How to Prepare an Italian Feast (with Mark McEwan)

Never commit to cooking more than you can ably manage. Always resist the temptation to impress guests with elaborately complicated dishes. Do that by getting what you do cook exactly right, and serving it on time, instead of leaving people waiting and wondering, while you absent yourself yet again for another panic-stricken session in the kitchen.



No wise professional chef ever plans a banquet wherein one labour-intensive kitchen-challenging course immediately follows another. And you should do as they do, and balance your meal and workload by mixing up labour-intensive dishes with others can be made ahead and easily finished à la minute. That way you’ll have leeway in your action plan, so that even if something goes wrong things will turn out reasonably well.



Fabbrica is a good source book because it is all about big flavours and honest cooking, and there isn’t a recipe in the lot that requires anyone to take a week off work to produce, or to raid their children’s education funds to buy a new immersion circulators or ice-chipper or any other single purpose kitchen equipment that they will never use again. Better yet, all the recipes have flexibility to accommodate vagaries of season or even a short cut or two. And all lend themselves to the convivial eventuality of being served family-style.



McEwan’s draft menu included several of my favourites—which I still make regularly at home—like the aforementioned ricotta, served with the fall season’s peerless figs, and a composed chickpea salad topped with grilled octopus. I also regularly toss up the suggested main course of pinot grigio-braised rabbit with olives and wild mushrooms. For its principle accompaniment we settled on a luxurious, creamy squash-and-bacon risotto. There would also be roast beets with pistachios and finally, a delicate and jiggly panna cotta, dressed up with the season’s finest peaches. Simple, seasonal and— all very doable in an afternoon.

“These recipes all eat really, really well,” Mark said as he reviewed the menu. “It’s tasty food, and just right for adventurous cook.”



When said cook was done, I figured, there would be applause, and hopefully a large glass of grappa and a fine cigar. But first there was work to do. And when it comes to your turn, focus first on those things that can—and need—to be made ahead. As in a day or two ahead.



“You don’t want to leave all this to the last minute,” McEwan cautioned. “If you start the morning of you’re going to be… highly challenged.”



Make a list of your chores. Prioritize. And at the top of your list put the panna cotta, which must rest and set in the fridge for at least day before your dinner. Do not try and cut corners and make a large dish instead of the individual portions outlined in the accompanying recipes—because the key to a good panna cotta is the soft, creamy quality that comes from a minimalist gelatine count. And what you prepare that way is too delicate to be portioned after it has set.



As for the fresh ricotta, be advised that any of your guests who have previously only ever eaten it from a supermarket-purchased tub will find this one to be a revelation. Especially when it is served still vaguely warm from the pot. It is light, sweet, lemony and fine grained—and best yet, it is extraordinarily easy to make.



“People are so impressed when you make cheese—like it’s magic,” McEwan observed as he combined milk, cream and salt in a pot. ”But this is so simple…”

Indeed what’s required is simple in every respect. Unlike in the preparation of other cheeses no rennet or lipose powder or anything remotely obscure are required: only lemon juice is needed to perform the curdling trick. First, bring the dairy to a gentle simmer (never a rolling boil). Then let it sit a few minutes, and you are ready to drain the whey from the solids.



”Where is the cheesecloth? Do you have a spider—a real spider?” McEwan asked.



I found the cheesecloth for him. And I did have a spider—a sort of over-sized strainer slotted spoon-hybrid—which he used to gently transfer milk solids from the pot to cheesecloth-lined colander. And there it drained while I cut up some baguette, sprinkled the slices with olive oil, salt and pepper, and toasted them. Slice up the figs and dish one was pretty much done.
At which point you should rightly be thinking: “I can stir milk and cream. I can strain stuff. I can make toast—and probably even get it all right the first time. How about a challenge?”



