pear tart / crostata di pere

September 30, 2021 | Simona

the simple elegance of a crostata always wins at the table
(placemat by La FABBRICA del LINO)

The current Cook the Books Club selection is Midnight at the Blackbird Café by Heather Webber.¹ On her website, the author explains:

The inspiration for this novel came years ago in a song. After hearing the Beatles' "Blackbird" for the first time, it haunted me… I was captivated with the concept of broken wings and how emotional wounds can keep many from being able to metaphorically fly… Blackbird research led me quickly to the Song of Sixpence with its “four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie,” and then a tidbit in Celtic folklore revealed that blackbirds were considered guardians and messengers of the "Other world.” With that, the heart of this book took form. What if blackbirds with their songs could pass messages from dearly departed loved ones through, of all things, pie, to bring comfort and love to those left behind?

The novel is a fairy tale (favola) set in a village in Alabama, mostly in the café of the title. Anna Kate, the protagonist, inherits the business and uses her spare time to untangle family secrets. It is a pleasant read and while the ending is fairly expected, there are a few surprises along the way.

Asian pears and other varieties of pears are delicious and in season now
(placemat by La FABBRICA del LINO)

Mulberries (more di gelso) play an important role in the story. If this were mulberry season, I would have made something with the delicious fruit, but those fleeting days are gone this year. Apples and pears of the new crop take center stage, crisp and juicy. I am Italian, so when I think about a dessert made with fruit, I think about crostata (tart). I presented crostata di mele (apple tart) some time ago² so here I am sharing a recipe for pear tart. While the rendition on the photos uses Asian pears (pere asiatiche), the tart can be made with other pear varieties.

Print-friendly version of briciole's recipe for Pear tart

Ingredients

For pasta frolla:

1/3 cup / 65 g ultrafine sugar or 1/2 cup powdered sugar (see Note 1)
1/2 cup / 60 g whole-wheat pastry flour
1/2 cup / 65 g unbleached all-purpose flour (see Note 2)
1/4 cup / 30 g almond flour or almond meal
1/4 cup / 30 g whole-grain barley flour OR unbleached all-purpose flour OR a mix of millet and sorghum flours
A pinch of salt
6 tablespoons / 85 g / 3 ounces cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 large egg (possibly from pastured poultry), lightly whisked to blend yolk and white
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the filling:

1 cup / 240 ml fruit preserves of a flavor that goes well with pears (like berries) and made mostly with fruit (see Note 3)
1 pound / 450 g Asian pears or another variety of pears (choose one that bakes well), preferably organic (you should be left with a few extra slices to snack on)

Note 1: Ultrafine or superfine sugar is also referred to as baker's sugar. If you cannot find it, you can make your own by putting some regular granulated sugar in a food processor or blender and letting it run until the sugar is finely ground.

Note 2: The less gluten (as indicated by % protein) in the flour, the better (I like to use Perfect Pastry blend by King Arthur Flour). Do not use bread flour.

Note 3: I use my homemade low-sugar preserves. I recommend you choose a good quality product, made with mostly fruit and little sugar.

How to make the pasta frolla
Put sugar, flours and salt in the bowl of the food processor fitted with a steel blade and pulse a few times to mix. Add butter and pulse a few times for 3 seconds at a time until the mix resembles coarse meal. Empty food processor's bowl onto your work surface.

[If you don't have a food processor: Whisk together sugar, flours and salt in a bowl. Rub or cut the butter into the sugar and flour mixture until it has the consistency of coarse crumbs. You can do this in the bowl or on your work surface, using your fingertips or an implement of choice.]

Make a well in the center of the mounded flour and butter mixture and pour the egg and vanilla extract into it. Use a fork to incorporate the liquid into the solid ingredients, then use your fingertips.

Knead lightly just until the dough comes together into a ball. Use some all-purpose flour as needed to flour your hands to prevent excessive sticking.

Shape the dough into a flat disk 1 inch / 2.5 cm thick and wrap in plastic wrap. Place the dough in the refrigerator and chill for at least two hours. I usually make it the evening before and refrigerate it overnight.

