From Lidia’s Italy in America

On Monday night I was part of a small group that was treated to a private tour of the Elizabeth Taylor collection (jewelry, clothing, doo-dads) being auctioned off by Christie’s. The sale itself kicked-off the following night with some of Taylor’s most famous baubles (among them the Elizabeth Taylor diamond, formerly known as the Krupp) and while I wasn’t surprised to hear that many of these pieces brought record prices (the sale netted over $137 million), staring at them in their impersonal Plexiglass encasements was a lot less jaw-dropping than I imagined it would be. Taylor obviously fell in love with bling decades before the word moved into common usage, but it’s only when you stand in front of many of these pieces that you realize just how super-sized and ornate many of them really are — I mean, much of the stuff is huge . . . and really kind of tacky! The fact that a woman who stood just over five feet tall could pull them off the way she did is a tribute to whatever it is that made Taylor, Taylor (insert your own Taylor cliché here). And in the end, I guess that’s what was missing for me when I walked through the exhibition. Without Taylor’s presence to bring them to life, they were just big stones in elaborate settings.

Still, you can’t help but respect the gusto with which she reveled in the things she loved, or the energy she brought to the things she believed in. There was nothing prissy about E.T., no effort to appear more delicate or refined than she really was. Big, lusty, joyful all apply here. And while it may seem like a bit of a stretch, I find the same qualities hold true for the sort of cooking and flavors I’m drawn to. This week’s recipe is a good example. It’s about as subtle as the enormous diamond and ruby necklace Mike Todd presented to Taylor in 1957 (which is to say, not at all), and depending on your appetites, even more satisfying. I don’t know how Elizabeth Taylor felt about Italian-American cooking, but it’s not hard to imagine her digging into a plate of these braised beef roles (a.k.a. braciole) with something of her signature enthusiasm and abandon.

The recipe comes from Lidia Bastianich’s new collection, Lidia’s Italy in America. The book was released a month or so ago and features many of those recipes we know from classic red-sauce establishments in the U.S. — dishes like chicken Parmesan, sausage and peppers, and the seafood soup known as Cioppino. I love this kind of food. It’s less refined and subtle than the cooking one might find at even the simplest little trattoria in Italy, but it’s bold, and lusty, and compulsively eatable. It’s the sort of food I ate as a kid at restaurants like Villa di Roma in South Philadelphia, where it was impossible to order a bucket of muscles in garlicky red sauce without also consuming a loaf of soft Italian bread — because you couldn’t possibly let all that wonderful broth go to waste!

Braciole is a more recent discovery. My friend Dennis first made it for us several years ago, and for me at least, there’s been no turning back. I’m not quite sure how it took me forty-plus years to become acquainted with the dish, but once I was it immediately moved into “favorite” status. For one thing it features the kind-of red sauce that some Italian Americans refer to as Sunday Gravy, and that others call Neapolitan Ragu, but which is essentially a thick marinara flavored with garlic and oregano and flecked with bits of meat — in other words, really good stuff! And then there’s the fact that the sauce accompanies thinly pounded beef, which contains a variety of enticing fillings, such as cheese (sometimes Parmesan, other times Provolone), pine nuts, hard cooked eggs, even prosciutto. I mean, how can you go wrong here?

According to Bastianich the dish is a Sunday night staple in many Italian-American households, though other recipes I’ve come across have mentioned it in connection with the traditional Italian-American Christmas dinner, as well. Whichever the case, it seemed festive and celebratory in just the right way, not to mention a nice alternative during this season of fruit cake and roast goose. And it provided a good excuse for making the dish for my own Sunday night dinner recently!

Bastianich suggests ladling the red sauce over rigatoni as a first course, separating out the braciole to serve next alongside some olive oil mashed potatoes and escarole sautéed in olive oil (recipes for both items are included in the book). Even by my over-indulgent standards that sounded more abundanza than I was looking for, so I simply cooked up some pasta and spooned a generous amount of gravy and several pieces of braciole over top. Admittedly the escarole would have been a good addition, though all in all I couldn’t have asked for a more satisfying way to end the weekend.

Or, for that matter, to spend the better part of the afternoon. This needs to be said, since while the dish is certainly as easy to prepare as Bastianich claims, it is also a time consuming process (something she doesn’t mention), requiring several hours of prep, not including the hour and a half in which the meat and sauce are left to simmer gently on the stove. This is to be expected anytime a recipe calls for pounding a large number of beef slices to a fraction of their existing thickness, and when there’s a lot of browning of meat involved. Still, the various steps involved don’t require any particular expertise or culinary know-how.

