Italian Lessons: Three-Meat Meatloaf Arrabiata

Sergio was short. Handsome, but very short. I didn’t notice this at first, however, as when I met him I was sitting down. By the time I stood up and realized my mistake, it was already too late.

I was at a private club called Lochness located just a few blocks from my Florentine flat. Private clubs are common in Italy, where the "members only" policy allows the bar owners to skirt one (or a dozen) of those complicated Italian government regulations. The term is used casually in this city, though, and I was able to offer un sorriso (a smile) in lieu of the 3 Euro membership fee. I still have my card in my wallet; a green laminated rectangle featuring a cartoonlike image of the famous monster inviting me to “get messy with Nessy.”

The night I’d met Sergio, I’d been stood up by my wonderful, albeit flaky, roommate who’d promised to meet me after running an errand. I quickly realized that errand had turned into a sleepover with the boy she was not-so-secretly shagging, and so I was left alone at the bar chatting with the cute barman who kept generously refilling my wine glass each time the owner looked away. He spoke Spanish and English, but I preferred to use my newly-acquired Italian to chat away about cooking school and living in the city. He convinced me to stay until closing and offered to drive me the few blocks home in his funny-looking little Italian car.

I met him at the bar again the next night(this time in flats)and again the following evening. But I was quickly starting to realize that the problem with dating the bartender is that he can never leave the bar. That, and the fact that a cute bartender fluent in English in study abroad-saturated Florence is never a good idea. After a week or two of copious text messaging and side-street kisses, I arrived a few minutes later than usual one night to find him kissing the neck of a willowy blonde who giggled as she loudly massacred the Italian language. Furious and humiliated, I shot him a look of death and quickly turned to head out the door. He darted past me, blocking my exit, and in a pleading ménage of languages explained that he was just "helping her with her Italian." I stared at him in stony silence, prompting him to ask me nervously:

“Sei arrabiata??”

I laughed despite myself. Though it was a word I’d not yet officially learned, I recognized it from countless dinner menus back home. Arrabiata. I instantly understood the way my feelings at that moment mirrored the fiery, spicy red sauce.

“Si!!” I shouted angrily, as I pushed him out of the way and walked out the door.

That was the end of Sergio, but as it just so happened, arrabiata sauce was on the menu in my class the following week. It was then and still continues to be one of my favorites.

******

This very simple, spicy tomato sauce comes from Rome and is wonderful over pasta for a quick afternoon meal, but I think it is even better over a savory three-meat meatloaf made from pork, veal, and beef (feel free to replace ground Sergio, if you can find it).

You don’t have to be angry to serve this dish; it's a pretty great comfort dish no matter how you feel! But trust me when I say that when you’re mad at a man (or woman), there are few things more satisfying that pounding one’s hands into a large bowl of ground meat.

Arrabiata
You can adjust the spice in this dish by adding more or less red pepper. I, as I'm sure you've guessed, like it hot...

Ingredients
1/4 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil
1 28 oz canned crushed tomatoes with their juice*
1 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes
3-4 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup chicken stock
salt
pepper

*Remember to use canned, not fresh. Tomatoes aren’t in season now so canned is going to taste much better.

1) Place a heavy saucepan over medium –high heat and add the olive oil. Sauté the minced garlic until it starts to turn golden, but not toasted.

2) Add the tomatoes (along with their juice), chicken stock, and pepper flakes to the garlic and reduce your heat slightly. Season with salt and pepper, and allow the tomatoes to cook down for about 30 minutes, until the sauce is thick. Lower the heat if it starts to boil—you want to keep it at a gentle simmer.

3) When the sauce has thickened and the tomatoes have broken down. Turn off the heat and either serve over meat or pasta (or both) or allow to cool before refrigerating

Three-Meat Meatloaf
This is basically a giant meatball for the lazy. Instead of lots of little balls you just shape the meat and bake. The replacement of breadcrumbs with bran and flaxseed dramatically ups the fiber content and lowers the carbohydrates. How perfect is that?!

