Ricotta Cheesecake – Crostata di Ricotta

Despite being the totally unaccomplished baker that I am I foolishly accepted an invitation from the Order of the Sons of Italy in America, Ocean City Lodge, to prepare a seasonal dessert dish for a recent meeting of members. Since the OC Lodge has around 150 members, roughly 100 of whom show up at every meeting, other members were drafted to perform similar service for the occasion, each preparing something different.

Since it was Easter season I chose the one item that probably sits quietly on every Italian family table on Easter Sunday, waiting for the lasagne and roast pork or lamb to be consumed in their entirety. Crostata di Ricotta! Ricotta cheesecake.

Some idle background (which of course you should skip):

The word “crostata” is Italian for anything, sweet or savory, wrapped in a crust or pie dough, one version of which is commonly known in Italy as “pasta frolla.” You can make “pasta frolla” from scratch or you can make the pre-mixed boxed Pillsbury stuff, or you can make Betty Crocker’s Cookbook classic apple pie dough recipe and most likely no one will know the difference. I decided to take the high road.

In this instance I followed a recipe published by Chef Carlo Middione in his excellent volume The Food of Southern Italy (William Morrow & Co., New York, 1987, p 271). How many remember Carlo as the host of the now defunct TV series “Carlo Cooks“? It was one of those rare shows that provided straight no-nonsense informative content minus the family walk-ons (Lidia), the non-stop chatter (Rachel, Sunny), annoying slapstick (Alton Brown), or the mindless video clips of the local butcher or farmers market (Ina Garten). Carlo where are you buddy??

In any case once you get a handle on the “pasta frolla” you are on your way to a classic treat that actually does not need a holiday or particular season as an excuse to serve.

To make life interesting I set out below Carlo’s recipe for pasta frolla and in parentheses a popular recipe from an Italian website. Slightly different as you can see.

Crostata di Ricotta

For the pie crust “pasta frolla:”

2 1/2 cups all purpose flour (same)
1/2 cup granulated sugar (sifted confectioners sugar)
1/2 tsp. salt (no salt)
1/2 cup “sweet” butter cut in small cubes (unsalted butter)
grated rind from one lemon (same)
4 or 5 tbsp. ice water (four egg yolks)

Process the flour, sugar, salt, lemon rind and butter until the ingredients just begin to look like coarse sand. Slowly add the water (or the egg yolks) until all ingredients come together in a rough ball. Turn onto a floured pastry board and knead quickly for two or three minutes or until everything holds together. Flatten the dough, wrap tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

For the ricotta filling:

1/2 cup golden raisins (or dark if you want to avoid a special trip to the market)
3 or 4 tbsp. dark rum (or light if you already drank all the dark)
1 1/2 lbs. ricotta (the Sorrento/Galbani brand is the only one to use)
1/2 cup chopped blanched almonds (or non-blanched to avoid yet another trip)
2 large eggs
zest of 1 lemon and 1/2 orange
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
3 tbsp. all purpose flour

Preparation:

Have ready a 9 or 10-inch springform pan and preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Soak the raisins in the rum for 20 minutes. Mix all the other ingredients in a bowl. Divide dough in half and roll out one half into a 16 inch circle, or one large enough to line the bottom and side of the baking pan, allowing a one inch border hanging over the edge.

Pour the filling into the pan to one inch below the rim and proceed with the top layer of dough. Now here is the caveat: Carlo’s recipe, and many the italian versions, call for making the fancy checkerboard interlaced strips for the top layer. I instead call for avoiding that like the plague, thus saving over an hour of agonizing labor with a crimping cutter. As a result more “pasta frolla” dough might be necessary for a wall-to-wall top crust, I took the precaution of making up a dough recipe with increased ingredient quantities all around. Three cups flour instead of 2 1/2, etc.

I omitted the candied orange peel called for in Carlo’s recipe. It seemed superfluous given the inclusion of orange and lemon zest. But it is traditional.

OK, brush the pastry top with egg wash and sprinkle with sugar, any kind, then bake for 45 minutes to an hour or until crust has a gorgeous golden brown color. If it doesn’t look gorgeous toss the whole thing and start over.

Being paranoid I allowed the cake to cool down to room temperature, then tapped it all around with the back of a spoon before attempting to release from the springform. Mine came out just fine so I rewarded myself with a double Margarita since the rum bottle was still hanging around on the kitchen table.

August 29, 2013April 26, 2015

Biscotti for Apicius

One day I set out to research the origins of today’s Western cuisine, expecting a long drawn out ordeal. But no, after 5 or 10 minutes on line I learned that the inspiration for much of what we eat these days in the U.S. is attributed however remotely to a noble party-loving gentleman who lived in ancient Rome. Apicius by name. He had a nick name – “Peachy.”

Apicius is associated with what is considered the authoritative cookbook of its time – appropriately titled “Apicius”, a copy of which I have managed to acquire via Amazon.com from that portion of the Roman Archives not destroyed by the fire that Nero started.

The fact is, though, Signor Apicius had not the slightest connection with the ponderous volume bearing his name. It was apparently named posthumously in his honor by subsequent unknown Roman authors who had recollections of his love of food and drink (mostly drink I bet). They simply copied down the recipes for his favorite goodies and gave him all due credit hoping that name recognition would boost sales.