How to prepare the bottom layer of the crostata
To bake the crostata, I recommend using a 9 or 9 1/2-inch / 23-24 cm fluted round tart pan with removable bottom, about 1 inch / 2.5 cm high.

Take the pasta frolla out of the refrigerator and unwrap it. I recommend you roll the dough on a piece of parchment paper or the plastic film in which it was wrapped as it is quite crumbly.

Lightly dust with flour the top of the dough and the surface on which you are rolling it. Keep some flour handy to lightly dust the dough as you go along.

If the dough is very firm, start by pressing the dough with the rolling pin from the middle to each end, moving the rolling pin by a pin's width each time; turn the dough 90 degrees and repeat; when it softens, start rolling gently.

Roll the dough into a circle about 1/8 inch / 3 mm thick. If you used parchment paper or plastic wrap as rolling surface, flip the dough over the tart pan, centering it, and delicately press it all around so the corners are well covered. Peel away the wrap.

Trim the excess dough hanging over the edges of the pan and use it, as necessary, where you find that you came up short and/or to make the border of an even thickness all the way around. Prick the shell with a fork in several places. You will have only a small amount of dough left over, which you can use to make a thicker edge or a cookie or two (1/6 inch / 4 mm thick and cut as desired, baked at the same temperature as the tart for 15 minutes).

Refrigerate the tart shell. After 15 minutes or so, preheat the oven to 350 F / 177 C.

tart ready for the oven

How to fill the crostata
Rinse, quarter and core the pears, then slice them ¼ inch / 6 mm thick.

Take the unbaked tart shell out of the fridge. With the help of a spatula distribute on it the fruit preserves in an even layer.

Arrange the pear slices in circles on top of the preserves, starting from the outside until you reach the center.

How to bake the crostata
Put the crostata in the oven and bake for 35 minutes. Check the tart to estimate the time remaining, then continue baking until the tart border is of a light golden hue.

Remove the tart from the oven and let cool slightly on a rack. If you used a tart pan with a removable bottom, release the tart base from the fluted tart ring. Let cool a bit longer on the rack, then, with the help of a wide spatula, slide the crostata onto a serving plate. Make sure the tart is completely cool before slicing delicately and serving.

Serves 10-12.

The tart is best eaten the day it is made.

¹ The book's page on the author's website
² On this blog: Apple Tart, Vinegar Tart

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

crostata di pere

or launch the crostata di pere audio file [mp3].

[Depending on your set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]

This is my contribution to the current selection of our Cook the Books hosted by Deb of Kahakai Kitchen . (You can find the guidelines for participating in the event on this page.)

The roundup of the event.

FTC disclosure: I have received the table linen free of charge from the manufacturer (la FABBRICA del LINO). I have not and will not receive any monetary compensation for presenting it on my blog. The experience shared and the opinions expressed in this post are entirely my own.

tart, fruit dessert, pear, Asian pear, crostata, Italian cuisine

braised celery and leeks / sedano e porri stufati

January 31, 2018 | Simona

a plateful of flavor (placemat by La FABBRICA del LINO)

The historical novel Feast of Sorrow by Crystal King, the current selection of our Cook the Books Club, was quite an interesting read. While the narrator is a slave named Thrasius, the protagonist is his owner, Marcus Gavius Apicius, who lived in the 1st century during the reign of the Emperor Tiberius and became famous for his love of food and his sumptuous dinners. Rich and ambitious, he is driven by the desire to become culinary advisor to the emperor. The pact with the devil (Sejanus) he makes exacts a high price.

