Recipe: White Onion Risotto with Sage

Definitely White Onions for this recipe, rather than the increasingly ubiquitous red variety, which I think would be too strongly flavoured here and would probably overpower the Sage. This is a deceptively simple dish, with ingredients that you would expect to find in practically any peasant kitchen - yet the end result is surprisingly delicate and refined, with a subtle marriage of flavours and textures that works amazingly well. This is one of those rare occasions when two and two makes not four, but eight!

For Two.

Ingredients: 4 oz Butter; 1 large White Onion; 2/3 cup of Carnaroli Rice; 1 pint of Stock (Chicken or Duck); half a cup of freshly grated Parmesan; 6 medium sized Sage leaves, chopped finely; Salt & Pepper.

Method:

1. Melt half the Butter in a large sauté pan, and add to it the Onion, very thinly sliced. Cook over medium heat for about ten minutes until the Onion has softened - it should not colour, and you don't want it to collapse entirely, so don't go too far!

2. Add the Rice, stir to mix it thoroughly with the Onion, and cook for about a minute, before you start to add Stock, one ladleful at a time.

3. Continue cooking at a very low simmer for about 25 minutes, adding more Stock as necessary (if you run out, then use water - but you shouldn't need to if you're regulating the heat properly under the pan).

4. Test the rice for done-ness, and when it is ready, add the remaining butter to the Pan, and stir to melt it into the Rice mixture. Turn off the heat, and mix in the Parmesan and the Sage leaves, then add seasoning to taste.

Serve.

If in doubt on Risotto technique, go here.

A Good Day.....and a Sad One.....

To Florence for the day. Sarah was visiting, and was keen to see Michelangelo's Pietà, in the Museo dell Opera del Duomo, and I wanted to go to San Marco, having been inspired by Lauro Martinez's excellent book on Savonarola to see where it had all taken place.....(last time I was there was in 1981, when the book hadn't even been thought of, and my memory of the place was a little hazy). The City was in full Christmas swing, with stalactite illuminations the length of the street between the Duomo and the Palazzo Vecchio, and the crowd on the train from Pisa suggested Christmas shopping expeditions were firmly in progress. The Pietà was beautiful - as were the original panels from Ghiberti's Gates of Paradise, also on display in the museum courtyard - and San Marco was like the Ideal Home version of what a monastery should be: all polished perfection, with Michelozzo's spaces and Fra Angelico's frescoes jostling exuberantly for attention....

En route to San Marco, we made a slight detour through the Mercato Centrale, which is a food-shopper's paradise. On the ground floor, poultry, and haunches of meat, and tripe, and pasta, and oils and wine, and up on the first floor, vegetables, and dried fruit, and fresh fruit, and more oils and vinegars, and strings of peppers and mountains of pumpkins, and on and on.......Freezing cold, and jolly, and noisy and bustling. Had we not got a full day's itinerary ahead of us, I'd have loaded up more generously, but as it was contented myself with bottles of Sage Oil and Rosemary Oil - for adding to salads - and some dried strawberries and dried cherries (excellent, amongst other things, re-constituted in alcohol and mixed in with vanilla ice cream....).

Inevitably, we ended up in Cammillo for lunch. I had the most delicious chicken I can practically ever remember - boned, and chopped up, and then deep-fried - whilst the Technical Department had fried brains, which he proclaimed excellent, and Sarah had a dish of Tripe, ditto. She and I then had Crême Caramel, the texture of which was thicker than I would make it, but with the delicious and unexpected addition of flecks of orange peel in the mixture, and the TD had a tart with Crême Patissière and Wild Strawberries. Two carafes of house red to windward - to keep out the cold, you understand - and we were all set to declare victory and make our way back to the station, window-shopping the length of Via Tornabuoni as we did so.

