Milan normally swelters in August, and there is a steady desertion of the city which peaks at Ferragosto, the national holiday in the middle of the month. This year cooler weather and the credit crunch weren't enough to stop the exodus either. Apart from the larger chains and supermarkets in the centre, the shops all pull down their metal shutters and stick up cute handwritten signs announcing as much as a month's absence and cheerfully wishing their customers a good summer. Well, why wouldn't they be cheerful? They're off to soak up the sun on the coastlines of Liguria and Tuscany and Veneto, to build up their tan, swim in the sea and play in the mountains.
The day I arrived was market day round the corner from my aunt's, so off we went for a peek. Bearing in mind that it was in its much reduced summer format, and towards the end of the day's sales as well (a sweaty 2pm), the array of fruit and vegetables made me feel like Dorothy stepping into technicolor for the first time. From drab, grey Whitechapel into a riot of colour, in just a few hours. I asked myself repeatedly why I'd waited a whole year to come back.
On Ferragosto itself my aunt cooked up a "scorpacciata" (a feast) of seafood: spaghetti alle vongole (clams) and big fat prawns fried up in a pan with no flavours or frills added - they were juicy and perfect just as they were.
My auntie revealed that to get the best eating out of your clams, you should soak them overnight in salted water, so they spew out all their grit and sand, and you don't get it between your teeth when you're chomping on a forkful of slippery spaghetti and molluscs.
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
Simmering Summer: Milan at Ferragosto
Monday, 25 August 2008
Crema Pasticcera
I just got back from visting my grandparents, aunt and uncle, and cousins in Milan.
A trip to see my Italian family never fails to stir up childhood memories, which are often concerned with food. My granny had a decent repertoire of kid-pleasing sweet-tooth classics. Crepes - turned out paper-thin with the aid of a "crepe suzette" machine that looks like an upside down frying pan. Ice lollies in ubiquitous lemon flavour made in plastic moulds. Apple fritters that necessitated a good deal of sweating over a deep-fat fryer. And crema. Crema pasticcera, creme patissiere, or custard, call it what you will, I was too young to appreciate it then. I'm glad to say my palate has developed sufficiently to report a mild addiction to the stuff these days.
I'm fascinated by it's many permuations too. Runny and creamy as custard for pouring; buttery and mousse-like in the heart of the choux a la creme that are a Japanese obsession. And somewhere in between as a bed for fruits in a summer tart.
So I decided to experiment. This time I was aiming for a dense crema to use in choux or a tart. For various reasons, the 'case' for my crema never materialised, but Shoo and I found other ways to consume it...
Crema Pasticcera
400 ml milk
100g sugar
4 egg yolks
30g cornflour
50g butter
Half a vanilla pod
Whisk half the sugar with the egg yolks and cornflour until light and creamy. Heat the milk with the vanilla pod and remaining sugar, until almost at boiling point. Remove the vanilla pod and whisk a small amount of the milk into the egg mixture. Then add the rest of the milk and whisk. Return to the milk pan, and over a low heat stir until thickened. Once cooked place in a clean bowl and whisk in the butter. Cover with clingfilm so that the film touches the surface of the crema, and refrigerate until needed.
Some end-of season (but sweet) strawberries were the first death for the crema. Then today I tried grating some superior dark chocolate (brought back from Milan) over a mound of it, which made a nice variation on stracciatella ice cream. The chocolate was really intense and bitter, with little beads of pure cocoa embedded in it - a great foil for the sweetness of the crema.
