di Savoia in the center of town.

The hotel’s name “Prince of Savoy” refers broadly to whichever male heir may be lurking around to lay claim to the throne of the now defunct Kingdom of Italy.  The Italian equivalent of the Prince of Wales.  (See below for an interesting footnote on the current holder of the title).  Despite its 19th century appearance the hotel was actually built in 1927 and so by European standards is virtually brand new.  All features are designed to push the elegance envelope to the maximum and as far as I can tell that mission was accomplished.  Michelangelo and Bernini would have been impressed.  The same is true for the kitchen and its staff,  headed up from time to time by Michelin star chefs.

What really caught my attention was the extravagance of the food and beverage presentations.  Maybe to the Milanese this style of entertaining is no big deal,  strictly routine,  something they turn out every week for birthdays, wakes and weddings.  However I would faint at the cost of duplicating the dishes that were displayed,  consumed,  and continually replenished,  like the miracle of the loaves and fishes.  Think about prosciutto di parma,  culatello,  mozzarella di bufala,  parmigiano reggiano,  pate’ di funghi porcini,  three or four different hot dishes including lasagne,  gnocchi, fettuccine, salads,   elaborate desserts  and on and on.

Not to mention the open bar of course – my first stop on the way to the buffet.

Attending an affair like this requires a certain amount of preparation.  Assume you have some advance notice of the size and scope of the event,  let’s say a week’s time.  At that point you go on a strictly liquid diet.  Removing 3 or 4 pounds of body weight will allow you to sample everything on the buffet tables,  plus one or two wine selections from the bar,  and leave the place at no more than your baseline weight.  I unfortunately did not follow this excellent advice,  although I thought of it.  I could not bring myself to skipping a single meal during the whole time in Milan.  So I paid the price.  Four pounds up and counting.

Interesting footnote: The current Prince of Savoy whose name is Victor Emmanuel III plus about a dozen other middle names,  is a colorful fellow with a spotty reputation.  Now 73 years of age he apparently was charged with murder in France some years ago but eventually acquitted.  He was convicted of firearms violations,  fraud,  prostitution and sundry other sordid deeds.  However he seems to be able to continue enjoying the good life – in Switzerland of course.  If John Gotti was the Teflon Don,  Victor Emmanuel III is the Teflon Pretender!  By the way Vic III is the baby in the picture, being held by his grandpa,  the last official King of Italy and Mussolini collaborator Victor Emanuel II.

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Fusion Intrusion

During a recent trip to Italy I had the opportunity to experience a sort of dining double whammy – my first encounter with a Michelin starred restaurant,  and my first encounter with an unlikely Italian kitchen that carries out a unique version of “Fusion Cuisine.”

Travelling with son-in-law and accomplished home chef Rob Janssen, who did all the online research, we set out for a location in the region of Lazio not found on the usual tourist itineraries – for good reason.  The town of Viterbo is an historic home of the papacy and traces origins to Roman times. It is well worth a visit but getting there is half the misery.  The rest is finding a parking spot.

The restaurant in question is the Enoteca La Torre, Via della Torre 5, Viterbo IT.  No reservations necessary since you can’t get there except on foot, by bike, helicopter or motorcycle.   We were the only people who showed up for lunch that day.

The fusion cuisine is the work of young Chef Noda Kodaro a native of Japan who seems to have acquired all the necessary Italian culinary inputs to spin out successful combinations reflecting both ends of the world.  Since he holds a Michelin star I am the last person to question his talent!

Meantime if you haven’t figured it out already I approach fusion cuisine from a factory-installed negative attitude.  My idea of this style of cooking is to fuse Bolognese recipes with ingredients commonly used in Sicily.  Until now I have never felt the urge to patronize a joint that advertises fusion (apologies to Ming Tsai).  But in this case, as it turns out when all was said and done I came away with mixed feelings, mostly positive, that were dutifully realigned back to negative baseline with a shot or two of Grappa.