So among other things this explains how one of the most prestigious cooking schools in Italy, affiliated with the University of Florence, is named “Apicius School of Culinary Arts”. I had the pleasure of attending an extended course of study at this institution recently. But to no one’s surprise not a single dish we prepared had the slightest connection to any items on Apicius’ fave list.

Instead the school focused for days on end on the cuisine of Tuscany with occasional detours to the other regions of Italy. Of the approximately 45 dishes we created under the superb direction of Chef Silvia (pictured left) one stuck with me as I traveled back from Florence to the real world here in Bishopville, Maryland. The recipe I wanted to perfect once back at home is none other than Biscotti!

I settled on to the biscotti recipe for a number of reasons among which (1) I don’t have baking skills and need more experience, (2) biscotti are hard to screw up, (3) they last for months on end in a big glass jar and (4) they can be thrown in with any breakfast, lunch, snack or dinner menu you can imagine. I mean you can serve them at Hawaiian luaus even. They’re also great for teething babies!

So herewith the Apicius School’s recipe for Tuscan biscotti, better known in the region as Biscotti di Prato, referring to the town where they were first prepared. Apicius himself never tasted them but no doubt he would approve.

Biscotti di Prato

Serves 12

2 cups all purpose flour
1 cup sugar
1 cup almonds (preferably salted or lightly salted)
3 eggs + one egg yolk
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a large bowl combine flour, sugar, almonds, baking powder, vanilla, salt, eggs and yolk. Unfortunately bare hands are the only effective tools for this step. Set mixed dough on a floured pastry board and separate into two baguette-shaped loaves. Transfer to cookie sheet lined with oven paper. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven. When cooled cut loaves diagonally into 3/4 inch slices. Return to the oven and bake again until lightly browned all over, turning over as necessary to achieve even color.

Save one slice for Apicius should he unexpectedly show up at your door. He’ll be wearing his favorite toga.

March 3, 2011April 6, 2020

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.

February 10, 2011December 3, 2017

Tiramisu’ Buttami Giu’!

Notwithstanding the lack of popular demand I venture into the world of the sweet, leaving the savory aside for a moment. You see my carbohydrate input is restricted by my physician (Guido Santini MD) to pasta dishes and pizza – no sweets. So I rarely make desserts except for special occasions or on request. When the call comes I often select the well known Italian dessert that translates into “pull me up.” I have playfully added the phrase “throw me down” in Italian to the title above.

Pull me up you say? Where on earth did this name originate???

Roaming around the sites one discovers that Tiramasu’ has a murky past. At one extreme the origin is believed to go back only to the 1980’s. At the other it is alleged to have been born in the northern Italian town of Treviso back in Renaissance times and named after an amateur pastry chef whose maiden surname was actually Tiramisu’. Francesca “Franny” Tiramisu’. Remember her? Another theory is that because the ingredients include espresso coffee one experiences a sort of boost, or pick-me-up from it.

Whatever the origin this item shows up on the dessert menus of thousands of Italian-themed restaurants throughout the world. The good news is that at only 350 calories per bite one can easily work off a serving by running the Boston Marathon.

First some trivia: The one controversy surrounding Tiramisu’ is whether to add a liqueur to the recipe or not. The web sources claim liqueur was never part of the original, but the vast majority of current recipes that I have pulled up so far call for Cognac, Amaretto or something similar (Kahlua maybe?).

All of which allows us to get down to the particulars:

Authentic (or not) Tiramisu’

For 8-10 servings:

5 eggs separated
5 tbsp. granulated sugar
1 lb. mascarpone cheese at room temperature
1/4 cup Amaretto liqueur
1/4 cup Cognac
approx. 30 lady fingers, dry or soft
2 cups sweetened espresso coffee or any strongly-flavored coffee
cocoa powder for dusting

Whip egg whites until very stiff and set aside. Whip the egg yolks with the sugar until pale and thickened. Add the mascarpone a little at a time until fully incorporated with the yolks. Add half the amaretto and half the cognac. Mix and then fold in the egg whites. Add the rest of the liqueurs to the coffee. Place the coffee in a pan suitable for dredging the lady fingers. Have two 5×9″ loaf plans ready.

Dip the lady fingers one by one quickly in the coffee. If they break the pieces can still be used to create the layers. Arrange the first layer to cover the bottom of the pan. On top of the first layer place three or four heaping tablespoons of the egg/mascarpone mixture and spread evenly. Repeat this procedure til you reach the top of the pan. Three layers should fit. Finish with a topping of the egg/mascarpone mixture, dust cocoa powder over the top and refrigerate for 6-8 hours, or take a short cut and let the freezer do some of the work.

Serve with amaretto cookies on the side or a scoop of coffee ice cream. Dust additional cocoa powder around the plate. Since you fasted all day you can eat a 6 oz. serving without feeling guilty. Otherwise join up with the marathon contestants in Boston.

Unique Tiramisu P.S. I was struck by the tasty version produced by a not-yet-well known Italian trattoria located in Rehoboth Beach DE called A Touch of Italy. Note the lady fingers in this version cannot be doused in espresso coffee otherwise they would not stand up to look like the Stonehenge monument. Hence we classify this version as ‘druidic’ and non-traditional.