I used to believe that some memories, particularly very happy ones, are best left as memories. I came to this realisation the first time I returned to my childhood neighbourhood in Jerusalem, where I’d spent my first 18 years. Everything, from the cypresses and expanses of grass to the actual buildings and “charming” dirt paths, seemed so terribly unremarkable, disappointing and drab.
Well, my father’s recent 80th birthday gave me a chance to test my theory again, this time in Florence, the old man’s birthplace and scene of many a memorable childhood summer. I guess I was lucky to have access to the city’s old streets and its extraordinary renaissance art and architecture, but all I ever really cared about was the food.
My clearest memory is of a little white paper cup with blue writing on the outside, and inside, piled dangerously high, ice-cream – hazelnut, pistachio or chocolate – from the legendary Perché No! gelateria. To my relief, it more than lived up to expectations.
The Florentine breakfast is another fond memory: a selection of breads my father bought at the bakery down the street and put on the table with different spreadables – fresh butter, anchovy paste, apricot jam, chocolate spread – as well as prosciutto crudo. My two favourites were a salt-free white loaf, so particular to Tuscany, and sticky grape schiacciata (see this week’s second recipe). This trip reminded me how well peppery olive oil works with the mild bread.
Restaurant meals were always the highlight of any trip to Tuscany, with the region’s magical olive oil lubricating every course, from ribollita to cannellini beans with rosemary, from local beans (there’s a good reason Tuscans are known as mangiafa*gioli, or bean-eaters) to the ridiculously thick bistecca alla Fiorentina. And on this visit we mostly avoided the tourist traps and found a few simple joints that easily held a candle to even my most flowery recollections.
So now I’ve decided that it is, in fact, safe to revisit some happy memories – at least where good food is involved.
Pappa al pomodoro
This summer soup is all about using top-quality tomatoes and olive oil (not that hard in Italy; thankfully much easier here than it used to be), as well as about not being shy when you give the soup its final pre-serve drizzle of oil. The bread needs to be at least two, maybe three days old, so it doesn’t go gloopy. Serves six.
12 plum tomatoes (1.2kg), quartered
150ml olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
8 garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced
800g chopped tinned tomatoes
35g basil, leaves picked and torn, stalks kept separate
140g old white sourdough bread, torn into 3cm pieces
Heat the oven to 200C/390F/gas mark 6. Mix the quartered tomatoes with two tablespoons of oil, a teaspoon of salt and a good grind of pepper, then lay skin side down on a large parchment-lined baking tray. Bake for 30 minutes, until soft and just beginning to brown, then remove and set aside.
While the tomatoes are baking, heat two tablespoons of oil in a large saucepan and put on medium heat. Cook the garlic for two minutes, until soft but not coloured, then add the tinned tomatoes, 600ml water, the basil stalks, a quarter-teaspoon of salt and a good grind of pepper. Simmer on medium-low heat for 20 minutes, then discard the basil stalks, add the baked tomatoes, bread and 10g basil leaves. Simmer for 10 minutes, until nice and thick. Turn off the heat, leave to rest for five minutes, and serve with a good tablespoon of oil drizzled over each portion and the remaining basil shredded and sprinkled on top.
Schiacciata with grapes and fennel seeds
A delicious alternative to bread at breakfast, but also great as a snack or before a meal at any time of day. It’s essentially very thin focaccia with a nice crisp bottom. Serves four to six.
330g strong white bread flour, plus extra for dusting
¾ tsp dried active yeast
250g seedless black grapes, cut in half lengthways
1 tbsp fennel seeds, lightly crushed
3½ tbsp muscovado sugar
About 120ml olive oil
1 egg yolk
Coarse sea salt
2 tsp polenta
Put half the flour in a medium bowl and add the yeast. Add 200ml lukewarm water and stir to form a wet dough. Cover with cling-film and set aside for an hour, to allow the dough to rise slightly.
Put the grape halves in a small bowl with the fennel and two tablespoons of the sugar, stir and set aside for at least an hour.
Transfer the dough to a food mixer with a dough hook attachment. Add the remaining flour, a tablespoon of oil, the egg yolk, half a tablespoon of sugar and a teaspoon of salt. Beat on a medium-low speed for six minutes, until it comes together into a sticky ball, then transfer to a large bowl brushed with oil, cover with cling-film and set aside for another hour, until doubled in size.
Heat the oven to 230C/450F/gas mark 8. Tip the dough on to a lightly floured work surface and stretch into a 30cm x 40cm rectangle, using a rolling pin if necessary. Brush a 30cm x 40cm baking tray with three tablespoons of oil and sprinkle evenly with the polenta. Carefully lift the dough rectangle on to the tray, and stretch out the edges so it fits snugly.
Brush with the remaining three tablespoons of oil, then spoon over the grape mix, mashing some of the fruit with your fingers as you do so. Sprinkle evenly with the final tablespoon of sugar and a quarter-teaspoon of salt, then leave to rest for 10 minutes.
Bake for 12-14 minutes, turning the tray halfway through, until the bread is crisp and a deep golden-brown. Remove from the oven, set aside for five minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool for five to 10 minutes. Eat the bread while it’s still warm and crunchy, though it will keep for a day.
Coccoli
I’ve been through a fair few recipes in my quest to recreate the coccoli at the simple, cheap yet brilliant I’ Brindellone trattoria in Florence. The best – quite different, in truth, but almost as delicious – I’ve found so far is in Chiara Lima’s Mamma Agata cookbook. Coccoli is traditionally served with cured ham and stracchino, a mild, creamy cow’s cheese, but buffalo mozzarella works, too. Makes 30 balls, to serve six.
250g ‘00’ flour
15g caster sugar
100g parmesan, coarsely grated
1 egg, beaten
4 tsp (20g) dried active yeast
5g sage leaves, finely chopped
600ml sunflower oil, for frying
120g prosciutto
400g stracchino (or buffalo mozzarella)
Olive oil, to serve
Coarse sea salt
In a large bowl, mix the flour, sugar and parmesan. Add the egg and use your hands to mix until well combined: the texture should be similar to breadcrumbs.
Put the yeast in a small bowl with 250ml lukewarm water. Pour this on to the flour mix and, again using your hands, stir gently to incorporate: take care you don’t over-mix. Cover with cling-film and leave in a warm, draught-free place for an hour until doubled in size. Add the sage and half a teaspoon of salt and incorporate very, very gently: the mix will deflate a bit, but that’s OK.
Heat the oil in a 20cm-wide saucepan. To test it’s hot enough, drop in a tiny ball of dough: if it bubbles and rises straight to the surface, get frying. Using two dessertspoons, shape the mix into walnut-sized balls and deep-fry for two minutes, until doubled in size and golden-brown all over. To avoid overcrowding the pan, fry in batches of eight. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the cooked coccoli from the pan to a plate lined with kitchen paper, sprinkle with sea salt and keep warm while you repeat with the rest of the dough. Serve the hot coccoli on a platter or board with ham and cheese alongside (drizzle oil on the cheese, if you like).