There’s the making of the filling, which includes stale bread-cubes soaked in milk (and squeezed dry), that are then mixed with toasted pine nuts (directions below, as these are not included in Bastianich’s recipe), some olive oil, and a quantity of chopped Italian parsley and hard cooked eggs. This is then spread across one side of the beef, topped with a long chunk of provolone cheese (not grated as with other braciole recipes I’ve come across), rolled up, and held closed with a toothpick. I did find Bastianich’s instructions regarding this last step a bit confusing, so note that when she says to roll the meat lengthwise, she means for you to lift one of the two longer sides of the beef and to roll it towards the opposite side (in other words, the exact opposite of what I did in the attached images). This will produce a braciole that looks more like a cigar than the sausage-shaped creation I ended up with.

Once browned all-over (roughly three minutes per side) the meat is set aside and you’re ready to prepare the sauce. This involves a quick sauté of the chopped onion, then the garlic, at which point a cup of dry white wine is added to the pot. When the wine is nearly evaporated, in go the crushed tomatoes, along with two cups or water, as well as a variety of seasonings (oregano, salt, hot pepper flakes). Return to a boil, add the meat to the sauce, and after an hour and a half at a low simmer the braciole will be fork-tender and ready to eat.

Since there were only two of us sitting down to dinner I was able to enjoy the braciole over a series of meals — ample opportunity to marvel at the tangy, garlicky pleasures of the meat-infused sauce, and the way the cheese remained intact within its meat sheathing and imbued each bite with a pleasant hit of salt. Together with the herbs, the egg, and the pine nuts, I found the filling pretty wonderful, though other recipes I’ve come across call for raisins, chopped figs, even cooked sausage or a slice of prosciutto — food for thought, if nothing else. (And I keep wondering what the addition of a tablespoon or two of capers might do the mix of flavors). The main thing is to feel free to play around and make it your own, whatever the occasion. That’s the beauty of the melting pot.

Ingredients:
—1 cup whole milk
—2 cups stale bread cubes (from 4 slices sandwich bread)
—2 to 2½ pounds boneless bottom-round beef rump roast, trimmed of fat
—1/2 cup chopped Italian parsley
—2 hard-boiled eggs, coarsely chopped (see directions below)
—1/4 pine nuts, toasted (see directions below)
—5 tbs extra virgin olive oil
—1 tbs kosher salt, plus more for seasoning
—Freshly ground black pepper to taste
—4 oz (1/4 lb) mild provolone cheese, cut into ¼” sticks (you’ll need 12 pieces)
—1 medium onion, chopped (about ½ cup)
—4 garlic cloves, crushed and peeled
—1 cup dry white wine
—2 28 oz cans whole plum tomatoes, preferably San Marzano, crushed by hand
—1 tsp dried oregano
—1/4 tsp hot pepper flakes

Directions for making the braciole:
—Pour the milk over the bread cubes in a bowl and let soak while you slice the beef.
—Slice the beef into 2 to 3 oz slices (ideally you want 12 pieces). Pound the slices all over with a mallet to about 1/4 to 1/8 inch thick. Don’t worry if slices tear — you can patch as needed by over-lapping the torn sections. Set aside.
—Squeeze the excess milk from the bread and place in a large bowl. Add the parsley, eggs, pine nuts, 1 tbs olive oil, and 1 tsp salt. Season with pepper and mix.
—Lay the pounded beef slices flat on your work surface and season with salt. Evenly divide the filling among the slices, approximately 2 to 3 tbs for each slice, then spread within 1 inch of the edge on all slices. Place a piece of cheese crosswise in the center of each slice. Roll the slices lengthwise and pin the rolls closed with toothpicks, pinching the meat to ensure each roll is tight.
—Heat the remaining oil in a large Dutch oven over medium heat. Season the braciole with salt and add to the pot to brown on all side, about 2 to 3 minutes per side, in batches if necessary (you may need to trim toothpicks with scissors to facilitate browning). Remove the browned braciole to a plate and toss the onion into the pot. Cook until the onion is softened, about 4 to 5 minutes, then add the garlic. Cook a minute or two until the garlic is sizzling, then pour the white wine into the pot. Increase heat, bring to a boil, and cook until the wine is almost evaporated, about 4 to 5 minutes. Pour in the tomatoes. Slosh out each can with one cup of hot water and add to the pot. Season with the oregano, the hot pepper flakes, and the remaining 2 tsp of salt.
—Return the sauce to a boil, return the beef rolls to the pot, and adjust heat to maintain a steady simmer. Cover and cook until the braciole are very tender, 1¼ to 1½ hours. If the sauce is too thin, remove the braciole to a plate and reduce the sauce over high heat until it thicken to a gravy consistency.
—Serve over rigatoni.