We chose the the 60 Euro/6 item tasting menu at chef’s discretion.  We fastened seat belts.

First,  the wait staff recommended a local white wine which was  offered to us at a fire sale price because it was the last remaining bottle.  I guess they decided it wasn’t worth reordering.  We grabbed it.  It turned out to be very similar – to me at least –  to Orvieto Classico from the neighboring region of Umbria,  extremely smooth, slightly fruity and most pleasant.  I’ll pretend I’m an expert wine critic and say it also had a hint of elderberry and porcini mushroom.  Not hardly.

The starter amuse bouche (not pictured) courtesy of the chef was a very Italian-looking fritella, or fried doughball made with very Japanese Nori tempura.  Very unique and great flavor!  Why didn’t I think of that?

The show began with a pea soup perfectly smooth in texture but also including occasional bits of fresh peas.  It was garnished with sesame seeds and a thin almost transparent crostino hanging over the side.  Excellent.  So far so good.

Next came a veal tartare topped with smoked mayonnaise and garnished with balsamic gelatin cubes.  A bit milder in flavor than beef tartare as would be expected,  but the mildness was counterbalanced by the smoked mayonnaise,  which pumped up the overall taste experience a few notches. I was duly impressed.

This was followed by the first of two pasta dishes:  Doppi Ravioli Farciti con Salmone e Ricotta di Pecora con Burro ed Acciughe Mantecati. This is exactly how it appears on the menu.  The translation takes only 20 minutes:  it’s lamb’s milk ricotta and salmon stuffed double ravioli with whipped butter and anchovy.  The ravioli were formed in a most unusual double pouch.  The sauce consisted of a tomato concasse’ accented with anchovy.  Not exactly a show stopper but the chef’s imaginative twist on the ravioli shape, in addition to the tongue-twisting name of the dish,  was worth the visit just on that basis alone.  I’m still on board at this point.

Then came a most unique two-tone example of pappardelle (not shown) , or extra wide noodles dressed with a tomato and finely chopped cuttlefish sauce.  One side of the noodle is white like the traditional and the other is black, made with nero di sepia – ink from tiny octopus.  Both types of pasta are widely found in Italy but nowhere will you find them fused together to yield the two-sided appearance.  As the food writers love to say,  the dish was a triumph of taste,  texture and presentation!  I’m betting this is the selection that earned Chef  Noda his Michelin star.  I have every intention to try to duplicate the feat sometime soon.

I thought we were on a roll.  However from the sublime we abruptly came down  to the ridiculous.  The final serving was piccione glassato –  balsamic glazed pigeon over whole wilted scallions.  One piece of the little birdie consisted of a single slab of deep fried meat that included a wing, leg portion and what looked like two pigeon toes!  How this cut  was achieved is a surgical mystery.

The other pieces were breast and thigh and gizzard. The breast was cooked for about 30 seconds or maybe not at all.  I was being invited to eat raw pigeon. After a moment of hesitation I fearlessly ate as much as I could and handed over the rest to Rob who gobbled it up.  I’ve heard of rare duck breast but not pigeon.  The thigh and gizzard pieces hit the other extreme,  cooked in liquid to the point of disintegration.  No problem skipping this item on the next visit.

Fortunately the chef made a blazing comeback with a two- fisted dessert. One plate contained an extremely addictive semifreddo with clove flavored cream and chocolate hazelnut center, not found on the menu.  An unadvertised bonus just for us.  Alongside came a hazelnut flavored bavarian cream custard set in crumbled biscotti to resemble a partially completed pyramid in the Egyptian desert. It’s a good thing I’m missing a sweet tooth along with all the wisdoms otherwise I’d still be there demanding seconds and thirds.  Being stuck in the savory universe it made me realize how much of the cooking world I’m missing.  I never should have skipped the baking course at cooking school! But it’s never too late.

Check please. Given the production we were greeted with the total was less than expected.

