Carrara is coveted by cooks. Kitchen tools made of Carrara are as functional as they are beautiful. My custom Carrara pastry board is one of my prized possessions. So, during the planning of our 2014 Italy trip when I realized that the road from Tuscany to Liguria passed through Carrara, I knew we would be making a pit stop. I had to see the source of the white marble. There wouldn’t be time for a guided quarry visit, but we could fit a car tour into our schedule.
The loop we drove was dotted with shops selling all manner of marble souvenirs to busloads of tourists, but it seemed mostly like a working area. All around us enormous tractor-trailer-size blocks of marble were being noisily extracted from the mountain and trucked down to the workshops in town. There were several earth-shaking blasts from the mines in the distance, each explosion punctuated by the clatter of falling rocks. We quickly learned that it was best to stay out of the way of the earth-moving machinery on the narrow mountain road. Perhaps the people on the buses knew something we didn’t—it seemed like we were the only tourists brave (or stupid) enough to dare to drive our rental car in the midst of all of the heavy equipment.
The shops offered everything from chachkies to two-story-tall statues of Jesus. We saw Carrara vases and bowls, platters and pedestals. Shelves of white marble rolling pins and meat pounders, cheese knives and wine corks. There were mortars of every size and shape. Unfortunately the one I wanted for making pesto was too heavy to put into my suitcase. A small serving board made me part with my money. And every shop had these curious marble boxes…
In a tiny little hamlet called Colonnata in the marble mountains above Carrara, they make lardo. The guidebook mentioned that it was the best lardo in the world. We figured that if we had come this far, we might as well drive all the way up to Colonnata to see what all the fuss was about.
We ventured into the first deli we came upon, unsure of how to order.
The shopkeeper seemed to understand despite our hesitation and the language barrier. She pushed a couple of samples across the counter.
The paper-thin slices of silky pork fat were indulgently melt-in-your-mouth delicious, and we agreed to her offer of lardo and tomato sandwiches for lunch.
Moments later we were served this feast.
It turns out that the marble boxes or basins, known as concas in Italian, are used for curing the lardo. Concas can be small like the size of a box of tissues or large like a bed of a pickup. Pork fatback is packed into the concas along with coarse salt and herbs and spices and left to cure for six months.
The lardo is only made during the cooler months of the year. Lardo di Colonnata is an IGP product and the process is strictly regulated.
Upon returning home from Italy, I couldn’t stop thinking about the concas full of lardo and I became determined to recreate the flavor we experienced in Colonnata. I researched the ingredients and process extensively, bribing an Italian friend to translate what seemed to be the most informational video about the process in exchange for homemade gelato and subjecting my charcutier brother to an endless barrage of questions. Eventually I came up with a subtly flavored formula I’m quite proud of.
In Colonnata, fatback is cured with abundant salt in what is known as the “salt box method”. The use of preservatives such as sodium nitrate is not permitted. The salt box method requires fatback of a consistent thickness and skill judging doneness.
But the equilibrium method of curing ensures more consistent results, especially for the home cook. The equilibrium method also allows for the use of cure #2, which results in whiter lardo with a slightly more cured flavor and longer shelf life.
My brother and I suspect that the six-month cure used in Colonnata probably has more to do with the flavoring than the salting. The long curing time probably allows the herbs and spices to marry and mellow. We suspect that they do not cure during the summer months because of the heat and the seasonality of hog production.
For lovely, sweet lardo, use the best fresh pork fatback you can source. It’s not worth making with commodity pork. You’ll need an accurate gram scale for this recipe.
Lardo in the Style of Colonnata
Printable Recipe
5% kosher salt
0.25% cure #2, optional
1% black pepper
0.4% minced garlic
0.2% rosemary needles
0.03% cinnamon
0.03% cloves
0.03% ground star anise
100% skinned fatback
Blend together the salt, cure #2, if desired, and flavorings. Rub the salt mixture all over the fatback. Only a portion of the salt mixture will adhere. Transfer to a vacuum sealer bag, spreading the loose salt mixture as evenly as possible over the fatback, and vacuum seal. Refrigerate, top with a weight if a uniform shape is desired, and let cure for 3 weeks (or longer if it’s convenient—lardo can be left in the bag with the cure for weeks or months without compromise or change). Rinse the lardo, pat dry with paper towels, and dry on a rack in the refrigerator overnight.
For use, slice the lardo as needed and keep vacuum sealed in a clean vacuum sealer bag in the refrigerator. Lardo stored in this manner will keep for many months. Light can cause lardo to turn yellow and rancid, but that shouldn’t be an issue since it’s dark in the refrigerator when the door’s shut. Cut the lardo into paper-thin slices and serve on slabs of rustic bread or as a part of a salumi platter. Wrap slices around asparagus spears, shrimp, or sea scallops for the grill. Drape slices over pizza fresh out of the oven. Dice small and use instead of pancetta or bacon in tomato-based pasta sauces and ragus. Render and use for fried potatoes. If you have homemade lardo in your refrigerator, doubtless you’ll think of a myriad of ways to use it.
