Friday, November 26, 2010
Risotto a la Choux de Romanesco
I was paging through a copy of Jamie Oliver's Italian cookbook at my sister in law's and the shape of this funny type of cauliflower (romanesco) lodged itself in my brain because I bought it instantly. Jamie's recipe says it has an unusual taste, and to me it's a combo between brussel sprouts and cauliflower. I took hints from his recipe, adding the diced 'core' with the onions, then the florets in with the broth that the risotto gets frequently bathed with during the course of cooking. Instead of anchovy old for the breadcrumbs (hubby will NOT eat them under any circumstances) I used the firey italian spice mix consisting of red pepper flakes, parsley, and dried tomato heated in olive oil. Then I tossed in the breadcrumbs, and I must say it turned out quite well. I liked the spicy crunch it made mixed with the creamy earthy flavors of the romanesco cauliflower.
Sicilian food
I'm staring at the departures screen in Charles de Gaulle airport tying in vain to guess the destination of my surprise birthday trip. (It was amusing to be the butt of my own joke, as I'm the one who offered a surprise birthday trip two years ago to Sevilla, Spain for my husband.) I've been staring at "Palermo" on the screen and am disappointed rather than alarmed when I hear my husband say that our destination is not displayed on the screen. At the check-in counter, it's unavoidable that I learn we're going to "Catania" somewhere in Italy--but, where the heck is Catania?! I play a quick game of 20 questions with my husband and realize in 3 questions that it is in Sicily.
Even the airport food looks good! Pizza and something that looks like breading-covered meatballs (definitely gunna find out what those are); and passing the Italian 'cafe' the aromas are enough to amp my hunger meter at least 3 notches. Even my husband, a Frenchman--who certainly have an appreciable affinity for their 'cafe' --agrees that Italian coffee is the best.
The super cute couple (Rob & Christina) run our B&B have a whole list of their preferred restaurants prepared for their guests. We go to "al Aldo" where I eat linguine al mare with pomodoro tomato sauce, little clams, mussels and tender, scrumptious baby squid. (An aside: perhaps you grew up in or know of a seafood-loving region in the USA that serves such a delightful variety of small shellfish, squid and the like as you can find here in Sicily or in say, Barcelona, but I've yet to find it). Julien ate macaroni pasta (which looked like penne to me, but I'm not Italian; what do I know) ala Norma--pomodoro, ricotta, and eggplant with a really unexpected flavor; perhaps they used the BBQ that he spied out back on the way to the loo. The waiter was terribly patient with us, considering that the French "Routard" guide had an abysmal excuse for Italian translations. Ok, we're in Sicily, but it's Italy man, and if you're not willing to eat anything here that's local and fresh unless you're deathly allergic, frankly, you've wasted your vacation my friend.
Bellies full to bursting, we spend the rest of the day lazily wandering around the old streets of Catania where the buildings emanate an old-world--yet slightly sooty--charm of long-past days of glory.
Our early morning departure from de Gaulle airport meant we were exhausted by sundown, so we happily tried the restaurant "Camelot" just down the street from our bed. Though the name provoked images of Monty Python characters dancing 'round the dining room, the decor was reserved and rather homey. We watched in awe as a circus of meat was paraded out to hungry diners seated at tables adorned in red and white checkered tablecloths; the quantity of grilled meat and fish on the platters suggested that Camelot's other diners were ravenous as lions--like us, after a long day (hey-sightseeing is hard work!). After an exchange of sign language, necessitated by the non-existent Routard translations; we understood that when the waiter flapped his arms, it signified that "quaglie" was quail. So Julien ordered BBQ meat, and being on a seafood kick, I got grilled swordfish. I'll admit that when the meat arrived, I was disappointed not to have ordered from the meat parade--I hate it when people order better than me! The rolled up meat/cheese/ham on skewers (involtini, perhaps?) were killer, and the barbeque flavor--insanely good.
We explore the impressive fish market the next morning and decide to do some shopping for a picnic lunch. Here's our list:
speck
breseola
salami
grilled (blackened?) ricotta
provolone
grilled red pepper
tomatos
bread
...and the COST - less than what I spend on a sandwich in Boston!
I finally get my fish fix when we have dinner at al Mare. I get the
antipasto tutto mare : 4 cold dishes of squid salad, eels (?), boccarones, shrimp ceviche (very unusual, but I think I prefer my shrimp cooked, which is too bad because I don't think the quality was to blame, given the freshness of the other dishes)
But wait! There are antipasto tutto mare hot dishes too, including:
baby sardine stuffed with breadcrumbs & pine nuts
grilled baby squid
the best damn mussels I ever ate, since they were drowned in olive oil and some killer fish broth.
After all that I ordered pasta (!) and it was so good I stuffed myself to bursting. I've never seen the combination of pistachios, cream and tiny shrimp but I'm going to try it at home!
