Quick and Easy: Caprese and Pesto

One of the things I miss most about not living at home anymore is that I can’t go out into my mom’s garden and snap off a sprig of rosemary whenever a recipe calls for it. I especially hate this during the summer when I have to buy huge bunches of basil that I can’t entirely use before the leaves begin to wilt. However, I had my heart set on a caprese salad; since I had some leftover chicken in the fridge, I thought a pesto pasta main course would be an agreeable way to use up the rest of the basil.

 Insalata caprese

One of my co-workers has been on the hunt for the perfect burrata this summer and recommended I try Bel Gioioso’s version. On my way home from work, I grabbed it, along with some Roma tomatoes, an ear of corn, and pine nuts. Once I washed the basil leaves and set a few leaves out for the caprese, I put the rest into a food processor and began to add a little bit of pine nuts, parmigiano, black pepper, and olive oil quanto basta, tasting as I went along until the flavor was just right.

Pesto pasta with corn and chicken
 

In the meantime, I set some balsamic vinegar over low heat to reduce and put a pot of salted water on to boil. I threw in the pasta and, at the very end, the freshly-shucked ear of corn. Once I drained the water (reserving some in a separate pot to add to the pesto sauce if needed), I heated up my leftover  chicken breast with the pesto and corn off the cob before tossing it all together for a delicious Italian-American feast.

Celebrations: Fourth of July Weekend

I spent Fourth of July weekend out in East Hampton, where my aunt Barbara lives during the summer. As usual, it was food-and-wine-filled affair. Toni latched on to the fact that we had a patio and a grill, so we cooked all meals outdoors, thanks to the grill master. The first night, we had blue fish, grilled corn, roasted radishes and potatoes, and blackberry cobbler, all from the local market. 
Little market, long line. 
Saturday night, Toni and I grabbed our rental bikes and headed to Tutto Italiano, an Italian outpost of Citarella down the Montauk Highway, to pick up some pizza dough and the house-made mozzarella. We then selected some grill-worthy veggies at the grocery store, including red peppers, onions, tomatoes, zucchini, and Portobello mushrooms. We roasted them on the grill. Once they were charred, we put the dough over the open flame, using a piece aluminum foil as a makeshift pan. After letting it toast a bit, we added the tomatoes and mozzarella, covered for a moment, and finally arranged the grilled vegetables on top. Although the pizza dough was slightly burned on the bottom (we should have flipped the dough before adding the various ingredients), it was deliciously simple. Good cheese and produce really make all the difference. 
You can’t even see the roasted tomatoes under all that cheese,
but they were delicious. 
Our final night was the Fourth of July, so we decided a traditional barbecue was in order. Barbara picked up some freshly ground beef from the local butcher, as well as some watermelon. Together we headed to the store to pick up some more charcoal (we’d gone through all of it), salt & pepper kettle chips (which hardly made it out of the store), and some ketchup (Barb picked up the reduced sugar variety – she said by accident, though I hardly believe her – which ended up tasting just fine). 
Sharing in the festivities 
With some homemade guacamole to munch on as the charcoal burned, the three of us sipped the lovely bottle of Dashe ‘Les Enfants Terribles’ that Stevie had recommended we bring as a gift. The wine was selected since Barb loves chilled red wines, and Malbecs tend to fill her icebox. Stevie thought the Dashe zinfandel would be a nice alternative, and since it was a 2009, our glasses danced with the bright red fruits that might have dissipated in a later vintage. My grandmother Nena is a Dashe drinker, and I have always associated their juice with its rich, jammy quality. The old vines provided a nice, summery change. 
Stevie’s pick. Verdict = A hot red for a summer night.
 
We blended some salt, pepper, and chopped onion into our patties, and then threw them onto the grill after having cooked some more corn, onions, and tomatoes. Since the pantry was lacking in the bun department, we ended up tasting a butter croissant – a perfectly decadent burger. We were so full that we finished the meal with nothing more than a little watermelon. What a wonderful way to spend our midsummer nights!
Burger, roasted veggies, and grilled corn – nothing says summer like this!

Pasquale the mozzarella man

G and I went out to East Hampton for the holiday weekend to visit my aunt and to get away from the city for a bit. Saturday was a rainy day, so we all went to Sag Harbor to see the boats and to grab a bite to eat at a new place called Grappa (excellent portions for a light lunch)—I had a rose’ with my grilled asparagus and poached egg salad, G had a panino made of salami, and my aunt had the arugula salad. We all shared a cheese plate, with Taleggio, Fontina, and Gorgonzola Piccante, all very flavorful and yummy.

On our way home, G and I mentioned that we might like to go bowling. Next thing I knew, my aunt had dropped us off at a bowling alley. We walked in and immediately decided that it was not what we wanted to do at that time. Instead, we decided to cross the very busy street to the “Tutto Italiano” food store across the street–it promised good things, since it even included Sardinia in the map, which no one ever does.

We were in luck. Instead, we witnessed a man making in-house mozzarella. He was squat, about 5’7″, with a big chest, a bigger belly, and huge forearms. We watched him as he labored over his big, metal bowl of milky water. He pulled the mozzarella like taffy over and over again, across the flat part of his long paddle. His left arm bulged as he steadied his movements, while his right hand massaged the cheese. He rolled it over and over again in the water, until he thought it was ready to form.

He began to pull and gather the cheese into fist-sized balls, which he twisted off and dropped into a vat of more milky water to his right. Every now and again, he made bite-sized bocconcini, which made my mouth water just thinking about biting into them. When he finished, he moved around to where we were standing, so we got out of his way. He began to place them in their plastic containers to be weighed, when we heard “where did that couple go?” He saw us and said “Paesano, vien qua,” more or less, get over here peasant.

We scooted back over, and behind his back, he handed G a bocconcino. G turned his back on the crowd, and as he took a bite, a change came over his face. “Let me try” I said, and he offered me a bite. Milky, smooth, nutty, sweet–the homemade mozzarella was all of these things, none of which we had expected. We looked at the man in wonder, and he responded, “It’s all in how you work it… no one takes the time any more to do it like this.”

We found out that Pasquale had moved over from Naples when he was fifteen. His grandmother had chosen him of all of the nipoti to learn the family recipe, and he’s made his living off of the trade–as a nineteen year old, he made $700 a week making mozzarella, the same as his colleagues, some of which were upwards of 60 years old, slightly insulted that some kid from Italy was better at their trade. Now, he owns the food shop in East Hampton and still makes the very special cheese that got him there.

Tutto Italiano by Citarella, 631 324 9500. 74 Montauk Hwy East Hampton, NY 11937.