The novel weaves together the lives of the individual characters with ancient Rome's life, politics and cuisine. A couple of novels I read some years ago prompted me to delve into the subject of Roman recipes for which De Re Coquinaria (a.k.a., Apicius) were the source¹. This is not the right venue for a detailed discussions of the relationship between Marcus Gavius Apicius and De Re Coquinaria. The latter is a great source and I consulted it again to find a recipe to go with our book selection.

the simple beauty of diced celery on the cutting board

Lately I have been on a celery streak: my mother used celery as part of odori (a collection of aromatics), but we never had celery salad or any dish in which celery played a leading role. Celery omelette² was the result of my first foray into celery-land. Beautiful freshly harvested celery at the farmers' market and recipe number 71 in this translation of De Re Coquinaria³ inspired a dish of braised celery and leek that has become an instant favorite with both my husband and me. My recipe, solidly savory, is quite different from the ancient one, but I owe to it the suggestion to pair one of my favorite vegetables, leeks, with one I am getting to know.

Roman recipes use garum⁴ as condiment, a fermented fish sauce, which I substitute with anchovy fillets (I would try using colatura di alici⁵ if I had access to some). While anchovies provide a distinctive nuance, besides salt, they can be omitted to make a vegan version of the dish.

Print-friendly version of briciole's recipe for Braised celery and leeks

Ingredients:

8 ounces / 225 g leek, white and light green portion, clean weight (set aside the dark green portion to make broth or stock)
3 tablespoons / 45 ml extra-virgin olive oil
8 ounces / 225 g celery, diced small
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1/4 teaspoon sweet paprika
1-2 anchovy fillets in olive oil (if you omit this ingredient, the dish is vegan; add fine sea salt to taste at the end)
celery leaves, finely chopped, as topping

Cut the leek(s) in half lengthwise and slice into thin half moons. Rinse them in a colander, then place them in a bowl and fill it with cold water. With your hands, swirl the leeks to clean them well, then scoop them out of the water with a sieve or slotted spoon and drain them in a colander.

Warm up the olive oil in a cast-iron skillet or pot. Add the leeks, stir well and cook for a couple of minutes.

Add the celery and thyme leaves, stir well and cook for a couple of minutes. Sprinkle the paprika on the vegetables and stir well. Cover the skillet or pot and cook on gentle heat until the vegetables are soft, stirring every now and then. (The time it takes depends on how fresh the vegetables are.)

Cut the anchovy fillets into small pieces and add to the vegetables. Stir well to blend.

Take off the heat, sprinkle the celery leaves, give a final stir and serve warm.

Serves 3-4.

braised celery and leek with beans / DSC_8266

add cooked beans and you have a complete meal
(placemat by La FABBRICA del LINO)

Besides as a side dish, the braised celery and leeks can be used as stuffing for roasted squash (for example, Delicata squash, which I particularly like because you can eat the skin as well as the flesh).

Another way is shown in the photo above: I cooked a cup of beans⁶ (fagioli) of my favorite variety (organic Paul's mix, locally grown by Warren Creek Farms), drained them leaving about 1/4 cup / 60 ml of the cooking liquid, then added them to the vegetables 10 minutes or so before they were fully cooked, stirred well, brought the liquid to a simmer, covered and completed the cooking as per the recipe above.

¹ From the blog archives: carrots with cumin sauce (the post includes pointers to some ancient recipes)
²From the blog archives: celery omelette
³ Book III of Apicius (scroll down to number 71)
⁴ See a modern garum recipe on this page (which includes also a recipe for pear patina, a dessert mentioned repeatedly in the novel)
⁵ Wikipedia entry on colatura di alici
⁶ See this post for details on how I cook beans

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

sedano e porri stufati

or launch the sedano e porri stufati audio file [mp3].

[Depending on your set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]

This is my contribution to the current selection of our Cook the Books hosted by Debra of Eliot's Eats. (You can find the guidelines for participating in the event on this page.)

The roundup of the event.

FTC disclosure: I have received the placemat free of charge from the manufacturer (la FABBRICA del LINO). I have not and will not receive any monetary compensation for presenting it on my blog. The experience shared and the opinions expressed in this post are entirely my own.

celery, leek, side dish, braise, Italian cuisine

savoy cabbage and radicchio / cavolo verza e radicchio

November 29, 2017 | Simona

a brilliant flavor behind subdued color
(placemat by La FABBRICA del LINO)

A few pages into The Patriarch by Martin Walker, the current selection of our Cook the Books Club, I had this image of Bruno, the protagonist, as a head of cabbage and Pamela, his girlfriend (who in the course of the novel becomes his ex) as a head of radicchio¹.

