Pastuccia (Italian polenta pie)

The nature of my research means I end up studying a lot of cookbooks from a purely academic perspective - I read far more recipes than I could ever possibly cook, and the ones I do select to prepare are carefully chosen for their research value. But occasionally a book I initially intended to use merely for investigative purposes ends up going above and beyond its usefulness as an academic reference and earns a spot as a treasured resource in my kitchen as well. (This means I have to get my own copy to keep, so I can quit monopolizing the library’s one!) 

La Cucina (originally published in Italian as La Cucina del Bel Paese), if you’re not familiar with it, is essentially a giant community cookbook comprising the entirety of Italy. It represents the culmination of 50 years of research by the Accademia italiana della cucina, started in 1953 to record and preserve Italy’s regional culinary heritage. A fantastic project! But because the recipes were collected from regular people rather than developed by a test kitchen, some of the instructions are a little sparse - and because it’s been translated and adapted for an English-speaking audience, some words also become less specific. In the recipe I wanted to make, it wasn’t clear to me what type of sausage should be used, or even how thickly or thinly the dough should be spread, so I turned to the internet hoping to find some clarification.

Well, after comparing the variety of recipes available online, it appears that this dish - like pretty much everything that is baked in a casserole, come to think of it! - is the kind of food where you use what you’ve got. So what makes it a pastuccia? The common defining elements seem to be cornmeal, pork (usually a combination of sausage and pancetta), almost always egg yolks in the dough, and usually some raisins too. The proportions, procedure, and other specifics are open to much freedom of interpretation. To answer my initial question, it turns out some recipes use fresh sausage, some use dry, and many use something in between. What’s more, some versions are essentially a giant savory corn-cake, mixed with cold water to form a crackled, crumbly dough; others are rich casseroles which require first cooking a soft polenta. Oh, and the additions may be mixed into the dough or distributed mostly on the bottom and top. Most versions go in the oven, but a few apparently are cooked entirely on the stove. And so on...As I said, it’s pretty flexible.

In the spirit of this variability, writing it out as a recipe seems a bit stuffy - instead, I’m just going to tell you what I did. You can do the same, or you can change things depending on your tastes and what you have available. 

How I made the pastuccia:

(These measurements are for a small pastuccia - most recipes use at least double the amounts I’ve given here, so scale it as you see fit. It was so delicious, I wish I’d made a larger one!)

First, I took about ¼ lb of raw local pork sausage and browned it in a cast-iron skillet, then added 70 grams of minced semi-dry andouille sausage (I didn’t have any pancetta/guanciale, so I improvised - I know it’s very different, but it worked anyway!) and cooked it until the bits were nice and crispy. Meanwhile, I put about a cup (140 g) of cornmeal in a bowl along with a pinch of salt - this was mostly Arrowhead Mills’ organic cornmeal, but I also used a little of Anson Mills’ heirloom Italian polenta integrale for the flavor - and stirred in 120 g (½ cup) very hot water to form a stiff dough. Next, I mixed in 40 g (¼ cup) of golden raisins (I had previously soaked these in water for a few minutes to plump them up), followed by one raw egg yolk, which made the dough quite soft and sticky. 

At this point I removed about half of the sausage mixture from the cast iron pan, pressed the dough into the hot pan with the remaining sausage and cooked it a moment to brown the bottom, then scattered the reserved sausage mixture over the top of the dough. Then I put the whole thing into the oven (preheated to 200º C/395º F) and baked it until it was golden and cooked through - this took about half an hour I think, or maybe a little less. 

Cut it into wedges to serve as part of a main course or as an appetizer. These types of cornmeal cakes are traditionally frequently paired with cooked green vegetables. Leftovers (if you have any!) can be reheated in the oven or enjoyed cold.

P.S. Don't forget, the Raleigh GFAF Event is in one week! See here for the details, and go to this post to win free tickets!

