Made in Italy: Food and Stories. Giorgio Locatelli
on thickness).
Untie them, wrap them in a wet cloth and then let them finish cooking as they cool down naturally at room temperature – the colour might not be quite so bright but the flavour will be better, as the spears won’t soak up the cold water, which would dull the flavour. If you like, you can cook the asparagus a few hours in advance, but make sure you leave it at room temperature. If you put it into the fridge, again you will deaden the taste. Trim off the woody bases from the asparagus spears. Preheat a ridged griddle pan and grate the Parmesan.
20—24 medium-sized asparagus spears
about 100g Parmesan
100ml extra-virgin olive oil
4 eggs
2 handfuls of mixed salad leaves
4 tablespoons Shallot vinaigrette (see page 52)
2 tablespoons Giorgio’s vinaigrette (see page 51)
small bunch of chives, chopped
salt and pepper
Lay the spears in a row with the tips level and divide them into groups of 3 or 4 – however many you can get a cocktail stick through easily – then very gently secure them with the cocktail sticks (this makes it easier to turn them).
Brush the asparagus with some of the olive oil, season with salt and pepper, then put the spears on the hot griddle for a couple of minutes on each side, until they are tender but still slightly crunchy. If you think they are not cooked enough but might become too charred, take the pan off the heat and cover with foil – then they will continue to cook gently for a little longer.
While the asparagus is still warm, transfer to a plate, drizzle with the remaining oil and sprinkle with about 2 tablespoons of the grated Parmesan. Cover with cling film and leave for about an hour for the flavours to infuse.
Boil the eggs for 6-7 minutes, cool under running water, then shell and push through a fine sieve. Keep on one side.
Season the salad leaves and sprinkle with another 2 tablespoons of the grated Parmesan. Toss with 2 tablespoons of the Shallot vinaigrette and Giorgio’s vinaigrette.
Arrange the asparagus spears on serving plates. Sprinkle over the sieved eggs, together with the remaining Shallot vinaigrette. Pile up the salad on top, sprinkle over the rest of the Parmesan and finish with the chopped chives.
Insalata di cardi alla Fontina Swiss chard envelopes with Fontina
The idea here is to make little ‘sandwiches’ of chard stalks, filled with Fontina cheese, and deep-fry them.
2 large Swiss chard stalks
2 thin slices of Fontina cheese
100g plain flour
2 eggs
3 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan
100g dried breadcrumbs
500ml vegetable oil for frying
3 tablespoons Shallot vinaigrette (see page 52)
small bunch of chives, cut into batons
salt and pepper
Remove the leaves from the chard stalks. Blanch the stalks in boiling salted water for 3-4 minutes, until just tender, then drain and pat dry (this is important for later). Put the chard leaves into the boiling water for about a minute, then drain and pat dry.
The chard stalks will be pointed at the top where the leaf was attached. Trim off this pointed part and cut it into thin batons, then set aside. Cut the rest of the stalk into an equal number of pieces each about 7-8cm long. Then slice each of these pieces horizontally through the middle, so you are left with pairs of identical pieces.
Cut the cheese into slices just a little smaller than the pairs of Swiss chard. Keep the chard slices in their pairs, cut-side upwards. Place a slice of Fontina on one of the slices of chard, then put the other one on top, cut-side downwards. As long as the pieces of chard are dry when you start to fill them with the Fontina, they will stay together in a sandwich – you don’t need to secure them.
Place the flour on a large plate. Put the eggs into a bowl and beat lightly. Mix 1 tablespoon of Parmesan with the breadcrumbs on another plate. Take each ‘sandwich’ and dust each end and side in turn in the flour – leave the larger surfaces for now. Shake off excess flour. Do the same with the egg, making sure the sides and ends are covered and shaking off the excess. Finally, dip the chard into the breadcrumbs – again cover the ends and sides – and shake off the excess.
Repeat the whole process, this time dipping the larger surfaces first into the flour, then the egg and then the breadcrumbs. At the end every surface should be completely covered, and you can press each surface with a spatula, to make sure the breadcrumbs stick really well.
Heat the oil in a large, deep pan (no more than one-third full). Meanwhile, mix the reserved little chard batons with the leaves. Season with salt, pepper and 1 tablespoon of the remaining Parmesan. Toss with the Shallot vinaigrette, then arrange on serving plates.
When the oil is hot enough to sizzle when you sprinkle in a few breadcrumbs, put in the ‘sandwiches’ and fry for about 2 minutes, until golden. Move around with a spoon or a spatula, taking care not to puncture them or the cheese will start to leak out. When they are ready, remove and drain on kitchen paper. Season with salt and arrange on top of the salad. Sprinkle over the rest of the Parmesan and the chives.
‘A taste so good it makes you cry’
A beautiful, slightly salty, bitter olive can be so good it makes you cry, but a bland olive that tastes of nothing, or that has been pitted and drowned in marinade in a supermarket tub, is a disaster that makes you want to cry for a different reason. If I go into a restaurant and they serve an aperitif with a bowl of tasteless olives, I think, ‘Forget it’ – what a terrible start to a meal. What upsets me most are the insipid olives you find on most takeaway pizzas. Often they are not even true black olives, because the really jet-black varieties, as opposed to violet-black or brownish-black, are quite rare. Mostly they are green olives that have been ‘dyed’ black by putting them in a water bath and running oxygen through them. Then they are treated with ferrous gluconate, a colourant, to give them their shiny, bright black appearance. How unnatural is that?
You can’t eat an olive straight from the tree, whether it is unripe (green) or ripe (purplish-black), because it will be far too bitter. They all have to go through a salt-curing process first before they are edible. One of my favourite olives is the small, black and quite delicate