Ingredients
1/2 cup chicken or beef stock
1 diced medium-sized yellow onion
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 handful of Italian parsley, chopped
1/2 lb ground beef
1/2 lb ground veal
1/2 lb ground pork
1/3 cup course unprocessed bran
3 tablespoons ground flax seed
1 egg
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup Extra Virgin olive oil


1) In a heavy saucepan, heat the olive oil and sauté the onions until transluscent.
2) Add the garlic and cook until golden. Remove from heat and let cool
3) In a food processor, blend together the stock, cooked onions and garlic, parsley, red pepper, and salt.
4) In a separate large bowl, combine the three meats and knead until combined evenly.
5) Pour the stock mixture over the meat and combine well with your hands
6) Add the bran and flax seed and mix in well
7) In a separate bowl, beat the egg slightly and then pour over the meat mixture. Again knead until everything has been distributed evenly.
8) Turn the meat mixture onto a large roasting pan and mold into a loaf in the center, allowing room on all sides.
9) Bake at 450 degrees for approximately 35-40 minutes.
10) Raise the oven to broiler, and broil for an additional 3-5 minutes until the top is golden and develops a nice crust.
11) Remove from oven and let sit for ten minutes before slicing so as to not lose all the juices.

To serve, place a thick slice on a plate topped with a couple heaping tablespoons of the arrabiata sauce. Shave Pecorino cheese on top and garnish with more parsely if desired.

Lunchtime fads, pudding races, and two lucky readers

And the winner of the food excerpt contest is....Ramona Quimby, Age 8!

With an impressive almost-40% of the vote, this one was the clear favorite. I'm willing to bet that this passage won on equal parts nostalgia and writing. The story itself is clever, and something that many of us can easily relate to; grade school fads and trading lunches were a part of just about every one's lives at one point or another.

In seventh grade, my favorite lunch consisted of an onion bagel with cream cheese, a Snickers bar, and a bottle of Orangina. These were purchased from the local bagel store and cost just south of five dollars. My mom would stop the car in front of the shop while my little brother Gab and I would pop in and place our order, grabbing the snacks while the sweet round lady behind the counter (Linda, I believe) would quickly schmear the bagels and divide into two brown paper bags. It was the perfect combination: the sweetness of the chocolate, the saltiness of the cheese, and the fizzy orange beverage.

When I reached high school, I started attending a private catholic prep school about 20 minutes away so we rarely had time to stop anywhere to buy lunch before getting to school on time (this may or may not also have had something to do with my morning hair & make-up routine). With a mom that was just as busy, the idea of "making lunch" never really entered the equation so my dad got into the habit of leaving us each five dollars on the kitchen table for us to buy from the school cafeterias.

I used to consider these five dollars an additional source of income, and would usually opt for a cheap lunch of a 60 cent Snickers from the vending machine (I have a thing for nougat), pocketing the other 4 dollars and 40 cents. When you factored in the 3 dollars my dad also gave me for bus fare (unnecessary as I regularly had a friend drive me home) going to school quickly turned into quite the money-making enterprise.

There were, however, some days when hunger trumped mall cash and so on those days I often indulged in one of two of my favorite menu items: the "hot ham and cheese" on a roll (melty and salty and thoroughly un-nutritious) and "chocolate pudding." Now the chocolate pudding was more of an event than a meal. Best friend Vanessa and I quickly invented a rather absurd game that probably did little to ingratiate us with the "cool kids." It was called "Pudding Races" and it went like this:

1.) Vanessa and I would take turns buying a package of Peanut M&Ms from the vending machine, plus two bowls of pudding (one each).

2.) We would then divide the M&M's equally (about 14 or so each) and mix them into the pudding. These we referred to as "Obstacles."

3.) Next we'd call time and proceed to see how quickly we could shovel down our bowl of pudding and M&Ms (the obstacles there to "slow us down") before the M&Ms started to melt and lose their color in the pudding.

4.) Whoever finished first, won. There was no actual "prize"; just lots of giggles and strange looks from the "normal" girls.

Surprisingly, neither one of us ever choked during these races. Not quite surprisingly, we both had to ask our respective gay best friend to the prom. Related? Perhaps...


*****
I'm contacting the winners of the Italian Rainbow cookie now and once I hear back from both I will post their names. In the meantime, why don't you share some of your grade school lunchtime memories in the comments section?

