Showing posts with label frittata. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frittata. Show all posts

Omelette Sandwich


I put my cold hands in the pocket of my coat and felt a whole in one. How did I do it?

Only after a few moments did I realise that another winter had almost passed - and that I didn't quite consider buying a new one. I just didn't notice - I am amazed at how fast life can run here. That pretty Montgomery I bought in Italy before leaving for London had kept me warm for almost three, long winters. Admittedly, it looked a bit beaten up, with balls of fuzz on the side where I always hang my bag - and now, with a whole in the pocket.

I still remember the first winter I wore it, brand new, here in London. It was March, and yet the rain was still chilling the joy out of me. Something happened during that first month that I will never forget - something that felt like the 'initiation' of a new life in a foreign place. I was on my way back from the supermarket, bags full of groceries in hand, eyes wide open to catch every single detail of this new world around me. A bus pulled over by the bus stop as I was passing by, and suddenly something hit me like a bullet, coming from one of the windows of the upstairs deck. It was unexpected, and fast. An egg. It was an egg.




It took me a few seconds to realise what it was, and by that time, the bus had already departed. Unable to move, I was invaded by a feeling of heaviness, and  defeat. My pretty coat was covered in slimy egg, the yolk leaking down my hands. I was a good twenty-minute walk away from home, it was raining, I couldn't hold the umbrella, and I didn't have anything to clean myself from the raw egg. I didn't know what to do, so I just walked as fast as I could - I was angry, wounded. I had to find a dry cleaner -  I thought - and something else to wear while my coat was kept on hold.

I survived. There I was, two years after, wearing that same coat, playing with that whole at the bottom of my pocket, and wandering where these months have gone. The worst part of winter is behind us: a new coat can wait - at least until next year.


Omelette Sandwich

Even though the egg accident wasn't exactly pleasant, it didn't stop me from eating eggs. Instead, I have been eating them more and more frequently, especially while feeding my post-workout protein cravings. I eat them in a wide variety of forms, but omelette (or frittata) is perhaps my favourite - 'an almost primitive and elemental meal', as Elizabeth David called it, who was known for knowing her omelettes.  Personally, I like my frittata nicely loaded with vegetables depending on the season and availability, but I often turn to omelette when I lack the time, patience or the appropriate add-ins, That's when I simply use chopped onions or leeks, and a generous handful of fresh herbs. Parmesan or other type of cheese never goes missing, as it gives an essential flavour boost to the egg-and-vegetable concoction. From here, you can take your omelette (or frittata) to a whole different level by simply making it into a sandwich - and I like mine with a higher omelette-to-bread ratio. In Italy, we sometimes call it 'panino del muratore' (builder's sandwich). The concept is not different from the classic 'bocadillo de tortilla' that you might find in various areas of Spain, and in different variations - with chorizo, ham, cheese or even cod! Panino con la frittata (also called 'pane e frittata') can have all kinds of fillings, too, depending on the season, and it is especially common in regions such as Abruzzo or Basilicata, where scrupulous mothers would prepare it for merenda, with eggs fresh from the coop and onions from the garden. 

Serves 1

2 slices of rustic bread of your choice, or 1 bread roll
2 small knobs of butter or ghee
1 small leek or 1/2 white onion
2 fresh organic eggs
1 handful flat parsley 
Sea salt and ground black pepper, to taste
Grated Parmesan cheese, to taste

Heat the butter in a small skillet and add the finely chopped onion or leek. Fry until lightly brown and soft, about five minutes.Transfer into a dish and reserve for later.
Using two forks, beat the two eggs with a generous pinch of sea salt and freshly ground pepper, Parmesan cheese and parsley. Add in the cooked leek and onion.
Using the same small skillet, heat some more butter, and when hot and bubbly, add the egg mixture. Let is set on the bottom, then lift it on one side and fold it over the other. Let it cook thoroughly on both sides, flipping it with a spatula half way through the cooking. Finish off with more grated Parmesan and freshly chopped parsley.
Let the omelette set and cool slightly on a plate while your toast your bread. Make your sandwich and enjoy with a glass of wine (as E. David suggests).