Bruno reminded me of a head of cabbage because, although he is a pleasant and sensitive person, a smart and conscientious policeman, a gardener, a cook, a horseback rider and dog owner, you’d probably overlook him at a party attended by other detectives from the literature, like Salvo Montalbano, Pepe Carvalho or Rocco Schiavone. Ebullient entrepreneur Pamela wishes him well as she moves on to another relationship.

I could not be in Venice this fall, but got some California-grown radicchio

The novel was a pleasant read, weaving together into a tense plot local politics, the history of WWII, and the past and present life of the various characters. There is plenty of food and wine in the story, which is set in the south of France, and some recipes, but the image of Bruno as a head of cabbage stuck with me. I have always liked cabbage and appreciated its versatility. I think it is undervalued when not denigrated outright, which is unjust.

Finding plenty of cabbage of all varieties (savoy, green, red, cone, napa) at the farmers’ market, plus some gorgeous radicchio rosso di Treviso got me experimenting with pairing those until I obtained the lovely side dish (contorno) below, which marries radicchio‘s distinctive light bitterness with savoy cabbage².

The voluptuous beauty of radicchio rosso di Treviso

Print-friendly version of briciole’s recipe for Savoy cabbage and radicchio

Ingredients:

3 tablespoons / 45 ml extra-virgin olive oil
4 ounces / 112 g onion, minced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon Harissa spice mix³, or to taste
8 ounces / 225 g savoy cabbage
5 ounces / 140 g radicchio rosso di Treviso, variety precoce (early)
1/4 cup / 60 ml coconut milk
fine sea salt, to taste (depending on the salt content of the Harissa spice mix)
2 tablespoons sliced almond, lightly toasted in a dry skillet (optional, as topping)

Warm up the olive oil in a cast-iron skillet or pot. Add the onion, stir well and cook on gentle heat until soft, 18-20 minutes, stirring often.

Quarter the savoy cabbage. Separate the leaves of radicchio. Cut both vegetables into 1/4 inch / 0.5 cm wide ribbons.

Add the garlic to the onion and stir. After a minute, add the Harissa and stir well. After another minute or so, add the cabbage and stir well. Again wait a minute or so, then add the radicchio and stir well. Cover and cook on gentle heat for 20 minutes, stirring every now and then.

Add the coconut milk, stir well, cover again and continue cooking on gentle heat until the vegetables are soft.

Adjust salt, give it a final stir and take off the heat. If using, sprinkle almonds on top. Serve warm.

Serves 3-4.

savoy cabbage and radicchio di Treviso / IMG_0786

a view of the cutting board

The output of this recipe can also be used as topping for a savory tart.

¹ There are several types of radicchio, tied to their production zone:

radicchio rosso di Treviso
radicchio di Chioggia
radicchio di Verona
radicchio variegato di Castelfranco

This page has some details on them
² From the blog archives: another recipe with radicchio
³The Harissa spice mix I use

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

cavolo verza e radicchio

or launch the cavolo verza e radicchio audio file [mp3].

[Depending on your set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]

This is my contribution to the current selection of our Cook the Books hosted by Claudia of Honey from Rock. (You can find the guidelines for participating in the event on this page.)

The roundup of the event.

radicchio, cabbage, side dish, stew, Italian cuisine

apple tart / crostata di mele

September 30, 2017 | Simona

a personal take on an Italian classic

Laura Ingalls Wilder's Farmer Boy, the current selection of our Cook the Books Club, is a well-known children's book in the US. It was an interesting read, giving me a glimpse into some of the literature people my age were exposed to during their childhood and a view into rural life and related activities in an age and place quite removed from mine. For Almanzo and his family the year was marked by the seasonal work they did, and that work is described in detail by Ingalls Wilder. There is also moral content, mostly with regards to money.

The distance in time and place between the book and me made some parts jarring and in this light, it was particularly interesting to listen to a recent piece on NPR on Ingalls Wilder on the occasion of the 150th anniversary of her birth¹. As usual, I am thankful to belong to a book club that exposes me to works I would not have read on my own.

