Science in the Kitchen and the Art of Eating Well (16 page)

500 grams (about 1 pound) of lean veal, boned (see recipe 323
)

1 calf’s foot, or 150 grams (about 5 1/4 ounces) of meat from
a calf’s foot

2 or 3 chicken legs

2 chicken heads, with necks

Brown the chicken legs and cut them into pieces. Put everything on the fire in two liters (about two quarts) of water. Add salt and bring to a boil, skimming the surface from time to time. Simmer for seven
or eight hours until half the liquid has boiled off. Pour the broth into a bowl and, when it has cooled, skim off the fat which will have congealed on the surface. If the broth has not thickened, return it to the fire and reduce it further, alternatively add two sheets of isinglass to it. Now the gelatin is done, but it must be clarified and given its amber color.

To do this, first mince as finely as you can 70 grams (about 2-1/2 ounces) of lean veal with a knife and then grind it in a mortar; then place it in a saucepan with an egg and a little water (a few tablespoons), mix it well and pour the cold gelatin over it. Place it on the heat and whisk it until it comes to a boil; then simmer it for about twenty minutes, tasting for salt.

This is also the time to color the aspic. Place two pinches of sugar and a few drops of water in a metal spoon (do not use tin-coated spoons). Hold it over the flame until the sugar has become nearly black, then pour it bit by bit into the simmering gelatin, until you have the right color. Some like to add a small glass of Marsala wine.

Now, take a cheesecloth, wet it, wring it out well, and strain the hot gelatin through it, being careful not to squeeze it. Then immediately pour the gelatin into molds. In the summer, if the aspic does not to thicken well, place it on ice. When you want to remove it from the mold, pass a cloth dipped in boiling water around the sides. A beautiful aspic is clear, soft, transparent and the color of topaz. It is ordinarily served with a galantine of capon or other cold dishes. It is also an ideal dish for the sick. If it turns bitter from not having been eaten soon enough, simply put it back on the fire and bring it to a boil. Common broth or even simple meat broth, can be clarified in the same manner.

In Romagna, which is a stone’s throw from Tuscany, they do not much care for dictionaries, and so they call meat sauce “brown stock,” perhaps because of its brown color.

Watching a good cook do it would be the best way to learn how to make this stock. But I hope that with my directions you will be able to make, if not an exquisite stock, then at least a reasonable one.

Cover the bottom of a saucepan with thin slices of lardoon, or preferably, bacon, and on top of them dice a large onion, a carrot, and one stalk of celery. Add to this a few pieces of butter, and then place some lean beef, either chopped or thinly sliced, on top. Any beef at all will do, and, to save money, you can use the bloody neck parts, or other inferior cuts which the Florentine butchers call
parature
(trimmings). Add any meat scraps you might have, bacon rind or anything else, as long as it is clean. Flavor only with salt and two cloves, and place the pot on the fire, without stirring.

When you can smell the aroma of burning onions, turn the meat, and when you see it well-browned all over—indeed, nearly black— pour a small dipper of cold water over it, repeating this three times as the water is gradually absorbed. Finally, if the amount of meat is roughly 500 grams (about 1 pound), pour 1-1/2 liters (about 1-1/2 quarts) of hot water in the saucepan or, better yet, a broth made of spongy bones, and bring it to a slow boil. Let it simmer for five or six hours to reduce the liquid, and extract the essence of the meat. Then strain, and when the fat forms a thick film on top, skim it off to make the sauce lighter for the stomach. This sauce may be kept for several days, is versatile in its applications, and can even be used to make good macaroni pies.

Chopped necks and heads of chickens, when mixed with the beef, will give the sauce a better flavor. The leftover meat may be used to make meatballs.

This culinary find, which yields boiled beef and a good thick sauce, seems to me both felicitously constructed and economical, given that
nothing used for it goes to waste, and the sauce is a good accompaniment to any number of dishes.

Take one kilogram (about 2 pounds) of lean beef—including the bone and joint—and from it cut 400 grams (about 14 ounces, i.e., not much less than a pound) in small slices. With the rest, make a broth in the usual fashion with a good 1-1/2 liters (about 1-1/2 quarters) of water.

Cover the bottom of a saucepan with slices of lardoon and prosciutto and a few pieces of butter. Dice an onion, and lay the meat slices on top. Apply a high flame, and when the underside of the meat begins to brown, baste it with a small ladle of broth. Turn it over to brown on the other side, and then pour another ladleful of broth over it. Season with salt, one clove or nine to ten crushed peppercorns, and a teaspoon of sugar. Now add the rest of the broth, adding to it a sliced carrot and a
bouquet garni
composed of parsley, celery, and other aromatic herbs. Simmer gently for about two hours, then remove the meat slices, strain the liquid and skim the fat. With this you can make the base for the soup described in recipe 38. You can also use it to add flavor to vegetables or, thickening the sauce with a mixture of potato flour and butter, serve it on pasta.

Potato flour is better than wheat flour for binding sauces.

Later I shall speak about another kind of tomato sauce that we call “salsa,” as opposed to “sugo.” Sugo must be simple and therefore composed only of cooked, puréed tomatoes. At the most you can add a few chunks of celery or some parsley or basil leaves, when you think these flavors will suit your needs.

