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Nashua Telegraph
Meat, bread among Sardinia's prominent foods
A Telegraph Column By Marc Bouchard
Published: Wednesday, Mar. 2, 2005
One of the fun parts of being a chef is the opportunity I have to research
different cuisines in search of new culinary insights. Those who think of
Italian cooking as one homogenous style would be amazed if they took the
time to examine the many political and geographical regions that constitute
this country.
Recently, I spent some time boning up on the curious Italian province of
Sardinia. Other than the fact that it had a reputation for mystery, and that
it had given us a name for the tiny herrings that we know as sardines, I
realized I knew relatively little about it.
Sardinia is a large (9,000-plus square miles) island in the Tyrrhenian Sea,
north of Sicily and directly opposite the western coast of Italy. With such
a prime location, you would expect it to be high on most travelers'
itinerary, but instead it remains something of a forgotten land.
Which is odd, since Sardinia is geologically the oldest part of Italy. You
would have thought that somewhere along the line the inhabitants would have
created a legacy worth boasting about.
While other provinces of Italy surged forward and developed their own unique
contributions to civilization, Sardinia remained stuck in the Stone Age.
Sicily gave us the links to the Greeks and the Saracens, Rome spawned the
Roman Empire, Florence gave birth to the Renaissance, Emilia gave us
Guiseppe Verdi and Piedmont the ruling House of Savoy.
Sardinia, by contrast, is still stuck in the prehistoric era. In fact, other
than its churches, the most famous tourist sights are the many rock
structures that dot the island, relics from the Stone Age.
The land of Sardinia is rough and rugged, and its inhabitants have a similar
reputation. Like its sister island, Sicily, smuggling, illegal activities
and Mafioso are part of the heritage.
But then again, the natives have always had it rough. Their location and
large coastline have made them a tempting target for Europe's many naval
powers.
Therein lays the key to Sardinia's mysterious past. The fact is that
Sardinia' coastal cities were vulnerable, since they were constantly being
attacked or invaded by larger powers.
So what did the natives do to protect themselves? Simple: They moved inland,
into the hills and interior valleys, away from the marauders.
The paradox of Sardinia is the fact that it is an island whose culture is
not defined by the ocean, like most island cultures, but is centered on the
land. In this way, it was able to survive the onslaught of invaders, while
unfortunately avoiding any contact with the cultures that might have
enriched its own.
Not surprisingly, the natives are known as the most taciturnare known as the
most taciturn and serious people of Italy. And their cooking reflects their
lifestyles, their land and their personalities.
Where most Italian coastal areas are dominated by a cuisine of seafood and
pasta, Sardinia's is ruled by meat, game and bread.
Not that it entirely avoids the harvest of the waters. Its fishing fleets
haul in swordfish and tuna, and its rocky shores yield mussels, clams, squid
and octopi. Most of these are prepared in the simplest of ways, either
grilled or simmered with a little tomato and garlic.
The most unique product of the sea is salted and pressed preserved tuna roe,
known as bottarga. Something of an acquired taste, it is used as a seasoning
or garnish in stews and pasta dishes.
The most picturesque profile of a Sardinian is of a rough-hewn farmer or
shepherd who alternates between herding his flocks of sheep in the hills,
tending his wheat fields and hunting for boar and rabbits along the edges.
Part of his life is spent on the move, following the sheep or game, and thus
his food must be durable and hearty.
The most ubiquitous Sardinian specialty is a dry, crispy flatbread, known as
Carta di Musica (or `music paper,' because of its thin, almost transparent
look). It is similar in style to an Armenian Lavosh or toasted Syrian bread.
On the trail, this durable and long-lasting bread performs multiple tasks:
- It is used as an edible plate on which a sauce or fried eggs can be
served.
- It is broken into pieces and used to thicken a rustic stew or soup.
- It is moistened in broth and used as a substitute for pasta.
- It is broken into pieces to accompany a meal of cheese and sausages.
Our intrepid shepherd might make a meal of some small birds, such as
thrushes, spit-roasted over his evening fire. They would be seasoned with
fresh bay leaves or other herbs plucked from nearby bushes.
Or perhaps one of his own flock might be the evening meal's centerpiece,
slowly sizzling over the wood fire. The sheep's hide will be tanned to make
the traditional outergarments or blankets to ward off the night chill.