P.S.

If you shop at my Whole Foods, I owe you an apology. I cleaned them out of Meyer lemons today. I took all but three, I think.

The basket kept getting smaller and I was scared there wouldn't be any left next time I shopped so I just kept filling my bag. "Just one more," I would say. "One more." Six pounds later I finally stopped. A woman near the bananas looked at me funny. The cashier raised her eyebrow. I just smiled, visions of tarts, curds, and preserves dancing in my head.

Oh! And do you like my beautiful new bowl? Look out for it in my blog posts over the next few days. There is a story behind it...

Pink is the New Orange

My fingers are sticky.

I've spent the past hour eating oranges. Two oranges, to be exact. And perhaps indulging would be more accurate.

The first one I devoured in a matter of seconds, just moments after coming home from the store. My bags of groceries still mostly unpacked on the floor, I tore into the bottom of one and pulled them out: oranges. Cara Cara navel oranges, to be exact. From Venezuela.

I'd heard rumors and wanted to see for myself, so, with a quick swipe of the knife I revealed what the sign at the store had promised: pink flesh. Pink! Glossy, tiny little sacs straining with sweet citrus.

I took my first bite.

Forget blood oranges and mandarins and Clementines and plain old orange-oranges. THIS is an orange. My teeth pressed into the rosy flesh, bursting through the skin. Sweet juice squirted into the air hitting me on my nose, running down my lips around my chin and along my neck. The whole fruit disappeared in seconds and I instantly wanted more.

I took my time with the second one. Cutting it in half, then slicing it into perfect pink rounds. The juice was all over by this point. I licked my thumb and was surprised by the taste. Grapefruit? I sniffed a slice. Orange. Then I licked the rind. Grapefruit! I bit. Orange again. Incredible! Even the thick pith coating the inside of the rind is sweet--chewy, juicy, and pleasant with hints of something earthy. Like a mushroom, almost. A sweet mushroom.

I have one orange left and I'm my mouth is already watering for more. I lick my lips and roll the heavy fruit around in my hand. I'll wait until tomorrow, I think, as I place it back in the bowl. I make a mental note to buy more.

My First Week

My first week in business is officially complete and I could not be happier! I got eight orders in--five through the site plus three outside--and the results have all been wonderful. The first few orders were delivered yesterday and I'm shipping out a second batch on Monday. The Italian Rainbows have the been the crowd favorite, but I've also sold two orders of ginger financier madeleines and got my first local commission for a custom Italian Rainbow cake to be delivered on Monday afternoon.

Even more exciting (well, to me at least): my custom boxes and special tissue paper arrived this morning! They actually arrived at some point yesterday afternoon, but my super was holding them hostage while I was out spending way too much money at Club Monaco (latest store obsession). For the packaging, I picked out a beautiful, high-quality shoe box-style box covered in glossy white paper and two beautiful reams of waxed food-grade tissue in chocolate brown and hot pink.

The cookies will fit nicely nestled into the perfectly-sized box and it's sturdy enough to help keep them from getting crushed in transit. I'm toying with the idea of ribbons or some kind of bow situation. More about that later...

I also had a set of shop labels custom-made with my store name and website in pink, brown, and white lettering and damask from another fabulous Etsy seller. I am (impatiently) looking forward to receiving those on Monday so that I can include them with the next batch of orders. The designer sent me a proof last week and I'm delighted with the results. I think they'll look perfect with the boxes and tissue paper colors. See for yourself... Positively edible, right?!

Business cards courtesy of Moo.com are next on the agenda as are a few more marketing ideas. I've been telling everybody about the store and am looking forward to some promised orders for next week. Even my father, who (like me) is a Harry & David addict, decided to use my little shop to send some spring gifts to some of his bosses and colleagues over at 30 Rock. We're talking corporate bigwigs here, and if there is one thing that I've learned from growing up with a news anchor dad is that NY isn't Hollywood. TV people *love* to eat. So fingers crossed on that!