And the Sad Day? Much lamentation......but Claudia has announced that she'll be closing down soon, for good, and the best pasta bar none that any of us have ever eaten will be no more. Her father and brother make it in their laboratorio in Via Tavoleria, and Papa is too old to carry on, and the brother has had enough of starting work at four o'clock in the morning for six days out of seven....And I suppose he can't be alone in that, since they seem to have given up hope of selling at as a going concern, and are merely going to shut down instead. The pasta they produce is of a quality almost unimaginable.......a texture which is soft and buttery, and in comparison with which all other pasta (even that painstakingly made at home, a mano) is frankly rather ordinary. I don't know whether it's the combination of flours that he uses, or a particular technique in the process, or - more probably - a combination of the two.

So......no more Casarecci, no more black ravioli stuffed with Branzino, no more melt-in-the-mouth Papardelle or Fettucine. It's good news for the waistline, but most definitely a ratchet downwards in the quality of life!

Tonight's Dinner:

Onion Risotto, made with a rich Duck stock.

Bistecchie di Maiale, coated in minced Fennel and fried; Chard cooked with Chick-peas.

Apple Strudel (with a handful of dried Strawberries mixed in with the Apple...)

Recipe: Ossobuco alla Novese

This is a combination of two recipes from Giuliano Bugialli - the basic recipe was from one of his earliest books, and the gremolada is taken from a much later version, where in fact he was quoting a dish from Sardinia. I think the marriage of the two works well.
Outside Italy, Ossubuco tends to be associated with a rich and heavy tomato sauce. The method given here is completely different, and the flavours are light and edgy, and accentuate the taste of the veal perfectly. Generally, there is quite a lot of sauce left over at the end , which is delicious subsequently either as a pasta sauce, or mixed in with cooked borlotti beans.

It is worth getting the best quality veal you can find for this dish!

For Six.

Ingredients:

For the main dish: 6 Ossobuchi; 15 pitted green Olives; 1 tablespoon fresh Rosemary; 6 Sage leaves; 2 tablespoons Capers; 1 clove of Garlic; 1 strip of Lemon Peel; 2 cups of dry White Wine; 4 tablespoons of Olive Oil; 2 tablespoons of Butter; approx 6 tablespoons of Flour; Salt & Pepper.

For the Gremolada: Grated peel of one large Lemon; 10 Sage leaves; 15 sprigs of Parsley; half a tablespoon of Rosemary; quarter of a cup of Oive Oil; 1 teaspoon of Lemon Juice; Salt & Pepper to taste.

Method:

1. Tie each Ossobuco with string, to ensure it doesn't fall to pieces as it cooks. Flour each Ossobuco on each side. Pre-heat the oven to 200 degrees C.

2. On a board, combine the herbs, Garlic, Capers, Lemon peel, and Olives, and chop them finely all together. Put this mixture into a bowl and add the Wine.

3. Melt the Butter in an oven-proof heavy casserole (with a lid). Add the Oil, and when hot enough, brown the Ossobuchi for three minutes on each side.

4. Pour the Wine and herb mixture into the casserole, cover it with the lid, and place in the pre-heated oven for an hour. Half way through, carefully turn the Ossobuchi over and add seasoning.

5. While the Ossobuchi are cooking, chop all of the dry ingredients for the Gremolada and mix them thoroughly with the Oil and Lemon Juice.

6. Check and adjust the seasoning for the Ossobuchi just before serving. To serve, spread a spoonful of gremolada over each Ossobuco once it has been plated, with some of the sauce over and around it.

Artists, or Craftsmen?

This is a subject that has become of increasing personal interest - and gathering irritation - for some time now: Is the process of cooking best understood as the preserve of the Artist or of the Craftsman?

For me, the answer is firmly the latter: cooking is primarily about the efficient deployment of resources to optimal effect, and the ability to judge the correct texture of pastry or pasta dough, or the 'done-ness' of zabaglione or risotto, or the correct point at which to remove a fish or chicken from the oven, or how a freshly-baked loaf of bread should sound when you tap it - all these things are technical skills, learned through experience over time, much as a potter learns to handle clay, or a blacksmith learns how to work with metal. Once you've learned the technical aspects of the process, then - and only then - do you have the technical knowledge even to consider moving ahead and working from that knowledge-base to develop new combinations of ingredients or new methods of production. It is only at this stage - if at all - that any artistry kicks in.........and in my experience, very very few people have the skill or ability to make this leap. (Bruno Loubet does, for sure, and Raymond Blanc, to a lesser extent........and after that, I think we're essentially dealing with people of varying degrees of technical knowledge whose recipes are basically a re-hash of what has already come before, with some slight variation at best.....)

