Cook Here and Now

Shitake, Portobello or Porcini mushrooms pate with white truffle oil

Buongiorno.
After our December group dinner, many of you asked me for the recipe of my mushroom pate. It's a tasty seasonal treat to bring to a holiday potluck and truly versatile, because you can adapt the recipe to make the most of whatever mushroom is in season. In December I used meaty Portobello, and at the November dinner I made it with Shitakes (which I sometimes grow myself, but it's really not necessary). The base recipe comes from back home in Italy, where we use Porcini. A little goes a long way as an appetizer with a nice crusty bread, and really satisfies that winter craving for savory umami flavors. You can omit the truffle oil, but it gives the pate greater depth of flavor: All you need is a teaspoon or two.
Enjoy and let me know how you liked it,
Marco Flavio

Shitake, Portobello or Porcini mushroom pate with white truffle oil
(Pate' di funghi porcini)

Takes about 50 minutes to make and at least 2 hours in the refrigerator to come together (or overnight). It will keep well for a few days refrigerated. Don't whine about the fat: It's a pate.

Ingredients
1 lb. Shitake mushrooms
1/2 an ounce of dried porcini mushrooms (optional)
1 stick of butter, unsalted
1/2 cup of extra-virgin olive oil
2 Bay leaves
3 cloves of garlic
1 cup of dry white white (Sauvignon Blanc works very well)
Salt to taste (start with 1 and a quarter teaspoons; I like almost two)
Freshly-ground pepper to taste (I like to put in quite a bit)

How do I do it?
If you are using the porcini as well, boil exactly 1 cup of water, and soak the dried porcinis in it for at least 20 minutes.
Brush the Shitake mushrooms (do not rinse them in water). Remove the stems, cut of the end where they're attached to the ground and chop them in small pieces with the caps (about the size of a small corn kernels). You can use a food processor if you want, but make sure the pieces don't get too small.

Cook them covered in a skillet with the bay leaves, the drained porcini (keep the water they soaked in) and the chopped garlic for 30 minutes on a low flame. Every now and them lift the cover and add some of the wine and some of the porcini water. The liquids should be all used up before the 30 minutes are up.
After 30 minutes of simmering, remove the lid. If still too wet, let the moisture evaporate: It should look like a thick sauce, not watery at the bottom. Don't burn it.
Turn the burner off and remove the bay leaves.
If you like a finer consistency, chop it finer with an immersion blender or in the food processor before adding the butter.

Melt the stick of butter in the microwave. The butter should not cook, just melt.
Add it to the pate and stir it in vigorously. At this point add a teaspoon of white (or black) truffle oil if you want repeat invitations to the dinner you're taking it to.
Truffle flavor does not like high-temperatures, so add it always at the end for maximum flavor.

Place the pate in a bowl and refrigerate it before serving at least 2 hours, the flavors will meld and concentrate.

Buon appetito!
Marco Flavio

I am the walnut.

Coo coo ca-choo -- a fresh crop of walnuts is in!
They're firm-textured and impressively leaf-and-weather stained -- they have to hang in there through wind and rain to grow ripe for the table. When they're ready, they have a complex, aromatic, savory flavor: the ideal complement to a gorgonzola and roasted beet salad, a rich whole-wheat bread, or pancakes with a drizzle of amber-colored maple syrup.

In Italy, we've always had a profound attachment to this delightful nut. Since the ancient Romans lugged it all the way across the empire from Persia, where it was a food reserved for royalty, it's been part of our cuisine. The Persian walnut is now known as the English walnut, because the British spread it through their colonies, including the United States. Officially Romans called it the "royal acorn of Jupiter" -- but because of its suggestive shape when cut in half, it was popularly associated with Juno, the goddess of fertility. Women trying to get pregnant would carry walnuts.

But when you're popular, there's always someone who doesn't like you. As the 1700s story goes in Benevento, near Naples, there was a large walnut tree that the locals believed to be the site of Satanic rites and witches' gatherings. The local bishop tried to have it removed, roots and all, but the tree sprung up again -- tenacious as a true southerner.

December is when walnuts are harvested at their most flavorful. The ones you find in the market year-round come from storage, and their flavor is often weaker and less nuanced. Since walnuts are  oil-rich, they may even turn slightly rancid -- so make the most of what's available now.