The treats are the most important part, of course. I'm still tweaking the menu selections, but have recently added my flourless tortes into the mix and am working out a Springtime version, just perfect for Easter, of my rainbow cookies made with lemon curd between the pastel-colored almond sponge layers and all topped off with rich white chocolate frosting. Yum! I'm offering special rush availability on these so that you can get them in time by Easter as long as you order by 6 PM on Tuesday so head on over to the store to get your order in now!

As a reminder, this is the LAST week to get your entries in to win a FREE batch of these incredible cookies, now available in my beautiful custom gift boxes. You can read the detailed rules here, but the short version is: send me your absolute favorite food scene from a novel, story, or poem, along with the reference and you'll be entered to win. Mention the contest on your blog, website, or MySpace/Facebook profile and you'll get extra chances. No purchase necessary; all I want is your yummy food scenes. E-mail me at alwaysorderdessert (at) gmail (dot) com with "Contest Submission" in the subject line.

As for what else I've been up to... Well, I've got some overdue recipes that I need to post. Look for them over the coming days. I'll be back-dating them to save room for new stuff, but will add the links here so you can find easily.

Dessert for Two

In college, I briefly adored an Italian man named Lorenzo. Several years my senior, he was an attractive journalist from Milano with a muscular build and slightly bow-legged walk. I used to think that were it not for his handsome, boyish face he’d slightly resemble a bulldog. I met him at a bar one night when I was out with friends and can still remember feeling his eyes on me that entire night. I don't recall exactly how, but we somehow ended up sitting near each other, his hand on my fishnet-covered thigh as he leaned in close to tell me about the wines his family made.

On our second date I invited him over to my apartment for dinner. I'd prepared chicken cooked in a spicy, smoky tomato sauce served over slices of salty boiled plantains. It was the first time I'd ever cooked for a man who was not a friend or family, and I remember not being able to sit still as I waited for him to arrive. I paced the kitchen anxiously; polishing and re-polishing the counter tops, setting out plates, swallowing huge gulps from the bottle of wine I'd used to cook.

He arrived, finally, and attacked me within seconds of entering my door, leaving the chicken I'd made to stew a bit longer. When we finally emerged from the bedroom, disheveled and ravenous, the sauce had thickened and darkened, and the chicken had become a shredded mass of perfection. We ate wrapped in a bed sheet, swallowing gulps of Chianti like it was water. In the morning, I woke to find him standing naked in my kitchen, pulling pieces of chicken cold from the refrigerator.

"I want to watch you cook next time," he told me seriously when I asked him what he was doing. He looked at me then, without removing his hand from the pan. "I think you must cook the way that you kiss."

He was still a stranger at that moment, but he knew something about me that I didn't yet understand. A meal can be as intimate and revealing as a kiss. At the time, I wasn't really sure what he meant, but I suspected it had something to do with passion.

I have a tendency towards excess when cooking. I'll use two vanilla beans in recipes that call for one, heavy cream instead of milk, and regularly toss in an extra ¼ cup (to make up for what gets stuck to the bowl, I say). I zest an entire fruit and call it a teaspoon. I add almond extract to just about everything. I marinate things for days.

I believe in generosity of flavor. I believe in richness, in decadence. I believe in butter. I don't want to make food that merely satisfies; I want to make food that consumes and leaves you a little bit dizzy. The kinds of flavors you dream about, crave, and ask for again and again. I want to spoil you.

I think I cook the way I like to be kissed…


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There are a few flavors that I find completely irresistible. Warm, sensual flavors that swoop up and grab me, heating me through and through with their intensity. Bitter almond is the first and favorite of these, followed closely by black cherries, raspberries, passion fruit, and guava. I love these flavors in my food, and often choose perfumes and lotions that allow me to soak them into my skin. (Another college boyfriend used to joke that every beauty product I owned was edible. “You always smell like food!” he told me as he led me through the perfume aisle at Sephora in search of a slightly less esculent scent.)

I've been playing around with these tastes, combining and recreating them in ways that I haven't before. The latest of these dalliances resulted in a decadent guava flan, which (as I mentioned yesterday) begs to be shared with a hungry lover by the light of the refrigerator door. A few of the slightly naughty looking guava shells heaped on top are what give this flan its sensual look, but the secret is really in the musky, tropical flavor of the fruit-infused cream.