There is a lot of food in the book and also something dear to my heart: the imperative of avoiding food waste. This topic recurs in the story including in the chapter connected to my choice of recipe. First Almanzo and his siblings harvest apples by hand, careful not to bruise them so they won't spoil when put into storage.

it's apple season!

The other apples are pressed into cider (sidro). Making use of less than perfect apples was the subject of an article I wrote a few years ago¹. I regularly buy such apples (called seconds at farmers' market around here) and eat them out of hand or use them in my kitchen. Their main fault usually a tiny bruise or discoloration that can be easily removed, or a non-conformant shape.

Almanzo likes all pies. I have nice memories of the first apple pie I tasted, during my first stay in the UK, homemade by my landlady with apples from her garden. Being Italian, my preference goes to crostata, the traditional Italian tart.

The base (shell) of a crostata is made of pasta frolla (or pastafrolla), a dough of flour, sugar, butter and eggs. In the filling of this crostata I celebrate the change of seasons by using plum preserves from summer and apples from the new crop.

apple tart / crostata di mele / DSC_3307

the baked apple slices look like rose petals

Print-friendly version of briciole's recipe for Apple tart / Crostata di mele

Ingredients

For pasta frolla:

1/3 cup / 65 g ultrafine sugar or 1/2 cup powdered sugar (see Note 1)
1/2 cup / 60 g whole-wheat pastry flour
1/2 cup / 65 g unbleached all-purpose flour (see Note 2)
1/4 cup / 30 g almond flour or almond meal
1/4 cup / 30 g whole-grain barley flour OR unbleached all-purpose flour OR a mix of millet and sorghum flours
A pinch of salt
6 tablespoons / 85 g / 3 ounces cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 large egg (possibly from pastured poultry), lightly whisked to blend yolk and white
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the filling:

1 cup fruit preserves of a flavor you like that goes well with apples and made mostly with fruit (see Note 3)
2 apples, about 10 ounces / 280 g, of a variety that is sweet and crisp, organic if possible

Note 2: The less gluten (as indicated by % protein) in the flour, the better (I like to use Perfect Pastry blend by King Arthur Flour). Do not use bread flour.

Note 3: I use my homemade low-sugar preserves. I recommend you choose a good quality product, made with mostly fruit and little sugar.

Knead lightly just until the dough comes together into a ball. Use some all-purpose flour as needed to flour your hands to prevent excessive sticking.

How to prepare the bottom layer of the crostata
To bake the crostata, I recommend using a 9 or 9 1/2-inch / 23-24 cm fluted round tart pan with removable bottom, about 1 inch / 2.5 cm high.

Take the pasta frolla out of the refrigerator and unwrap it. I recommend you roll the dough on a piece of parchment paper or the plastic film in which it was wrapped as it is quite crumbly.

Lightly dust with flour the top of the dough and the surface on which you are rolling it. Keep some flour handy to lightly dust the dough as you go along.

Refrigerate the tart shell. After 15 minutes or so, preheat the oven to 350 F / 177 C.

apple tart / crostata di mele / DSC_3300

apples — thinly sliced with the help of a mandoline

How to fill the crostata
Rinse well the apples and cut them into quarters. Slice them thinly crosswise using the thinnest setting of a mandoline or similar tool.

Take the unbaked tart shell out of the fridge. With the help of a spatula distribute on it the fruit preserves in an even layer. Fan out the apple slices and distribute them over the fruit preserves to make an even layer that will look quite beautiful once the tart is baked.

How to bake the crostata
Put the crostata in the oven and bake for 35 minutes. Check the tart to estimate the time remaining, then continue baking until the tart border is of a light golden hue. Make sure the apples don't burn at the edges. (If that is about to happen, cover the tart loosely with foil and continue baking.)

Serves 10-12.

pretty also in black and white

The tart is best eaten the day it is made.