Lunch the next day is certain to feature his homemade Pecorino Sardi, or
Sardinian sheep's milk cheese, probably the most common food export. These
cheeses are available in many different stages of aging, from very soft and
fresh to aged wheels for grating.
Back at the farm, some natives delight in eating what is without question
one of the weirdest specialties in all of Italy, if not the world. It is a
serving of over-the-hill, smelly and fermented Pecorino cheese known as Casu
Marzu, or rotten cheese.
Old-timers think that one of these farm cheeses - made from unpasturized
sheep's milk and allowed to sit in a clay vessel until it putrifies,
ferments and turns sour - is a rare and delicious delicacy. During the
process maggots invade the cheese, leaving an enzyme that aids in the
process.
I'll try almost anything, but rotten cheese with maggots is definitely going
too far.
Soup making is one of the most efficient ways to get the most out of
inexpensive ingredients, such as dried beans and greens. In this rustic
setting, Sardinians have developed a wide repertoire.
Chickpea soups, bean soups, chard soups, even celery soup (using a wild
celery that is much stronger tasting than the stuff we buy at the
supermarket) are made. They are garnished with some of their fresh pecorino
and crumbled bits of flatbread.
Everything they make, from soups to stews, is relatively uncomplicated in
its seasonings: a little garlic, a little onion, a little tomato and maybe
one locally grown herb.
Surprisingly, Sardinians make extensive use of the most expensive spice in
the world - saffron - in their cooking. That's because this is one of the
only places in Italy where it is harvested.
They also have some fairly decent wines, both white and red. The reds are
usually firm, heavy wines that perfectly complement the rustic nature of
their foods. In particular, look for the red named Cannonau. An excellent
version of this wine, produced by Selva & Mosca, is available at the New
Hampshire State Wine specialty store at Coliseum Avenue in Nashua for $12.99
per bottle.
Today, Sardinia has begun to attract the attention of developers, who look
at the unspoiled coastline and see dollar signs. More and more tourists are
traveling to enjoy the rustic settings and brilliant sunsets.
But the food remains rough and rustic. It is as if the Stone Age is still
upon us.
The following recipe is a modern adaptation of a straightforward lamb sauce
that can be served with pasta, gnocchi or polenta. Grate some Pecorino
Romano on top.
On the island, they usually use a short little shell-shaped pasta called
Gnocchetti Sardi. A short, stubby Cavatelli would make a decent substitute.
If you can't find any Sardinian wines, try a Sicilian or Southern Italian
red. They are similar in weight.
SARDNIAN LAMB RAGU
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 medium onion, minced
1 rib celery, minced
2 pounds ground lamb
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 cup dry red wine
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
Salt and pepper
To serve: 1 pound cooked pasta and ¼ pound Pecorino Romano
(This sauce is better if made the day before it is served.)
In a thick-bottomed pot large enough to comfortably hold all the
ingredients, warm the oil on medium heat. Cook the whole garlic cloves until
they are golden on all sides. Remove them and reserve.
Add the onion and celery, and a healthy pinch of salt and pepper, and cook
for 5 minutes, until they are just starting to turn translucent. Add the
ground lamb to the vegetables and cook until the lamb has lightly browned.
Add the tomato paste and cook for 4-5 minutes. This step will encourage a
darker color and taste. Add ½ cup of wine and reduce until almost
evaporated. Add the remaining wine, bay leaf and thyme, along with a good
pinch of salt and pepper. Coarsely chop the garlic and add to the pan. Lower
the heat to a simmer, cover the pot and cook gently for 30 minutes.
If necessary add some water to keep the ingredients moist. Taste and adjust
seasonings. If you prefer the sauce a little more `tomatoey,' add another
tablespoon of tomato paste.
Allow the sauce to chill overnight, and then skim the top to remove any
excess fat and oil. Reheat the sauce gently. Toss the cooked pasta with the
sauce, adding a little of the pasta water if the sauce seems too thick.
Grate some of the cheese over each serving.
Marc Bouchard of Hudson is executive chef at Stellina Restaurant in
Watertown, Mass. Address comments or questions to him c/o Lifestyles, The
Telegraph, P.O. Box 1008, Nashua, NH 03061.