Candied Guava Shells in Syrup (casquitos de guayaba)
These will keep refrigerated in the syrup for a few weeks. Serve with "queso blanco," or slightly salty cream cheese as dessert or use in savory recipes. Goes especially well with pork.

Ingredients
4 fresh guava fruit
8 cups of cold water
8 cups of granulated sugar
1 tablespoon of red food coloring
1 tablespoon of almond or vanilla extract

1. Wash and trim the ends of the guava fruit, then peel as thinly as possible. Cut in half and scoop out the seedy pulp. Reserve the pulp and peels for later (you will use these to make the flan).
2. Combine the sugar and water in a large heavy saucepot and place over high heat.
3. When the mixture starts to boil, add the extract and food coloring and stir thoroughly.
4. Add the guava shells and allow to boil for 10 to 15 minutes on each side. They will start to soften and collapse into themselves. Test by pressing gently with a spoon. If they fold easily, then they are ready.
5. Remove with a slotted spoon and place in a glass bowl. Top with the remaining syrup and allow to cool completely at room temperature.

To store, transfer to an air-tight container and cover with syrup. These will keep at room temp for a few days and in the fridge even longer. They can also be canned following proper procedure.

Midnight Guava Flan

Ingredients
Pulp & rind of four fresh guava fruit
2 or 3 candied guava shells (recipe above or can be purchased canned)
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 tablespoons water
1/2 lemon, juiced
2 cups heavy cream
2 vanilla beans, split and scraped or two tablespoons of Mexican vanilla extract
3 large eggs
2 large egg yolks
A pinch of salt

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F and set a pot of water (for the bain marie) on the stove to boil.

1. To make the caramel: have ready a round flan mold or deep dish pie plate. Place 1 cup of sugar in Combine 1 cup of the sugar in the center of a skillet and add the water on top. Do NOT stir. Place over medium high heat and let cook until the sugar begins to melt and turn slightly amber colored. (about 5 minutes). Swirl the pan (Do NOT stir) to combine the bits of uncooked sugar. Once completely melted, remove from heat and add lemon juice. Swirl again (No stirring) and then immediately poor into your mold. Swirl the dish so that the caramel completely covers the bottom.
2. In a medium saucepan, combine the cream, guava pulp and rinds, and vanilla beans over a medium-low flame. Let the cream simmer, stirring occasionally to blend the pulp in and all the while taking care to not let it come to a full boil (it’ll boil over and make a terrible mess. Even worse, you’ll lose lots of delicious cream!) Strain the mixture completely to remove the seeds, peel, and vanilla beans. Note that it will be a little bit thick from the natural fruit pectins. If too thick, feel free to add a bit of cream to thin. It should be just thick enough to coat the back of the spoon.
3. In a large bowl, cream together the eggs and yolks with the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar and the pinch of salt, until the mixture is pale yellow and thick.
4. Temper the egg mixture by gradually whisking in the hot cream mixture. Take care to not add it all in quickly or your eggs will scramble. Pass the mixture through a strainer a second time to keep the consistency as smooth as possible.
5. Pour the custard into the caramel-coated mold and let sit for 20 minutes to an hour to let the foam and bubbles settle (the longer it sits, the fewer bubbles).
6. To prepare the bain marie (water bath): Open your oven and pull out the middle rack. Set a large roasting pan large enough to contain the flan mold in the center of the rack (I actually use a cake pan inside a large cast iron skillet). Place your mold in the center and then fill the water so that it comes up about halfway up the side of the mold (watch that none spills into the custard). Bake for 30 to 45 minutes, until the custard is just set (it will jiggle a little). Remove from the oven and let cool in the water bath. Once cool, cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours (or overnight!).
7. When you are ready to serve, run a wet butter knife around the inside of the mold to loosen from the sides. Place a dessert plate on top of the flan mold and with one hand firmly on each side, flip quickly. The flan should slide out easily and the caramel will melt over the sides.
8. Top with two or three candied guava shells and drizzle a circle of guava syrup around the outside of the dessert.

Enjoy (preferably not alone...)