Posts

Posted on

Eggplant Parmesan – Case & Controversy

How is it that the eggplant,  a vegetable grown since before recorded history and consumed today around the clock like pasta and pizza,  still fires up controversy? You’d think we all would be on the same page by now.  Or maybe I’m the only one off the page with the rest of the world.  I’ll explain.

It’s time to nerdle over two questions that come up from time to time.  Number one,  should you peel the eggplant before  cooking,  and two,  should you salt the slices and lay them in a colander under a large can of tomatoes sitting on a dinner plate to get rid of the alleged noxious bitter flavor from the ugly brown juices?

As to the first question my answer is the typical legal sidestep:  It depends on how you want the presentation to look.  Some eggplant dishes need the skin to provide color contrast,  some don’t.  I happen to be an enthusiastic peeler.

As to the second my answer is a resounding never!

To defend these viewpoints I first enlisted the help of the International Society for the Advancement of Eggplant Cuisine based in Tangier, Morocco.  Turns out they never considered the questions and weren’t interested.  So much for those people.  Thus I turned to the usual suspect sources,  i.e. the internet and in particular Wikipedia,  not to exclude my standby web-based experts from Italy.

First as to peeling off the skin my reason for doing so is that in many cases the cooked skin tends to separate from the flesh by itself as you consume the course,  leaving an unsightly tangle of loose black skin,  edible as it may be,  hanging around in the dish waiting for you to suck it up.  No thanks.  Try ordering Pasta alla Norma sometime and watch what happens when you start poking at the unskinned eggplant chunks.

To execute the peeling process I use a standard dollar eighty-eight vegetable peeler.  Takes a little practice.  It’s better than hacking away at the eggplant with a 10-inch chef knife,  which takes out half the pulp along the way.  I watched Rachel Ray do this once.  I wanted to cry.  Actually I did cry – briefly.

Second as to salting and draining,  it seems that cultivation and cross breeding over the centuries has had the effect of reducing the bitterness of the seeds and ugly brown juice surrounding them.  Leaving out the step saves more than an hour of prep time for my eggplant parmesan,  which is a time consuming enough of a dish as it is.

All that said I also discovered through my usual thorough research that the foregoing opinions are at variance with just about everybody in the cooking world,  even the Sicilians, who claim eggplant as their national vegetable.

I was particularly devastated to watch a video on an Italian website that I consider reliable, wherein Sonia,  the nice young lady chef coolly sliced up the unpeeled eggplant lengthwise and then proceeded with the tedious dehydration process,  with heavy can of tomatoes sitting on top of the serving plate,  sitting on top of the eggplant,  sitting in the colander, sitting on a plate to catch the liquid.  You know the drill.

If I’m not mistaken Mario Batali may be the only chef around who agrees with me about skipping the salt ritual.  Or is it vice versa?

Baked eggplant parmesanNow the challenge.  I propose to make eggplant parmesan with the same recipe except for one variation,  one with the salting business and one without.  I then propose to seat my committee of Sicilians at the table and defy them to identify which version was salted and drained and which was not.  One Thousand Euro to the team if they get it right.  Any Sicilians in the audience wanna step up?

All of which mercifully brings us to the actual recipe,  knowing full well that there are as many variations as stars in the sky.  But my theory is that somewhere in the dim past an unknown chef stumbled onto what eventually became accepted as the “original.”  As usual I entered the Italian sites and looked around for a recipe version that more or less incorporates as many consensus features as possible,  yielding as close to the elusive original as one can create.

To make it interesting I set up a comparison sheet showing my preferred style compared with two others,  one from my  reconstruction of typical Italian recipes from the web and another from Chef  Alex Guarnischelli whose variation can be found on the Food Network site.

