Recipe: Sicilian Swordfish Pie

Slightly adapted from a recipe of Alan Davidson - for who's writing I have a lot of time - this rather surprising dish is excellent. Surprising, because of the unusual structure, where effectively two pies are baked one on top of the other, not unlike a pair of steamer baskets. In fact, the middle layer of pastry simply disappears in the finished pie...and, on reflection, the structure isn't a million miles away from a version of good old lasagne.
The flavours included in the stuffing suggest this is a very, very old dish - shades of Apicius, if not even earlier. Definitely, this would be credible as part of an ancient roman buffet, or else being carried in hefty slices as food to eat whilst working the fields or organising the odd legion or gladiatorial display.
I've simplified the pastry which Davidson uses, and I've taken out the step where he egg-and-flours the slices of courgette before frying them - the latter step is important in reducing the water content in the courgette, but the former merely wastes time, IMHO, as the crisp coating that results from frying in egg and flour completely disappears once the courgette has been incorporated with the other stuffing ingredients.
This pie is delicious served either hot - as we had it several weeks ago when Pietro came down from Montemarcello for dinner, one evening - or cold, for lunch on the day afterwards.

For eight.

Ingredients: Shortcrust pastry, made with 250g butter, 280g '00' flour, a pinch of salt, and approximately 50 ml of water; 500g swordfish; 2 medium onions, finely diced; 2 tbs tomato paste; 2 celery stalks, finely diced; 100g greenolives, chopped; 2 tbs capers; 5 medium courgettes; olive oil; 1 egg yolk.

1. Make the shortcrust pastry:

• Freeze the butter in the freezer until it is rock hard. This is imperative.
• Grate the butter straight from the freezer using the grater disc on the food processor; add the remaining dry ingredients to the processor bowl and process using the blade until it has resolved itself into large flakes.
• Add water in very small increments through the top opening, whilst the processor is running. Be very careful not to add too much.
• As soon as enough water has been added, the mixture will form itself into one large solid lump and will adhere to the blade as it goes round. Stop the processor at this point.
• Remove the pastry from the bowl and perform the fraisage - using just the heel of your palm, push the mixture six inches or so across the work surface in half a dozen or so bite-sized pieces, then gather them back together into a ball and wrap in cling film. Only do the fraisage once - the success of good pastry lies in limiting contact with your hands to a bare minimum, as otherwise the heat from your hands will cause the butter to melt within the pastry, and it will lose its shape as it cooks.
• Preferably leave the pastry to rest in the fridge for several hours before rolling it out for use - again, this allows it to relax, and reduces the risk of it sliding out of shape or shrinking as it cooks.
  

2. Gently cook the chopped onion in oil until it begins slightly to colour, then add to it the tomato paste (diluted in a quarter cup of water), celery, olives and capers. Cut the swordfish into small cubes, add this to the pan, and cook, stirring over medium heat until it is well amalgamated and noticeably thickened - about twenty minutes. Check and adjust seasoning.

3. Slice the courgettes into thin strips, then these into approx 2" lengths; sprinkle with a little salt, and then fry them briefly in hot oil, until slightly coloured, and then drain them on kitchen paper.

4. Grease an 8" spring-form pan. Divide the pastry into three pieces. Roll out one of the pieces, and use it to line the base of the pan, with pastry coming halfway up the sides. Into this, put half of the swordfish mixture, topped with a layer of half of the pieces of fried courgette. Roll out the second piece of pastry, and repeat the process exactly (so you have your two pies with stuffing sitting on top of each other), and finally roll out the last piece of pastry and use it to make a lid, pressing it firmly into place all round the edge.

5. Brush the top of the pie with beaten egg yolk and bake for fifty minutes at 150 degrees C.

Serve either hot, at room temperature, or else cold. Delicious, whichever.

To London...