Meat, bread among Sardinia's prominent foods
A Telegraph Column By Marc Bouchard
Published: Wednesday, Mar. 2, 2005
One of the fun parts of being a chef is the opportunity I have to research
different cuisines in search of new culinary insights. Those who think of
Italian cooking as one homogenous style would be amazed if they took the
time to examine the many political and geographical regions that constitute
this country.
Recently, I spent some time boning up on the curious Italian province of
Sardinia. Other than the fact that it had a reputation for mystery, and that
it had given us a name for the tiny herrings that we know as sardines, I
realized I knew relatively little about it.
Sardinia is a large (9,000-plus square miles) island in the Tyrrhenian Sea,
north of Sicily and directly opposite the western coast of Italy. With such
a prime location, you would expect it to be high on most travelers'
itinerary, but instead it remains something of a forgotten land.
Which is odd, since Sardinia is geologically the oldest part of Italy. You
would have thought that somewhere along the line the inhabitants would have
created a legacy worth boasting about.
While other provinces of Italy surged forward and developed their own unique
contributions to civilization, Sardinia remained stuck in the Stone Age.
Sicily gave us the links to the Greeks and the Saracens, Rome spawned the
Roman Empire, Florence gave birth to the Renaissance, Emilia gave us
Guiseppe Verdi and Piedmont the ruling House of Savoy.
Sardinia, by contrast, is still stuck in the prehistoric era. In fact, other
than its churches, the most famous tourist sights are the many rock
structures that dot the island, relics from the Stone Age.
The land of Sardinia is rough and rugged, and its inhabitants have a similar
reputation. Like its sister island, Sicily, smuggling, illegal activities
and Mafioso are part of the heritage.
But then again, the natives have always had it rough. Their location and
large coastline have made them a tempting target for Europe's many naval
powers.
Therein lays the key to Sardinia's mysterious past. The fact is that
Sardinia' coastal cities were vulnerable, since they were constantly being
attacked or invaded by larger powers.
So what did the natives do to protect themselves? Simple: They moved inland,
into the hills and interior valleys, away from the marauders.
The paradox of Sardinia is the fact that it is an island whose culture is
not defined by the ocean, like most island cultures, but is centered on the
land. In this way, it was able to survive the onslaught of invaders, while
unfortunately avoiding any contact with the cultures that might have
enriched its own.
Not surprisingly, the natives are known as the most taciturnare known as the
most taciturn and serious people of Italy. And their cooking reflects their
lifestyles, their land and their personalities.
Where most Italian coastal areas are dominated by a cuisine of seafood and
pasta, Sardinia's is ruled by meat, game and bread.
Not that it entirely avoids the harvest of the waters. Its fishing fleets
haul in swordfish and tuna, and its rocky shores yield mussels, clams, squid
and octopi. Most of these are prepared in the simplest of ways, either
grilled or simmered with a little tomato and garlic.
The most unique product of the sea is salted and pressed preserved tuna roe,
known as bottarga. Something of an acquired taste, it is used as a seasoning
or garnish in stews and pasta dishes.
The most picturesque profile of a Sardinian is of a rough-hewn farmer or
shepherd who alternates between herding his flocks of sheep in the hills,
tending his wheat fields and hunting for boar and rabbits along the edges.
Part of his life is spent on the move, following the sheep or game, and thus
his food must be durable and hearty.
The most ubiquitous Sardinian specialty is a dry, crispy flatbread, known as
Carta di Musica (or `music paper,' because of its thin, almost transparent
look). It is similar in style to an Armenian Lavosh or toasted Syrian bread.
On the trail, this durable and long-lasting bread performs multiple tasks:
- It is used as an edible plate on which a sauce or fried eggs can be
served.
- It is broken into pieces and used to thicken a rustic stew or soup.
- It is moistened in broth and used as a substitute for pasta.
- It is broken into pieces to accompany a meal of cheese and sausages.
Our intrepid shepherd might make a meal of some small birds, such as
thrushes, spit-roasted over his evening fire. They would be seasoned with
fresh bay leaves or other herbs plucked from nearby bushes.
Or perhaps one of his own flock might be the evening meal's centerpiece,
slowly sizzling over the wood fire. The sheep's hide will be tanned to make
the traditional outergarments or blankets to ward off the night chill.