Fresh fettuccine for the Ratio Rally

Pasta! Like bread, pasta can be found in various forms around the world: from the dozens of Italian shapes and styles, to the tiny couscous of northern Africa, to the chewy hand-pulled noodles eaten throughout Asia, it's the foundation of countless familiar meals. There's something inherently satisfying and comforting about its texture and taste. And much of it (though not all of it!) is made from wheat. A lot of people say it is one of the things they miss most about eating wheat, in fact. Personally, I've been quite satisfied with most of the dry gluten-free pastas I've found; even some that are 100% brown rice can be very good - and I guess that's not entirely surprising, since some traditional Asian noodles are made from rice alone. However, aside from possibly as a component of ravioli or tortellini, I don't think I had ever tasted fresh pasta, the kind made with eggs. Because of that, I chose to dress my pasta simply, so I could really taste it. It would also be delicious with some bright, summery marinara sauce or a hearty ragù (which is traditional with a number of ribbon-cut fresh pastas like fettuccine and tagliatelle)! If you're feeling ambitious, you can even make ravioli. If you need inspiration, have a look at all of this month's Ratio Rally pasta creations, hosted by Jenn of Jenn Cuisine!

Sun-dried tomato, olive oil, garlic, & spices pair wonderfully with fresh pasta

As with last month's Ratio Rally post, you will need to start by weighing your eggs, and that will tell you how much flour you need. First of all, decide how much pasta you want to make. Each serving of pasta requires one egg - my example recipe is for two servings.

For fresh pasta, the ratio of flour:eggs is 3:2 (by weight).

My eggs weighed a total of 110 grams. Since the eggs' weight is 2 parts, I divide that number in two and find that each "part" equals 55 grams. That means that 3 parts = 165 grams; that is the amount of flour I need.

I got the best results using a blend of 60% starchy flours and 40% whole grain flours. You can vary your choice of flours as long as you keep that basic ratio the same.

This was the blend I liked best:

20% (33 g) millet flour 
20% (33 g) brown rice flour
20% (33 g) tapioca starch
20% (33 g) potato starch (not potato flour)
20% (33 g) sweet rice flour

The weights given are based on my total weight of 165 g flour - if you want to use this exact flour blend, adjust each amount according to whatever is 20% your total flour weight. You do not need any gums or other binding agents for this recipe! The eggs provide plenty of strength.

You will also need:
Parchment paper or pastry board, rolling pin, sharp metal bench scraper or knife, wire cooling rack to dry the pasta on, olive oil, and plenty of extra tapioca starch for rolling.

Method:
Weigh your eggs into a small bowl and determine how much flour you'll need, as explained above. Weigh your flour into a large bowl and mix in 1/4 tsp salt. Make a small well in the flour and tip the eggs in. Gently begin stirring the eggs to break the yolks, and then stir in larger circles to incorporate the flour. Knead by hand for a few minutes, until the dough is very smooth - expect that it will be sticky at first, though if the dough is still sticky after several minutes of kneading, work in a small amount of additional tapioca starch. Form the dough into a ball and rub the surface with olive oil, and let it rest in the bowl for ~30 minutes (refrigeration optional, but chilling might make the dough easier to work with).

Now, generously flour a pastry board or piece of parchment with tapioca starch, and reserve another piece of parchment to place on top. Divide the dough into smaller balls according to how many servings you are making (in other words, how many eggs you used) - place one ball on your floured work surface, and cover the remaining dough so it doesn't dry out. Pat the dough into a large, flat rectangle and dust the surface generously with more tapioca starch. Place the other piece of parchment on top of it, and roll it as thin as you can get it without tearing. Slice into strips with the bench scraper or knife, wiggling the blade slightly to separate the strips, but do not move them yet.

Separate them just enough that they won't stick together.

Let them dry slightly for ~15 minutes, then carefully slide the blade underneath them and use it to transfer them to a wire cooling rack to dry further. Repeat with remaining dough. Let the strips dry for ~45 minutes before placing them into heavily salted, boiling water.