Theoretically for three and half days, but Easyjet 'went technical' on Tuesday afternoon and we ended up leaving Pisa a day later than planned.
Bitter experience meant that as soon as the airport staff were announcing a delay of around eight hours, we knew exactly what that would mean in practice (i.e that the crew would be 'out of time' before the plane was fixed, and that nobody would be flying off that day, for sure). So, before pandemonium broke out, and even as they were still making their announcement, we hoofed it, back through passport control, down the stairs and out - the wrong way - through security, across to the taxi rank...and probably were already half way home even before they'd begun to field the onslaught from irritated passengers. One phone call later, and we'd transferred to the following afternoon's flight...which was definitely preferable to the 6.20 departure in the morning that practically everybody else seemed to be subjected to. I noticed only one person on our flight the next day who had been on our first, aborted flight, so assume that the rest of them must have dutifully boarded the early morning alternative, bleary-eyed and in fighting mood; since this is the busiest week of the year in Pisa, with both the Luminara and the Palio taking place, then I should think hotel space was limited, and our hapless fellow passengers ended up being bussed out to somewhere like the Holiday Inn in Migliarino...a prospect not to be entertained lightly!

So, London timetable was a bit crammed - although, in fact it didn't terribly matter, since there was nothing much on offer anyway. Nothing whatsoever to see at the cinema - presumably because they were expecting everybody to be watching 'the football', and so didn't bother - and only The Summer Exhibition on at the RA, which I'm generally happy to miss. Charles Spencer's review of it in The Telegraph was wonderfully damning, and merely confirmed me in my suspicion that it would be just as dreary this year as it always is.

Fitting in around the chores, we managed a dinner party on one evening (Lamb, Apricot & Coriander koftas; Papardelle with Burro Rosso; Pork loin in Mustard, with Marsala Carrots; Cherry & Almond Tarts) and headed off to the Horace Walpole exhibition at the V&A for their late night opening on the following one. Agreeably empty - due to 'the football' - it was an 'eclectic' lot of stuff. HW clearly collected rather indiscriminately, and, moving from exhibit to exhibit I was increasingly reminded of Harold Acton and all that tat (with optimistic, but not very credible attributions) in La Pietra. I suppose Harold would have been gratified by the comparison, if nothing else.

And then, the horror of the airport for the return journey. Total and apocalyptic chaos. Thousands of people milling around in increasing levels of stress, as flight closures approached, queues got no shorter, and the airport staff appeared to have surrendered the will to live some time before. By the skin of our teeth, we got the flight - leaving only an hour later than advertised - and even managed to re-connect with our baggage on arrival...which, in the circumstances, seemed a minor miracle.

No more airports for another month!

Tonight's dinner:

Mackerel Rillettes on Tomato Salad, with Lemon Vinaigrette.

Lamb Shoulder, stuffed with Garlic & Anchovy; Baked Fennel.

Pear Tart, with Orange & Cinnamon.

One year on...

It was a year ago this weekend that we first set eyes on the house at Santa Caterina. And already more than three months since we first started sleeping here - I hesitate to say 'since we moved in', as 'moving in' is an ongoing process, and will remain so until the old house in Via Fucini has been sold and the remaining furniture moves from there to here. At the moment, living here is like up-market camping...quite a few of the rooms echoingly empty of all but a few sticks of furniture, windows generally curtainless, and pairs of old doors leaning next to the doorways they're intended to grace (but for which we have yet to find supports which are the right size for their antique hinges).

Having said which, it's wonderful. The topography of the courtyard between the house and the church inexplicably produces a constant gentle breeze which flows from the direction of the Priest's house, and in through the windows of the dining room, on the ground floor, and of the bedroom above. Each morning we wake to the view, two rooms away, through the dressing room window, of terracotta tiles, and then of sunlight on the intensely white facade of the church...blue sky visible beyond.
For the most part, the house and garden are swathed in silence, apart from birdsong...and the few outside noises which do intrude from time to time will soon be covered by the sound of trickling water from the fountains we'll be connecting in the courtyard and on the terrace, and by the sound of water from the larghetto beyond the barn. While we're in London this week, Giancarlo will be working on the ground floor terrace (concealing dusty concrete behind a covering of terracotta) and will then start working on the terrace to be constructed beside the larghetto. The whole project will be work-in-progress for some time to come...but I hope we'll have broken the back of it in time for August, when everybody downs tools, the World stops for two or three weeks, and Pisa, blissfully, becomes a ghost town.

And the other anniversary is the junior four-footed. A year old. I hadn't realised that it had been on the same day that he was born and that we first saw this house. An auspicious date.
He celebrated by running in and out of the sprinkler on the north lawn, and then racing around on the flowerbeds and getting generally caked in mud. In seventh heaven!