¹ NPR: 'Little House on the Prairie' author is 150
² North Coast Journal: Baking Beauties
³ On this blog: Vinegar Tart

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

crostata di mele

or launch the crostata di mele audio file [mp3].

[Depending on your set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]

This is my contribution to the current selection of our Cook the Books hosted by Deb of Kahakai Kitchen . (You can find the guidelines for participating in the event on this page.)

The roundup of the event.

This is also my contribution to the 31st edition of Novel Food, the literary/culinary event that Lisa of Champaign Taste and I started some time ago and that I continue to host.

The roundup of the event.

tart, fruit dessert, apple, crostata, Italian cuisine

crema di fave e scapi florali d’aglio / fava bean and garlic scape spread

May 29, 2012 | Simona

a creamy shade of green

For the current edition of Cook the Books, we are reading The United States of Arugula by David Kamp (2006). I don't think I can add much to the many reviews the book has received since its publication. It is undoubtedly an important book, very interesting and pleasant to read. Kamp's book paints a complete and complex picture that helps the reader understand how certain aspects of the food world in the US evolved to be the way they are now.

My perspective in reading the book is that of an outsider-insider: I am an Italian who moved to the San Francisco Bay Area (theater of a number of the developments narrated in the book) as an adult (18 years ago), with well-established food roots. I learned not only to cook but to enjoy doing so, and, as a result, I eat out only very rarely. Finally, I don't watch television. From this special perspective, the story told in the book is fascinating, and also puzzling. I am very much Italian in my approach to food and totally immune from the obsession with French cuisine depicted in the book. Such obsession puzzles me.

Kamp dedicates some thoughtful paragraphs to Italian cuisine. You can read an example here. This excerpt brought to my mind two things. First, the 1996 movie Big Night, which shows very nicely the tension between Italian regional cuisine and Americans' perception of it influenced by the Italian-American community. Then, an episode from my previous life. Before moving to the US, one summer, I worked at a Club Med resort in Morocco. The guests came from France, Italy, Belgium, Germany, the UK. One evening, the dining room was divided into two sections: in one, guests would be served a French menu, in the other, an Italian menu. At dinner time, things did not quite go as expected: almost everybody wanted to go into one section — and it was not the one where French food would be served. As Marcella Hazan says in the passage referenced above with regards to Italian food, "it's food that you eat with pleasure… You don't have to analyze it, you just enjoy that it's so."

The recipe that follows is connected to another page of the book, where Ms. Betty Fussell's comment on food hype is reported, within the context of an assessment of Alice Waters' contribution to the discussion on food ways. (You can read the page here.) These Fussell's words made me smile: "little tiny Italian fava-bean grower down the road." I am actually happy that nowadays I can find fresh fava beans at the farmers' market (and fava greens too), a food that is quite common in Italy and that I ate often as a kid.

The other element of the recipe is garlic scapes. The scape is the elegant leafless "stem from which the seed head of the garlic bulb is formed" (source). Garlic scapes are a relatively recent entry in my kitchen: they have gained in popularity in recent years and are now easily found at farmers' market, appearing at the same time as fava beans, a coincidence that I interpreted as a suggestion.

Most recipes I have seen use scapes to make a variation of pesto, or as a side dish, roasted. My spread tastes of fresh fava beans, of aromatic garlic scapes and of pungent fiore sardo cheese. In this small dish, I bring together my Italian heritage and my experience with interesting ingredients I find in Californian farmers' markets. More than an exact recipe, this is an invitation to play with the main ingredients. It is also a variation on the classic Italian combination of fava beans and pecorino cheese.

Note: Savory has a flavor reminiscent of thyme, with mint and pepper tones. I have a bush of winter savory (santoreggia montana) in my herb garden, and I like to experiment with it. If you don't have it, try using one or two leaves of fresh mint (menta).

