PASTA PUTTANESCA with SHRIMP and FETA

I got the idea to make pasta puttanesca with shrimp and feta cheese when I was reading Andrea Camilleri's novel "The shape of water," featuring the character of Inspector Montalbano. I was reading the book for my participation in Cook The Books Club, and I had to think of something nice to make that reminded me of the book. The shrimp, the briny sauce, and the briny feta cheese bring to mind the seaside where inspector Montalbano likes to stroll. 

This is an enjoyable dish and very easy prepare. I love how Greek and Italian ingredients are combined here: strong Mediterranean roots! This dish depends on freshness, therefore, working quickly when preparing it is a must. I had the idea of garnishing the pasta with some fresh grape tomatoes which are very abundant at the market this time of year. They are imported all the way from Mexico and are very tasty. 

Linus happens to love pasta and today he is waiting patiently for his share.

Ingredients:

olive oil

1/2 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined

1/2 pound linguini

2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon dried oregano

2 tablespoons crumbled feta cheese, plus a little more for garnish. 
two or three sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
3 Roma tomatoes cut into chunks (seeds and skin removed)
some grape tomatoes cut in half, to be used for garnish

4 anchovy fillets

2 tablespoons capers, rinsed

1 teaspoon red pepper seeds, or use more if you prefer

4 cloves of garlic, chopped
10 pitted Kalamata olives, sliced in half

¼ cup fresh Italian parsley, chopped

Directions:

• First, prepare the pasta and shrimp: 
• Fill a large pot with salted water and bring it to a boil. Add the linguini and cook according to package directions. 
• Drain the pasta and place it in a large bowl. Sprinkle some olive oil on the pasta, and mix.
• Meanwhile, in a large skillet heat 3 tablespoons olive oil. 
• Add 2 cloves of garlic and sauté for one minute. 
• Add the shrimp and thyme and cook for about 3 minutes, until the shrimp have turned pink. 
• Remove from the heat, add the feta cheese and season with freshly ground black pepper. 
• Add the shrimp mixture to the pasta.
• Add some parsley and mix well. Cover and set aside.
• Now make the puttanesca sauce:
• In a pan heat some olive oil and add the rest of the garlic along with the anchovies, red pepper seeds, and capers. Cook for about one minute, stirring. 
• Add the olives, the oregano, the Roma tomatoes and the sun-dried tomatoes. 
• Cook for about 10 to 15 minutes.
• Add the sauce to the pasta and shrimp and mix. 
• Before serving garnish with the grape tomatoes and the rest of the parsley and feta cheese.

COOK THE BOOKS: THE SHAPE OF WATER

"The Shape of Water," written by Andrea Camilleri, featuring the dauntless inspector Montalbano. 

We’re going to Cook the Books again, and this time the vehicle we are using is Andrea Camilleri’s novel “The Shape of Water.”  After reading the novel we are making something to eat. Something delicious.  Something inspired by the book. In my case, I’m choosing to make pasta puttanesca with shrimp! I know, I know, the novel is set in Sicily, and pasta puttanesca is a dish created in Naples. Nevermind. Have you read this book? There are so many ladies of the evening living in its pages that it would be a shame not to honour them with the very popular pasta puttanesca, a truly delicious dish that is purportedly named after these hardworking women.  
  

The fictionalized Sicilian town of Vigata is the setting for Camilleri’s novel “The Shape of Water.” The town comes complete with a “pasture,” which is the name for the al fresco red light district of Vigata. A dead body is discovered in the pasture by local trash collectors, and that sets in motion the action of the novel. That pasture is by no means a pastoral place! No sheep graze there. By the way, did you know that sheep herding is the second oldest profession in the world?   

Pasta  Puttanesca with Shrimp: This post is my contribution to the current edition of Cook the Books.  This round is hosted by Rachel of The Crispy Cook. 

I made this version of pasta puttanesca with linguine, which I mixed in a briny tomato sauce that was flavoured with anchovies, capers and olives. I also added shrimp, which is not traditional, but I wanted to combine the briny taste of the sauce with seafood, a combination which can serve as a reminder of the beautiful seas which surround the achingly beautiful island of Sicily. While dinner was being prepared, I snacked on a mouthful of some crunchy càlia e simenza that I had made the day before.   