Directions for hard-cooking eggs:
—Place 6 eggs in a single layer in a medium saucepan, cover with 1 inch of water, and bring to a boil over high heat. Remove pan from heat, cover, and let sit 10 minutes. Meanwhile, fill a medium bowl with 1 quart water and 12 ice cubes. Transfer eggs to ice water with a slotted spoon; let sit 5 minutes. Peel and use as desired.

Directions for toasting pine nuts:
—Place pine nuts in a dry skillet over medium-low heat. Shake the skillet frequently to ensure even browning (pine nuts are full of oil and will burn quickly if not watched carefully). When the nuts are fragrant and browned, take the pan off the heat. Transfer the pine nuts to a plate to cool.

The post 12/15/11 • BRACIOLE appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the Oct., 2011 Esquire (click here to view the recipe)

In the last week I’ve eaten pork braciola at Frankie’s 570 (the new West Village outpost of Frankie’s Spuntino); a big bowl of papardelle with a braised rabbit ragu at a newly resurgent Morandi; a large marinara and cheese pizza at Tappo in Chelsea; and, from the Sunday Gravy stand located at Smorgasburg — the open air food market held each Saturday at the Brooklyn Flea — a special delivery of the aforementioned gravy (which to the uninitiated is basically a spaghetti sauce thickened up with ample chunks of pork meat and sausage). All this may sound like red-sauce overload to some, but to me it sounds just about perfect — especially now that there’s a chill in the air.

I sometimes think I could serve myself a bowl of freshly made marinara sauce with nothing else and be perfectly content. And I probably would be, though my stomach might not. So instead I’m constantly on the hunt for other ways to get my red sauce fix. Of course there’s the obvious spaghetti option, but as good as that can be, eat a half pound of the stuff (sorry, I can’t do less) and I tend not to feel so great — especially the morning after when I wake up with a kind of carbohydrate hangover, all woozy and slow. Which means I’ve had to be a little more wide-ranging in my red sauce alliances.

The good news is that there’s plenty you can do with tomato sauce beyond pouring it over spaghetti or layering it between sheets of pasta (see first paragraph for details). Notable among this group is the meatball, which for pure marina compatibility has few equals. Despite the fact that meatballs have begun showing up on an increasing number of restaurant menus around town, and is even the featured item at one popular chain-let, The Meatball Shop, I’ll go out on a limb and say that where meatballs are concerned, no one wants a naked ball. In other words, it’s all (or mostly) about the tomato sauce — at least it is for me. You can layer a meatball with raisins or pine nuts, lard them with chunks of bacon, add more cheese to the mix, or less, but without the sauce, you don’t have much.

The right sauce, however — a good sauce flecked with fresh basil and the tang of garlic and oregano — can propel a so-so meatball to memorable heights, and an excellent meatball outta this world. It’s a response I’m not unfamiliar with, and one reason why a new meatball recipe can stop me in my tracks. That’s exactly what happened when I opened this month’s issue of Esquire and came across Shane Solomon’s meatball recipe. Solomon is the chef at the popular Pizzeria Stella in Philadelphia, and Philadelphia is one city that knows its way around Italian/American cooking. But beyond that, I figured if any resource could teach me a thing or two about meatballs, it would be a men’s magazine. Because let’s face it, meatballs may have their share of female acolytes, but if you’re going to assign this particular dish a gender, we’re definitely in the land of man food here.

One reason for this is that most men I know live in fear of leaving the table hungry — something that’s pretty unlikely when meatballs are on the menu. Eat just two or three and even the biggest appetite is likely to be satisfied. Which makes the fact that the attached recipe produces 25 to 30 meatballs something of a head-scratcher, because unless you’re feeding the starting lineup for the New York Jets, that’s a lot more meatballs than you’re going to want. Of course, you can always freeze what you don’t use (and, admittedly, you could do a lot worse than having a dozen meatballs sitting in your freezer), but considering the chopping, grating, and frying time involved here, I’d suggest reducing the recipe by half, cutting all of the ingredients by fifty percent with the exception of the grated cheese (you’ll want all of this for flavor, and maybe a littler more, too).

Either way, assembly is pretty straight ahead, with a gentle mixing of the meat, eggs, cheese, onions, garlic, and herbs, followed by the addition of the milk/breadcrumb mixture. Instead of shaping the balls with your hands, however, the recipe suggests using an old-fashioned trigger ice-cream scoop, which ensures a uniformity of size and shape, and has the added benefit of eliminating any air pockets that might be lurking in your pre-cooked meatballs. Once that critical step is complete and all your meatballs are in formation, it’s time to start frying. The goal here is not to cook the meatballs (that comes later) so much as to brown them, so pour just a ¼ inch of canola oil into your pan, heat until rippling, and crisp all sides of the meat. Be prepared to work in batches, though, as browning meatballs can be like herding cats. In other words, you’ll need room to maneuver.