This allows both sides to dry evenly.

If they do not dry long enough, the texture won't be right and they will taste doughy. If they dry too long, they may break, though it's OK if that does happen because the texture and taste will still be good. Boil for about 2 minutes - this time may vary slightly based on how thick and wide your pasta is, but it will cook very quickly! Drain the pasta, but do not rinse. Toss immediately with whatever sauce or oil you want to use, and enjoy!

Julia Child's Daube de Boeuf (On a Student's Budget)

 It's not often that I'm compelled to post a recipe that's non-baking-related. Partly because this is primarily a baking blog, and partly because unlike baking, when I'm cooking, I don't measure or write things down.

Some people say that's how to be a "real" cook: do everything by taste, smell, appearance. I don't know what I think about that. I mean, where would we be without recipes? I'm not just talking about cookbooks. My mother keeps a small wooden notecard box on top of the kitchen shelf, filled with recipes jotted on tattered slips of paper and clipped from newspapers decades ago. I would imagine many of you have something similar.

And then there are the "recipes" that are really more like an outline. A set of ingredients, in assorted subjective proportions, yet still recognisable as, for instance, chili - despite whatever variations upon the theme may occur. You can make it hot or mild, with or without beans, with beef, with turkey; you have dozens of combinations of spices to choose from, but as long as a certain framework is there, it's unmistakably recognisable as chili.                                    

Despite the resilience of these food frameworks, we still have recipes documenting countless permutations of a given dish. This needs no reason beyond the fact that someone liked it that exact way. But I don't need to tell you that, I suppose.

I've given this recipe much more of a grandiose introduction than I'd intended - especially considering that it is such unpretentious food. There is nothing out-of-the-ordinary about it. The changes I made have, if anything, made it even more modest than the one Julia Child described as a simple country dish. This mostly entailed trimming the expense of ingredients by decreasing the quantity of meat and using canned rather than fresh tomatoes, though I also took a few shortcuts for simplicity's sake. For instance, the original recipe calls for beef stock - I substituted water and it turned out just fine. So, without further ado:

Daube de Boeuf

Adapted from Mastering the Art of French Cooking


1 pound/455 grams pastured, grass-fed beef, cut into cubes - look for lean cut for stew
1 can diced tomatoes
2 large carrots, sliced thinly
1/2 large onion and/or shallots, sliced
1 1/4 cups white and/or brown mushrooms, sliced
2 or more slices bacon (I used just 2, from Applegate Farms)
1 cup/235 mL red wine
approx. 1/4 cup/30 g gluten-free flour - I used white rice flour & potato starch
1-2 T olive oil

Black pepper
Thyme
Bay leaves

Method:
Begin by cutting the bacon into pieces about 2 inches/5 cm in length. Bring a small pan of water to a simmer, and put the bacon in it for about 10 minutes. (According to Julia Child, this step is because American bacon is so smoky compared to French, and if you skip this step the whole daube will taste strongly of bacon.) After simmering, dry the bacon with paper towels.

The original recipe recommends
boiled potatoes, risotto,
or noodles to accompany.

- Preheat oven to 163 C/ 325 F.

Meanwhile, dry the pieces of beef with paper towels, then roll them in the flour until evenly coated. Heat the oil in an enamelled Dutch oven, and brown the beef (if it sticks, splash in a little wine). Once this is done, remove the beef or push it off to one side so you can make a layer of vegetables on the bottom. Distribute the beef evenly back over it. Add another layer of vegetables, then tomatoes - continue this pattern until all the vegetables are in.

Distribute the bacon and herbs over top of it, then pour over wine, juice from tomatoes, and enough water to nearly (but not quite) cover the vegetables.

Cover with lid, place in oven, allow to cook for about 3 hours.

Serve with boiled potatoes or crusty bread.

Now, "Bon appetit!"