Càlia e simenza: lovingly described by the author, here is how our hero, Inspector Montalbano, enjoys this snack:  

“taking the stroll he customarily allowed himself …  along the eastern jetty, out to the lighthouse.  Before he set out however, he always stopped at Anselmo Greco’s shop, a hovel that clashed with the clothing boutiques and shiny, mirrored cafés along the corso…  Greco also sold càlia e simenza, a mixture of roasted chickpeas and salted pumpkin seeds.  Montalbano would buy a paper cone full of these and then head out.”
  

I myself have eaten lots of  càlia e simenza, and it's a wonderful way to pass the time especially when taking a slow, scenic stroll.  Eat some chickpeas, crunch on some roasted pumpkin seeds, look at the scenery, contemplate your navel ... heaven! To make this snack, just open up a can of chickpeas, rinse and dry them really well and place them on a baking pan lined with parchment paper. Sprinkle some olive oil and salt over, add whatever other spices you really love, then bake in a 375  F oven for at least 30 minutes, or until they are crunchy. Roast the pumpkin seeds separately, mix with the chickpeas, and you're in business! Truthfully though, there is no way to make the perfect càlia e simenza at home. The real version is roasted and dried in an industrial setting, and it's something one buys from the street vendor or the corner shop. I spent many happy childhood summers snacking on bags of càlia e simenza. The Greeks (of which I am one) and the Sicilians have many things in common. Shared foods and recipes are one commonality. I was thrilled to read about inspector Montalbano's habit of eating càlia e simenza; it brought back memories.

  

Camilleri’s "The Shape of Water..." Following are some of my impressions of the novel, but first I include a type of prologue:

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who wanted a pony for Christmas. He started asking for it around September and didn’t stop asking ‘till Christmas Eve. That boy wanted a pony! Early on Christmas day he woke up, got dressed in a hurry, no breakfast, and he ran to the barn. He was sure there would be a pony waiting for him. However, all he saw was a large pile of manure. His father went to the barn and found the boy shovelling the manure. “What are you doing, son?” the father asked. “Looking for my pony,” said the boy. “With all this manure, there has to be a pony in here somewhere!”

Just like the boy in the anecdote, I did quite a bit of shovelling as I tried to find the pony in Andrea Camilleri’s novel “The Shape of Water.” Throughout the pages of the book, I met pimps, prostitutes, drug addicts, hoodlums, and corrupt politicians. I heard more than enough base and obscene language, and I failed to laugh at numerous crude jokes. I found out that the novel included inferences to incest, one of the most reprehensible types of human behaviour. As I shovelled along, guess what happened? My pony appeared!  It arrived on the scene in the persona of the dauntless Sicilian police inspector Salvo Montalbano, who ploughed through layers of corruption in order to solve the murder of a politically and socially prominent man who as it turned out was killed ... from natural causes. 

The action of the novel unfolds in Sicily, unrecognizable in Camilleri’s rendering. The scenery is mostly limited to trash-strewn vistas and dilapidated buildings, and there is a meagre supply of likeable people.  Montalbano is described as a man in love with his native island, but there’s not much that's described to love here. Except for the food. When the inspector takes a break from police work, he usually finds something very interesting to eat, and what he has to eat always gets a favourable description.

Montalbano dined on boiled shrimp and pasta, which can be easily transformed into pasta puttanesca with shrimp. Just add the puttanesca sauce on top of the shrimp and pasta, mix and enjoy!  

People like Montalbano, who are involved in solving crimes, have to contend with sordid circumstances and disreputable individuals.  The details of this unsavoury type of work are clearly narrated by the author. I came to develop a liking for Montalbano.  Underneath a tough exterior, he hides a heart of pure gold. He doesn’t always follow the letter of the law, but that’s because he prefers to protect the innocent from the claws of the corrupt kingpins, the latter of which can shape the law to fit their own needs. The law of the corrupt can take on any shape, just as a volume of water can take on any shape depending on its container. Hence, the title of the novel makes sense. Montalbano is a man of the people. Of the struggling,  sometimes fallible Sicilian people. Despite the pressure put upon him by his superiors, our inspector does not give up until he figures out the details which led to the victim’s death from nothing but ... natural causes. Yes, the fellow did die flagrante delicto, but as Montalbano discovers, the dead body was moved around a few times between the time of death and the time of discovery. In the end, the inspector is able to help and protect some people who would have otherwise gotten framed. However, nothing can be done about the kingpins. They go on. 