Get that nutcracker we hear so much about about this time of year, and put it to use. Enjoy the primal pleasure of hearing the shell crack, followed by the initial whiff of the flavor to come. Extract the pieces, one chunk at a time. If you're lucky, the whole half of that butterfly-shaped kernel will come out in one piece. Chew it slowly: Let the aroma linger in your mouth. There's an initial astringency, followed by that distinctive rich flavor in the back of your palate. There it is -- subtle at first, like fog lifting. Exhale though your nose: That's when most of the complexity unfolds.

Nutritional Information
By now you've been bombarded with nutritionists' findings that Omega-3 oils are good for you, and told by vitamin salespeople that fish and flaxseed are the only worthwhile sources to fulfill our daily nutritional requirements. (Did they convince you to have a tablespoon of raw flaxseed oil every morning? I'm sorry...I did it once, but never again.)

Here's the good news: Walnuts are extremely rich in the Omega-3 department. A quarter cup of them delivers 90% of your daily requirement, plus a healthy dose of manganese and copper and several phytochemical nutrients, including the elusive antioxidant ellagic acid.

Selection and Storage
In storage mold may grow on walnuts, so check to be sure the stains are from weather exposure.  Smell them before you buy to make sure they haven't gone rancid from improper storage. Once shelled, you should store walnuts in the fridge. They'll be fine for about 6 months. If you need them to keep for the whole year, divide them in single-usage packets and freeze them.

Preparation
As with most nuts, walnut flavor is amplified by roasting. But because Omega-3 oils are very delicate and heat-sensitive (remember the flaxseed oil you were told to consume raw?) they should be roasted  at just 160-170°F (about 75°C) for about 15-20 minutes.

Enjoy,
Marco Flavio

Thanksgiving turkey: Local, organic and delicious.

Buongiorno.
As the Thanksgiving holiday is rapidly approaching, I thought I'd share with you where to get fantastic Diestel turkeys. If the big bird is your meat of choice, I'd recommend these to serve friends and family the best turkey they've ever had. They're free-range, raised at the bottom of the Sierra Nevada foothills, and amazingly flavorful. Diestel also offer an organically certified veriety. Take my word for it, and after the holidays post back here and tell me how it went.
Ciao,
Marco Flavio

Here's where you can get them in San Francisco.
Here's where youcan get them in the East Bay.
Here's where you can get them in the North Bay.
Here's where to get them in the South Bay.

Enjoy!

Great meals from a crappy oven

Buongiorno,
I'm back from Italy, and I've been thinking about cooking with great ingredients using less-than-stellar equipment. When I was back in Rome, I had several meals at friends' houses where  the kitchens are small, the countertops are not granite, and the pots are not all All-Clad.  The equipment they used was nothing fancy, and standard in the majority of the world. Yet they managed to come up with  fragrant sauces, succulent slow-cooked roasts, and lightly sauteed vegetables bursting with flavor with that subpar equipment. Oh, and did I mention the pasta?

Like many of you, I'm a fan of the scientific methods of the Equipment Corner at America's Test Kitchen. Thanks to them, I now know that of the 28 garlic presses available for purchase, only two or three will actually do the job consistently, self-clean, and have a hinge that won't break in three months — wish I'd read that before I bought the first six. But in the US, have we taken reliance on the latest, greatest equipment too far?

Consider our oven at home in San Francisco: 12 years old, brand-less, seals poorly, and cooks unevenly. I put a pizza stone in  it to stabilize the heat, but still I have to rotate baked goods for  even cooking. I also invested in a good oven thermometer to monitor the  temperature (this is a must, even for really good ranges — don't rely  on what the handle says). In this dented white pile o' tin, I've managed over the years to cook  endless amounts of muffins, breads, focaccias, cookies, pizzas,  braised meats, roasts, and most other items that require diffused heat. I'm sure that with a better oven, things would be easier, but it still gets the job done. And let me tell you: The flavor has not been  wanting. (Many of you who've tried my foccacia at Cook Here and Now dinners can vouch for that.)  I count on the love I have for food and sharing it, experience with local ingredients, and knowledge of where and when to find the best produce to make up for our rickety old equipment.