Melanzana alla Parmigiana – Three Ways

 

Chef L Italy Chef Guarnischelli
2 large or 3 medium eggplants skin removed 2 large or 3 medium eggplants 2 medium eggplants
1 cup all purpose flour for dredging no flour 1/2 cup all purpose flour
fine salt, preferably popcorn salt table salt table salt
freshly ground black pepper no pepper freshly ground black pepper
no eggs no eggs five large eggs
no milk no milk 3 tbsp. whole milk
no breadcrumbs no breadcrumbs 4 cups breadcrumbs
dried thyme, dried oregano, fresh basil fresh basil only dried thyme, dried oregano, fresh basil
mozzarella cheese no mozzarella mozzarella cheese
parmesan cheese parmesan cheese parmesan cheese
no provolone caciocavallo or “provola” 1 lb. provolone cheese grated
tomato sauce NO SUGAR  tomato sauce NO SUGAR tomato sauce w/sugar added

So here are the differences:

First,  the recipe with the fewest ingredients is the Italian.  This contrasts with the Italian-American chefs tendency to load up a recipe – any recipe for that matter.  It’s like the more ingredients the better it must be.  Certainly that is my tendency unfortunately,  and apparently the same for Alex Guarnischelli.  At least I ditch the eggs and breadcrumbs.

Second all three sauces are no doubt different BUT NOTE — the Guarnischelli recipe adds sugar to the tomato sauce,  a practice which I condemn as grounds for excommunication!  In Ms. Alex’s defense I am well aware that hundreds of professional and home chefs in Italy do the same,  which does not excuse the offense.  You don’t need the extra carbs.

Lastly,  all three recipes ultimately call for lightly frying the eggplant slices,  whether dredged in only flour,  flour, egg, milk and crumbs, or plain naked,  draining on paper towels and then alternately layering the sauce, cheese and eggplant in a baking dish in the typical fashion.  Baking temp is around 375 degrees for 30 minutes or so.

It’s all a matter of taste to repeat the cliche’ but nonetheless if you’re a cardiologist you will quickly choose either my version or the one from Italy and skip Alex’s.  In any case please also skip the salting ritual.  If you can’t,  I suggest counseling.

 

Posted on

Bolognese Sauce Deconstructed

To demonstrate my ability to nitpick any topic I recently completed a 3 volume study about originality and authenticity of the world famous ragu’ alla bolognese or bolognese pasta sauce.

The theory sought to be proven is simply this: There is such a thing as an authentic and original sauce of this kind coming from Bologna Italy,  compared with which which all other pretenders to the name – whether from Italy or outside – can be regarded as utterly shameful and deplorable imitations.

How’s that for a mouthful?

After slogging through a number of historical volumes, the web sites,  and topping that off with a walking tour of Bologna,  during which I struck up a conversation with any attractive female in the town who showed the slightest evidence of being someone’s grandmother I came up with proof.  Yes, you might say I went to the source to learn about the sauce.  (In Rhode Island these two words are pronounced exactly the same, i.e. sauce).

I discovered that in 1982 the Italian Academy of Cuisine registered with the Bologna City Hall what it states is the correct recipe for ragu’ alla bolognese.  This is a fact.  But there was a problem.  I could not locate this official registration anywhere on line so I have to rely on the pronouncement of the Academy.

Bucatini with bolognese sauceOn a recent visit to Rome I dined at the well-known restaurant called, appropriately enough,  “Dal Bolognese,” a restaurant so famous that it soon became a small chain –   sort of like Ruth’s Chris in the U.S.  Nonetheless it produced the appropriately concocted ragu’ for my bucatini pasta,  both of which,  in addition to being “authentic and original” were absolutely phenomenal!

After all the effort,  particularly the part about interviewing the good looking grandmas,  I am 100% confident that  the true recipe for ragu’ alla bolognese must contain at least the following items:  pancetta,  ground beef,  ground pork and/or ground veal,  chopped celery, garlic,  carrot and onion,  red or white wine,  beef broth and tomato paste.  Period.