This novel was written in 1994, during a time of great unrest in Sicily. Mafia wars had caused a significant amount of bloodshed. The politicians were on the take, the average people were scared, and unemployment was high. In the novel, the island is occupied by soldiers from the mainland. This, in fact, was a reality. The Italian government had sent peacekeeping troops into Sicily following the murders of prominent anti-mafia judges. The troops remained in Sicily until 1998; the military operation was dubbed "The Sicilian Vespers" (I Vespri Siciliani, after Verdi’s opera). 

In “The Shape of Water,” Camilleri points his finger at the political and criminal upheaval of 1990’s Sicily. I suppose that was Camilleri’s way of pointing his finger at what was going on, and his way of prompting average Sicilians to keep fighting back in order to reclaim their island. It's not merely a murder mystery Camilleri wrote. Through a subtext of social criticism, he exposed the repulsive nature of a corrupt society. 

Finally, since I did mention Verdi’s “I Vespri Siciliani,” how about some Sicilian fun?  For our enjoyment, a clip of “Mercè, dilette amiche,” Elena's aria from Act V of "I Vespri Siciliani." I listened to every rendition available on YouTube, from the best to the not so good. I loved this version, recorded in 1955. Maria Callas sings, with Tullio Serafin conducting. Of course, I could also mention Sutherland, who is superb in it, but what makes this version different is that Callas feels each word she is singing!

Enjoy listening to Verdi and Maria, and I hope you smile when you hear that beautiful E at the very end. This difficult aria is rendered so, so beautifully! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH5QA1T5ToA&ab_channel=Mart%C3%ADn

PASTA, POTATO AND ONION SOUP

This is a hearty winter soup. Thick, tasty and creamy, but without dairy. Rosemary and parsley add green flavours and give the soup a light green colour. Vegetable broth adds another dimension of flavour, making the soup irresistible. You just want another and yet another bowl. You want to enjoy those potatoes and pasta mixed in the delicious thick broth. Carb heaven! Comfort food!

It's an inexpensive meal, made with ingredients everyone almost always has on hand and it has a long history in my family. This was one of my maternal grandfather’s favourite soups. We don’t know where he came across the recipe, but he taught my grandmother how to cook it. Unusual, because pappou, as we, his grandchildren called him, was never known to go near a stove. He farmed, he made prize-winning wine, he was a beekeeper, but he never cooked. Pappou often asked my grandmother to make this soup for him, and she did, but eventually, she started adding more ingredients to enhance its flavour. 

World War II was a time when most Greeks were close to starvation.  Grandmother often prepared a version of this soup by using water, a few potatoes and a bit of pasta. The soup helped ease her family’s hunger during the Axis occupation.

I learned to cook pasta and potato soup by watching my mother, and now I make my own version, especially when, like today, it’s very cold outside. Eating it nourishes me, but it also connects me to my past.  This soup is really quick and easy to make, but it’s a life-giving soup because a long time ago it sustained folk during unfortunate times. So thumbs up for this pasta potato (and onion) soup, and please pass me another bowl.

Ingredients:

4-5 tablespoons olive oil

1 large red onion, chopped
2 shallots, chopped

3 stalks of celery, diced

2 cloves of garlic chopped well

2 large baking potatoes, peeled and cut into ½ inch cubes
1 nice size Yukon gold potato, peeled and cut in half - it will be used as a garnish

salt and pepper to taste

leaves from one sprig of rosemary, chopped
1/4 bunch of parsley

4 cups vegetable broth or water
1/2 pound vermicelli pasta, broken up - for best results you will need a thin pasta! 

Directions:

• In a large soup pot, heat the olive oil and add the diced potatoes, the onion, the rosemary leaves, the celery and the garlic.  
• Cook over medium heat for a few minutes, mixing well to incorporate the ingredients with the olive oil.
• Add the liquid and bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat and add the salt, the pepper, the Yukon gold potato and the parsley. Cook for another 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.  
• Drop the pasta into a pot of boiling water and cook according to directions.
• Remove the Yukon gold potato from the soup and reserve it.  When it's cool enough to handle cut it into small cubes. 
• With an immersion blender puree the rest of the soup.
• Add the cooked pasta and the reserved diced Yukon gold potato. 
• Garnish with some rosemary and olive oil.

