Images: SL with Rosario, our Chef and Teacher; JL with Rosario; JL at the Pasta Pot; Finally - Dinner!
Monday May 9 – Cooking Lesson
When we first moved to Pantalemi, we made the drive to Agriturismo San Marco to make un prenatazione for a cooking lesson in Sicilian cuisine the next Monday with Mama Rosario. Tonight we returned to find we were the only ones in the class!
We met Mama Rosario in her cuchina and she proceeded to regale us with stories of her restaurant and family. That fact that we did not understand a word she said made no difference, and in fact, when it counted, we understood enough to not get expelled from cooking class.
The first thing we did – (Kingston and Mia, what is the first thing we always have to do when baking with Papa?) - is wash our hands, and then proceeded to make macaroni pasta. I have never done this, nor seen it done before.
After adding a bit of water to our very hard flour - “durham zero zero” - was all that Rosario would say, we were supposed to work the dough with our hands, and then knead it till it was workable. Rosario then broke off pieces about the size of gnocchi, prompting me to ask whether we were making gnocchi, which spawned a lecture about how she had already told me we were making macaroni, and that gnocchi was made with potato flour. Trying to redeem myself, I asked if the dough we had made could be used for all kinds of pasta, even spaghetti, and Mama Rosario let me in on her secret. She buys her spaghetti at the supermarket.
We were then supposed to roll the gnocchi-sized pieces of dough into little round thin strips. These strips were then rolled around a thin wooden stick – no thicker than the wire of a clothes hanger to form a small tube, which was then slid off the stick and voila! (That's actually French). Macaroni!
One of us got the hang of this much easier than the other, but I consoled SL by telling her not to feel bad, that it wasn't a race, and no one was counting. (I made 32 while she made 17).
We went on to make carponata; eggplant, red pepper, tomato, celery, spring onion; stuffed green peppers; stuffed zucchini; a potato dish with fennel and basil; eggplant topped with bread crumbs, olive oil, and pecorino cheese; and frittatas made with bread soaked in water, crumbled into a dish with two eggs, parsley, scallions, pecorino, and fried in olive oil.
When Rosario told us to sit down and “mangia, mangia!”, she continued and made lamb, risotto and salad.
The night ended with canoli and a liqueur called canelli – which is a very sweet cinnamon-based liqueur – ice-cold and delicious.
We had the pleasure of meeting Rosario's son and granddaughter, both of whom were delightful. They spoke to us in rapid Italian which to our surprise we mostly understood, unless they were NOT repeatedly telling me how kind, intelligent, fascinating and charming I was.
When we first moved to Pantalemi, we made the drive to Agriturismo San Marco to make un prenatazione for a cooking lesson in Sicilian cuisine the next Monday with Mama Rosario. Tonight we returned to find we were the only ones in the class!
We met Mama Rosario in her cuchina and she proceeded to regale us with stories of her restaurant and family. That fact that we did not understand a word she said made no difference, and in fact, when it counted, we understood enough to not get expelled from cooking class.
The first thing we did – (Kingston and Mia, what is the first thing we always have to do when baking with Papa?) - is wash our hands, and then proceeded to make macaroni pasta. I have never done this, nor seen it done before.
After adding a bit of water to our very hard flour - “durham zero zero” - was all that Rosario would say, we were supposed to work the dough with our hands, and then knead it till it was workable. Rosario then broke off pieces about the size of gnocchi, prompting me to ask whether we were making gnocchi, which spawned a lecture about how she had already told me we were making macaroni, and that gnocchi was made with potato flour. Trying to redeem myself, I asked if the dough we had made could be used for all kinds of pasta, even spaghetti, and Mama Rosario let me in on her secret. She buys her spaghetti at the supermarket.
We were then supposed to roll the gnocchi-sized pieces of dough into little round thin strips. These strips were then rolled around a thin wooden stick – no thicker than the wire of a clothes hanger to form a small tube, which was then slid off the stick and voila! (That's actually French). Macaroni!
One of us got the hang of this much easier than the other, but I consoled SL by telling her not to feel bad, that it wasn't a race, and no one was counting. (I made 32 while she made 17).
We went on to make carponata; eggplant, red pepper, tomato, celery, spring onion; stuffed green peppers; stuffed zucchini; a potato dish with fennel and basil; eggplant topped with bread crumbs, olive oil, and pecorino cheese; and frittatas made with bread soaked in water, crumbled into a dish with two eggs, parsley, scallions, pecorino, and fried in olive oil.
When Rosario told us to sit down and “mangia, mangia!”, she continued and made lamb, risotto and salad.
The night ended with canoli and a liqueur called canelli – which is a very sweet cinnamon-based liqueur – ice-cold and delicious.
We had the pleasure of meeting Rosario's son and granddaughter, both of whom were delightful. They spoke to us in rapid Italian which to our surprise we mostly understood, unless they were NOT repeatedly telling me how kind, intelligent, fascinating and charming I was.
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