Too much technical information and emphasis on really high-end tools can be paralyzing. Same with all these cooking shows where elaborate meals requiring 4 skilled Santoku-wielding prep cooks are presented to a chops-licking hungry audience that applauds on cue. Then when you make the dish at home you think: how come I can't julienne like that? And where is my applause?! We can't always take our cue from professional chefs. Most of us have somewhat limited time and budgets, and limited space in our apartment kitchens for the latest appliances — let alone room for a studio audience.

Some people come back to their homes equipped with the latest and  greatest, yet buy their ingredients from the local chain store, even  when farmers' markets or a CSA are an option. They store their groceries for a week  in those marvelous Sub-Zero fridges, and most of their recipes come  out... well...

I'm no technophobe (hello, I'm a blogger) but like many home chefs I swear by my most tried-and-true equipment. Teflon pans come and go in our house, but nothing makes cornbread like a cast-iron skillet. Let me tell you, Kitchen Aid mixers are built like tanks: mine has walked right off our too-narrow counter many times and has the scrapes to prove it, but it hasn't let me down yet. Knives that need constant sharpening,  pots that burn anything unless you constantly stir, ranges without  convection, plastic wrap that does not seal perfectly can still deliver what we so fondly desire. Again and again.

So be fearless: Pick a handful of recipes and master them with what ever tools you have handy. An upgrade here and there can be necessary,  but don't let product-peer-pressure stop you. Practice the recipe, using the freshest ingredients you can find, and make it yours.

A presto,
Marco Flavio

Eggplants: What you need to know.

Buongiorno.
Already we’ve talked about one fruit that staked its place among the vegetables in the kitchen: the tomato. Now let’s talk about its cousin, the eggplant.

The two fruits arrived in Europe about the same time, in the 1500s, although the eggplant came from East Asia instead of the New World. But both belong to the Solanaceae family, which makes them relatives of Deadly Nightshade. With such a nefarious family and natural bitter flavor, the eggplant was not initially welcomed in Europe, and even believed capable of infecting its eaters with insanity and leprosy.

The eggplant soon became such an important part of Mediterranean cuisine that its name, color and luster immediately bring to mind the complex, aromatic dishes characteristic of early fall. Growing up I was never particularly fond of its flavor or texture, but that has changed dramatically now that I’ve witnessed its starring roles in many outstanding Chinese, Japanese and North African dishes. The weird name eggplant belongs to the variety that was first imported in the English-speaking world, due to its egg shape (see photo).

So now the question is: which ones to buy?
Buy shiny, firm, unbruised ones. No dark spots or wrinkling should be present on the skin (that means it's already decaying). The stem should be bright green (purple in the Japanese variety): The more wilted and brown or discolored it looks, the longer it's been since it was picked. Press on the fleshy part: if it bounces back, it’s ripe. If not, try another one. If you have the option, select small to medium eggplants rather than large ones, especially for the European variety. They usually contain fewer seeds and have a sweeter, less bitter, flavor.

The eggplant growing seasons lasts from July through October, so buy them only then. They love the sun, and if you indulge their tanning cravings, you’ll taste the difference. Eggplant is a truly nutritious vegetable, laden with antioxidants in its flesh and in its skin, so don’t peel it unless it’s very large and has tough skin. It's also very good source of dietary fiber, potassium, manganese, copper and thiamin (vitamin B1), vitamin B6, folate, magnesium and niacin.

You can keep them in the refrigerator inside a plastic bag for up to 5 days, but they are most flavorful and least bitter when fresh. Don't say I didn't warn you.

How do I prepare it?
European variety eggplants must be salted before use, as this will remove their bitter juices (the sweeter Japanese and Thai ones don't need it). Cut them in 1/2 inch round slices, place a layer of them in a colander, sprinkle a nice layer of salt on top of them, then lay down a paper towel and another layer of eggplant slices, salt and so on until you’re done. Then put a small weight on top of them for about 30 minutes to purge them of those evil-inducing juices… or at least that bitter flavor. Once the 30 minutes have elapsed, remove them, rinse them slightly, and leave them in the colander to dry a bit until needed.