It used to be said that pasta was the forage of man. Today doctors advise us to eat it sparingly, lest it overly dilate the stomach and reduce our consumption of meat. Meat strengthens the body’s fibers, while starches, which pastas are usually made of, create fatty tissue, which cause flabbiness. To this theory I raise no objection; but if I may be permitted, I would like to make the following suggestions. Small amounts of pasta are for anyone who, not being in his prime or in perfect health, must be treated with special care. Small amounts of pasta are also for those who tend to put on weight and would like to keep such gains in check. Finally, small portions of pasta with a light sauce should be served at banquets, if the guests are to do justice to the various dishes that follow. But aside from these cases, a good and generous helping of pasta will always be welcome at humbler dinners, so go ahead and enjoy it. Governed by this principle, I shall make a point of listing every kind of pasta and soup that experience suggests to me.

Peas as prepared in recipe 427 can give flavor and charm, as we all know, to soups made with rice, pastina and malfattini.
¹⁰
But if you have no broth, they are better used in the risotto described in recipe 75.

They are called cappelletti (or “little hats”) because of their hat-like shape. This is the easiest way to make them so that they are less heavy on the stomach.

180 grams (about 6-1/3 ounces) ofricotta, or half ricotta and half “raviggiolo” (a soft cheese made from goat or sheep milk
)

1/2 capon breast cooked in butter, seasoned with salt and pepper and finely chopped with a “mezzaluna”
¹¹

30 grams (about 1 ounce) of grated Parmesan cheese

1 whole egg

1 egg yolk

a dash of nutmeg, a few spices, some lemon zest (if desired), and a pinch of salt

Mix all the ingredients and then taste, checking for seasonings and flavor. If you do not have a breast of capon, use 100 grams (about 3 1/2 ounces) of lean pork loin instead, cooked and seasoned as above.

If the ricotta or raviggiolo is too soft, leave out an egg white, or if the mixture comes out too firm, add another yolk. Enclose this stuffing in a soft dough made with flour and eggs only, using some of the leftover whites. Roll out the dough in a thin sheet and then cut it into disks the size of the one shown on the following page.

Place the stuffing in the center of the disk and fold, so as to form half-moon shapes. Then take the two ends, press them together and you will have a “cappelletto.”

If the dough dries out as you are working with it, then dip a finger in water and wet the disks along the edges. For best results, this pasta calls for a broth made with capon, that silly animal that every year out of the goodness of its heart offers itself to be sacrificed to mankind during the solemnities of Christmas. Cook the cappelletti in the capon broth, as they do in Romagna, where, on

Christmas day, you will find braggarts claiming to have eaten a hundred of them. This can also suffice to kill you, however, as happened to a friend of mine. For a moderate eater, a couple of dozen cappelletti will be quite enough.

Apropos of this pasta, I will tell you a little story, which, though it may be of little importance, may yet give pause to reflect.

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You should know that the gentlemen of Romagna are not in the least interested in racking their brains over some tome, perhaps because from infancy children are accustomed to seeing their parents doing anything but turning the pages of books. Another factor may be that, being in a place where one can lead a happy and pleasurable life with little, the Romagnoli do not believe much instruction in life is necessary. For this reason, after they finish grammar school, a good ninety per cent of them takes up a life of leisure, and then no matter how hard you prod or pull, they will not budge. This was the situation a husband and wife living in a village of lower Romagna found themselves in with their teenage son Carlino. The father, however, believed in progress and, though he had the means to leave his son well provided for, would have liked the boy to become a lawyer, or possibly even a
member of Parliament, since it is but a short step from one to the other. After many conversations, deliberations, and squabbles within the family over the great separation, the decision was made to send Carlino to continue his studies in a big city. Ferrara was chosen, being the nearest. Carlino’s father accompanied him there, but did so with a heavy heart, having had to tear him from the arms of his loving mother, who had drenched him with tears.

Less than a week had passed. The parents were sitting down at table for a dish of cappelletti. After a long silence and several sighs, the mother exclaimed:

“Oh, if only Carlino were here! He so loves cappelletti!” No sooner were these words spoken than they heard a knock at the front door, and into the room sprang a cheerful Carlino.

“Oh, you are back!” exclaimed the father. “What happened?”

“What happened,” replied Carlino, “is that wasting away over books is not for me. I would rather be drawn and quartered than return to that jail.” Overjoyed, the mother ran to embrace her son, and turned to her husband.

“Let him do as he wishes,” she said. “Better a healthy fool than a sickly scholar. He will be busy enough looking after his interests here.” Indeed, from that moment on, Carlino’s interests revolved around a rifle, a hunting dog, a frisky horse hitched to a fine little racing gig, and continual assaults on the young country girls.

300 grams (about 10 ounces) of pork loin chops

1 calf’s brain or “2 a brain of a larger animal

50 grams (about 1 -2/3 ounces) of ox marrow

50 grams (about 1-2/3 ounces) of grated Parmesan cheese

3 yolks and, if necessary, the white of 1 egg

a dash of nutmeg

Bone and trim the fat from the pork chops, and then cook them in a saucepan with butter, salt and a dash of pepper. In case you cannot find pork, you may use 200 grams (about 7 ounces) of lean turkey breast, cooked in the same way. Pound or finely chop the meat with a mezzaluna (see note 8); then boil and skin the brain and add this to the pork (or turkey) along with the uncooked marrow and all the other ingredients, mixing thoroughly. Then wrap the tortellini in a sheet of dough much as you did the cappelletti, and fold them in the same manner. The tortellini, however, will be much smaller and here is the size of the disk you will normally need: