Science in the Kitchen and the Art of Eating Well (54 page)

Because of their nitrogenous properties, mushrooms are the most nutritious of vegetables. Their unique aroma makes mushrooms delicious food, and it is a great shame that among its many varieties there are some poisonous ones, which only an expert, practiced eye can distinguish from the harmless varieties. Some guarantee can be provided when they are gathered in a place known by long experience to be free from danger.

In Florence, for example, they use a great many mushrooms that come from the woods in the surrounding mountains. If the season is rainy, they begin to appear in June; but the height of production is in September. In truth, it must be said that Florence has never been afflicted by misfortunes from these vegetables, perhaps because the two species that are almost exclusively consumed there are the bronze-colored “porcini,” or
boletus
mushroom, and the “ovoli” or Caesar’s mushrooms. So great is the faith in their harmlessness that no precautions are taken with regard to their consumption, not even the one suggested by some people of boiling them in water acidulated with vinegar—a precaution which, for that matter, would come at the cost of their flavor.

Of the two varieties mentioned above, porcini are best fried or stewed; ovoli are best prepared like tripe, or grilled.

Select medium-sized mushrooms that are also at the right stage of ripeness. The bigger ones tend to be mushy, while the very small ones would be too tough.

Scrape the stems, remove any earth from the mushrooms, and wash them whole without letting them soak, because the water causes them to lose their pleasant aroma. Then cut into rather large slices and dredge in flour before tossing them into the frying pan. Olive oil is the best thing for frying mushrooms, and seasonings should be limited to salt and pepper sprinkled over them while they are still sizzling. To give the mushrooms a golden color, you can dip them in beaten egg after you flour them, but this is superfluous.

For stewing, it is preferable to use mushrooms that are slightly smaller than medium size. Remove the dirt, wash them, and cut into thinner slices than for the preceding recipe. Put a pan on the fire with oil, a few slightly crushed whole cloves of garlic, and a good pinch of calamint leaves. When the oil starts to sizzle, toss in the mushrooms without flouring them, season with salt and pepper, and when they are halfway done, moisten with some plain tomato sauce. But use the seasonings sparingly, because the mushrooms do not absorb them.

Ovoli are best for this dish, which probably gets its name because the mushrooms are prepared like tripe. Ovoli or Caesar’s mushrooms, as you know, are orange-yellow in color. The youngest ones are closed, and shaped like an egg, while the riper ones are open and flat. For this recipe, select young mushrooms, and after you have cleaned and washed them cut them into thin slices. Cook in butter and season with salt, pepper, and grated Parmesan cheese. They will turn out even better if you add some brown stock.

Open, ripe ovoli are best for this recipe. After you have cleaned and washed them, dry them with a kitchen towel and season with olive oil, salt, and pepper. They go very well as a side dish with steak or any roasted meat.

Every year in September, when they do not cost so much, I buy my supply of porcini mushrooms and dry them at home. Wait for a stretch of good weather to do this, because the heat of the sun is indispensable; without it, the mushrooms could go bad. Select young, firm, medium-sized mushrooms. You can also choose large ones, but make sure they are not mushy. Scrape the stems, remove any earth without washing the mushrooms, and cut into quite large pieces because they shrink a great deal as they dry. If you find any tiny worms in the stems, cut off just the part the worms had begun to spoil. Keep them exposed to the sun continuously for two or three days, then string them and keep them in a well-ventilated place, and even out in the sun again, until they are completely dry. Then take them down and keep them closed tightly in a paper bag or sack. But do not forget to check on them once in a while, because mushrooms have the bad habit of going soft again. If that should happen, you need to put them out in the open air again for several hours. If you do not check them in this manner, you run the risk of finding them all infested with worms.

When you are ready to use them, they should be softened in hot water; but keep them in the water as little as possible, so they do not lose their aroma.

The aubergine or eggplant is not a vegetable to be scorned, for it causes neither flatulence nor indigestion. It is very good in side dishes; even eaten by itself as a vegetable main dish, it is anything but
unpleasant, especially the less bitter varieties grown in certain regions.

Small and medium-sized eggplants are preferable to the larger ones, which may be overripe and bitter.

Forty years ago, one hardly saw eggplant or fennel in the markets of Florence; they were considered to be vile because they were foods eaten by Jews. As in other matters of greater moment, here again the Jews show how they have always had a better nose than the Christians.

Fried eggplant can be served as an accompaniment to fried fish dishes; stewed eggplant goes with boiled meats; grilled eggplant goes with steak, milk-fed veal chops, or any roasted meat.

Peel the eggplant and cut it into rather thick round slices. Salt the slices and let them sit for a few hours. Dry off the moisture that it has given off, roll in flour, and fry in oil.

Peel the eggplant, dice it, and put on the fire with a little butter. When the eggplant has absorbed the butter, finish cooking it in the tomato sauce from recipe 125.