And the reason for my irritation? It's simple - I don't know why, but it seems that in the anglophone parts of the world this distinction between cooking as an Art or a Craft has become completely confused, with sometimes dire results. The process is increasingly viewed as some kind of mystical alchemy, rather than as a precise science, and cooks are encouraged to think of themselves as 'creative beings' rather than as technicians. With an artistic temperament, to match, if a lot of the blah-blah surrounding celebrity chefdom is to be believed. And the end result of all of this is an increasing preponderance of restaurants where the menu is crammed with unrecognisable combinations of things in dishes you've never heard of, and which you're expected to eat with an attitude of hushed reverence for the creative genius behind the whole questionable process. Whilst in Greece, you can go out to dinner with a confident expectation of finding avgolemono soup on the menu, if that's what you want, or in Italy, if your taste is for Spaghetti Carbonara, you can find it........or Paella in Spain, or Tête de Veau in France.........in Britain or the USA, however, you're more likely to be confronted with a 'galaxy' of this, or a 'medley' of that, and end up dubiously picking at an unsuccessful marriage of greengages with Venison, or Wasabi & Campari Sorbet! Heaven forfend that the Chef should actually offer a traditional dish that might also appear on somebody else's menu somewhere else - but with the confidence that his version will bear critical comparison - and the whole experience ends up being a combination of purple prose, over-ambitious egos, and poor food.....

I blame the dead hand of celebrity chefdom, which has encouraged every restaurant cook to see themselves as the future Gordon or Emeril or Jamie, and so rush to distinguish themselves with the creation of 'signature dishes' which, quite frankly, just don't work. Ok, other countries have their foolishness too, like Gualtiero Marchesi with his Gold Leaf Risotto, or El Bulli's 'smoke' souffle - but you're more likely in those countries also to find myriad restaurants where the dishes being produced are an exact replica of what was learned from the generation before, and the generation before that. Which is as it should be.

There's nothing wrong with being a technician rather than an artist, and better an expert technician any day than a lousy artist!

Tonight's Dinner:

Tartes aux Moules

Bistecchie di Maiale, with Cannelini Beans cooked with Pancetta and Sage

Mango Ice Cream

Recipe: Chicken Liver Terrine

This is definitely a recipe for this time of year - partly because of its hearty-trencherman-fare-keeping-out-the-cold quality, and partly because we're approaching the period when suddenly you find you have an extra three or four (or five or six) bodies for lunch or dinner, especially during that ramshackle period between Christmas and the New Year, when a rather more ad-hoc approach to meals becomes the order of the day, and a terrine of this kind in the fridge will definitely come in handy. I know it seems ridiculously early to be mentioning Christmas, but in fact this is a dish which should be kept for at least two weeks before being eaten, and is fine at three and even four weeks, too. I suspect it would last even longer, if necessary, but I've never been in a position to find out - over time, the flavours strengthen, and as the terrine dehydrates, it becomes firmer and therefore easier to serve. Whenever I come across them, I read with derision the cautious comments from Health and Safety 'experts' that a terrine can be kept for several days .......with clearly no knowledge whatsoever that in in the past, the whole purpose of this kind of dish was specifically in order to be able to feed off it during the winter months; it falls within the same category effectively as dried sausage and cured ham...(which is a whole different story, and one for another day)

For Twelve.