So without further ado let’s move along to our next course: octopus. The steak of the sea has been enjoying its moment in the spotlight of late, spreading its legs well beyond its local, introductory realm of the sushi bar. If you want octopus these days you’ll find it with a steak knife plunged through its head at the west-end Toronto hotspot Bar Isabel and served with rose jelly, snap peas and kohlrabi at Vancouver’s trendy Farmer’s Apprentice and countless other places in between,

With all the culinary attention lavished upon the octopus of late comes some predictable mystique about how best to make it tender. Some culinary cultures recommend bashing them against the rocks. Others promote simmering them with corks, or repeated blanching. But here is the shocking fact of it: if you buy an octopus at a fishmonger hereabouts you don’t actually have to do anything to it at all. Because they all come pre-tenderized courtesy of your local fish processing plant, where they are bashed around in chilled cement mixers. All you need to do is simmer it gently in a mix of garlic, parsley and its own juices until cooked. Or if you prefer, buy a handful of pre-cooked legs at a top-quality grocer (like, well, McEwan Fine Foods). Once you get that far, all you need to do is prepare the other elements of your salad, and set it all aside until you are ready to brush the legs with butter and grill them briefly, before tossing everything together at the last minute for service.



“More wine?” I asked, uncorking a tip top ’06 Chassagne-Montrachet while I waited for my Big Green Egg to get up to temperature.



We were making real progress now. I had tuned the XM riadio to Seriously Sinatra, in honour of Mark’s dad, who was a crooner (and as Mark tells it, sounded just like Sinatra).The rabbit was simmering gently. On which front take note: rabbit has a reputation for both blandness and dryness, but neither is deserved. The flavour is mild—but when properly treated, the meat is supple and succulent. And more importantly it yields a rich sauce of most pleasing viscosity. Here follows the correct approach to getting there.



Remember first that rabbit must be cooked gently—and never quickly. The second key to success is that like most animals not all parts of it require the same amount of cooking. And when that trait is combined with its leanness there is not room for error. So what you need to do is to stagger the timing of its various parts vis-à-vis their arrival in the pot in order for them all to be ready and at their prime at precisely the same time—and monitor it all carefully as they get there (see recipe for details). Do so and you will be rewarded. Or your guests will.

“I’ll sauté the bacon while you get the risotto started, okay?”



It was okay with him. So with the rabbit simmering we got started on its principle accompaniment, as Mark told me about his newest business plans—a new branch of McEwan Fine Foods—downtown this time—in the TD Centre, basement level, down the length of the corridor alongside Bymark. The emphasis will be on prepared foods—especially on what the industry calls restaurant replacement meals.



“Think about all those people passing by as they head home after work,” he said, with obvious pleasure at the prospect.”All they have to do is email me to say what they want ready and packed to take home at 5:15….”



Risotto is deceptively tricky. At least it is the first time out, or until you get a feel for it. Because risotto rice differs greatly—not just type to type, but brand to brand and package to package. And developing a feel for how starchy each one is, and how much you need to stir it (or not stir it) in order to arrive at the desired result is key to turning out a good batch.



It is a recipe best learned not from a book, but at someone’s shoulder. Preferably that of someone’s experienced Italian nonna. In McEwan’s case, like so many other Toronto chefs back in the ’80s, he learned the risotto ropes from restaurateur Franco Prevedello. In mine, I learned from McEwan when he came to visit my family cottage on Lake Memphremagog in Quebec. I hope you have similar luck.

Clockwise from top left: Fresh ricotta with crostini and figs, charred octopus with chickpeas, roast beets with crushed pistachios and balsamic vinegar, risotto with sugar pumpkin and bacon, pinot grigio-based rabbit with mushrooms and olives, vanilla panna cotta with streusel and caramelised peaches.



But whether you do or don’t remember one important thing: all that talk about it being impossible to reheat risotto is vastly exaggerated. This is simply not true of the stuff prior to the Parmesan being added to the mix. So if you stop a few minutes shy of that stage, and cool it quickly (in the fridge, spread thin on a baking sheet), you can later pick up where you left off five minutes from the end without any deleterious effect whatsoever. Restaurants do this all the time and you can, too.



Secondly, in the finishing, aim for a texture that is luxuriously wet—for the starch in the mixture dries fast on the plate, and creamy becomes sticky and dry before you know it. McEwan was blending out batch like a master: as made its final approach to a state of al dente doneness, in went the pumpkin purée, and the diced pumpkin, and then the bacon. Then the heat went off and the parmesan and butter were stirred in—and it looked perfect.