So,  for the presumed authentic and original recipe my recitation is as follows:

Ragu’ alla Bolognese

 

for 4 servings:

  • 1 lb. ground skirt steak (70% lean ground beef will do)
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped pork pancetta (now available everywhere except maybe 7-Eleven)
  • 1/4 cup or more olive oil or olive oil plus butter
  • 1 cup red or white wine (there is beef plus pork in the recipe so you take your pick.  I use red)
  • 1 cup beef broth (another reason for using the red wine)
  • 1 can tomato paste
  • 1 medium onion, 1 medium carrot,  1 medium celery rib – all finely diced
  • salt and pepper to taste

Lightly oil a large saute’ pan with butter included if desired.  Cook the pancetta and diced vegetables at medium heat until softened .  After about 10 minutes add the beef and cook until browned.  In this case “browned” is meant literally.  Try to achieve a darkened coloration to the meat being careful not to burn.  Add the wine and allow to evaporate.  Scrape the pan.  Add the tomato paste and beef broth,  lower heat and stir from time to time.  At this point the tough part begins.  As the ragu’ thickens add water a little at a time and go around the track again.  Repeat the cycle until the meat breaks down almost completely and the sauce is thickened.

After about 5 hours of very slow simmer the exercise is complete.

Now to further belabor the subject I consulted Mario Batali’s award winning volume Molto Italiano (Harper Collins,  New York 2005) and found on p. 245 Mario’s version of the official recipe.  It includes all the necessary basics plus one extra ingredient – thyme.  I respect this deviation but I don’t follow it.  If you note in just about all of Mario’s cookbooks and TV shows that feature red sauces for pasta you will find him adding thyme to the recipe.

I suspect the restaurant Mario interned at in Italy had a couple of acres of thyme growing in the back.  Nevertheless on the Italian websites I have yet to find a bolognese sauce recipe that calls for it.  Thyme is not of the esssence but in the last analysis, in deference to the now banished-from-tv Mario Batali, go ahead and throw it in.

Posted on

Macaroni and Beans

Inevitably we come around to the No. 1 staple dish for all Italians and Italian-Americans,  not to mention a few million Brazilians and Argentinians whose Italian ancestors boarded boats for the U.S. that ran off course.

Macaroni and Beans, best known as “pastafazool,” is the subject on the agenda today.

Skipping the tiresome discourse and getting right to the bottom line there are two paths to pasta e fagioli.

The first is to buy a can of cannellini beans,  a can of sliced button mushrooms,  a can of cream of chicken soup,  a can of chicken broth together with two cups or so of precooked elbow macaroni, a pasta variety found in every food cabinet on the planet.  The cans are opened, the mushrooms drained, the elbows made ready,  and then all is tossed into a big sauce pan,  heated and served.  This process takes maybe 20 minutes.

The second is to reach for your apron,  pour a glass of Chianti Classico, take a deep breath and then follow the instructions below translated and assembled from two reliable web sources in Tuscany,  the  reported place of origin of the soup in question:

Pasta e Fagioli

For 4-5 kids plus 2 adults

  • 1 lb. fresh cannellini beans soaked overnight in cold water
  • 1/2 small cabbage
  • 1 cup rehydrated porcini mushrooms otherwise one cup assorted fresh mushrooms from the store roughly chopped
  • 1 chicken or beef bouillon cube
  • 1 cup tomato sauce or 1 tbsp. paste plus one cup water
  • olive oil as needed
  • 1 medium onion
  • 1 medium carrot
  • 1/2 celery stalk
  • 1 large garlic clove
  • about 1/2 box little pasta shells cooked in rapidly boiling salted water for five or six minutes, removed from the water with a slotted spoon and set aside with a tablespoon of olive oil to prevent sticking (apparently elbow pasta is frowned upon in Florence)
  • salt and pepper to taste

Cook beans in sufficient water to cover. Simmer until well done.  Puree’ half the beans with a cup of cooking water and set aside.  Save remaining cooking water.

Finely slice the cabbage and set aside.  Mince the onion,  garlic,  carrot and celery. Saute the three vegetables in a 6 qt stock pot with 1/4 cup olive oil and a tsp. of salt until softened thoroughly. Then add the mushrooms and stir until softened.