Bottom line.  If Enoteca La Torre is a good example of fusion cuisine one can expect to be exposed to a spectrum of flavors and combinations that by themselves don’t seem appropriate, but in the hands of an expert can produce amazing results as well as occasional flops.  Qualified judge or not I was very impressed with Chef Noda and happily commend his restaurant to future visitors.  While I did not become a convert I appreciated the experience and fully expect to sample this style of cooking again in the future – as long as Rob does the spade work and adjusts my attitude with a bottle of his vintage San Giovese.

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Smith Island Cake

To introduce this recipe we must turn the clock back to around 1607.  At the time history records the epic journey of John Smith et al. to a location that became Jamestown in Virginia,  the first permanent settlement by non-native Americans in what eventually became the U.S.  Soon Jack Smith befriended a native American woman by the name of Pocohantas as we all know.  What we did not know is that Ms. Pokey followed Jack around as he explored the southern parts of what became known as the Chesapeake Bay.

Amongst his stops along the bay Jack landed on an island that,  at his request,  immediately became known as Smith Island.  With Pocohantas in tow Jack settled onto the island for a time and,  getting a bit hungry,  asked Pokey to bake him a cake,  which she did obligingly from scratch,  without a word of protest.  Repeating this feat time and again, eventually Pokey’s magnificent creation became known as the Smith Island Cake.  That’s the story  – or close to it.

Now be aware that Smith Island Cake is no ordinary delicacy.  Eventually it became so popular that the Maryland General Assembly passed a resolution naming it as Maryland’s official dessert.  Maryland also has an official bird (the oriole, not the raven) and other random official state creatures and artifacts like most other states.  All of that aside, making this historical goody at home is a challenge of huge proportions for all but card-carrying Smith Islanders,  make no mistake.

While multi-layer cakes have been around since time immemorial I haven’t run across any that call for ten layers separated by a filling of one kind or another.  The Smith Island Cake – if you’re setting out to reproduce the traditional – is a ten-layer production and the layers are separated most often by chocolate filling.  Before we get into this more deeply think about how you will go about creating ten cake layers each of which is about one quarter inch in thickness and maybe less.  The logistics are daunting.

Research uncovered a recipe published by the Washington Post in 2008 and attributed to the late Smith Islander Frances Kitching (owner of Kitching’s Kitchen maybe??) reportedly the first to create the ten-layer production model.  Not being much of a baker (all my carbs come from pizza and pasta per doctor’s orders) I nonetheless decided to take this on for a house party.  I immediately began searching my mind for a shortcut that would not compromise the original in any way.

I also racked my brain for a slight variaton that would render my effort not only somewhat unique but also introduce an unobtrusive,  but for me most obligatory Italian nuance to the project.  FYI there are no Italian descendants on Smith Island.  I checked.

The shortcut consists of baking two layers at a time with two 9-inch round cake pans thus requiring only 3 oven round trips.  The layers were then meticulously separated with the help of a long thin fish filet knife,  the only tool that will do the job.  Actually since I embarked on the project I discovered that today one can obtain from an on-line catalog one of those nifty layer cutters that will supposedly yield eight thin layers.  That would cut the oven round trips to two, assuming the gadget performs as advertised.

The “nuance”  I boldly introduce is the brushing on each layer of about 1/4 cup or so of sugar syrup spiked with Galliano lemon liqueur,  supported by the addition of a tablespoon of finely grated lemon zest to the cake recipe.  Beyond that Aunt Frances’  version of Pocohantas’  loving gift to John Smith rules supreme.  So here it is along with my humble embellishment.

