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| Department of Geography & Geology Dr. John C. White | |||
La Cucina Siciliana (e Italiana)Pictures and descriptions of food from Sicily (and especially Pantelleria). More interested in geology? Go here. Pistu Pantiddirìa (Pantelleria-style Pesto) Pasta chî sardi (Pasta with sardines) [My attempt at a homemade version] Ravioli cu menta e ricotta (Ravioli with mint and ricotta) La Favarotta (Trattoria in Khamma, Pantelleria)
Pistu Pantiddirìa"Pasta cu pistu e pisci rustutu chi sarmenti" Pantelleria-style pesto (pesto Pantesco) is a tomato-based pesto: a fresh sauce that is excellent on pasta, pizza, or roasted fish. This type of pesto (similar to the better-known pesto Trapanese, or Tràpani-style pesto) is common in western Sicily. The best we had was Silvio’s homemade version in Palermo, which was served with rotini. In Pantelleria, we had it served with spaghetti, and on pizza with anchovy, capers, and mozzarella. Here’s our version: Bring a pot of water to a boil. While you wait for the water to boil, toast a handful of raw almonds in a dry skillet on the stove. When they’re nicely browned and aromatic, transfer them to a food processor. Add two to four cloves of garlic—whatever you like. The restaurant varieties we ate took it easy on the garlic; Silvio, however, cranked up the garlic for his "Pesto alla Trapanese"—and that’s how we like it, too. So: two for “restaurant style”, three or four for “Silvio style”. At this point, I go ahead and put the lid on and get the almonds and garlic well-pulverized. Then add a small bunch of parsley, and a small bunch of mint. You can also use basil, fennel, or whatever you like, but I recommend mint: save the basil for some pesto Genovese and the fennel for chi sardi. Add a big pinch of oregano (Pantelleria oregano, if you’ve got it), a pinch of red pepper flakes, and a little salt (Tràpani sea salt is pretty easy to find… but salt is salt.) When the water starts to boil, take the tomatoes, one by one, and dip them into the water until they start to peel. Remove the tomato, finish peeling it, cut it open, remove the seedy pulp (throw it in the compost), and put the tomato in the food processor. Repeat until all of the tomatoes are in the food processor. If you’re going to have pasta with your pesto, good news: the water’s ready! Salt the water, add the pasta, and set the timer for one minute LESS than the lowest minute suggested on the box (e.g., 8 minutes for spaghetti). Turn your attention back to the food processor: turn it up and let it pulverize, slowly adding olive oil until it achieves a nice pesto-like consistency. When the pasta is done, drain it, turn it into a serving bowl, and immediately start stirring in pesto—as much or as little as you like. Also, if you like, stir in some capers that have been well-rinsed. You can serve this with cheese, but you don’t really need to. See the Links at the bottom of this page for a few other versions of pesto Pantesco and Trapanese. Shopping/garden list 600 g very ripe tomato optional: capers (salt-packed, that have been soaking in water the entire time you’ve been cooking, and then well-rinsed.) Pasta chî sardi"Pasta with sardines" is the official pasta of Palermo: It's an awesome, ancient dish with a HEAVY Arabic/Moorish influence usually served with bucatini (my favorite kind of pasta) and made with lots of sardines (duh) with anchovy, onion, saffron, pine nuts, passas (small rasins), wild fennel (finucchiu sarvaggiu), and olive oil. (Here's a great description elsewhere on the web.) It's so super-awesome, I ate it for lunch (at Trattoria ai Normani) one day and then had to eat it for dinner (at Trattoria Primavera in Piazza Bologni). Here's a picture of that dinner:
Fresh sardines and octopus at "Il Capo" market in Palermo:
William at "Il Capo", eating fragoline di bosco and checking out the seafood:
Pasta chî tunnu a PalirmitanaThis is not a reproduction of something I've eaten or even seen on the menu in Sicily: it's simply my attempt to make something very similar to Bucatini chî sardi (see above) with ingredients available to me in Kentucky (or in some cases, with ingredients I've acquired elsewhere and stockpiled!) The biggest obstacle to making Pasta with sardines here is the lack of fresh sardines*--those are replaced with tuna: hence Pasta chî tunnu a Palirmitana, "Palermo-style pasta with tuna." The annotated shopping/garden list: First, "Finnocchio Selvatico": literally "Wild Fennel," this is also sometimes called "Mountain Fennel". It's a type of fennel that does not produce an edible bulb, and grows as a common roadside weed throughout Sicily, including Pantelleria:
In Kentucky, the fennel doesn't grow wild... but I'm working on having it grow wild in my backyard by sowing seeds every spring. Despite our relatively cold climate (Zone 6, officially, but probably closer to Zone 7 near my house), we are starting to see fennel come back in our herb garden every year. Here is William (wearing his ubiquitous Palermo soccer jersey) with about 200 g of fennel fronds harvested from our herb garden (with pineapple sage, nasturtium, and heavenly blue morning glory in the background):
To make this dish, we set a large pot of water on the stove to boil and seasoned the water liberally with salt. Once it came to a boil, we added all of the fennel fronds and stems, reduced the heat to medium, and let it simmer for about 15 minutes. While we waited for the water to boil, we engaged in a bit of food prep, including: (1) soaking the pasas in warm water, (2) soaking the whole, salted anchovies in warm water--and frequently rinsing and changing the water, (3) chopping up the onion, (4) toasting the pine nuts, and (5) enjoying a Campari and soda.