The salting process will also make them absorb less oil during cooking, giving you a lighter morsel. If you’re going to fry them, you should dip the slices in a coating of flour, egg and bread crumbs before frying to lessen oil absorption. Remember that brick-heavy fried eggplant dish? The one that seemed tasty at the time, but afterwards you couldn't sleep a wink? That’s the fault of the spongy texture, meant to absorb whatever they are mixed with. It’s also the reason they are so versatile and go with so many other flavors.

If you’re using the eggplant diced in a recipe, cut right before adding, as the flesh discolors quickly once exposed to air.

Eggplant can be baked, roasted in the oven, or steamed. If baking it whole, pierce the eggplant several times with a fork to make small holes for the steam to escape. Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 25 to 45 minutes, depending upon size. That will give you a most versatile and savory pulp that can be transformed into many dishes, including the delicious eggplant caviar … stay tuned for the recipe next week.

A presto,
Marco Flavio

Thin pizza crust: The Roman way.

Buongiorno.
Of all the pizzas in the world, this one catapults my memories to bustling pizzerias back home in Trastevere, Rome. Loudly shouted demands for brick-oven-birthed pizza, shiny paper tablecloths, gutsy deep-red house wine and the warmth and din of other revelers all around you … people you never met, but recognize as that chaotic, energetic, sassy crowd that makes Romans feel so at home, so alive. The crowd is the secret ingredient that transforms a good dinner into a memory. And that’s not unique to Romans, right?

When I was growing up, there was no Cantonese, sushi, burritos or even deep-dish pizza to be had. There was only our pizza: Roman, thin-crust, cooked in a wood-fired brick oven and lightly topped with your choice of savory tomatoes and fresh buffalo mozzarella, same-day-picked zucchini blossoms and lightly salted anchovies, or porcini mushrooms and dry-cured prosciutto. (Mmmm…thank you, Mr. Pig.) And no, I never felt deprived. I loved it. Flavors so overwhelming to the senses, they possessed the capacity to embed themselves in your memory and leave you lusting for them for decades to come. I looked forward to it every single time. At age 8, I recall asking my mother for a whole month, "When are we going out for pizza?" until finally she replied in exasperation: "Tonight." (It's still one of my fondest childhood memories.)

In Italy, Rome and Naples compete for bragging rights to the best pizza. As a Roman, I must admit Neapolitan pizza is not bad... edible at the very least. Knock yourself out. Woo-hoo. (Perdonami, Ilaria.) It's a different style, with a larger cornicione (the edge of the pizza, rather thick in a Neapolitan pizza) and a softer, more bread-like consistency. Either has its advocates. There'll never be a consensus who makes the best kind, like crowning the best burrito place in San Francisco. I have to give Neapolitans credit for bringing pizza to the States, and for having the good manners to return to the New World the favor of gifting Europe the tomato.
Roman pizza crust is thin and crunchy but never, ever hard to chew or like a cracker. When you bite into it it will have a little of the softness of bread, counterbalanced by a crisp bottom, and the whole thing should almost melt in your mouth.  Cooking it in a pan will not allow the dough to release moisture, leaving it thin and soggy. Cook yours in the now ubiquitous and inexpensive pizza stones, which absorb moisture throughout the cooking process and guarantee crispness.

Roman thin-crust pizza dough recipe

Ingredients:

3 cups all-purpose flour

2 cups pastry flour (very important for its final consistency)

1/4 cup semolina flour (this helps with making it crisp)

1 teaspoon instant yeast (or 1 and 1/4 teaspoon dry-yeast)

1 3/4 teaspoons sea salt

1 3/4 cups plus a couple of tablespoons of water (do not use distilled, purified water, since you’ll need some of the mineral salts present in water to add to the flavor; Roman water is extremely mineral-rich)

Directions:

If using dry yeast, dissolve it in a large mixing bowl with the warm water and wait five minutes. Mix in the rest of the ingredients.

If you’re using an electric mixer, mix with the dough hook for about 4-5 minutes, until the flour gathers into a coarse ball. Let the dough rest for 5 minutes, then mix again for 2 to 3 minutes. It should clear the sides of the bowl and be just a tad sticky, like used tape. If it’s too sticky, add a little bit of flour, a tablespoon at a time and mix a bit more; if too stiff, add a tablespoon of water and mix it in. Do not knead the dough too much, as this might overdevelop the gluten network, making the dough too chewy for Roman pizza. This is very important and something to watch out for, especially with an electric mixer.