Dinner tonight:

Papardelle with Chicken Liver Sauce.

Ossobucci, with Peas & Pancetta.

Tart of Nespole and Almonds.

Lemon Vinaigrette

A recipe from Bruno Loubet. Excellent on tomato salads of all kinds (with spring onion and smoked fish, for example, or on a traditional caprese, with basil and mozzarella). Perfect for summer. The quantities given here make a pint of vinaigrette; you can halve them in order not to have too much of the stuff at one time, but I find it keeps well in a bottle in the fridge for at least a couple of weeks - you just have to remember to give the bottle a good shake before use each time.

Ingredients: 3 pinches of sugar; salt & pepper; 100 ml water; 100 ml fresh lemon juice; 300 ml olive oil; 100 ml vegetable oil.

Method:

1. Combine the water and lemon juice and dissolve in this mixture the sugar plus three pinches of salt.
2. Add all the remaining ingredients, plus three pinches of pepper. Shake well and pour into a bottle and refrigerate until needed.

Nettles to eat.

Frankly.....I wouldn't advise it.

Jane Grigson says of nettles that they're in the same category as spinach, but just not as good. It's the sort of ingredient to be found on restaurant menus throughout France, which people choose for its curiosity value and come away surprised at how 'not bad' it turns out to be. I remember a sauce made with nettles at a lunch in Paris several years ago - rich bottle-green in colour, and with a strongly mineral flavour which gave some character to the bland white fish with which it was served - and that the 'it's really quite good' response was exactly mine at the time.

For years, the Technical Department has been saying 'we should do something with these', every time the four-footeds have led us to the large and vigorous patch of vibrant green nettles which regularly appears near the Serpentine Gallery in Kensington Gardens. Needless to say, we never have - but as I was tearing into the shoulder-high patch of nettles under the Cacci trees to the north of the romitorio the other week, I was reminded of the idea, and a large carrier bag was stuffed with the things accordingly.

There are various methods for dealing with them, but essentially all you do is pick the leaves from the stalks and cook them to a mush (either in lots of salted water, or else in a very little water, depending on who's version you follow) before processing them to a purée. At that point, I added them to some diced onion and garlic which had been sweated in melted butter, and then stirred into the mixture a generous half-cup of cream, and adjusted the seasoning. It looks wonderful. But really, that's about as far as it goes. The flavour of the nettles is frankly rather monotonous, and heavy. Thank heavens for the taste of garlic in the sauce, which at least introduces another note.

On the first evening, we had the sauce over fresh ravioli, stuffed with spinach and cheese. The parmesan in the ravioli helped to lighten the oppressive one-note quality of the sauce...but more cheese and less sauce would have been better....and indeed no sauce at all would have been a distinct improvement! I gave the stuff a second chance on the following evening, when I used a quantity of the sauce as the basis for a soufflé. No good. Positively lumpen.

With a last regretful look at the rich, British-Racing-Green colour, I emptied the rest of the sauce down the garbage disposal, and got the wheelbarrow out in order to finish clearing the rest of the things from the garden.

On reflection, we concluded that Jane Grigson's description should be qualified to read: Not as good as spinach...but better than grass clippings. And then, having thought about it some more, the qualification should further read: Better than grass clippings (but not by much...)

Tonight's dinner:

Smoked Mackerel Rillettes, with a Tomato Salad in Lemon Vinaigrette.

Spit Roast Chicken (the wall barbecue is now installed and functioning in the new kitchen!); Broccoli purée.

Melon Sorbet.

Highlights of the week...

Lunch at Da Marino in Serravalle...we hadn't been in years, and managed to persuade the Belfortes to meet there rather than flogging all the way into Florence for lunch at Osteria Uno (or whatever it's called these days, I forget now...) and a De Chirico exhibition afterwards at the Strozzi. In the event, the Belfortes did the exhibition beforehand, proclaimed it a complete waste of time, and lunch was splendid! The lightest ribollito imaginable; a dish of polenta with white truffles and a poached quail's egg...sublime; excellent rabbit; a delicious stifato; a couple of bottles of excellent sauvignon...and the inevitable fragolina to drink with dessert(which was a little ho-hum...dessert, I mean...but then, that's generally the case in Italy; desserts just don't form part of the vernacular, I've come to realise).