QUICK AND EASY PEASY BOLOGNESE SAUCE with fetuccine

Bolognese sauce (or ragu alla Bolognese), is a classic Italian meat sauce that originated in the city of Bologna, the capital of the Emilia–Romagna region in Northern Italy.  Bologna is a beautiful university town with a long and impressive cultural history. 

A classic Bolognese contains milk or cream and some type of cured meat such as pancetta. I have chosen to omit the cured meat from my sauce recipe. However, adding a little milk or cream makes the sauce velvety.

An interesting fact is that the city of Bologna has created a standardised recipe for "ragu alla Bolognese." That recipe has been deposited for safekeeping with the Bologna Chamber of Commerce. My recipe for Bolognese sauce is deposited in a drawer in my kitchen. Which of the two recipes is more important?  

This easy to make recipe will yield a dense, silky, multi-dimensional sauce. If there are any leftovers, they can be refrigerated for up to 3 days and frozen for up to 1 month.

Ingredients:

• 3 tablespoons olive oil 
• 1 large red onion, grated 
• 3 stalks celery, chopped fine
• 2 carrots, grated
• 3 cloves garlic, chopped
• salt and pepper to taste
• 2 teaspoons dried oregano
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 pound lean ground beef
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste
• 3 ripe tomatoes, skins removed, chopped
• 1/4 cup whole milk
• red wine, amount according to taste

• For the pasta:

• 1 pound pasta; fettuccine is a good option because this is a hearty sauce that needs a hearty pasta
• chopped parsley and basil
• grated Pecorino Romano cheese
• black pepper

Directions:

• Heat the olive oil in a Dutch oven and add the onions, carrots and celery.
• Sauté until the vegetables are soft. Keep stirring and add the garlic. Cook for about a minute.
• Add the ground beef and cook, stirring to mix with the vegetables. Keep stirring and cook until all the meat is no longer pink. 
• Season with salt and pepper and mix. 
• Add the oregano, mix, and cook for about a minute
• Add the tomato paste and mix well.
• Add the wine, lower the heat and cook until the sauce is reduced 
• Add the tomatoes and bay leaf.
• Mix, keep the heat to a low simmer, cover and cook for twenty minutes, stirring occasionally so that the sauce does not stick to the bottom of the pan.
• Turn off the heat and add the whole milk
• Taste and adjust the seasonings as needed. 
• Meanwhile, cook the pasta according to package directions. 
• Drain and place on a serving platter. 
• Season with Pecorino Romano cheese, chopped parsley, black pepper and basil.
• Spoon some of the sauce on top and mix. 
• Serve the sauce alongside the pasta.  

PASTA WITH SAUSAGE AND BLUE CHEESE, EPIRUS STYLE

I came across this recipe on the Saveur website. A little more than a year ago, Saveur magazine published a "Greek Food" issue. I would have purchased it, except I didn't find out about it until months later; I missed out! However, most of the articles and recipes are now on the Internet and trust me, I checked them out thoroughly. 

This pasta with blue cheese is a recipe I was not familiar with, so I decided to try it. It's pasta and sausage in a creamy blue cheese sauce, and it's flavoured with lots of fresh oregano. I found that the tangy-tasting blue cheese brought a nice kick to the dish, complementing the sausage very well. As for the sausage, if you're lucky enough to find Greek sausage, use it. Each Greek region has its own sausage recipes, but generally, most contain pork and lamb and are flavoured with fennel seed, orange peel, garlic, leeks, and wine. If you can't find Greek sausage, substitute with an Italian one, or any other type that you enjoy. Try not to use a variety that's heavily seasoned; allow the kick in this recipe to come from the blue cheese. (Alternatively, you can omit the sausage and turn this into an excellent vegetarian dish)!  

The native name for this recipe is "Makaronia me loukanika kai tyri," which literally translates to "pasta with sausages and cheese." It hails from the province of Epirus, which is a mountainous region in  Northwestern Greece. The shores of Epirus rest on the Ionian Sea, and right across the sea, only a short ferryboat ride away is Italy. Ioannina, a city with a history that dates as far back as 700 CE, is the capital of the province of Epirus. I imagine that this recipe was created in Ioannina or its surroundings because it includes the addition of blue cheese, which is not a traditional Greek-type cheese. The city has always been a busy trading centre so I can see how foreign traders could have introduced the locals to blue cheese. 

Currently, near Ioannina, there is a cheese cooperative that specializes in making Italian and other types of European cheeses. Dairy production, especially cheese making, is a big business in the area.