If mixing by hand, knead for about 4-5 minutes until the dough stiffens, and add a bit of flour or water, depending on need. Don't add too much flour; the dough needs to stay a little wet and supple.

Once the dough becomes a little stiff and comes together, let it sit covered with a damp cloth for 5 minutes, then knead again for 2-3 minutes. Again, very important: Do not overknead.

Once the dough feels ready, soft, slightly wet and supple, shape it into a ball. Grease a bowl with a couple of teaspoons of olive oil, place the dough in it, roll it so it gets coated with the olive oil, then cover with plastic wrap. Let it sit at room temperature for about 30 minutes, then place it in the refrigerator overnight, so that the yeast can do its magic and extract all the flavor from the flour. If you need to use it the same day, let it sit out for a couple of hours, then refrigerate it for a couple of hours, and take it out and shape it 2 hours before you will need to cook it. Make it in the morning for use at dinner.

If you used the flavor-enhancing overnight method, take it out a couple of hours before kneading it to let it come back to room temperature and revive the yeast. The dough is now ready to be shaped, topped and cooked.

For Part II: Topping and Cooking go here.

Enjoy!
Marco Flavio

 

San Francisco's Farmers' Markets: Where and When

Buongiorno.
Not everyone can get their sleepy selves to Alemany at 8 am on a Saturday. Trust me: I understand that. There are less painful options — but wherever you go, try and go early. Foodies know the good stuff, and always get to it first.

Here's a list of where and when to buy local and seasonal goods from the farmers themselves in our beloved (except when house-shopping) San Francisco. Go and grace your table with Northern California's bounty. Organic produce, grass-fed meats (including the extra-lean bison), wild-caught salmon and artisanal chocolate. Yes, you are correct: We're the lucky ones, and we're a little smug about it.

So get out to your local farmer's market and meet the farmers — they're the ones who can tell you definitively what's good and what's outstanding on any given week. You'll appreciate the difference, and so will your guests. Ask to sample, figure out what you like, and snap it up. Get acquainted with your food, and look forward to its return every season, like a long-lost friend.

Now if only life was always that reliable...

A presto,
Marco Flavio

Alemany
The first (and my very favorite) San Francisco farmers' market with over 50 stands, including local cheeses, baked goods, mushrooms, honey, and locally produced extra-virgin olive oils. Look for me with friends and Cook Here and Now group members on Saturday mornings.

Location: 100 Alemany Blvd, San Francisco, CA 94110 (Mission/Bernal Heights)

Year round/Seasonal: Year round, rain or shine

Days/Times: Sat. 6am-5pm

Ferry Plaza Farmers Market
This is the well-known one, where you bring your family from out-of-town or go to see and be seen with boutique produce. It features eclectic vendors, great vegetables, and excellent meat, but you'll pay dearly for all those adjectives. You'll also find chocolate, bison steaks, delightful chantrelle mushrooms and much more than produce. I admit it: This market is a guilty but often necessary pleasure. They also offer nutrition and cooking classes. See cuesa.org for a list of informative programs and local and seasonal food resources.

Year round/Seasonal:
Tuesday and Saturday markets are open year-round, rain or shine. Saturday is the big market day, with almost 100 vendors.
Sunday and Thursday markets are open May-December, rain or shine.

Days/Times:
Tuesdays: 10:00am-2:00pm — in front of the Ferry Building. Rain or shine.
Thursdays: 4:00pm-8:00pm  — ditto.
Saturdays: 8:00am-2:00pm — in front of the Ferry Building and in the back plaza. Rain or shine.
Sundays: 10:00am-2:00pm — in front of the Ferry Building. Rain or shine.

Location
The Ferry Building, where Market Street meets the Embarcadero, San Francisco, CA 94111

 

Castro Certified Farmers' Market
Finally a market in the Castro. About 15 vendors.

Year round/Seasonal:
Seasonal: Every Wednesday, until October 28th. 4 to 8 PM

Location
On Noe at Market, San Francisco

 

 

 Divisadero Certified Farmers' Market
Sunday from 10-2. All year-round.

Year round/Seasonal:
Seasonal: Every Wednesday, until October 28th. 4 to 8 PM

Location
On Noe at Market, San Francisco

 

Fillmore Certified Farmers' Market
This one has a great friendly neighborhood feel to it, with live jazz and hot coffee.