Oh look what google found for me--and it appears to be an authentic Sicilian who's penned the recipe
http://pinchmysalt.com/2006/12/27/farfalle-with-pistachio-cream-sauce/
Lunch plans were foiled by the fact that Aldo only serves customers during the week, but we serendipitously found a place close to another restaurant that was (also) closed on Sunday. Happily, this was a family place and we ate really well AGAIN! I had risotto al pomodoro with asparagus, with tiny tasty shrimp making another appearance. What I would give to have a recipe for such a wonderful fish stock that totally made this dish. Such simple ingredients, but that stock gave it a depth that I've never achieved in a risotto.
We were so excited to (finally) have pizza for dinner that we didn't even change our shoes when we got downstairs and realized that it was raining. This was a major tactical error as the cobblestone streets do not drain well, and the large umbrella was inadequate to cover our legs, meaning we ended up in jeans and shoes that were drenched from the knees down. And to top it off, we ate in a lovely outdoor pizzaria --that's right, under the covered terrace but with rain falling all around the table and a stray kitten fighting with us for some dry pavement. Ok, the cat was really cute, but the damp meant we ate our pizza in record time--not the way sicilian food was meant to be enjoyed. Mine was procuitto and tartuffo nero black truffles with truffle oil. (Eww, a double dose of mushrooms meant Julien wanted no part of it, so I ate the leftovers for breakfast)!
Oh, and we got to try some of those breaded meatballs, which are actually arancini-or fried, breaded balls of risotto/rice--found everywhere in chic American restaurants these days. According to our B&B hosts, the shape indicates what's stuffed inside like bechamel + ham, or ragu. And yes, even the airport food was good!
Even the airport food looks good! Pizza and something that looks like breading-covered meatballs (definitely gunna find out what those are); and passing the Italian 'cafe' the aromas are enough to amp my hunger meter at least 3 notches. Even my husband, a Frenchman--who certainly have an appreciable affinity for their 'cafe' --agrees that Italian coffee is the best.
The super cute couple (Rob & Christina) run our B&B have a whole list of their preferred restaurants prepared for their guests. We go to "al Aldo" where I eat linguine al mare with pomodoro tomato sauce, little clams, mussels and tender, scrumptious baby squid. (An aside: perhaps you grew up in or know of a seafood-loving region in the USA that serves such a delightful variety of small shellfish, squid and the like as you can find here in Sicily or in say, Barcelona, but I've yet to find it). Julien ate macaroni pasta (which looked like penne to me, but I'm not Italian; what do I know) ala Norma--pomodoro, ricotta, and eggplant with a really unexpected flavor; perhaps they used the BBQ that he spied out back on the way to the loo. The waiter was terribly patient with us, considering that the French "Routard" guide had an abysmal excuse for Italian translations. Ok, we're in Sicily, but it's Italy man, and if you're not willing to eat anything here that's local and fresh unless you're deathly allergic, frankly, you've wasted your vacation my friend.
Bellies full to bursting, we spend the rest of the day lazily wandering around the old streets of Catania where the buildings emanate an old-world--yet slightly sooty--charm of long-past days of glory.
Our early morning departure from de Gaulle airport meant we were exhausted by sundown, so we happily tried the restaurant "Camelot" just down the street from our bed. Though the name provoked images of Monty Python characters dancing 'round the dining room, the decor was reserved and rather homey. We watched in awe as a circus of meat was paraded out to hungry diners seated at tables adorned in red and white checkered tablecloths; the quantity of grilled meat and fish on the platters suggested that Camelot's other diners were ravenous as lions--like us, after a long day (hey-sightseeing is hard work!). After an exchange of sign language, necessitated by the non-existent Routard translations; we understood that when the waiter flapped his arms, it signified that "quaglie" was quail. So Julien ordered BBQ meat, and being on a seafood kick, I got grilled swordfish. I'll admit that when the meat arrived, I was disappointed not to have ordered from the meat parade--I hate it when people order better than me! The rolled up meat/cheese/ham on skewers (involtini, perhaps?) were killer, and the barbeque flavor--insanely good.
We explore the impressive fish market the next morning and decide to do some shopping for a picnic lunch. Here's our list:
speck
breseola
salami
grilled (blackened?) ricotta
provolone
grilled red pepper
tomatos
bread
...and the COST - less than what I spend on a sandwich in Boston!
I finally get my fish fix when we have dinner at al Mare. I get the
antipasto tutto mare : 4 cold dishes of squid salad, eels (?), boccarones, shrimp ceviche (very unusual, but I think I prefer my shrimp cooked, which is too bad because I don't think the quality was to blame, given the freshness of the other dishes)
But wait! There are antipasto tutto mare hot dishes too, including:
baby sardine stuffed with breadcrumbs & pine nuts
grilled baby squid
the best damn mussels I ever ate, since they were drowned in olive oil and some killer fish broth.
After all that I ordered pasta (!) and it was so good I stuffed myself to bursting. I've never seen the combination of pistachios, cream and tiny shrimp but I'm going to try it at home!