From a postcard, a lakeshore view of the city of Ioannina surrounded by the Pindos mountain range. 

I've had occasion to visit Ioannina, and I'll never forget the adventure of getting there! First, I should tell you that Ioannina is surrounded by the Pindos mountains, which, at elevations of over 2,500 meters in some places, are the highest mountains in Greece. We had to drive through the Pindos mountain range to reach our destination. For the most part, the road consisted of two narrow lanes running in opposite directions, with nothing such as a median between them. Our car climbed round and round, winding higher and higher and making harrowing, sharp turns that put the fear of God into us. We had some very scenic views of mountain vistas, but we were also concerned about the steep drops which would suddenly appear on either side of the road. Did I mention there were few guard rails? Mishandle the steering wheel, and it would be goodnight and goodbye and down you go, all the way down a sheer, cavernous drop. The terrain reflects the names given to the villages: the place where we stopped to fill up with petrol was named Katara, which means "Curse." The driver of our car was none other than my brother, and in his estimation, the ride was "awesome" and "exhilarating." He knew I found the road dangerous, so he thought it would be funny if, once in a while, he scared me by yelling out, "Oh, no, we're going to die!" I wasn't too amused at the time, but now, as I write this, I can't help but chuckle.

   

This photograph brings back so many memories...  I will never forget the stark beauty of the Pindos range.  By the way, the road appears wider in the picture ... 

Things started looking better when we began to descend the mountain. The road widened, and the city of Ioannina became visible in the distance. I felt such relief that I started singing along with the song playing on the radio, a song that, up until that day, I strongly disliked. Believe it or not, since then, I have been happy to hear it (usually happy to hear it — not all conditioning lasts a lifetime): Jethro Tull, Ian Anderson, Aqualung! 

Part of the Pindos range





I found this photo and the one above it on the Internet. The road is just as I remember it. This is part of the Via Egnatia, initially constructed by the Romans in the second century BCE ... No kidding here: built by the Romans, the Via Egnatia (a continuation of the Via Appia) was a path which reached from Epirus to Byzantium. It has obviously been widened and paved since then. The surrounding areas are abundant with forests and wildlife. This is also a biker's and a hiker's paradise. 

I'd like to ask WHY? Some may say the recent improvements to the road were necessary. I believe this bridge is an eyesore. Sometimes, you've just got to let the mountain win (this is also a photo from the Internet). 

It's been a little more than twenty years since we took that trip. I have been told that today, there is a new, safer highway going through those mountains. It's been constructed with lots of tunnels and bridges to avoid the sharp turns. Also, because of the tunnels, this new highway doesn't have to close down as often during the snowy, icy winter months. As recently as ten years ago, it had been too perilous for traffic to go through during winter, and the road was closed for about a two-month period. 

Epirus is a rugged country, and its folk have been toughened by centuries of hardship.  The cooking is no-nonsense yet versatile; recipes are uncomplicated, consisting of a few key ingredients. Many contain dairy products, which are plentiful because shepherding is a mainstay occupation in the region. The livestock, mostly made up of sheep and goats, graze freely on the large variety of wild grasses, greens, and herbs. Their milk, which carries the taste notes of the various herbs they consume, is used to make excellent cheeses that are popular all over Greece. It's interesting to note that "Dodoni Feta," one of the best brands of feta cheese, is made in Epirus. 

A previous incarnation of Pasta with Sausage and Blue Cheese. The sausage here is sweet Italian sausage. 

Here then is how to make the simple and delicious pasta with blue cheese and sausage Epirus style: 

Ingredients: 

3 tablespoons of olive oil
8 ounces Greek or mild Italian sausage, sliced into 1-inch pieces. Remove the casing.
8 ounces pasta such as penne, or this curly type I used. What is it called?  I've forgotten its name. 
1/2 cup white wine  
1/4 cup blue cheese, crumbled, plus 1 tablespoon crumbled blue cheese to use for garnish
1 clove of garlic, smashed and chopped very well
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup fresh oregano leaves - reserve about 1 tablespoon for garnish.
1/4 cup grated Pecorino Romano cheese
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
salt, to taste

Directions:

• Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook, then strain. 
• Meanwhile, begin cooking the sausage: heat the olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the sausages and cook, stirring occasionally, until they are browned, about 7 minutes.   
• Add the wine and cook to deglaze the pan. Cook until the wine is reduced by one quarter, about 2 minutes.
• Add the blue cheese, garlic, cream, and oregano, and cook until the mixture is thick and the cheese has melted, about 2 minutes.
• Stir in the pasta and season with salt and pepper to taste.
• Transfer the pasta to a small platter and add the grated Parmesan cheese. 
• Season liberally with black pepper and mix. 
• Garnish with the reserved oregano leaves and blue cheese.