Add the pureed beans plus two cups of the remaining cooking water. OK so far?

Add the chicken or beef bouillon cube,  the tomato sauce or paste,  salt and pepper to taste and cook until cube is entirely dissolved,  5 minutes or more.  I recommend dissolving the cube ahead of time with a 1/4 cup of water and microwaved.

Add the shredded cabbage, the remaining cannellini, 2 more cups of the beans cooking water and cook for an additional 20 minutes. If necessary substitute beans’ cooking water with hot tap water or chicken broth.  Add more broth or water if needed.  Consistency of the soup is your choice.  Check for salt and pepper.  (Now kill the 20 minutes by enjoying the aforementioned Chianti Classico).

When all is done toss in the previously cooked little shells and mix well at high heat for a few minutes.  Sprinkle some parmesan or romano on top,  remove apron and pour another Chianti Classico.

Not that bad.

Obnoxious note:  In one of the Italian web recipes they puree’ all the beans.  This is goofy.  If the dish is called ‘macaroni and beans’ one would expect to see both some whole beans and the pasta in the final presentation.  I have fired off a memo to the authors.

 

 

Posted on

Shrimp, Prawns or Scampi?

 

This posting is inspired by an item appearing on a certain Chef John’s website foodwishes.com.  I suspect even without my self-imposed enhancements this dish is a winner,  so I offer many thanks to Chef  John for the inspiration.  It appears below after the scholarly dissertation that follows:

To begin I must point out that I discovered  the Chef’s recipe  navigating Allrecipes.com under the search term “shrimp scampi.”   Aside from leading me to a good site for this topic, as well as a fine recipe,  the exercise opened up the opportunity for me to step into the classroom to take aim at all those chefs and restaurants that use the terms in combination on their menus.  “Check out tonight’s shrimp scampi special!!”

Although demonstrating a knowledge of the issue Chef John unabashedly ignores any difference among shrimp, prawns and scampi and makes no apologies.  He believes they are one and the same animal, the only difference lying in local usage.  Prawns cover all species and are served in Great Britain.  All three terms, shrimp, scampi or prawns are used interchangeably in the U.S.

Now for the facts:  Actually gamberi is Italian for shrimp,  and scampi is Italian for prawns.  Crevettes and langoustines are found on menus in France, the former being shrimp and the latter prawns.  Neither country considers the two terms as interchangeable as far as I can tell.

Basically I concluded that two of the three animals on the list,  shrimp and prawns, are pretty much the same, differing mainly by size.  However in Italy scampi are considered different creatures,  distinct from the smaller shrimp which, as noted,  are called gamberi.

So ordering “shrimp scampi” in Italy  is sort of like ordering a dish that might be called  “Lobster crawfish” on the menu.  The U.S. restaurants who feature “shrimp scampi” are unwittingly leading the customer to think the dish consists of one animal variety when in fact the description technically covers two different species.

Like crawfish,  scampi  look like lobsters that failed to grow up,  having a hard shell and long thin claws. These are called langoustines in France and have their own taxonomic description (nephrops norvegicus) .  The smaller shrimp  varieties can be small or large,  even jumbo,  and have an infinite number of official names within the same family but are essentially interchangeable.

To be sure I consulted the Italian websites,  which are not always reliable,  just as the ones in the U.S.   However I managed to land on one that I consider authoritative that clearly speaks of shrimp (gamberi) and scampi as entirely different animals.  Scampi are the larger species associated with the French “langoustines” mentioned above.  Gamberi are what you use to make shrimp cocktail.

So it’s OK to think of shrimp as prawns and vice versa but don’t expect to find true scampi at Luigi’s Italian Restaurant down the road from you.  Luigi probably has never served real scampi in his life.  Luigi does however proudly serve “shrimp scampi” most often with overcooked shrimp drenched in garlic oil and spread over a half-pound of overcooked linguine marinara.

Last word: Some food writers have tried to cover up the confusion by calling “shrimp scampi” a distinctive way of cooking shrimp.  After all the digging around on the web I decided I don’t buy that explanation.  Nice try though.  Just remember that there’s no such thing as “shrimp scampi” in Italy.

Time’s up.  School bell having rung here now is my variation of Chef John’s excellent,  and to my reckoning authentic recipe for garlic shrimp,  otherwise known at Luigi’s as “shrimp scampi”.  My additions are white wine (very typical in Italy),  home made roasted red peppers peppers,  and the yellow or red cherry tomatoes.  Down the road someday I’ll look up some dishes that call for langoustines or scampi.

Garlic Shrimp/Prawns but not Scampi

for 4-5 persons

  • 1 lb. raw jumbo shrimp (21-26 count)
  • 1/2 cup lemon juice
  • 1/2 cup white wine
  • 1/4 cup olive oil
  • 1 tbsp. capers plus 1 tbsp. caper brine
  • 1/2 cup fresh chopped parsley
  • 1/2 cup home-made roasted red peppers thinly sliced
  • 6 cloves minced garlic
  • 1 cup yellow or red cherry tomatoes sliced in half
  • 4 pats butter
  • 1 tsp. red pepper flakes
  • salt to tasted
  • 1 lb. linguine entirely optional (but common in Italy for what it’s worth)

shrimp scampiSet up your mis en place  with the lemon juice, white wine, olive oil, capers and brine, parsley, peppers,  tomatoes.

Peel and devein the shrimp leaving the last segment intact. (I don’t devein the smaller shrimp).

In a saute pan bring up to high heat the 1/4 cup of oil and the butter.  The idea now is to sear the shrimp quickly without fully cooking it.  Cook the shrimp until it just begins to lose its translucence.  This is the tricky part,  requiring a full glass of Barbera for fortification – for you not the dish.  Then add all the other ingredients except the parsley and bring back to high heat.  Stir vigorously until the shrimp have lost all translucence.  Immediately remove from heat and allow to stand for a minute, constantly stirring.  Stir in the parsley.

If you want to serve this over linguine follow the box directions.  Otherwise set the timer for 9 minutes (al dente) or 10-11 minutes (fully cooked) and be sure to use plenty of salted boiling water.  Throwing in some olive oil will not prevent sticking so save your money.  Just keep stirring periodically with a wooden fork (wooden forks are hard to find so it’s ok to use one of those dumb plastic spaghetti spoons that look like a turned-up cupped hand asking for a tip no example of which can be found in my kitchen).

I make this dish often but can’t resist the temptation to add a generous dose of finely chopped anchovy each time. This is making me hungry already.

Posted on

Spinach On the Side

Here is a  universal side dish if ever there was one.   Plus it kicks spinach up more than one Legassian notch for sure.  Lay it down alongside any preparation based on beef, pork,  fish or fowl.  Or better yet make it up “family style” in the event you are among the rare parents whose kids love spinach.

The trick is to avoid a watery blob on the plate, so I set the prepared spinach on a paper towel for a few minutes before serving.  Also, only a hard cheese will work with this recipe.  Soft cheeses like mozzarella or muenster will render a gooey mess.  Which reminds me that this recipe, with a few additions like mozzarella and peperone  is sometimes found in spinach “calzones,” at least in Rhode Island whence I came.

Ingredients

    • Steamed fresh spinach, one cup or more after steaming (baby spinach leaves are best)
    • 1/4 cup or more chopped Kalamata olives (pitted of course)
    • 1/2 cup sauteed sliced onion, white or red
    • grated sharp provolone or Romano cheese to taste
    • salt&pepper
    • hot red pepper flakes to taste
    • olive oil for saute

Preparation

      Saute onion slices in 2 tbsp. olive oil until soft and set aside. Steam spinach until softened,  remove and squeeze out excess liquid. Chop finely.  Place in saute pan with 2 tablespoons olive oil and bring up to medium heat.  Add chopped olive and onion,  cheese,  salt and pepper, and red pepper flakes. Cook for 6 – 8 minutes mixing all ingredients occasionally.

 

Spinach and olives