As soon as the fennel was blanched, we removed it from the water and let it drain in the collander, turned the heat back up on the now-greenish water to high to bring it back to a boil, and began to saute the onions in olive oil on the skillet. As soon as the onions were soft, the six (now very thoroughtly chopped) anchovies were added. (Sometime during the sauteeing of the onions and anchovies, the water probably made it back to a boil: the bucatini was added and the timer was set to 9 minutes--a bit short of the 10-12 minutes recommended on the bag.) After the anchovies have melted into the oil, the tuna, toasted pine nuts, and soaked (and drained) pasas were added. As soon as this was done, the fennel fronds were chopped up very finely, the saffron was ground to a powder in a mortar, some of the hot pasta water was added to the saffron, and both the fennel and saffron were added to the onion-anchovy-tuna-pine nut-passas sautee. As soon as the pasta was done, it was drained, and tossed together with the sautee in a bowl, seasoned with pepper, and served. Sprinkle on breadcrumbs as you would grated cheese.
*Sardines Update! They are occassionally available here! In early February 2010, William and I found them at Whole Foods in Lexington:
But note the price of these ($9.99/lb) compared to the price at Il Capo in Palermo (€3.90/kg... or less than $2.50/lb); we're paying four times as much for these bony little fish, which were delicious, by the way, stuffed with a mixture of breadcrumbs, onions, pine nuts, and pasas and served with a side of broccoli and Risotto Milanese (thus uniting north and south Italy! We'll call this one the Garibaldi platter...) The risotto is flavored with our Spanish saffron, white pepper, vermouth, parmagiano-reggiano, and broth made from anchovy salt, bay leaves, and the sardine heads:
(That's a small plate, by the way.) Ravioli cu Menta e RicottaMy absolute favorite primi from Pantelleria is Ravioli with mint and "tumma", a local cheese. William and I make this a couple of times a year at home: it's a great opportunity to clean the kitchen, trash the kitchen, and yell at each other. We make the dough in a food processor by combining 2C of double-naught (00) flour with three large eggs, and pulsing with the dough blade until a smooth paste is formed (we usually have to add a little cold water). The paste is formed into a disk, wrapped in Saran Wrap, and placed in the fridge until we're ready to roll. The filling is really simple: a pound of ricotta (tumma, alas, cannot be found in Kentucky), a dozen leaves of mint (we use Kentucky Colonel Mint from the garden) chopped finely, and egg mixed together. When it's time to roll, we clean up the kitchen, cut the pasta disk into fourths, fasten our Imperia pasta machine to the counter, and I feed the machine and turn the crank while William pulls the sheet and places it on the floured counter. We run it through the thickest setting three times, folding the dough in thirds after each pass to help knead the dough, and then reduce the gap by one and pass it through, continuing until we're passed the dough through the thinnest setting (I actually prefer the second-thinnest setting, but I'm apparently alone with this opinion.) Then it's just dish a small amount of ricotta mixture, fold over, press, cut, save, and repeat until all the pasta has been turned into ravioli. (Meanwhile, of course, the pasta is boiling and earlier that day I made Salsa di Pomodoro.) Once the pasta is made and the water is boiling, I salt the water, turn the heat down to medium, and boil the ravioli just about ten at a time for only two or three minutes. Basically, as soon as they start floating, I pull them out of the water and drain them. Serve with salsa di pomodoro, cheese, chopped parsley, and... that's it! Here's William enjoying the fruits of someone else's labor in Pantelleria:
Birra del SoleAccording to my field notes, I first tried Birra Messina on May 17, 1998, at a pizzeria in Milazzo where I described it as "Strongly reminiscent of Lone Star." Well, if Birra Messina is Mediterranean Lone Star, then their Birra del Sole is Mediterranean Pearl--and thus an appropriate beverage to enjoy on Pantelleria, the "Black Pearl of the Mediterranean". (N.B., if you take a class from me, you will see this slide and hear this joke, or some variant; please feel free to chuckle politely. Note also the price: 0.90 Euro [US$1.20] for 66 cl [22.3 oz]!)
Nastro Azzuro (Peroni "Blue Ribbon"), brewed way up in Lombardia, is what you're going to get in Pantelleria, or anywhere in Sicily, most of the time when you order an unspecified "Birra". Jennifer claims she doesn't like it, but I don't believe her:
We all agree that Birra Moretti (in Rome for this pic) is pretty good. Moretti--a Heineken brand--is also brewed in Lombardia.
Passito di PantelleriaPassito is a wine made from "pasas", sweet rasins made by drying Zibbibo (the local name for the Moscato d'Alexandria) grapes. The resulting wine has a very delicious, robust flavor that is both very sweet and very strong (14-18 vol% alcohol)! The Panteschi are rightfully very proud of their local wine--whether or not you order some at the end of a meal, you can often count on getting some for free, too. Here I am at "La Favarotta" in Khamma Fuori enjoying some:
Here's a typical Pantelleria vineyard. The grapes are severely pruned and kept trained low--inasmuch as one might need to train a stump. No posts, no wires.
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