Rome’s Best Soup

I was about 11 when it happened.

Spending the summer in Europe with my family, I was gazing out the window of a restaurant high above Florence in the Etruscan town of Fiesole (where Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas used to spend their summers entertaining Picasso and other friends, of which Stein wrote, “The days were long and the nights were long and the life was good.”). The waiter brought a soup that was one of many illuminating moments on that trip which would change my life. It was called stracciatella, “little rags” in Italian. It was a specialty of Roma, we were told. I’d never tasted soup like it.

Keep in mind this was the late 1970s, a time when “Italian” in the U.S. — even in sophisticated Southern California — meant Papa Tony’s, greasy meatballs in tomato sauce, pizza and overblown Jersey-style minestrone. Here was a soup that was the antithesis of everything I’d known to be Italian.

It was also miraculously simple. A clear, resonant golden broth in which floated those little rags — shreds of egg and spinach flavored with parmesan, nutmeg and pepper. A soup that would come to illustrate perfectly my core cooking belief in highlighting simple, fresh flavors that sing like a symphony together. Beautiful to see, and memorable to taste. Make this soup — I can make no promises but it may change your life too. Especially if done properly.

As I often say on this blog in regard to the simplest recipes, success depends entirely on the quality of your ingredients. This is a soup, for example, that benefits highly from a good homemade stock. Fresh farmer’s market spinach, the best parmesan reggiano you can find, and really good eggs don’t hurt either. And there may be no experience in the kitchen as immediately gratifying as grating a pod of nutmeg directly into your food.

Stracciatella

1 quart homemade chicken stock
3 eggs
1 cup finely chopped spinach
1 tbsp semolina flour (optional)
1/4 cup parmesan reggiano
a few grates fresh nutmeg

If you don’t have chicken stock, get yourself a whole chicken. Throw it in a pot with an onion, a bay leaf, a carrot and about a gallon of water. Bring to a boil, skim off froth, turn down to a simmer and cook for about 30 minutes. Add salt to taste (you’ll need a good bit of salt here). Remove the chicken (use the meat for sandwiches or tacos). You can continue reducing the broth over medium heat for another hour if you want a stronger broth. (I would recommend doing this.) Strain through a fine sieve into another pot. Let cool. At this point, take out your quart for your soup and freeze any remaining stock in freezer back for future use. (I always keep three or four bags of chicken stock in the freezer.)

Heat your stock over medium to a simmer. Beat the eggs in a large bowl, add the spinach and the semolina and stir together. Add the parmesan, grate a little nutmeg over the top (or throw in a pinch of pre-grated nutmeg), combine thoroughly. Turn off the stock, slowly pour in the egg/spinach mixture, and cover. Let sit for five minutes. Then, gently break up to “rags” in your soup with the back side of a ladle. Serve.

Building a Better Burger

Each year, as summer fades to fall, I reflect upon a season of dreadful hamburgers I’ve been served at parties and barbecues over the previous three months.

It’s not that hard to make a great hamburger. So why do so many people screw them up. Several reasons, the top two of which are:

• Too long on the grill/overcooked hockey puck burger
• Non-creative condiments (ketchup, mustard, tomato slices, iceberg lettuce leaves)

Overgrilling is the most frequent problem. And not just with burgers — you’ve been the sad recipient, I’m sure, of leathery chicken breasts or chalky soy-marinated mega-fillets of salmon fresh off their hour on the barbie. The grill should be as hot as you can get it, the burgers at least 1/2 inch thick and well seasoned with salt and pepper. Grill them until brown and a little charred on each side. Touch them with your finger, they should still have a little give — more if you like them medium rare. A burger should never be cooked beyond medium.