“Taste the seasonings for me?” he asked.



It was as perfect as it looked, the smoky bacon and sweet pumpkin perfect counterpoints.



“That with roast turkey… delicious!” he said.



But turkey was for another day. Today we still had to sauté the beets, dress them with a balsamic glaze, and sprinkle them with pistachios. If the peach-topped panna cotta was overkill nobody said so.

Fresh Ricotta with Crostini and Figs

1 quart (1 L) 2% milk



1 cup (250 mL) 35% cream



½ tsp (2 mL) kosher salt



3 tbsp (45 mL) lemon juice



1 baguette, sliced ½” (1 cm) thick



¼ cup (50 mL) olive oil



Salt and pepper



12 fresh figs, quartered or sliced



2 tbsp (30 mL) chestnut flower honey



Fine olive oil



Flaky sea salt – like Maldon



Combine milk, cream, and salt in a saucepan and heat to a bare simmer. Stir in the lemon juice and remove from heat. Scoop cheese with a spider or slotted spoon into a cheesecloth-lined strainer over the sink. Place strainer over a bowl, and leave to drain for 1 hour. Serve tepid, right away (or store, covered, in the refrigerator).



Sprinkle the sliced baguette with olive oil, salt and pepper on both sides, and toast until crisp and golden. Mound the fresh ricotta mounded at the centre of a large platter. Surround it with figs, encircled with the crostini. Drizzle the ricotta with the honey and fine olive oil, sprinkle with salt, and serve.

Charred Octopus with Chickpeas

1 cup (250 mL) olive oil



½ bunch parsley



3 cloves garlic, sliced



1 small octopus, about 3 lb (1.5 kg)



3 cups (750 mL) canned chickpeas, rinsed and well-drained



1/2 cup (125 mL) julienned salami



¼ cup (60 mL) peperonata



2 tbsp (30 mL) chopped parsley



2 tbsp (30 mL) chopped oregano



2 tbsp (30 mL) fine olive oil



2 tsp (10 mL) lemon juice



Salt and pepper



¼ cup (50 mL) red wine vinegar



1 tbsp (15 mL) minced oil-preserved chillies



3 cups (750 mL) peppery arugula, roughly chopped



2 scallions, sliced thin



Add ½ cup (125 mL) oil, parsley and garlic to a large saucepan on low heat. Add the octopus, cover, and simmer for 1½ hours – or until the octopus is tender, and a knife easily penetrates its flesh where the arms join the head (the octapit). Allow octopus to cool, then cut off its arms and discard the head. Refrigerate until needed.*



Heat the grill on high. Combine chickpeas, salami, peperonata, parsley, oregano, fine olive oil, lemon juice and salt and pepper in a bowl and toss well. Taste and adjust seasonings. Whisk together remaining ½ cup (125 mL) olive oil with the red wine vinegar and chillies. Season with salt and pepper, taste, and correct seasonings. Oil the grill and lightly char four octopus tentacles on both sides. Cut the tentacles on the diagonal into slices about 1” (2 cm) long. Toss the octopus in ¼ cup (50 mL) of the chilli vinaigrette. Add most of the arugula to the chickpea salad, and toss again. Transfer to a platter and arrange the octopus slices on top. Garnish with remaining arugula and a scattering of scallion and serve.

Roast Beets with Crushed Pistachios and Balsamic Vinegar

2 lb (1 kg) variegated sugar beets, trimmed and scrubbed



3 tbsp (45 mL) olive oil



3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced



¼ bunch thyme



Salt and pepper



2 tbsp (30 mL) toasted pistachios, crushed



1 tbsp (15 mL) top-quality extra virgin olive oil



1 tbsp (15 mL) top-quality aged balsamic



Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C).