Year round/Seasonal:
Saturday from 9-1. All year-round

Location
O'Farrell at Fillmore, and Fillmore Center Plaza

Civic Center
A viable alternative, but not the one to take the visiting in-laws to see — the neighborhood can get sketchy. Do stop by, especially on a Sunday morning, and afterwards head to lunch at the Asian Art Museum (restaurant open to the public, no admission required).

Year round/Seasonal:
Year round: Every Wednesday and Sunday, 7am to 3pm

Location
Market St and Hyde St.
San Francisco, CA

Crocker Galleria
A welcome addition for all of us working stiffs downtown, this market is a chance to have a picnic lunch and bring home some California-grown seasonal fruit and produce from about 20 vendors.

Year round/Seasonal:
Year round: Every Thursday, 11am to 3pm

Location
50 Post Street at Montgomery
San Francisco, CA 94104

 

San Francisco Kaiser Market
A nice range of vendors, and kudos to Kaiser for bringing it to us.

Year round/Seasonal:
Year round: Every Wednesday, 10am to 2pm

Location
Kaiser Medical Center, 2425 Geary Blvd. (at Divisadero)
San Francisco, CA 94118

Noe Valley Farmers' Market
Year round/Seasonal:
Year round: Open every Saturday, 8 am - 1pm

Location
In the Noe Valley Ministry’s new parking lot on 24th Street between Sanchez and Vicksburg.
San Francisco, CA

UCSF Mission Bay Farmers Market
Year round/Seasonal:
Seasonal: Wednesday, 10-2. April 13, 2011 to November 16, 2011

Location
Gene Friend Way between 3rd and 4th
San Francisco, CA

Tomato: The fruit of love.

Buongiorno.
Among my Italian friends, we often speak of a most wonderous creature, an elusive being that we await for all year that reminds us we are not that far from home after all.

One taste, one look, and we're right there, if only for a few precious moments. Sun in our face, loud conversation surrounding us, words ending in vowels, and heat so intense, even thinking makes us sweat: This is the role of the tomato in Italian lore.

Last year, thanks to a fortuitous series of circumstances, a few Italian friends and I discovered a particularly phenomenal one. It was an organic, dry-farmed tomato from the Bartle family farm: Two Dog Farm. We all agreed it had the perfect flavor and texture, and we started buying up the stock at the only 2 markets in San Francisco that carried it. When the season ended in September 2005, we resigned ourselves to the fact that it would be another year until such a treat would grace our plates again.

Well, it's back! I quickly emailed the interested parties: Let the eating begin. Summer fog be damned! For us the tomato defines the season, not the lousy weather.

This past weekend, I'd just bought a couple of pounds at Buffalo grocery in the Castro, when I did my regular walk through the Alemany farmers' market — and lo and behold, what do I see?
Could it be? It was! I swiftly looked up and asked: Are you the Bartle family?
That's how I met Nibby and Miles (below), two farmers whose product allows me to feel just a bit closer to home.

The Bartles are a family of four from the Santa Cruz area running a small family farm, and it was their very first day at a San Francisco farmer's market.  I told them what their tomatoes meant for me and my friends, and how we looked forward to eating those dry-farmed beauties all year.

All their effort means something very special to me, to Ilaria, and to many others — on a personal level, not in some abstract way. From their care, to the market, to my hands, to me and my dinner guests.

Now if we could all reap such rewards from our daily work...

In Italian the tomato used to be called pomo d'amore, pome of love, back in the 1800s when it was the custom for a gentleman to bring a small tomato plant when  visiting his beloved. It was only introduced to Europe from central and south American plant in the 1500s, so it was still an exotic gift, like bringing an orchid these days. It wasn't eaten; its kinship with the notorious Deadly Nightshade (in Italian, belladonna) affected its popularity as an edible vegetable. Between the lethal belladonna (literally, "beautiful woman" in Italian) and the supposedly poisonous pome of love, you can make your own deductions about the Italians' particular outlook on love and relationships.

Over time, the pomo d'amore's red, orange and sometimes bright yellow colors turned its name to pomo d'oro (pome of gold), and that's how it remains to this day: Pomodoro. The word in English and most other western languages come from the Nahuatl (the language used by the Aztecs) tomatl.