ZUCCHINI WITH COUSCOUS

Quick, easy and tasty. That's a perfect way to describe this meal. I was very hungry when I came into the house after having spent most of the day pruning, and weeding, and cleaning the garden. There was plenty of zucchini to be found in the refrigerator, and I also had on hand some fennel, scallions and pasta which were begging to be used. So I threw this pasta and zucchini dish together, and it only took twenty minutes. I had dinner and then I headed back outside to finish clearing a spot for planting mums. Satisfaction.

Ingredients:

2 zucchini

1/2 cup couscous or small pasta

3 tablespoons olive oil
3 scallions, chopped

1 tablespoon herbes de Provence

juice of half a lemon

2 tablespoons slivered almonds
1 tablespoon crumbled feta cheese
salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, thinly chopped


Directions:

• Wash the zucchini and peel some of their skin off with a vegetable peeler. You should wind up with zucchini that appears striped: white flesh and green skin. Doing this eliminates most of the bitterness that is sometimes given off by the zucchini skin. Slice the zucchini thinly lengthwise, and then chop it crosswise.
• Heat the olive oil in a large skillet and add the zucchini. Cook for two minutes, then add the scallions, herbs de Provence and lemon juice. 
• Season with salt and pepper and saute until the zucchini is soft.
• Meanwhile, cook the couscous according to package directions, and then drain it.
• Heat a small skillet over medium heat and dry-toast the almonds.
• Toss the couscous with the zucchini and the toasted almonds.
• Serve garnished with the parsley and feta cheese.

How a chef honoured a legend: CHICKEN TETRAZZINI

The coloratura soprano Luisa Tetrazzini was a native of Florence, Italy, and a beloved international presence on the operatic stage of the early twentieth century. One of her most beloved cities was San Fransisco, where she performed often and where the fans adored her. Although Miss Tetrazzini was Italian, chicken Tetrazzini is an American dish, invented in honour of the soprano by a San Fransico chef. 

Tetrazzini possessed an amazing voice, masterful, powerful, technically superb. Her delivery as she raced up and down the scales was seamless and overwhelming to hear. I include here a perfect example of her singing prowess: her rendition of Rosina's aria Una Voce Poco Fa from Rossini's "Il Barbiere di Siviglia," sung in her soaring, clear coloratura. This recording, amazingly moving in its beauty, was made in 1911. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you Diva Luisa Tetrazzini!!!

Tetrazzini, Una Vocce Poco Fa

CHICKEN TETRAZZINI:

Ingredients:

2 to 2.5 pounds of skinless chicken with bones
1 carrot, washed and roughly chopped 
1 onion studded with 2 cloves
3 stalks celery with leaves, roughly chopped 
2 bay leaves

2 tablespoons of dill 

Salt and pepper
Water

1 large onion, finely chopped 
8 ounces sliced mushrooms 

8 ounces green beans, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces

• 8 ounces frozen peas 
• 8 tablespoons butter
• 2 tablespoons olive oil

4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon dried tarragon leaves

4 tablespoons flour
2 cups half and half, at room temperature
2 cups hot chicken broth
1/4 cup chopped Italian parsley 

3 tablespoons ricotta cheese
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

1/2 cup shredded fontina cheese

1/4 cup breadcrumbs
sliced almonds

1package linguini

Directions:

• In a kettle place the chicken, onion with cloves, celery, salt and pepper to taste, bay leaf, dill, and carrot. Cover with water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, until the chicken is tender. 
• Remove the chicken from the broth and let cool. Remove the meat from the bones and discard the bones. Cut the chicken meat into chunks and place in a large bowl. Strain two cups of the chicken broth and reserve it, making sure it stays hot.
• Preheat the oven to 400° F.
• Grease a 13” x 9” x 2” baking dish with 1 tablespoon of butter.
• Heat the oil and 1 tablespoon of butter in a nonstick frying pan. Add the mushrooms and sauté over medium-high heat until the liquid from the mushrooms evaporates, and the mushrooms become pale golden. Add the onion and green beans and sauté until the onion is translucent. Add the garlic, thyme and tarragon and sauté for one more minute. Remove from the heat and mix in the peas.  
• Transfer the mushroom and pea mixture into the bowl with the chicken.
• Melt 4 tablespoons butter in the same pan over medium-low heat. Add 4 tablespoons flour and whisk until blended. Whisk in the reserved 2 cups hot broth, 2 cups half and half, and salt and pepper. Increase the heat slightly. Simmer, whisking until the sauce thickens. Turn off the heat, add the ricotta cheese and mix well.
• Add the sauce and parsley to the chicken mixture. 
• Add the fontina cheese and half the Parmesan cheese. Toss until the sauce coats everything and the mixture is well blended.
• Transfer the mixture to the prepared baking dish. 
• Mix the rest of the Parmesan cheese with the breadcrumbs, remaining butter and sliced almonds. Sprinkle over the chicken mixture. Bake until golden brown on top, about 15 minutes.
• Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook according to package directions. Drain.
• Serve the pasta topped with the chicken. 

Tomato and Rice Soup: Domatosoupa

Domatosoupa: If you split the word in two you will have domata, or tomato, and soupa, or soup. Hence, tomato soup! It's one of those soups that can be eaten in summer when vine-ripened tomatoes are plentiful. And it's one of those soups that was a favourite of my grandmother's and of a wonderful uncle of mine. 

As for me, I was one of those kids who would think of leaving for parts unknown rather than eat domatosoupa. I liked eating tomatoes in a salad well enough, but there was something about the idea of having to consume liquid tomatoes that made me lose my appetite. No, not for me.   

The worst tasting tomato soup I was forced to eat was the one made by a certain aunt ... I have innumerable blissful memories of spending summers at her home in the country: she'd carefully comb my hair in the mornings, insisting that I stop moving so she could part them down the side in a straight line; I didn't care how my hair was parted if it meant staying indoors one minute longer than I had to. I'd run in the orchards with my cousins, we'd ride horses ... One time we got lost, as clever as we thought we were, we got hopelessly lost, but the horses knew the way back home, thank goodness! I remember feeding chickens, helping to clean the chicken coop, getting chased by the rooster, I remember finding freshly laid eggs and bringing them into the kitchen ... Once there was a huge goose egg mixed in with the chicken ones. Silly goose! 

But I also remember those unfortunate lunches when I had to eat domatosoupa! The problem was that aunt would not peel the tomatoes before throwing them in the pot. During cooking their skins would separate, becoming an extra ingredient. An unnecessary ingredient! I would stare at the pieces of tomato skin floating in my bowl, they would stare back at me ... it was impossible to eat a spoonful without swallowing those evil tomato skins! As they slithered their way towards my pharynx ... Well, I've shared enough personal details. 

Recently, while leafing through the pages of an old Greek cookbook, I came across a recipe for domatosoupa. I wondered if I should make it, just for the memories, just to see if I'll find it appealing as an adult. Guess what? I loved it! However, I cooked it without tomato skins. It's a simple, light soup with a summery taste. I don't know how memories manage to plunge into the recipe, but they do. 

Ingredients:

• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 1 bunch of scallions chopped
• 3 celery stalks, finely chopped
• 1 onion finely chopped
• 2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
• 1 cubanelle pepper, also known as Italian fried pepper, sliced into thin pieces
• 3 pounds ripe tomatoes, PEELED!!! seeded, chopped
• 6 cups vegetable broth
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1/2 cup rice
• 1/4 cup orzo or other small pasta, but orzo is traditional
• 1/4 cup fresh parsley, finely chopped
• some basil
• a sprig of rosemary
• 1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese (optional)

Directions

1. Cook the orzo according to package directions until done "al dente," and reserve.
2. In a large pot, heat the olive oil and saute the scallions, celery, and onion, until the onion is translucent. Add the tomatoes, garlic, salt and pepper. Cook for two minutes, stirring.
3. Add all the broth, the sliced pepper, the rosemary and the basil. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for 20 minutes.
4. Add the rice and continue simmering for another 20 minutes, or until the rice is tender. 
5. Once the rice is tender, add the cooked pasta and parsley and ladle into bowls. Sprinkle with crumbled feta cheese and serve.