Lunch the next day is certain to feature his homemade Pecorino Sardi, or
Sardinian sheep's milk cheese, probably the most common food export. These
cheeses are available in many different stages of aging, from very soft and
fresh to aged wheels for grating.
Back at the farm, some natives delight in eating what is without question
one of the weirdest specialties in all of Italy, if not the world. It is a
serving of over-the-hill, smelly and fermented Pecorino cheese known as Casu
Marzu, or rotten cheese.
Old-timers think that one of these farm cheeses - made from unpasturized
sheep's milk and allowed to sit in a clay vessel until it putrifies,
ferments and turns sour - is a rare and delicious delicacy. During the
process maggots invade the cheese, leaving an enzyme that aids in the
process.
I'll try almost anything, but rotten cheese with maggots is definitely going
too far.
Soup making is one of the most efficient ways to get the most out of
inexpensive ingredients, such as dried beans and greens. In this rustic
setting, Sardinians have developed a wide repertoire.
Chickpea soups, bean soups, chard soups, even celery soup (using a wild
celery that is much stronger tasting than the stuff we buy at the
supermarket) are made. They are garnished with some of their fresh pecorino
and crumbled bits of flatbread.
Everything they make, from soups to stews, is relatively uncomplicated in
its seasonings: a little garlic, a little onion, a little tomato and maybe
one locally grown herb.
Surprisingly, Sardinians make extensive use of the most expensive spice in
the world - saffron - in their cooking. That's because this is one of the
only places in Italy where it is harvested.
They also have some fairly decent wines, both white and red. The reds are
usually firm, heavy wines that perfectly complement the rustic nature of
their foods. In particular, look for the red named Cannonau. An excellent
version of this wine, produced by Selva & Mosca, is available at the New
Hampshire State Wine specialty store at Coliseum Avenue in Nashua for $12.99
per bottle.
Today, Sardinia has begun to attract the attention of developers, who look
at the unspoiled coastline and see dollar signs. More and more tourists are
traveling to enjoy the rustic settings and brilliant sunsets.
But the food remains rough and rustic. It is as if the Stone Age is still
upon us.
The following recipe is a modern adaptation of a straightforward lamb sauce
that can be served with pasta, gnocchi or polenta. Grate some Pecorino
Romano on top.
On the island, they usually use a short little shell-shaped pasta called
Gnocchetti Sardi. A short, stubby Cavatelli would make a decent substitute.
If you can't find any Sardinian wines, try a Sicilian or Southern Italian
red. They are similar in weight.
SARDNIAN LAMB RAGU
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 medium onion, minced
1 rib celery, minced
2 pounds ground lamb
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 cup dry red wine
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
Salt and pepper
To serve: 1 pound cooked pasta and ¼ pound Pecorino Romano
(This sauce is better if made the day before it is served.)
In a thick-bottomed pot large enough to comfortably hold all the
ingredients, warm the oil on medium heat. Cook the whole garlic cloves until
they are golden on all sides. Remove them and reserve.
Add the onion and celery, and a healthy pinch of salt and pepper, and cook
for 5 minutes, until they are just starting to turn translucent. Add the
ground lamb to the vegetables and cook until the lamb has lightly browned.
Add the tomato paste and cook for 4-5 minutes. This step will encourage a
darker color and taste. Add ½ cup of wine and reduce until almost
evaporated. Add the remaining wine, bay leaf and thyme, along with a good
pinch of salt and pepper. Coarsely chop the garlic and add to the pan. Lower
the heat to a simmer, cover the pot and cook gently for 30 minutes.
If necessary add some water to keep the ingredients moist. Taste and adjust
seasonings. If you prefer the sauce a little more `tomatoey,' add another
tablespoon of tomato paste.
Allow the sauce to chill overnight, and then skim the top to remove any
excess fat and oil. Reheat the sauce gently. Toss the cooked pasta with the
sauce, adding a little of the pasta water if the sauce seems too thick.
Grate some of the cheese over each serving.
Marc Bouchard of Hudson is executive chef at Stellina Restaurant in
Watertown, Mass. Address comments or questions to him c/o Lifestyles, The
Telegraph, P.O. Box 1008, Nashua, NH 03061.