Thousands of fireflies in the garden every evening. Literally, thousands. The first evening that I saw them from the terrace, I went along to the end of the church to see how they appeared away from any light source, and looking along the walk at the back of the church was like a miniature version of Oxford Street at Christmas. Myriad pinpricks of light piercing the darkness, flashing on and off as the flies drifted around in the warm night air. Completely surreal.

Poppies, blood-red, suddenly appearing in their hundreds on the north lawn, in the morning sunlight. Renoir would have been reaching for his brushes. I'm afraid I just got the lawn-mower out, instead (nothing against poppies, but it was time for the lawns to be 'done'...and in this garden, it's a constant struggle to keep the forces of nature even halfway at bay; in any event, there were hundreds more poppies in their place two days later).

The first of our strawberry crop!

The arrival, finally and after a few false starts, of summer...

And the low-point of the week? Losing the will to live in the kitchen design department (Ha! If ever there was a misnomer!) of IKEA in Sesto Fiorentino. We're installing a kitchen in the first floor of the old house as part of the process of selling it. Technical Dept thought it would be quickest to order the stone from IKEA, on the basis that they must process hundreds of orders like this every week, and therefore it would all be quick and efficient and painless. As if! Two hours of standing around, while two assistants who clearly had no clue what they were doing ineffectually pressed computer keys for a design software programme which they had no idea how to operate. In the end, we lost patience, and left them to it. For all I know, they're at it even now.
We'll just go back to Signor Roggi, and order the stone from him - even with his eccentric delivery timetables, he can't be half as bad as the witless lot at IKEA...

Tonight's dinner:

Shrimp ravioli.

Involtini, with Leek and Parmesan; Fagiolini.

Lemon Tart

Recipe: Strawberry Beignets

The strawberry glut is upon us...and this is even before our own strawberry beds in the garden have properly ripened! A crate of strawberries ( either from Sicily, or else from the warmth of the polytunnels around Pescia) winked up at me the other day, and at only four euros for two kilos it was impossible to resist. Half a kilo has gone to make a quantity of Balsamic Strawberries, and another half went into strawberry and orange sorbet; a strawberry bavarois for supper tomorrow, and a container of vanilla ice-cream, with chopped strawberries added half way through churning, will finish the crate...after a couple of servings last night of the most delicious strawberry beignets, that is.

Served with a chilled crème anglaise, these are quite wonderful! Individual strawberry and lemon flavour-bombs, crisp inside their batter shells, and blanketed with the velvety richness of chilled crème. Not particularly for a formal occasion, since all the work is done right at the end, and for best results the beignets need to be eaten while still crisp and hot, and so should be consumed while the next batch is still being fried.

For four.

Ingredients: 24-30 fresh strawberries, hulled;
Batter:2 eggs, separated; 1 cup of flour; half a cup of milk; a generous pinch of salt; 1 tbs white wine; grated rind from 1 lemon; 1 tbs oil
Crème: 2 egg yolks; 10 fl oz milk; 1 tsp vanilla; quarter of a cup of sugar.
Icing sugar, to garnish.
Approx 2 litres of light oil, for frying.

Method:

1. Make the Crème Anglaise - heat the milk in a simmertopf; beat the yolks and sugar together until pale yellow, then whisk in the heated milk; return the mixture to the simmertopf for five minutes or so, until it has achieved spoon-coating thickness; whisk in the vanilla, and put aside to cool. Once cool, chill in the fridge.

2. Make a batter with all the ingredients listed, apart from the egg whites and the tablespoon of oil; beat the egg whites until stiff, and stir these into the batter along with the tablespoon of oil.

3. Heat the frying oil until it is very hot (it should read 395 degrees F, or thereabouts). Pour the chilled sauce onto soup plates.

4. Using cocktail sticks, spear the strawberries individually, and coat them in batter before dropping them into the hot oil. Stir them as necessary to make sure they brown on all sides - this should take only a couple of minutes. As they are done, remove them from the oil and briefly drain on kitchen paper. Dredge them with icing sugar, and place half a dozen or so per serving on each soup plate.

Serve.

NB: Make sure to put a lid on the pan in which you've been frying after you've finished; even once the heat has been turned off, the oil will continue to vaporise, and the lid will at least reduce the unavoidable odour which will otherwise penetrate the entire house!