Spread a sheet of foil on a work surface. Cluster the beets in a single layer at the centre. Drizzle with the olive oil. Scatter the garlic and thyme over top, and season well. Create an envelope with the foil, seal it tightly, and wrap in a second layer of foil. Transfer to the oven for 45 minutes to an hour – depending on the size of the beets (squeeze them through the foil with a thick oven mitt to test for tenderness). Remove beets to the countertop to cool for 10 minutes. Peel the beets, and half or quarter them. Transfer beets and their juices to a warm serving dish. Scatter the pistachios overtop, and finish with a drizzle of fine balsamic.

Risotto with Sugar Pumpkin and Bacon

2 cups (500 mL) large diced sugar pumpkin



2 cups (1.5 L) chicken stock



3 tbsp (45 mL) cold butter



Salt and pepper



Pinch of nutmeg



3 tbsp (45 mL) olive oil



1/2 cup (125 mL) diced bacon



1 1/2 cups (375 mL) minced onion



Salt



1 tsp (5 mL) minced garlic



2½ cups (325 mL) carnaroli* rice



½ cup (125 mL) white wine



2 quarts (2 L) white chicken stock at a simmer



1/2 cup (125 mL) freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano



2 tbsp (30 mL) butter*



Ground white pepper



Place 1 cup (250 mL) of the diced pumpkin in a small saucepan, add brodo to cover, and simmer until mushy – about 30 minutes. Mash the pumpkin with a fork, and then stir vigorous until it becomes a smooth paste. Incorporate the cold butter, then season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Set aside.
Meanwhile, heat a skillet on medium. Sauté the bacon in the oil just until it begins to brown and crisp at the edges, then remove it with a slotted spoon to a bed of paper towels to drain. Add the remaining squash to the skillet and sauté until bronzed, then season, and remove to a platter.



Heat 2 tbsp (30 mL) oil in a heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the onions, salt lightly and sweat, stirring frequently so that the onions do not brown. When after 5 or 6 minutes the onions begin to wilt, add the garlic and cook a minute longer. Add the rice and stir well to coat with the oil. Add more oil if necessary. Continue cooking, stirring frequently, until the grains of rice begin to acquire translucence (if uncertain, lift a few grains from the pot and examine them against the dark backdrop of your wooden spoon). When that is achieved, deglaze with the wine.



When the wine has been reduced to virtual syrup add ½ cup (125 mL) hot stock. Stir again. When the liquid once again thickens add another ¼ cup (50 mL) stock and stir again. Season lightly. Stir regularly, and build the seasoning gradually as you go. Continue until the rice is nearly cooked and the stock nearly finished.



Stir the pumpkin puree into the risotto. Follow with the sautéed diced pumpkin and bacon. Add the cheese, stir until heated through. Remove pot from the heat and then stir in the butter. Taste, and correct seasonings with salt and white pepper. Garnish with a drizzle of fine olive oil, sprinkle with micro-greens or minced chive, and serve.



Substitutions: Any sweet, firm squash – like butternut – will serve as a good substitute for the pumpkin. Pancetta can be used in lace of the bacon.

Pinot Grigio-Braised Rabbit with Mushrooms and Olives

Serves 4



2 rabbits, about 3½ lb (1.6 kg) each



Salt and pepper



3 tbsp (45 mL) olive oil



1 Spanish onion, quartered lengthwise, then sliced thin
crosswise



2½ cups (625 mL) cremini mushrooms, sliced ¼” (50 mm)



1 cup (250 mL) oyster mushrooms, sliced ¼” (50 mm)



4 sprigs thyme



2 sprigs rosemary



2 cups (500 mL) infornate olives, rinsed, drained, and pitted



4 large cloves garlic, sliced thin



1 bottle Pinot Grigio



2 quarts (2 L) rabbit or chicken stock



Garnish



2 tbsp (30 mL) chopped parsley



Cut (or ask your butcher to cut) each rabbit into 7 serving pieces (2 hind legs, 2 forelegs, 2 saddle, 1 double-rack). Remove thigh bone from hind legs (optional). Pull fat from the kidneys and reserve the organs, along with the liver. (All trimmings can be set aside for stock – or, larger pieces like the belly and neck can be added to the braising pot for flavour). Season the rabbit generously. Heat a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat, and, working in batches if necessary, sear the rabbit on both sides until golden – but no further.