Ingredients: 7 tablespoons Cognac; 3 tablespoons Port; 3 tablespoons Sherry; 2 cloves Garlic, minced; half a Cup of finely chopped fresh Parsley; 1 level teaspoon of dried Thyme; 1 pinch of Nutmeg; 1 level teaspoon of Sugar; 2 heaped teaspoons of Salt; a dozen grinds of Pepper from the mill; 500g Chicken Livers, roughly cut up (check to see that there are no 'green' bits that need to be removed - but frankly, I can't remember the last time I had to do this, given the quality of livers now generally sold); 200g Pork, cut into 1cm x 2 cm dice (you can use either Pork belly for this, or a Pork Steak or piece of loin - whatever is most readily available); 200g minced Pork or Veal; 200g rindless Bacon, for lining the terrine mould (or I use slices of Pancetta for this, if I'm making it in Italy).

Method:

1. Combine Cognac, Port, Sherry, Garlic, Parsley, Thyme, Nutmeg, Sugar, Salt and Pepper in a large bowl. Add Chicken Livers, diced Pork and Sausage meat, and stir with a fork to mix thoroughly. (At this stage, Michel Guérard, whose recipe this was before I mucked around with it for my own purposes, would have you let everything stand for at least 24 hours before proceeding. I see no point in this: if you are leaving the terrine for a week or so before eating it, the flavours will mingle perfectly at that stage, when the texture of the terrine is also sorting itself out).

2. Line the terrine mould* with slices of Bacon or Pancetta, making sure you leave enough over to be able to cover the top of the terrine once all the ingredients have been added.

3. Fill the prepared mould with the Meat mixture, then cover the top with the remaining slices of Bacon or Pancetta. Bake in a bain marie, in a 220 degree C oven, for one and a half hours, uncovered. The top will become a deep crispy brown, and the smell as it cooks will fill the entire house!

* Although for years I've lusted after one of those porcelain terrines with a lid, none has ever actually come my way, and generally, I've made do with a succession of loaf tins for this purpose; recently I graduated to a Le Creuset silicone terrine mould, which worked wonderfully until I stupidly managed to put the tip of a knife through the side of it. It has since been replaced.....but take note of the fragility of this particular piece of kit!

And a Pisan Day......

Raining. It often does here - which begs the question why all those Inglesi consumptives arrived in the nineteenth century, in search of warm dry air for their damaged lungs. One of the standard local sights is the senegalese street vendors, who manage somehow - and instantaneously - to switch their stock-in-trade from CDs and cigarette lighters to all kinds of umbrellas at the first sign of a raindrop. Impressive. And because it's such a common occurrence, the Pisani don't let it put them off their stride one bit, but just carry on as normal, except with the protection of large umbrellas. Borgo Stretto and the marketplace in Via Cavalca are transformed into a version of that impressionist painting Les Parapluies - Renoir, I think - with a multitude of the things thronging the streets, all in bright colours and every kind of stripe and tartan and pattern you could imagine.

To Maurizio, for a Pork Loin. I stood and watched as he expertly boned and rolled it - something that almost never happens in a butchers in London, where you rarely get to see work like that actually being done, and in fact the butchers on show are really only acting as shop assistants. His speed and efficiency is almost balletic, there is no wastage whatsoever in the process, and the delicacy with which he strings the boned loin makes me embarrassed to think of the ham-fisted way I tie up similar cuts of meat at home, when I've had to open them up to stuff them!

Then to Antonella for Radicchio and Apples. She talks me into the mutant Radicchio - the one which has chaotic, primeval-looking tendrils rather than the more normal round or long variety - on the basis that it has a much more assertive bitter-sweet flavour than the others. She's right - but they also cost a lot more, so the choice isn't as obvious as you'd think.

And finally to Claudia, where I'm briefly tempted from my planned purchase of Casarecci by the mountain of deep yellow Pappardelle she's serving to the signora two ahead of me in the queue, and I consider the option of Pappardelle with some of her wonderful ragu, the sight of a bowl of which in the vitrina has my mouth watering. I have plenty of time to ponder, as the elderly lady before me is having trouble understanding the euro coinage - even after all this time, it isn't unusual to see people of that age who haven't managed to get their heads around the move away from the lira - and in the end Claudia accepts a handful of small change in settlement of a larger bill, in order to help her out. And by that time, I've decided to resist temptation, and to stick to the original Casarecci plan. Tomorrow is another day, after all......