Once browned, place the meatballs in an ovenproof casserole, fully blanket them with tomato sauce, and bake in a 350-degree oven for between 1¾ and 2 hours. This to me is the real genius of the recipe as it eliminates one of the problems I’ve often encountered on previous meatball-making outings — namely, that simply frying the meatballs can leave them with a disconcertingly soft center. What’s more, baking the meatballs and the sauce together allows the meat flavors to permeate the sauce, and the sauce to work its way into the meat. Solomon suggests serving the meatballs atop a small base of polenta, which provides some of that starchy goodness we associate with the traditional spaghetti accompaniment (minus the morning-after regret), while also providing a great way to sop up all that wonderful meat-infused sauce. Of course, you can always just tear off a hunk of Italian bread and dip and ladle to your heart’s content. Either way, be sure to have plenty of grated Parmesan cheese on hand; these babies should look like the Matterhorn before you ever introduce your fork.

A few final thoughts on the recipe: while Solomon suggests the addition of some finely minced pancetta or smoked bacon into the meat mix, I found the flavor an unnecessary addition. Follow your instincts here, but for what it’s worth I’ve marked this ingredient as optional in the list below. Also, given my enthusiasm for red sauce, it will come as no surprise that I have a favorite recipe for this favorite item. I pulled it from Fine Cooking a decade ago and have never looked back (I’m a one red-sauce recipe man). It’s just the thing for these meatballs, and it’s included below.

Ingredients for meatballs:
—1 lb ground beef (no more than 20% fat; lean meat is critical)
—1 lb ground veal
—1 lb ground pork
—1 lb pancetta or slab bacon (optional)
—2 whole eggs
—1/3 cup finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (more as needed — as much as one cup for the meatballs; plus more for serving)
—1/2 cup finely diced yellow onion
—8 garlic cloves, minced
—1/4 cup finely chopped flat leaf parsley
—2 tbsp chopped fresh oregano
—2 tbsp chopped fresh rosemary
—1/3 cup fine, dry unseasoned bread crumbs
—1/2 cup whole milk
—1 tsp coarse salt (more as needed)
—1 1/2 tsp ground black pepper (more as needed)
—Canola oil
—12 cups tomato sauce (see recipe below)
—Polenta (for serving)

Note: This recipe makes 25 to 30 meatballs, so unless you’re feeding an exceptionally large crowd consider cutting the recipe in half. Do this by reducing the meat, herb, garlic, onion and milk quantities listed above by 50 percent, but leave the cheese quantity as is — it’s not that much and you’ll want it for flavor (you may even want to add more, as I did).

Directions for meatballs:
—Break up the ground meat into a large bowl then add the eggs, grated cheese, onion, garlic and herbs. Mix with your hands until everything is well distributed but don’t over-mix. Set aside.
—Slowly add milk to the breadcrumbs, stirring until the mixture has the consistency of wet sand. Immediately add to the meat mixture, season with the salt and pepper, and mix well. To taste for seasoning heat a small amount of canola oil in a small pan. When the oil is hot (it will ripple in pan) pinch off a bit of meat and fry in the oil. Taste and correct seasoning as needed. Refrigerate the meat mixture for about 30 minutes.
—Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Shape meatballs, ideally using an ice cream scoop. In a large skillet, heat about a quarter inch of canola oil until very hot. Working in batches, brown all sides of each meatball.
—As they finish, transfer browned meatballs to a deep, ovenproof casserole. Cover meatballs with tomato sauce (they must be totally submerged). Place in oven and bake until well done, about 1¾ to 2 hours. When done they should feel firm to the touch, or an instant read thermometer should read 160 degrees.
—To serve, spoon meatballs (2 or 3 per person) and sauce over polenta or simply serve with Italian bread. Top with grated cheese.

Ingredients for marinara sauce:
—3 28-ounce cans Italian plum tomatoes, whole or crushed (ideally San Marzano)
—1/2 cup olive oil
—6 cloves garlic
—1 tbsp plus 2 tsp kosher salt
—1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
—Freshly ground black pepper
—1/4 tsp dried oregano

Note: This recipe yields about 7 cups of sauce so if you’re making the full 35 meatballs you’ll want to double it.

Directions for marinara sauce:
—If you’re using whole tomatoes, put them in a large bowl and crush them with your hands. Discard any cores.
—In a 7-quart or larger saucepot, heat the oil to medium heat. Add the garlic and sauté until lightly golden brown, about 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes and salt. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer, stirring occasionally for 45 minutes to 1 hour (the sauce will reduce and thicken slightly but shouldn’t get too thick). Stir in the basil, pepper, and oregano. Pour over meatballs.

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