The Kitching/Pocohantas Smith Island Cake

For a ten-layer cake:

  • 2 sticks unsalted butter at room temperature
  • 3 cups flour plus extra for dusting pans
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 2 cups sugar divided
  • 1 tbsp. finely grated lemon zest
  • 5 large eggs
  • 1 cup evaporated milk
  • 2 tsp. vanilla extract
  • 1/2 cup water

For the Galliano syrup:

  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 2/3 cup Galliano (or more why don’t you)

For the filling and icing:

  • 2 1/2 cups sugar
  • 1 1/2 cups evaporated milk
  • 6 oz. unsweetened chocolate chopped
  • 1 stick unsalted butter
  • 1 tsp. vanilla extract

Note:  the amounts for filling and icing specified in the Washington Post recipe are not adequate for spreading on ten layers and covering the outside surface of the cake.  The amounts have been adjusted upward accordingly.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Butter the cake pans generously and cover with flour.  Shake off excess flour.
Sift flour,  salt and baking powder.  Beat butter and sugar together in electric mixer until smooth.  Add eggs one at a time.  Reduce speed and add the lemon zest and dry ingredients one cup at a time.  Add evaporated milk,  vanilla and water and beat until well combined.
Place  1 and 1/3 cups batter into each of two 9-inch cake pans spreading as evenly as possible.  Bake for about 15 minutes or until you hear no sizzling in the pan (don’t stick your head in the oven to conduct this test).  Meanwhile make the icing.
Combine the sugar and evaporated milk in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat.  Add the butter and chocolate and stir constantly until all is combined and melted.  Cook at medium heat for an addition ten minutes.  Remove from the heat and add the vanilla.  The icing will be thin but will thicken when cool.
Remove the cakes and place on a bakers rack.  Repeat the baking cycle with the two pans cleaned, rebuttered and floured.  Proceed to the Galliano.

Do not drink the Galliano until you are sure you have enough for the syrup.  Heat the sugar,  water and Galliano in a saucepan until completely dissolved.  Set aside.  You should have around 1 1/2 cups.
Bake the last pan with the remaining batter.  Meanwhile begin slicing the  5 double layer cakes with a long thin knife just as you would butterfly a chicken breast.  Work carefully all along the cake edge until you feel the layers separating completely.  If you carry this out without tearing the layers reward yourself with the remaining Galliano.

Place the first layer on a cake platter,  cut side up.  Brush with the Galliano syrup,  spread a thin layer of chocolate filling and repeat the process until all layers are dressed.  Use the remaining filling to ice the sides and top of the cake.

You are done.

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Sea Shells By The Seashore

As a Rhode Island native I was drawn into the usual saltwater pastimes like fishing,  boating and swimming.  After all Rhode Island is officially called the Ocean State,  don’t you know,  even though it has about 1/100th the ocean shoreline as Florida.

For me the most rewarding saltwater time killer was capturing sedentary and helpless bivalves on Narragansett Bay that had no way of escaping once I got hold of them with primitive tools such as a clam rake or oyster tongs.  I got to be pretty good at it and I carried this dubious skill with me when I moved to Washington D.C. and eventually the Eastern Shore of Maryland on retirement.  I have the rubber chest waders and clam rake up in the attic to testify as to the truth of all this. Notice I said “up in the attic.”

In the world of shellfish knowledge of the proper nomenclature is important if you are not motivated for clam digging and have to truck on down to the fish market to buy your shellfish.  You need to know what to ask for.

There are dozens of varieties of hardshell clams  but the most familiar goes by the redundant official name Mercinaria mercenaria.  Within that category there are differences based on size.  The largest hardshells have two names depending on whether you are a Rhode Islander or someone less fortunate.  If a Rhode Islander you will be acquiring “quahogs,”  the Algonquian Indian name given to fist-sized chowder clams.  They are only good ground up for soups,  stews,  stuffing and fried clam cakes – the latter being an item sold exclusively in Rhode Island and nowhere else.  A mystery because they are delicious and deserve national attention.

Next down the line we have top necks and cherrystones.  Since clams have no necks I don’t know how this word crept into the description.  In any case either one can be used for raw clams on the half-shell or baked Clams Casino.