Which ones do I buy?
Taste them and buy only the fresh, ripe, spicy-scented ones — put your nose to them already! When fresh, they're a nutritional powerhouse. If they're allowed to ripen on the vine, tomatoes develop a very rich, full flavor thanks to the presence of the savory Glutamic acid (present in most meats). Glutamic acid is responsible for one of the basic five flavors: Umami. At full ripeness you'll also notice a a carmel undertone that comes from the production of the desired furaneol aroma compound (also present in strawberries and pineapples).

Don't bother buying supermarket-variety tomatoes, the poster children of flavorless produce. These tomato species are selected for their capacity to tolerate long shipping, instead of flavor. They're picked when still green, and their red color is produced with exposure to ethylene gas.
 

Now, do everyone a favor: Go to the market, sample a few Bartle tomatoes and bring some home. Slice them, dress them with a touch of extra-virgin olive oil and a few drops of balsamic vinegar, indulge their demand for a few leaves of sun-drenched basil, add some fresh, creamy mozzarella, and devour.

Let the textures and flavors overwhelm your palate. It's great to let summer in.

A presto,
Marco Flavio

King Flavor: A plum choice.

Buongiorno.
A plum is a plum, right? Well—yes and no.
There are 2,000 varieties of plums and according to the Center for Disease Control more than 140 are sold in the States. That doesn't even include pluots (3/4 plum, 1/4 apricot hybrid) which are also frequently labeled plums.

Here's the problem: Supermarkets have been telling us less and less about what we eat. We have 14 types of peanut butter, but only one or two labeled plums? I don't think so.

One plum you might like because of its gingery, tart flavor, one for its sweet and delicate aroma. Many may be too perfumy or tangy for your taste. If you only have the one you don't like and it's called a plum, you'll assume that you don't like plums. Wrong. You haven't been given sufficient information. Go and sample. Just like with customer service: Always ask for a name.

Last weekend I was pleased to discover that one of my favorites is finally on the stands: King Flavor. It's a red or maroon pluot, very sweet, with a rich, broad but not perfumy scent and a tangy underflavor. Now, we all agree: They were not going for subtlety with that name, but sometimes you have to tell it like it is.

I bought a couple of pounds of these maroon organic beauties from Ferrari Farms from Linden, CA ($2 a pound; thank you Señor Mario for the advice) thinking that with the other fruit I bought they would last me through the week. Not so. They're gone. Bye-bye. And I'm a happier man for it. They were here, they were delicious and I ate them all in no time flat.

Plums are one of those summer treats that bring back memories—and if you have no plum memories, now's as good as any other time to start making some. Nutritionally, they're rich in Vitamin C, fiber (4% of your daily allowance in 1 plum), have a good amount potassium, and are cholesterol- and sodium-free. It's great snack after a hike or a run, or between meals.

How do I select them?
When you're about to buy them, make sure they're firm to the touch but give a little.  They will not get any sweeter as they ripen—so if they're tart when you sample them, that's how they'll remain.
They'll ripen and soften further if left outside the fridge 1 or 2 days, especially in a warm room. At that point they can be refrigerated 2-3 days to prevent them from becoming overripe. If they're too hard (don't give almost at all to the touch, tennis-ball-like) they might've been too underripe when picked, and may never be ready to be eaten.

If you get them from a farmer's market they often still have the "bloom", that fog-like patina that indicates minimal handling and freshness. Before eating them (if you can find it in you to wait), let them come to room temperature. Their flavor will bloom; cold temperatures inhibit aromas (this goes for almost any food or beverage).

What enhances their flavor?
Savory spices, especially when poached or roasted. Try cinnamon, cardamom, or nutmeg. Vanilla also works well; try dicing some and eating them with a little vanilla ice cream.
If you can resist eating them out of the bag and want to cook with them, here are some ideas from RecipeZaar.com. Hint, hint: Try the Vanilla Poached Plums or the Plums in Marsala (but forget the yogurt).

When are they available?
They peak in August and September. Drive, walk, run to the market!
They're on the stands June through October.