Print-friendly version of briciole's recipe for Fava bean and garlic scape spread

Ingredients:

1 1/4 lb. fresh fava beans in their pod (about 1 1/4 cup shelled)
2 1/2-3 oz. [70-85 g] garlic scapes
1 teaspoon fresh winter savory, optional (see note above)
1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
3 tablespoons freshly grated fiore sardo
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
Fine sea salt, to taste

Shell fava beans and blanch them for one minute, drain them and plunge them into a bowl of cold water. Drain them again, then remove the skin from the beans to bring their bright green core to light. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 425 F. Cut thinner portion of garlic scapes (above the bulge); if they've yellowed, discard. Spread all the scapes onto a baking sheet lined with a silicone baking mat and sprinkle with olive oil and a bit of sea salt. Bake for 12 minutes, then remove the thinner pieces. Bake the rest for another 3-4 minutes. Let cool slightly, then coarsely chop scapes. (This seems complicated, but the top of the scapes ends up charred and I am trying to avoid that. If it still happens, snap off the charred portion and discard it before proceeding with the recipe.)

Put fava beans and scapes in the food processor and pulse to chop. Add herbs and process some more, then add the cheese and process briefly. While pulsing, dribble the oil into the feeding tube, then the lemon juice. Finally, sprinkle a bit of salt and process to a smooth paste by pulsing for several seconds at a time.

I have found that it is better to allow the ingredients to influence each other for a bit before changing the balance, so let the spread rest for 20 minutes or so, then taste and adjust seasoning (salt, lemon juice). Refrigerate until ready to use and take out of the refrigerator in advance, so that the spread in not cold when you serve it.

In the top photo, I am using a grissino as a vehicle for some of the spread.

This is my contribution to the current edition of Cook the Books, hosted by Jo of Food Junkie, Not Junk Food. You can find the guidelines for participating in the event here, and here is the announcement.

This post contains the roundup of the event.

I am also sending this to My Legume Love Affair 47, the current edition of the popular, legume-centered event created by Susan, The Well-Seasoned Cook, and hosted this month by Priya of Mharo Rajasthan's Recipes. This post contains the roundup of the event.

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

crema di fave e scapi florali d'aglio

or launch the crema di fave e scapi florali d'aglio audio file [mp3].

[Depending on your set-up, the audio file will be played within the browser or by your mp3 player application. Please, contact me if you encounter any problems.]

fava bean, garlic scape

gougères al gouda / gouda gougères (cheese puffs)

November 2, 2009 | Simona

[cliccare il link per andare alla versione in italiano]

The immediate inspiration for making gougères was a mention in Peter Mayle’s French Lessons: Adventures with Knife, Fork and Corkscrew, the book chosen for the current edition of Cook the Books. In the chapter devoted to tasting wine in Burgundy, I read the following:

Our host took pity on us and led us upstairs to the tasting room, where bottles and glasses were laid out next to plates of gougères. These are small, light, delicious nuggets of cheese-flavored puff pastry that have the effect of softening and thus improving the taste of young wine in the mouth. They are also salty enough to encourage a healthy thirst.

Though the "delicious nuggets" Mayle describes are made of puff pastry, gougères are made with choux pastry. Here's the definition of gougère that I found in the online Larousse dictionary: Pâtisserie en pâte à chou salée, additionnée d'œuf et de gruyère et cuite au four.

I don't drink wine (regrettably, I don't have a palate for it) and what came before and after the gougères did not make a lasting impression on me. But the word gougères printed on the page reminded me that I had wanted to try to make them for some time. A while ago, a recipe by David Lebovitz had allowed me to produce very nice bignè (cream puffs), so I looked at the same source for help in the savory realm and I found the desired recipe (thank you, David!), for what in Italian can be described as piccoli bignè salati al formaggio (small, cheese-flavored savory puffs).

I made the recipe three times, always using my homemade cheese (formaggio fatto in casa). The first time, I used colby cheese, because that was the one I had on hand, and it worked well. The second and third time, I wanted the gougères to go with Roasted Pumpkin-Apple Soup (a bowl of which is featured in the photo), so a sweet Gouda cheese seemed perfect. I think it was a good choice.

Gouda was the first hard cheese I made in early September, after taking a little break from that activity during the summer. (I did make soft cheese, though, like fromage blanc.) Gouda is a washed-curd cheese, meaning that during the period when the curds are slowly heated, some of the whey is removed and substituted with water. I aged my little wheel of Gouda cheese for six weeks. (The photo on the right shows the drying Gouda cheese.)