Showing posts with label Travels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travels. Show all posts
Friday, October 21, 2016
Monday, January 4, 2016
L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 4: Other Pasta Shapes
In addition to tortelloni and tortellini, Claudio and Ida make a variety of other pasta shapes. Using their supple sfoglia, they make bowties.
And garganelli. The ridged tubes are created using a pettine.
They make small cuts for soup.
Ribbons in a variety of widths.
Narrow ones are paired with butter or fish. Tagliatelle is served with ragu, and mushroom and game sauces go with wide pappardelle. The strands are cut to order sometimes by hand, sometimes by machine and formed into nests.
It seems that forming the perfect nest is an art in itself.
Requiring just the right amount of fluffing.
Separating of the strands.
A precise weight.
And a certain winding motion.
My nests never look so artful or voluminous. They layer sfoglia with ragu for lasagna, to be be baked for precisely 45 minutes at 180˚C.
The extruder was not put to use the day we visited.
Claudio explained that they use 90% semolina and 10% 00 flour with a mix of egg and a little water for their macaroni.
Incidentally, they do have a small display of Giuseppe Cocco dried pasta, because for certain dishes, only dried extruded pasta will do.
Flavored pastas are also made in the shop. Spinach pasta is mixed using the ratio of 8 eggs and 100 grams spinach to 1 kilogram 00 flour. Cordonetti, named after shoe laces, is made with 1 kilogram integrale—that’s Italian for whole wheat—flour, 200 grams 00 flour, 10 eggs, and 170 grams water. This dough cannot be rolled as thin as dough made from 100% 00 flour, and the resulting pasta looks more like spaghetti alla chitarra. It’s served with ragu and all kinds of other sauces. Neither of these were on the prep list the day we visited.
After our brains were filled with so much knowledge, it was time to fill our bellies. Ida cooked up a lunch of gargantuan portions of tortellini in cream sauce and then lasagna, which we ate at a tablecloth-covered workbench. Needless to say it was outstanding.
We thought we learned so much about the art of pasta that morning. But as Claudio pointed out, 100 kilometers away from Bologna all of the pasta shapes and all of the fillings are completely different. We’ve only just scratched the surface!
Previously: L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 3: Tortellini.
And garganelli. The ridged tubes are created using a pettine.
They make small cuts for soup.
Ribbons in a variety of widths.
Narrow ones are paired with butter or fish. Tagliatelle is served with ragu, and mushroom and game sauces go with wide pappardelle. The strands are cut to order sometimes by hand, sometimes by machine and formed into nests.
It seems that forming the perfect nest is an art in itself.
Requiring just the right amount of fluffing.
Separating of the strands.
A precise weight.
And a certain winding motion.
My nests never look so artful or voluminous. They layer sfoglia with ragu for lasagna, to be be baked for precisely 45 minutes at 180˚C.
The extruder was not put to use the day we visited.
Claudio explained that they use 90% semolina and 10% 00 flour with a mix of egg and a little water for their macaroni.
Incidentally, they do have a small display of Giuseppe Cocco dried pasta, because for certain dishes, only dried extruded pasta will do.
Flavored pastas are also made in the shop. Spinach pasta is mixed using the ratio of 8 eggs and 100 grams spinach to 1 kilogram 00 flour. Cordonetti, named after shoe laces, is made with 1 kilogram integrale—that’s Italian for whole wheat—flour, 200 grams 00 flour, 10 eggs, and 170 grams water. This dough cannot be rolled as thin as dough made from 100% 00 flour, and the resulting pasta looks more like spaghetti alla chitarra. It’s served with ragu and all kinds of other sauces. Neither of these were on the prep list the day we visited.
After our brains were filled with so much knowledge, it was time to fill our bellies. Ida cooked up a lunch of gargantuan portions of tortellini in cream sauce and then lasagna, which we ate at a tablecloth-covered workbench. Needless to say it was outstanding.
We thought we learned so much about the art of pasta that morning. But as Claudio pointed out, 100 kilometers away from Bologna all of the pasta shapes and all of the fillings are completely different. We’ve only just scratched the surface!
Previously: L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 3: Tortellini.
Labels:
From the producer,
Italian food and drink,
Pasta,
Travels
Saturday, June 13, 2015
L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 3: Tortellini
Contrary to what I had imagined, Ida did not employee an army of small children to make tortellini. The tortellini production, in fact, proceeded in much the same manner as the tortelloni production before it.
First, in a show of excellent mise en place and utilization, fluted scraps of pasta leftover from making tortelloni were used.
Sfoglia specifically for tortellini is cut with plain wheels, so they typically have straight sides.
Zoom, zoom!
I wonder if anyone ever notices the oddball tortellino with wavy edges in their bowl of brodo?
L’Arte della Sfoglia’s tortellini filling recipe is a closely guarded secret, but Claudio did divulge that it contains fresh pork “lombo”, mortadella, salsiccia, Parmegiano-Reggiano, nutmeg, white pepper, and salt.
The chicken provides sweetness, and all pork would be too strong.
Ida could not have been more opinionated on the subject and insisted that prosciutto, which is a common ingredient in tortellini filling, does not belong.
She explained that prosciutto results in a filling that's too dry and “acidic”.
According to Ida, prosciutto is not for cooking, period. She pulled a bag of filling made by a local restaurant and provided to them for contract work out of her reach-in, and an impromptu tasting proved her point.
Claudio told us that their tortellini took fourth place in the area and first place within Bologna in one contest.
My husband, an engineer inculcated by the American culture of constant improvement, innocently inquired if they would adjust the recipe and try for a higher result.
Claudio summarily rejected the idea.
They were not interested in first, second, or third place if it meant changing their recipe. They would never deviate from the traditional recipe. “If you change the taste of the tortellini, they kill you,” Claudio said.
Ida, with her nimble fingers, makes it all look so easy. She motions as if to snap and another tortellino appears. But trust me when I say that making these tiny purses of pasta is harder than it looks, even for a relatively dexterous and accomplished cook. Each time she fixed one of my ugly tortellini she said she was “restyling”. She’s a patient teacher. Only after shaping dozens of tortellini, did her instructions to “pinch and then fold” make sense.
Together we produced what must’ve been thousands of tortellini. (And this was their slow time of year!)
Then it was time for lunch. As the pasta cooked, Ida made sure we understood that tortellini must be boiled in in broth, not water. We were treated to massive portions of tortellini tossed in thickened cream and topped with Parmegiano and, as if that weren’t enough, big slabs of their rich homemade lasagna.
Before I sign off, if you missed my last appearance on Flavors radio show back in April you can hear it here (listen at the six minute mark). Also check out this feature on Marinades in The Palm Beach Post. They ran my Four-Citrus Marinade and Buffalo Wing Marinade recipes.
Previously: L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 2: Tortelloni.
Next up: L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 4: Other Pasta Shapes.
Labels:
From the producer,
Italian food and drink,
Marinades,
Pasta,
Travels
Saturday, December 20, 2014
L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 2: Tortelloni
Once Ida and her assistant had enough sheeted pasta set aside for cutting into ribbons, it was time to make tortelloni. Ida mixes ricotta with parsley, salt, and nutmeg for the filling.
It’s worth noting that she does not add egg or parm.
Sfoglia is divided into fluted squares with a few zips of a wheeled pastry cutter. Ida portions the filling using two spoons, which is very home-style but surprisingly efficient.
(I’d have to use a portion scoop or pastry bag to achieve such speed and consistency.)
Meanwhile, the assistant seals and shapes the tortelloni.
He keeps up with her.
But barely.
As they work they cover unfilled pasta squares with plastic sheeting to keep them from drying out.
Before you know it, one sheet of sfoglia is transformed into tortelloni.
Then another.
And another.
The plump dumplings are arranged in rows on pasta screens.
And then placed into a drying cabinet.
Unbelievably, Claudio and Ida charge just €6 per portion for their hand-made tortelloni. That’s less than $7.50!
If you think tortelloni is labor-intensive, just wait until you see the tortellini production…
Previously: L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 1: Mixing and Sheeting the Pasta.
Next up: L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 3: Tortellini.
It’s worth noting that she does not add egg or parm.
Sfoglia is divided into fluted squares with a few zips of a wheeled pastry cutter. Ida portions the filling using two spoons, which is very home-style but surprisingly efficient.
(I’d have to use a portion scoop or pastry bag to achieve such speed and consistency.)
Meanwhile, the assistant seals and shapes the tortelloni.
He keeps up with her.
But barely.
As they work they cover unfilled pasta squares with plastic sheeting to keep them from drying out.
Before you know it, one sheet of sfoglia is transformed into tortelloni.
Then another.
And another.
The plump dumplings are arranged in rows on pasta screens.
And then placed into a drying cabinet.
Unbelievably, Claudio and Ida charge just €6 per portion for their hand-made tortelloni. That’s less than $7.50!
If you think tortelloni is labor-intensive, just wait until you see the tortellini production…
Previously: L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 1: Mixing and Sheeting the Pasta.
Next up: L'Arte della Sfoglia, Part 3: Tortellini.
Labels:
From the producer,
Italian food and drink,
Pasta,
Travels