Back home, for the first - and very welcome- cappuccino of the morning, and to put a batch of almonds into the oven to roast. If the rain eases off, then I can get out into the garden to clean the leaves from the lily pond, and to plant Hyacinth and Narcissus bulbs in pots for the terrace...and if not, then it's a question of hunkering down beside the fire, and attacking the remainder of this year's Booker longlist.

The Brancolis will be here for dinner this evening, and to spend the night, passing through en route to the airport, as they depart until early next spring. It should be a bucolic affair.....

Tonight's dinner:

Casarecci, with melted Butter and Parmesan

Pork Loin, pot roast with Radicchio, Pancetta and Garlic

Tartes aux Pommes - served with cream (as long as the luggage which was yesterday kidnapped by Gatwick baggage handlers actually turns upon this afternoon's flight!)

A London Day.......

Glorious sunshine, a hard, crisp frost, and an intensely blue sky. The four-footeds love it, and spent a deliriously happy half hour first thing in the morning running around chest-deep in the piles of autumn leaves in Kensington Gardens - much of which stayed attached to their coats and was transferred indoors in due course, to be discovered subsequently in every corner, and behind every chair. No squirrels left to chase at this time of year, but plenty of opportunity to lose yet another tennis ball (the third in a fortnight!).....

Leaving the dogs dozing contentedly in front of the fire, we then set off for Buckingham Palace - not the front door, but the side one, for another visit to the outstandingly good exhibition of the best renaissance pictures from HM's collection. Impossible to recommend it highly enough. My parents traveled up to Town for the occasion, and it was no hardship to accompany them to the gallery for a second bite at this particular cherry. Del Sarto, Giulio Romano, Titian, a particularly beautiful little Mazzolino, even a Vasari which I liked ( normally I wouldn't)......and the overall quality so spectacular that it even prompted a degree of relative sniffiness about the Parmigianinos and Corregios..Yes, it really is that good!

Thereafter, to Elizabeth Street, for lunch in the Ebury Wine Bar.

Elizabeth Street these days has become something of a second-mortgage food mecca: Jeroboams, for outrageously expensive cheese, has come to rest there (I remember when Juliet Harbutt first opened it in South Kensington in the eighties, and it was a wonderful discovery, and became a regular stopping-off point on a Saturday morning, ......), and Baker & Spice has also finished up there, having left Walton Street and spent a rather odd, but brief, period in the doldrums just off Sloane Avenue. Still staffed by braying Sloanes, doubtless.....but their puff pastry (sold uncooked, in large slabs) has always been exceptionally good. Then, a few doors down is the retail outlet for The Chocolate Society, with a quaker-ish simplicity that makes the place look like an offshoot of the WI - difficult to square it with the famously irascible Alan Porter, whose dream-child the Society initially was, and whom I remember from numerous chocolate events in various countries in the nineties. And I notice that Poilane ....which surely has to be the most expensive bread shop in the World...has now opened a shop just along from Baker & Spice. The Duchess of Devonshire used to have a shop here to sell surplus produce from the Chatsworth Estate, but I expect the rent ended up being too much for the Devonshire coffers!

And nestled amongst all this edible treasure trove is the Elizabeth Street Clinic (for four-footeds) which has quite different connotations - it was here that an earlier four-footed was rushed as an emergency case one Sunday evening, several decades ago, when, as a puppy, she'd jumped out of a third floor window in Cornwall Gardens and caused serious damage both to herself and to a Mercedes parked outside - both equally badly dented in the process.
I recall going to pick her up the next day, when she was out of surgery and clamouring to go home, and I walked her carefully along Elizabeth street, a sticking plaster rakishly adorning her forehead; even that experience didn't dim the allure of the contents of the rubbish bins, so I suspect that we were talking good quality scraps even in those days. Always a dog of great discernment, that one......

Tonight's Dinner:

Crab-cakes, with Lime Mayonnaise

Roast Lamb (back to Italy tomorrow, so making the most of the opportunity); braised Celery

Chocolate & Hazelnut Mousse