Cut the unpeeled eggplant in half lengthwise. Make some crisscrossed cuts on the white part, season with salt, pepper, and olive oil, and put on the grill with the skin side down. Then cover with a lid or an iron pan and cook with embers all around; that way you do not have to turn it. When the eggplant is halfway done, brush it with a little more olive oil. When the pulp has become soft, it is done.

Peel 7 or 8 eggplants, cut into thin round slices, and salt them to draw out some of their water. After letting them sit for a few hours, dredge them in flour and fry in oil.

Take an ovenproof platter and layer the slices of eggplant with grated Parmesan cheese and the tomato sauce from recipe 125, arranging them so that they form a nice mound. Beat an egg with a pinch of salt, one tablespoon of the same tomato sauce, one teaspoon of grated Parmesan, and two teaspoons of bread crumbs, and cover the surface of the mound with this mixture. Place the platter under the lid of a Dutch oven, with fire above, and when the egg mixture has hardened, serve. This dish can be served by itself, as an
entremets
, or accompanied by a meat dish.

The purpose of the egg covering is to give the dish a nicer appearance.

Cardoons, which are colloquially called “gobbi” (hunchbacks) because their plant resembles that of the artichoke, can be cooked like that vegetable (see recipe 246). Otherwise, after carefully removing the prickly fibers that cover the outside of the cardoons, parboil them in salted water and plunge them immediately into cold water so that they do not turn black.

Cut them into small pieces, roll in flour, and when the oil starts to sizzle, toss them in the pan and season with salt and pepper. Beat some eggs and pour them in the pan after the cardoons have browned on both sides.

The cardoon is a healthy vegetable, easy to digest, refreshing, but not very nutritious and rather bland. Accordingly, it is a good idea to season it generously, as indicated in recipe 407.

The cardoon’s resemblance to the artichoke is so great that when the artichoke plant ceases to bear fruit and its stalk is buried in the ground, the resulting leaf stalks are called “carducci.”

After parboiling the cardoons as in the preceding recipe, stew them with some chopped garlic and parsley, olive oil, salt, and pepper.

If you want to make them tastier and give them a nicer appearance, cover them with a sauce made with egg and lemon after you have arranged them on a platter. Beat a few eggs with some lemon juice; put this liquid on the fire in a saucepan, stirring with a wooden spoon. When it starts to thicken, pour it over the cardoons. If you do not use the sauce, at least season the cardoons with a pinch of grated Parmesan cheese.

This is not a dish to be highly recommended, but if you want to try it, please do.

After parboiling the cardoons, dry them well, leave the stalks as long as the palm of your hand, season generously with olive oil, pepper, and salt, and brown them on the grill. They can be served as a side dish with steak or grilled fish.

Discard the toughest stalks, remove the prickly outer fibers from the others, and parboil. Let it be said here, once and for all, that vegetables should be put on the fire in boiling water, while legumes should start out in cold water. Cut the stalks of the cardoons into pieces about three fingers long, and cook with butter and a sufficient amount of salt. Finish cooking with milk—or, better yet, heavy cream—and then bind with a little of the bechamel sauce from recipe 137. Add a pinch of grated Parmesan cheese and remove immediately from the fire. This is an excellent side dish for meat stews, chops, giblet stews, and other similar dishes.

You can cook diced turnips and potato or zucchini wedges in the same way, but the zucchini should not be parboiled first.

The great quarrel between the Blacks and the Whites that prolonged strife in Italy after the devastating struggles between Guelphs and Ghibellines
⁶⁷
is threatening to erupt again with regard to truffles. But fear not, dear readers, for this time no blood will be shed—the present-day partisans of the black and the white are much more benevolent than the fierce adversaries of yesteryear.

I am a supporter of the whites, and in fact I openly declare and maintain that the black truffle is the worst there is. Other people do not share my opinion; they believe that the black truffle is more fragrant, while the white truffle has a subtler taste. But they are not taking into account the fact that black truffles quickly lose their aroma. The white truffles from Piedmont are universally prized, and the white truffles from Romagna, which grow in sandy soil, are very fragrant, although they taste of garlic. In any case, let us leave the great issue unresolved so that I can tell you how they cook truffles in Bologna, “Bologna la grassa per chi vi sta, ma non per chi vi passa” (Bologna whose bounty is for those who live there, but not for those just passing through).

After washing the truffles and cleaning them with a little brush dipped in cold water, as is usually done, the Bolognese cut them into very thin slices and arrange them on a tin-lined copper platter in alternating layers with very thin slices of Parmesan cheese; the first layer should be of truffles. They season them with salt, pepper, and a generous amount of their best olive oil. As soon as the truffles start to sizzle, they squeeze a lemon over them and then remove them immediately from the fire. Some people add a few little pieces of butter; but if you do add butter, use only very little, otherwise the dish will turn out too heavy. Truffles are also eaten raw, very thinly sliced and seasoned with salt, pepper, and lemon juice.