Oh look what google found for me--and it appears to be an authentic Sicilian who's penned the recipe
http://pinchmysalt.com/2006/12/27/farfalle-with-pistachio-cream-sauce/
Lunch plans were foiled by the fact that Aldo only serves customers during the week, but we serendipitously found a place close to another restaurant that was (also) closed on Sunday. Happily, this was a family place and we ate really well AGAIN! I had risotto al pomodoro with asparagus, with tiny tasty shrimp making another appearance. What I would give to have a recipe for such a wonderful fish stock that totally made this dish. Such simple ingredients, but that stock gave it a depth that I've never achieved in a risotto.
We were so excited to (finally) have pizza for dinner that we didn't even change our shoes when we got downstairs and realized that it was raining. This was a major tactical error as the cobblestone streets do not drain well, and the large umbrella was inadequate to cover our legs, meaning we ended up in jeans and shoes that were drenched from the knees down. And to top it off, we ate in a lovely outdoor pizzaria --that's right, under the covered terrace but with rain falling all around the table and a stray kitten fighting with us for some dry pavement. Ok, the cat was really cute, but the damp meant we ate our pizza in record time--not the way sicilian food was meant to be enjoyed. Mine was procuitto and tartuffo nero black truffles with truffle oil. (Eww, a double dose of mushrooms meant Julien wanted no part of it, so I ate the leftovers for breakfast)!
Oh, and we got to try some of those breaded meatballs, which are actually arancini-or fried, breaded balls of risotto/rice--found everywhere in chic American restaurants these days. According to our B&B hosts, the shape indicates what's stuffed inside like bechamel + ham, or ragu. And yes, even the airport food was good!
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Reflections
I apologize to the author I'm plagarizing (badly). You most clearly see your own age reflected, not in oneself, but reflected in the face of a close friend.
I hadn't seen them in perhaps a decade, but they're like my old college friends. I eagerly looked forward to each chance I would get to see them, and indoctrinated many of my friends. I was a member of their fan club, before they became national stars and Brian's face was featured in a major movie. I knew the words to all of their songs and was sure they would make it big one day. And they did for one brief moment, but then it fizzled, while I loved them no less. Brian had a string of solo albums, but occasionally the group would do some infrequent reunion concerts always in Michigan and Chicago, too far to visit. I even tried to get them to come to Paris to play in my friend's flat.
They quietly took the stage, without introduction, and before the lights even came up. Surely these weren't the same skinny, holey T-shirt clad local celebrity rockers from my college days. I was nearly convinced that these guys were the opening act--that is, until I saw Brian. Then I was sure. It had been more than 15 years and my god, do I look that old myself? They're old! I mean, I'm looking at the definition of aging rocksters here. When the hell did that happen? I don't feel old?! Ok, sure I'm married now and have a (very) few grey hairs of my own. But I don't feel like I've settled into grown-upness quite yet! I guess I should have known when this particular reunion tour was promoting their new children's album. So they all have kids, that's cool, I thought.
They played a great set, so me old old stuff and the ghosts of youth flitted across the stage with Brian and the guitarist, AJ, playfully battling over who could out-rock the other. The formerly stick-thin AJ had the same hair, but that angular nose and frame had morphed into, well-- a dad's face. And look at the wedding bands on every finger; I fingered my own and smiled. Perhaps we're all getting grey, but they still rock, man.
I hadn't seen them in perhaps a decade, but they're like my old college friends. I eagerly looked forward to each chance I would get to see them, and indoctrinated many of my friends. I was a member of their fan club, before they became national stars and Brian's face was featured in a major movie. I knew the words to all of their songs and was sure they would make it big one day. And they did for one brief moment, but then it fizzled, while I loved them no less. Brian had a string of solo albums, but occasionally the group would do some infrequent reunion concerts always in Michigan and Chicago, too far to visit. I even tried to get them to come to Paris to play in my friend's flat.
They quietly took the stage, without introduction, and before the lights even came up. Surely these weren't the same skinny, holey T-shirt clad local celebrity rockers from my college days. I was nearly convinced that these guys were the opening act--that is, until I saw Brian. Then I was sure. It had been more than 15 years and my god, do I look that old myself? They're old! I mean, I'm looking at the definition of aging rocksters here. When the hell did that happen? I don't feel old?! Ok, sure I'm married now and have a (very) few grey hairs of my own. But I don't feel like I've settled into grown-upness quite yet! I guess I should have known when this particular reunion tour was promoting their new children's album. So they all have kids, that's cool, I thought.
They played a great set, so me old old stuff and the ghosts of youth flitted across the stage with Brian and the guitarist, AJ, playfully battling over who could out-rock the other. The formerly stick-thin AJ had the same hair, but that angular nose and frame had morphed into, well-- a dad's face. And look at the wedding bands on every finger; I fingered my own and smiled. Perhaps we're all getting grey, but they still rock, man.
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