Roasted Broccoli Frittata



We came back from what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend escapade to Paris, and instead turned out to be a tad stressful. The snow didn't play the "Oooh so romantic" card for us. A layer of drity slushy was covering all the sidewalks and roads, from Rue de Rivoli to Place d'Italie, melting here and there into muddy ice-y puddles. Long queues were awaiting us wherever we happened to be, from the ticket machine at Gare du Nord to the Starbucks in Boulevard de Strasbourg. Yes, you read well, Starbucks: the chronic lack of decent coffee, especially in the morning, can lead me to take such desperate measures. And yet, I didn't manage to put my hands on the oh-so-desired paper cup. Apparently, I wasn't the only desperate one, or maybe French correctly figured that American coffee can be better then theirs. Also, we somehow managed to get treated badly by everybody: Le Bamboo's Vietnamese Restaurant manager literally stripped my bowl still containing some gorgeous Pho broth from my hands. Not to mention other small episodes of rudeness here, there and everywhere.

Anyway, thumbs up for Edward Hopper Exhibit, which was the main purpose of our trip, and for the transcendent carb experience at Du Pain et Des Idées, a bakery (THE bakery, the BEST bakery in Paris), near République --right in front of our lil' hotel. Ok, also for the natural wine at Le Verre Volé --but again, weird service.

The day we were meant to leave the weather was so snowy that most of the trains have been cancelled. So, we wisely thought about anticipating our departure and make it home safely before worse would come to worse. Arriving at the London International station of St Pancras is always quite striking emotional. And, for the first time, I found myself with a big smile on my face, thinking that yes, London was my home now, and that I loved it beyond any possible understanding. Saying that we have to leave to appreciate what we have might be cliché, but it is always, un-mistakingly true.



We finally opened the door of our flat, after zigzagging for a while through the snow-y sidewalk --but surely less snow-y than the Parisian counterpart-- welcomed by a rather chilly house, and a half-empty fridge. Hungry, desperate for a warm, albeit late lunch, we dropped our suitcases, still packed, and got our imagination going. We had bread, amazing Pain des Amis from the above-mentioned bakery, and that was a good start. We had eggs and broccoli, so it had to be frittata. Eggs with crusty bread? Sure. For some reason, it started to be our classic, back-home-from-trip meal, and we really enjoy it being so.


Home is where frittata is. 




Roasted Broccoli Frittata

serves 2

I have started to use a trick to make my frittata a bit fluffier, which is adding baking powder and a drop of milk to the beaten eggs. Add-ins can change with the seasons: few things are as versatile as  frittata


2 tbsp  extra virgin olive oil
1 head of broccoli, rinsed and cut into florets
2 tbsp grated Parmigiano
salt and pepper to taste
1 red onion, thinly chopped
4 eggs
1/2 tsp fine grain sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp baking powder
1 tbsp whole milk
1 small bunch of fresh parsley, roughly chopped

Preheat the oven to 200°C. In a large bowl, toss the broccoli florets with 1 tsbs olive oil, parmigiano and plenty of salt and pepper. Scatter on a baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes, stirring every now and then. Remove and set aside. 
In a small bowl, beat eggs with salt, pepper, milk and baking powder until light yellow and fluffy.
Heat the remaining olive oil in a medium-size skillet over low-heat. Add the chopped onion and stir fry for about 5 minutes, until cooked through. Add the roasted broccoli and saute for 2-3 minutes, until fragrant. Finally pour the egg mixture and move the skillet to spread it evenly on the surface. Cover with a lid and let cook for about 3 minutes. Remove the lid and using a spatula, lift the bottom of the frittata. Carefully slip it to a plate (or the lid you were using), then place the skillet on top of the plate and turn them, so that the top of the frittata is now the bottom. Cook for two more minutes, uncovered. Remove from heat, sprinkle with parsley and serve immediately. 

--------------------°°°°°°°°°°--------------------


Di ritorno da quel che doveva essere un tranquillo weekend parigino tramutato in una tre giorni un tantino stressante. La neve, almeno nel nostro caso, non ha giocato la carta del "oooh ma è così romantico": più che neve, in effetti, si trattava di nevischio mollaccioso e infangato in ogni dove, dai marciapiedi di Rue de Rivoli alle strade vere e proprie, alle scale del metrò . Pozzanghere grigiastre puteggiavano la città, rendendo l'attraversamento delle strisce un'impresa capitale, per non parlare delle famose passeggiate parigine. 