I made a couple of changes to the original recipe:

I weighed the grated Gouda cheese after grating it (with my beloved grattugia) and used 2.5 oz.
I did not sprinkle cheese on top of the gougères (only added it to the batter).
I used four (quite long) fresh chives (erba cipollina) from my herb garden, instead of 12, as I was afraid they would provide too strong a taste (as I said above, my Gouda cheese is rather delicate in flavor).

I was very satisfied with both the texture and the special flavor imparted by my homemade cheese to this savory French finger food, so much so that I decided to pair gouda gougères with another dish, but that's a story for another day.

This is my contribution to the fifth edition of Cook the Books, hosted by Jo of Food Junkie Not Junk Food. You can find the guidelines for participating in the event here, and here is the announcement of the current edition.

You will find the roundup of the event here.

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

gougères al gouda

or launch the gougères al gouda audio file [mp3].

[jump to Comments]

gougères al gouda

L'ispirazione a preparare le gougères è stata la menzione che ne fa Peter Mayle nel suo libro Lezioni di francese. Avventure con coltello, forchetta e flûte (interessante notare come il cavatappi del titolo originale sia diventato flûte in quello della versione italiana), il libro scelto per l'attuale edizione dell'evento Cook the Books. Nel capitolo dedicato all'assaggio di vino in Borgogna, Mayle menziona vassoi di gougères, "piccoli e leggeri bocconcini di pasta sfoglia con formaggio." I "bocconcini" che Mayle descrive sono fatti con la pasta sfoglia, ma di fatto le gougères sono piccoli bignè salati al formaggio e quindi sono fatte con quella che in francese si chiama pâte à chou. Questa è la definizione che ho trovato nel dizionario Larousse online: Pâtisserie en pâte à chou salée, additionnée d'œuf et de gruyère et cuite au four.

Non bevo vino (purtroppo, il mio palato non lo apprezza) e quello che nel capitolo viene prima e dopo le gougères non ha lasciato alcun segno nella mia memoria. Ma la parola gougères stampata sulla pagina mi ha ricordato che da tempo volevo preparare questi bignè salati al formaggio. Qualche tempo fa, una ricetta di David Lebovitz ha dato come risultato degli ottimi bignè che poi ho riempito di crema, così ho consultato lo stesso blog per ottenere aiuto in ambito salato e ho trovato la ricetta che cercavo (grazie infinite, David!).

Ho fatto le gougères tre volte, sempre usando il mio formaggio fatto in casa. La prima volta ho usato del colby, perché era ciò che avevo disponibile, e ha funzionato bene. La seconda e terza volta volevo servire le gougères con Roasted Pumpkin-Apple Soup (crema di zucca e mele cotte al forno, ritratta nella foto a sinistra) e il dolce gouda mi sembrava la scelta giusta. Questa formetta di gouda è il primo formaggio a pasta dura che ho fatto, all'inizio di settembre, dopo aver interrotto brevemente tale attività durante il periodo estivo. (Ho continuato a fare formaggi freschi come fromage blanc.) La mia formetta di gouda l'ho lasciata invecchiare 6 settimane. (Nella foto si vede la forma durante il periodo di asciugatura.)

Ho apportato un paio di piccole modifiche alla ricetta originale:

Ho pesato il gouda grattugiato e ne ho utilizzato 70 g.
Non ho messo il formaggio sulla superficie delle gougères, ma solo nell'impasto.
Ho usato 4 fili (piuttosto lunghi) di erba cipollina dal mio orticello, invece di 12, perché temevo un sapore troppo forte insieme al mio gouda delicato.

Sono molto soddisfatta del risultato ottenuto, sia in termini di struttura dei piccoli bignè salati sia del sapore impartito loro dal mio formaggio fatto in casa, tanto è vero che ho scelto le gougères al gouda per accompagnare anche un altro piatto, ma è questa una storia per un altro giorno.