On a (more) personal note...
Plums are a really important artistic motif in Asian art, and one of the images that directed me toward the study of Japanese woodblock printmaking was Ando Hiroshige's "Plum estate, Kameido" from his series 100 famous views of Edo (on left). It's a strikingly modern image that went on to influence Western art via the Impressionists and Van Gogh, who made a well-known oil painting copy of the print.

A presto,
Marco Flavio

Risotto. Start here.

This is the dish you need to have under your belt to earn your Italian cooking credentials. Until then you will always be a dabbler. I know it, you know it. Once you have this down you can say buon appetito and mean it. The variations are endless and one pot serves 6 people.
The photo is of my Summer squash, zucchini and basil risotto cooked in Spumante, you will get the recipe in a couple of days... I promise.

What rice do I buy?
Italian rice is cultivated to have specific qualities that create the creamy texture of risotto.
The creaminess comes from the layer of starch that surrounds the kernel. For this reason, never rinse Italian rice.
The right temperature and method of cooking dissolves this starch creating the effect we have come to covet. It's not the butter or oil or cheese that do that (well, ok, they do help).
Arborio is the most readily available (Trader Joe's carries it). Other better but hard-to-find options are Carnaroli or Vialone Nano. Use only these kinds if you want a real risotto.

What pot do I use?
You will need a 5-6 quart heavy bottomed pot. A Le Creuset 5.5 quart is ideal (it also looks great on the table, mine is obviously flame-red) but an excellent alternative is any pot that distributes heat slowly and in a diffused manner. One of the many stainless steel pots with a thick aluminum disk at the bottom (like All-Clad, Calphalon or Cuisinart Chef's Classic) will do the job just fine. We used to use a copper pot back home.

What ingredients do I need?

1 medium onion

salt and pepper (freshly ground, please)

1/4 cup of olive oil or 4Tbs of butter

1 lb of Italian rice

2 quarts (depending on the rice) of  stock, homemade if possible. You have the chance to add a lot of flavor here; don't underestimate the stock in risotto.
Vegetable or chicken stock works best, depending on the recipe. Beef is too strong.

3/4 Cup of dry white whine. Warm, NOT out of the fridge. If the wine is too cold it will shock the rice and leave you with a hard kernel at the center in the end. (Sauvignon Blanc works well, Chardonnay is a bit too buttery, not tangy enough. If that's what you have, go for it.)

1 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano cheese. (Not Pecorino, it is too pungent.)

How do I do it?
The process is similar for most risotti:
Place a minced medium onion and a 1/4 cup of olive oil (I am a southerner, therefore I don't use butter in it) in the pot over a low flame. You can use 2 Tbs of oil, and 3 of butter. That also works very well, especially for spring vegetable, saffron or mushroom risotti.
Once the onion is soft (not brown), add the rice and toast it with no liquid for 5-7 minutes stirring constantly so it does not burn or stick. The kernels should look translucent; their edges will look almost transparent and milky. This is very important for its final consistency. If you add the liquid right away and cook it, it will eventually became soggy and offer no bite. It must be toasted.

Now add the warm wine and let the rice absorb it, always stirring.
Once the wine has been absorbed, start ladling the stock in 1/2 a cup at a time (eyeball it, please! No measuring). The rice needs to cook in liquid mantaining a steady simmer (adjust flame). Not too much or too little of it and it must to be stirred constantly with a wooden or plastic (ack!) spoon. Metal might damage the kernels (I know, I know, so much to think about. But really, it's not that bad).

The idea is to have enough liquid for it to be stirred comfortably (about 2/3 covered) but not be completely submerged. You should always see about an inch of liquid at the bottom when you stir. If you see the bottom of the pot, it's too dry. As it absorbs water, add enough for 2/3 of the rice to be in liquid. If you run out of stock, warm water can finish the job. Add broth until barely al dente, about 20-25 minutes. If you like it firm, stop adding broth and let it finish cooking on the dry side. If you like yours more wet in the Venetian style we call All'Onda (Wave-style), add some more broth.

Once cooked, this is when you add the Parmigiano and a Tbs or 2 of butter and you do the mantecato (stir it in after cooking). If you are in a mood to wow and need your friends to give you money, toss in 1/4 Cup of heavy cream at this point. Out of control creamy and delicious.
Let sit for 3 minutes (you'll have to gather the dinner guests) and serve.

You're home safe.

A presto,
Marco Flavio