Remove rabbit to a platter. Add the onions, mushrooms, kidneys, liver, thyme and rosemary to the hot fat in the pan. Sauté, stirring frequently for about 3 minutes, and then add the olives and garlic. Two minutes later, deglaze the pot with 1/2 cup (125 mL) of the wine, scraping vigorously with a wooden spoon to help dissolve the solids that have formed on the bottom of the pan. When the wine has reduced to syrup, remove the liver to a plate, and cover. Then return all the other rabbit pieces to the pot, along with juices from their platter. Add the remaining wine and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer, and season lightly. When the wine has reduced by about half, add just enough stock to cover (you may not need all of it).



Raise heat to bring it the boil, then reduce to a bare simmer, and cover partially. 30 minutes later remove the four forelegs to the platter with the liver, and cover again. 20 minutes later, repeat with the saddles and racks. The hind legs will be done 15 minutes later – or 25 minutes later if their thigh bones were not removed. Return all the rabbit to the pot to heat through. Taste the sauce, adjust seasonings, and sprinkle with parsley. Serve directly from the pot at the table.



Substitutions: Gaeta, Cerignolas, or any other top-quality olive – whether brined or salt-cured – can be used in place of infornate olives suggested above. Likewise, chanterelles, porcinis, and other sought after mushrooms can be substituted for the suggested combination.

Vanilla Panna Cotta with Streusel and Caramelised Peaches

Makes 8



6 leaves gelatine



1 vanilla bean



4 cups (500 mL) 35% cream



1/2 cup (125 mL) sugar



Streusel



½ cup (125 mL) butter



2 tbsp (30 mL) honey



2 tbsp (30 mL) sugar



¾ cup (175 mL) flour



Peaches and sauce



4 peaches, blanched, peeled and cut into eighths



1 tbsp (15 mL) granulated sugar



2 tbsp (30 mL) butter



1 cup (250 mL) peach juice



½ cup (125 mL) simple syrup



Special equipment



8 4” ring moulds



Tear a sheet of plastic wrap at a length of about 12” (30 cm) and fold it in two. Place a ring mould at its centre, lift the plastic wrap up around the periphery, and secure it tautly in place with a rubber band to create a ramekin. Repeat three times. Arrange the eight ring moulds plastic-wrap-down on a small baking sheet. Submerge gelatine in a bowl of ice cold water. Scrape vanilla bean and reserve the pod. Transfer both to a saucepan, add cream and sugar, and gently bring to a simmer. Remove and discard the pod, and then pour mixture into a stainless steel bowl. Remove gelatine leaves from the water, squeeze, and add them to the cream mixture. Whisk until dissolved. Then place mixing bowl over a second, larger bowl of ice. Whisk until the cream mixture cools, and thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon – about 10 minutes*. Distribute evenly between the ring moulds, cover with plastic wrap, and transfer the tray to the refrigerator overnight.



Preheat oven to 325°F (160°C).



For the streusel, remove the butter from the refrigerator, cut into cubes, and let it sit on the counter for 10 minutes. Transfer to the mixing bowl of a stand mixer equipped with a paddle on low speed. Add sugar and honey. Once smooth, add the flour – and mix only until it attains a crumbly texture (do not mix further to form dough). Scatter the crumble on a baking sheet, passing it through your finger to break up any clumps. Bake, stirring now and then with a spatula, until golden and crisp – about 15 minutes.



In a mixing bowl toss the peaches with the sugar. Then in a non-reactive skillet sauté the peaches in the butter until lightly coloured. Deglaze with the peach juice, lower to a simmer, and cook until just tender. If the sauce is too thick or inadequately sweet adjust with simple syrup to taste. Set aside at room temperature.



To finish, place the moulds of panna cotta carefully at the centre of 8 chilled plates. Remove the elastic band around the plastic wrap. Slide a knife around the periphery of the mould, carefully slide the plastic wrap out from beneath the panna cotta, and then lift away the moulds. Scatter a band of streusel across the top of each panna cotta. Mound some peach segments to one side, drizzle some of their juices around the plates, and serve.