The Italian in Me

Looking down on Vernazza, Cinque Terre, Italy

Let's face it. I am a complete contradiction of an Italian. The olive skin, black hair and dark eyes couldn't be further away on the spectrum than my blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin. I am Scandinavian, Irish and Scottish. Quite a few latitudes separate the dark-in-the-winter, beer and whiskey drinking countries from the grape and olive growing, mild Mediterranean region. When I picture Italy, I picture abundance and warmth and that gentle glow of sunshine that casts a soft light over the vineyards as the sun sinks low in the sky. I like to imagine myself living in a rustic stone farmhouse built in the Etruscan era, with tile floors and maybe a restored fresco mural on my living room wall. I would have a flourishing herb garden outside my kitchen window and the smells of rosemary and basil would waft in on the afternoon breeze.

Some of you may know about my "birth mark," although I hate to call it a "birth mark." It just sounds so ugly when you put it that way. It sounds like something that you were born with and just can't help it, like a 6th toe. On the underside of my left arm, where most people show milky white, mine is olive. It runs from my wrist to my armpit. I spent a good part of my childhood trying to convince people that I didn't have dirt on my arm. I like to refer to my skin flaw as "overactive pigment cells." Or in a less medical sounding way, "my inner Italian attempting to break free." You wouldn't even notice it under normal circumstances. But if I have been spending considerate time baking in the sun, which I have been known to do, my true colors show.

Needless to say, out of all the cultures in the world, I am most intrigued with the Italian way of life. I prefer cooking traditional Italian cuisine, not just your meatball marinara and chicken parmesan, but I'm talking, pork tenderloin with mushrooms and rosemary, gnocchi with sage butter, handmade pappardelle and ravoli, and of course washed down with an excellent Sangiovese.

Several years ago we lived in Lake Tahoe, California. At the time, I was reading anything Italian I could get my hands on. It was kind of an obsession. After reading Dave countless excerpts from Under the Tuscan Sun, and Bella Tuscany, as I would sigh and look dreamily distant, he decided that I needed an Italian cookbook, so he bought me one for my birthday. It's called Flavors of Tuscany - Recipes from the Heart of Italy by Maxine Clark. I love cookbooks with pictures. Everything is better with pictures. If I had to choose between Perkins and Denny's (before I knew any better), I always chose Denny's because of their pictures on the menu. How else were you going to decide between the All American Slam and the Lumberjack Slam? It's the same thing with cookbooks. But this one is even better because it's all pictures of Italy. That was before Google Earth, where you could just zoom in to the place you were interested at look at everyone else's pictures.

So I'm going to share with you the best recipe for a red spaghetti sauce, traditional Tuscan style. I picked it because it looked really good in the picture, and I have been making it as my standard red sauce ever since. It's even better if you happen to have a friend who's family owns a cattle ranch in southern Oregon and you get ground hamburger out of rib meat. If you aren't so blessed, then pick out some quality ground beef from your local grocery store or butcher. I changed some things from the book, so this is written the way I would do it. It also calls for chicken livers, but I'm scared of chicken livers, so I omit them. Feel free to add the 4 oz it calls for, if you so desire. And don't worry about over cooking it, the longer it cooks, the better. Just remember to keep adding liquid so it doesn't dry out.

Rich Tuscan Meat Sauce

sugo toscano di carne

serves 4-6

1-2 oz dried porcini mushrooms

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

3 tbsp butter

1 small onion, finely chopped

1 small carrot, finely chopped

1 celery rib, finely chopped

1 lb ground beef, veal or pork

2 oz pancetta with plenty of fat, finely chopped

1/4 cup dry red wine

1 lb (1-16 oz can) Italian pureed chopped tomatoes

1 tbsp tomato paste*

2 cups beef broth

1 bay leaf

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Cover the mushrooms in warm water and set aside to soak. Meanwhile, melt the butter in the oil over medium heat in a heavy stock pot and add onion, carrot, and celery. Cook for 5-10 minutes until golden and soft. Add the meat and pancetta and brown very lightly, breaking up any large lumps. Do not cook meat through. Add the wine, turn up the heat and boil until evaporated. Reduce the heat, then add the tomatoes and tomato paste, mix well then add the stock, bay leaf, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, stir well then half cover and simmer for about 2 hours (or longer if you have time), topping with a little water to prevent it drying out.

When you have 1/2 hour simmer time remaining, drain the mushrooms, reserving the liquid, chop finely and add to the sauce. Stir well and add a splash of reserved mushroom water. Simmer for 30 minutes more. It should be rich and thick.

*When I work with tomato paste, I either buy it in the tube, or in the small can. The tube works well because you can use that 1 tablespoon they call for and re-cap it. If you use the can, you will surely have left over. So I use one of the smallest tupperwares and freeze the rest. Otherwise it will start to grow mold in your refrigerator within a week.

Another fun thing to try if you have the time is homemade pasta and potato gnocchi. That is a different recipe for a different day, but I guarantee it will make your traditional Tuscan meat sauce taste that much more authentic. There is nothing better than homemade pasta and bread. Nothing.