Non-creative condiments run a close second. First, pick a good, soft bun or crusty bread. Then think about what you can put on the burger beyond ketchup and mustard. In the video, I use a mixture of BBQ sauce and a little mayo. I cook bacon, and then caramelize onions in the bacon pan with a little rice wine vinegar, ketchup and Worcestershire sauce thrown in at the end. I crumble some bleu cheese on top, and then add some arugula. That simple, and people often say, “That’s the best burger I’ve had!” Here’s some other interesting condiment combinations you could try:

Hawaiian
Grilled pineapple
teriyaki sauce
Maui onion
served on King’s Hawaiian Bread rolls

Kobe-style
Wasabi mayo (wasabi paste mixed with mayonnaise)
julienned green onions
red oak leaf lettuce
served on thickly sliced brioche

Provence
Brie
cornichon pickles
Dijon mustard
frisee lettuce
served on a soft baguette

Tuscany
Proscuitto
shaved parmesan reggiano
salt-cured black olives
arugula
served on a doughy, crusty ciabatta

In & Out Copycat
make two thinner patties for each burger
American cheese slices, cooked on burgers
chopped onion, pan-grilled in a little oil
Thousand Island dressing
ripe tomato slices
iceberg lettuce leaves
served on sesame seed buns

Just in case the above video left you wanting more, here’s the “Immy Cam” outtakes — me and friends talking about the pros and cons of Twitter, my friend Alex holding my new daughter Imogen:

Aioli

Here’s a neat trick. If you wanna get a skinny yoga student or starlet to eat mayonnaise, just call it “aioli.”

Aioli is, in reality, a kind of a mayonnaise. In Southern France, it is made — like mayonnaise — from an emulsion of oil, egg yolk and lemon juice, with a lot of garlic added. Though you will find lime/ginger aiolis and chipotle aiolis and the like at TGIF or Chili’s or Claim Jumper or whatever other fine dining establishments you frequent, a true aioli is simply what I’ve described above. In Spain, they make a version called “alioli” (notice the extra “l”), which is emulsified without the egg — a dandy trick I will now demonstrate for you:

You can mix the alioli with some mayonnaise to make a fantastic dip for artichoke leaves or french fries. It’s also killer on steak sandwiches or on top of freshly grilled fish. But my favorite application is a kind of paella from Spain’s Valencia region called “fideus,” which is made with noodles instead of the traditional rice, and on top of which you plop a big glop of alioli at the end. (You’ll need fish stock for this recipe. It’s really important, so don’t use chicken stock. You’d be better off using a Knorr’s fish bouillon cube, which actually aren’t bad in a pinch. You can buy fish stock at fancy stores, or ask the fish guy for some heads and bones and take them home, throw them in a pot of water, and boil with an onion and salt for about an hour. Then strain.) Here is a recipe that will serve 4 to 6:

Fideus

1 lb. spaghetti, broken into 2-inch pieces
1/4 cup olive oil
1 quart fish stock, plus water as needed
2 large very ripe tomatoes
1 chopped onion
1/2 tsp. saffron
alioli

You’ll need a very large pan for this. A traditional paella pan, around 15 to 20 inches, is preferable — both for cooking and presentation. But any large, flat pan will do. Heat the olive oil over medium heat, and add the spaghetti, tossing until all the noodles are coated and are beginning to toast. Puree the two tomatoes in a blender and add to noodles with the chopped onion. Then add the stock and the saffron.

Cook the fideus over medium/low heat for around 20 minutes, adding water or more stock if the first round cooks away. You may need to turn the pan once or twice if you’re getting hot spots to ensure all the noodles cook evenly. When the noodles appear well cooked and the stock has turned thick and saucy, remove from the stove and place in a very hot pre-heated oven. Broil for a few minutes, until some of the noodles begin to curl and burn at the edges (you can also do this final step in a hot barbecue, which is more traditional — in Spain, paellas are traditionally cooked over open fires).

To serve, either place the entire paella pan in the center of the table (this is very impressive!) and let each guest scoop some onto their plate and top with alioli. In Spain, everyone would just eat right from the paella pan, which you can do if your guests won’t freak out. Or you can plate some fideus for each guest and top with a spoonful of alioli. You’ve got options.

for the alioli:

Four large garlic cloves (or six medium cloves)
1 tsp salt
olive oil
lemon

Place the garlic cloves in the mortar and pestle with the salt. Mash repeatedly until a smooth paste forms. Then begin to drizzle in a little olive oil, continue mashing constantly. When the olive oil is incorporated into the paste, drizzle in a little bit more. Continue until a fine, thick mayonnaise forms. Squeeze a couple drops of lemon juice in at some point — especially if the emulsion seems to be breaking down. You’ll probably add 1/4 to 1/2 cup olive oil in all, and the process should take a good 10 minutes.

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