File interminabili sembravano attenderci ovunque: alle macchinette per i biglietti del metrò a Gare du Nord, all'ingresso della mostra di Hopper, e sì, perfino in ogni santo Starbucks di Boulevard de Strasbourg. Confessione: la mancanza cronica di caffé decente in Francia posso accettarla fino ad un certo punto, ed il punto è, cari francesi, che se non vi piace il vostro caffé e affolate tutti gli Starbucks, perché non cabiate la ricetta del suddetto caffé e lasciate il posto a noi turisti della domenica? Ma soprassediamo, e prendiamo quei tentativi falliti come un atto disperato da astinenza da caffeina. Infine, a coronare il tutto, ci siamo beccati una meravigliosa dose di male maniere: da Le Bamboo, un ristorante vietnamita piuttosto popolare vicino a Place d'Italie, il manager del ristorante ha fatto orecchie da mercante e mi ha strappato dalle mani la ciotola contenente il fondo del mio meraviglioso Pho; in altre brasserie, cafés ecc., non appena sgamato l'accento americano di Jesse, ci siamo beccati il servizio d'onore della casa (si fa per dire). 



Comunque, non è stato tutto negativo. Pollici in su per la mostra di Edward Hopper, che alla fin fine era il motivo principale della nostra gita al di là della manica. Ovazioni per il panificio migliore della città, probabilmente il migliore del pianeta, Du Pain et Des Idées, locato strategicamente di fronte al nostro Hotel, non lontano da République. E includiamo anche la cena con tanto di vino naturale a Le Verre Volé --anche se, comunque, il servizio è stato a dir poco singolare.

Il lunedì, il nostro treno del ritorno partiva alle 8 di sera, ma la neve e i treni cancellati ci hanno fatto saltare sul primo disponibile, prima che le cose si mettessero male. Arrivati a Londra, alla stazione internazionale di St Pancras, mi sono sopresa con un sorriso e il cuore spalancato. Sì, Londra è diventata la mia città, quella che chiamo "casa", quella che sto imparando ad amare contro ogni senso logico. Sarà pure un cliché, ma ogni volta ho la conferma che si deve lasciare casa, anche se per poco, riuscire ad apprezzarla davvero, per farci percepire quel leggero malessere, quella sensazione di mancanza, che scompare non appena ci si rimette piede. 



Siamo riusciti a varcare la porta di casa sani e salvi, nonostante la neve e il ghiaccio sull'asfalto (sempre meno che a Parigi, ndr). La casa era fredda, il frigo quasi vuoto. Affamati, abbiamo lasciato i bagagli in ingresso e abbiamo acceso il forno, chissà che qulcosa da arrostire non ci fosse, e nel dubbio, ci si faceva caldo. Nel frigo troneggiava un broccolo e una mezza dozzina di uova. Tutto quel che avevamo, del resto, era quello splendido pane del panificio parigino, croccante fuori e umido dentro. 

Frittata. Ché  pane e frittata non si batte, dicevano. E poi, per qualche ragione, la frittata è diventata il leitmotif dei nostri rientri. Un pasto assemblato con poco, veloce. Familare, confortante, accomodante. 

Casa è dove c'è una frittata. 


Frittata di Broccoli Arrosto

per 2

Ho iniziato ad usare uno stratagemma che rende la mia frittata più gonfia e leggera: il baking powder (lievito chimico), più un goccio di latte. Ovviamente, i broccoli sono un'idea, sostituibile con qualunque altra cosa vi vada a genio. Frittata=versatilità.  


2 cucchiai di olio evo
1 broccolo, pulito e tagliato a cimette
2 cucchiai di parmigiano grattugiato
1 cipolla rossa
4 uova
1 cucchiaino di lievito chimico
1 cucchiaio di latte
una manciata di prezzemolo fresco tritato

Scaldate il forno a 200°C. In una terrina capiente, mescolate i broccoli con un cucchiaio olio, il parmigiano, e abbontante sale e pepe. Disponeteli su una placca da forno e arrostiteli per circa 15 minuti. Nel frattempo, in una terrina più piccola, sbattete le uova con sale, pepe, il lievito e il latte. 
Scaldate il resto dell'olio in una padella antiaderente di medio diametro, aggiungete la cipolla e sofriggete per qualche minuto. Aggiungete quindi i broccoli arrostiti e saltate a fuoco vivace per 2-3 minuti. Abbassate la fiamma e versate le uova nella padella, muovendola cosicché l'uovo si sparga in modo omogeneo. Coprite on un coperchio e lasciate cuocere per 2-3 minuti. Scoperchiate e, usando una spatola, staccate il fondo della frittata dalla padella. Fatela scivolare sul coperchio, metteteci sopra la padella e rovesciatela. Cuocete, scoperta, per altri 2 minuti, quindi guarnite con il prezzemolo e servite con pane croccante. 



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