Lastly we get down to the small ones,  i.e. the little necks and countnecks.  These are the ones best for classic spaghetti alle vongole or spaghetti with clam sauce – a popular dish throughout Italy and the coastal U.S. as well.  Supermarkets sometimes offer a variety of small brown colored clams from Asiatic waters called mahogany clams (maybe Phillipine mahogany??)  a distant relative of the U.S. hardshell but good enough for all the spaghetti recipes.

Drilling down even further,  if you order spaghetti alle vongole in Genoa or Naples you will notice the hardshell clams in your dish are about the size of your thumbnail.  Have to say that sauces made with these sweet “mini-necks” have no equal,  but they are nowhere to be found in the U.S. as far as I can tell.

Incidentally people claim that here on the Eastern Shore of Maryland – a region known for its more or less southern conservative outlook on life –  there exists another hard clam subspecies.  They’re called Red Necks.  Haven’t found any yet but I know they’re out there somewhere on the waters of Assawoman Bay. (Yes,  Assawoman Bay – no joke –  it’s an actual place name and it’s right outside my back door).

The other shellfish varieties relatively easy to catch on a hot summer day in the saltwater shallows are mussels and oysters.  Here again we confront a nomenclature issue.  It has to do with the oyster.  Around the world the oyster is an oyster,  but on the Maryland Eastern Shore it is an “orshter.”  This is important because if you approach an Eastern Shore fishmonger and ask for oysters you will get a blank stare.  They only sell orshters.  Two dozen orshters please.

For now we are leaving oysters,  scallops,  soft-shell clams aside to zero in on clams and mussels.

To do that let’s now switch over to a resort and fishing port suburb of Rome,  Italy,  called Fiumicino – known more for the big international airport nearby (code name FCO) than anything else.  On a recent visit,  instead of heading directly for Rome,  I cabbed on over to the Fiumicino beach front and at the cabbie’s suggestion got dropped off at a restaurant called Il Veliero – The Sailing Ship.  Here for lunch and in glorious weather I had the good fortune to select – entirely at random –  their version of shellfish soup containing strictly clams and mussels in a light tomato broth.

The uninspiring name for it on the menu is “Soup with Clams and Mussels”.  No shrimp,  calamari,  crab or anything.   It was served up with crusty bread slices.   The dish exceeded all expectations.  When it was time to go I confronted the chef on the way out and under duress he agreed to reveal the recipe after promising him I would keep it a secret at all cost.  It is as follows:

Zuppa di Cozze e Vongole “Il Veliero”

For 4 persons:

  • 2 doz. top neck or 2 1/2 doz. littleneck clams scrubbed clean
  • 2 dozen or so mussels scrubbed clean and beards removed if any
  • 1 28 oz. can tomato sauce or puree
  • 1/2 cup chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
  • 1 tbsp. chopped fresh dill weed
  • 2 large cloves garlic (more if you’re a garlic lover)
  • 2 cups dry white wine
  • 2 cups fish or vegetable bouillon (try to resist the temptation to use chicken)
  • 1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed fennel seeds
  • 2 tbsp. fresh celery leaves finely chopped
  • 1/4 cup or so extra virgin olive oil
  • salt & freshly ground black pepper to taste
  • Toasted French bread slices

In a large soup pot or dutch oven soften garlic in hot olive oil.  Do not brown the garlic!  Remove it from the pan,  chop finely and set aside.  Place the clams in the pot on medium high heat.  Add wine,  lemon juice,  parsley and dill.  When clams just start to open add the mussels.  Stir  and continue cooking until all shellfish is fully opened up.  With tongs remove everything from the pot and set aside.  Let the wine broth reduce slightly then add the boullion and tomato puree to the pot along with fennel seeds,  celery,  lemon juice and reserved garlic.  Heat thoroughly then return all shellfish to the pot and continue cooking on medium heat for about 5 minutes.  Serve with the toasted french bread although the customary alternative choice for the starch accompaniment in this recipe would be linguine. Try both.

Finally,  just to get you properly oriented geographically here’s a partially obstructed shot of the Tyrrhenian Sea near Rome taken from the restaurant’s oceanfront terrace: