Cooking Sicilian

On our recent bike trip to southeastern Sicily, we were of course blown away by the food. When I got back to my cucina Marchegiana, I tried to recreate some of the dishes we enjoyed the most. Though not 100% authentic, they come pretty close.

This spaghetti with fresh herbs was served at the first restaurant we visited on the bike trip-- Osteria U Locale. The two owners pride themselves on their superb cooking and excellent local ingredients. Every bite of this pasta dish tasted different as each herb released its flavor. I planted lots of herbs in the garden this spring, including one I've never tasted before-- Cuban oregano. It looks like a succulent with thick, soft leaves, an amazing fragrance, and an indescribable taste. In this recipe, use a mix of any herbs you have in your garden, or you find at the market-- you can't go wrong.

Spaghetti with Fresh Herbs

2 cloves of garlic, minced

1/2 c. olive oil

2 large handfuls of mixed fresh herbs, such as rosemary, oregano, marjoram, mint, sage, Cuban oregano, arugula, mustard greens, thyme, basil, parsley, lavender, or anything else in your garden, or the farmers' market, washed, dried and torn roughly

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Lots of parmesan cheese

1 lb or 500 grams of spaghetti

Set a pot of water to boil for the pasta. While the pasta is cooking, heat the oil over medium low heat in a large skillet or fry pan. Gently heat the garlic just until it begins to take on some color. Gently heat the tougher herbs, such as rosemary, lavender, mustard greens, thyme. Drain the pasta reserving 1 c. pasta cooking water. Add pasta to the pan with the remaining herbs, salt and pepper to taste. Add some of the pasta water if it seems too dry. Toss all the ingredients together, transfer to a serving bowl and serve with lots of parmesan cheese.

Serves 6 as a prima piatta.

Sicily, a big island, is of course famous for its seafood. Some of us can't stand seafood. I liked it until I was pregnant 21 years ago, and the very smell made me seriously queasy. Unfortunately, I never recovered the taste for it, so when in Sicily, it's important to find another signature dish. Pasta alla Norma is named for the Bellini opera of the same moniker. Vincenzo Bellini was born in Catania, and there are fountains, piazze and theatres named for this local boy who made good. It's an easy dish to make and can be found on most menus in Sicily.

A word about eggplant. You can get reasonably good eggplant most any time of year in the States, and even in Italy. But in my opinion, nothing beats the round eggplant I've found in the markets in Italy. They are seedless, and thus harbor no bitterness. American eggplants on the other hand can range from no flavor and extreme bitterness, especially off season, to really tasty in the harvest months. Smaller ones, such as Italian or Japanese eggplants are generally better. You can always salt the eggplant and let it sweat to remove the bitterness, but if you're watching the salt in your diet, that's not always the best option. So stay in season, and pick the smaller ones in the bin without any bruises.

Pasta alla Norma

1/3 c. olive oil

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 large onion, diced

1/2 t. dried red pepper flakes

1 t. oregano, dried, or 1 T. if fresh

2 medium Italian eggplants, or one large round eggplant

chopped into 3/4" cubes

1 15-oz can diced San Marzano tomatoes

1/2 lb. short pasta, like casarecce, mezzi rigatoni, penne

1/4 lb. ricotta salata, grated using the large holes of a box grater

Heat a medium sized saute pan over high heat. Add olive oil, onion and garlic. Stir and reduce heat to medium. Saute for about 7 minutes or until onions just begin to brown. Add red pepper flakes and oregano. Add the eggplant and allow to saute for another 5 minutes, stirring frequently. When eggplant begins to brown, add the tomatoes.

In the meantime, bring a large pot of water to boil, and cook pasta according to package directions.

Rinse out the tomato can with about 1/3 c. water and add to the sauce. When the pasta is finished, drain, reserving 1/2 c. of the pasta water. Add enough of the reserved pasta water to the sauce to get the desired consistency.

Add the pasta to the saute pan. Mix everything together and serve topped with grated ricotta salata.

Serves two as a main course.

Artichokes

Italy in spring. The whole countryside is waking up. The fields are electric green with brand new shoots, fruit trees are beginning to blossom, the air is fresh, and sunny days bring welcome warmth. Artichokes are everywhere. They are on every menu. If you visit someone for lunch or dinner, they are certain to be served. The markets are full of them and everyone's garden has bushy artichoke plants with their spikey leaves and deep forest green color. We even planted our own this spring!

Artichokes in the main market in Catania

I've always been intimidated by artichokes and never cooked them well. Being in Italy and Sicily this spring gave me the opportunity to keep experimenting until I got it right. My husband Jesse was a willing victim for my initial attempts. The varieties of course range from the big boys, which can measure up to six inches in diameter, to the tiny ones, which are barely bigger than golf balls. Cousins of thistles, they are beautiful in all their variety. And they are full of vitamins, nutrients and fiber. I made them about six times this spring, and now feel ready to share my recipe. There are, of course, a million ways to make them, but I stayed focused on the smaller artichokes and the simplest way to get them onto the table and get their distinctive flavor into our mouths. Because I had a limited number of herbs in my garden this early in spring, I took the unorthodox route of cooking mine with rosemary. Mint or parsley would probably be more traditional and easily substituted. Add those more tender herbs later in the process-- sprinkle them on just when the cooking is finished.

Baby Spring Artichokes

12 baby spring artichokes, fresh from the farmers market

1 lemon

1/4 cup olive oil

2 cloves garlic, sliced

1 or 2 sprigs of fresh rosemary

1 cup dry white wine

water or chicken broth

Salt and fresh ground black pepper

Fill a bowl large enough to hold all of the artichokes with cold water and add the juice of one half of the lemon. Trim the artichokes by using a sharp knife to cut about 1/2 inch off the tops and remove any brown edges from the stems. Remove tough outer leaves, and if you think you've removed enough of them, remove a few more. Quarter the artichokes and place them in the lemon acidulated water. Check to be sure there is none of the fuzzy choke on the inside. With artichokes this small, there should be no choke, but if there is, scoop it out with the knife or a teaspoon.

Heat the oil on low in a large sauce pan and add the garlic and rosemary sprig. Use a slotted spoon to transfer artichokes to the pan, shaking off excess water. Cook on low heat, stirring occasionally, for 5-8 minutes, until the chokes and garlic begin to soften. Do not allow artichokes to brown, which will toughen the outer leaves. Add the wine and the juice of the remaining half lemon. Allow to cook slowly until liquid is reduced by three quarters, another 5 minutes or so. At this point, you want to add a lot of liquid, which can be water, broth, or I used the acidulated water the artichokes had been soaking in. The liquid should barely cover the artichokes. Cover the pan and simmer gently for 45 minutes to an hour. Check them occasionally and add more liquid if the pan is dry.

When artichokes are fork tender, remove from heat and transfer to a serving dish. Season with another good drizzle of olive oil, salt, freshly ground pepper, any additional herbs you like.

Serves 6 as a side dish.