Arancini...Proof that Leftovers are Delicious

            My family has never been one that wastes…anything. Being the oldest daughter of an ecologist and an Italian-American who was raised the daughter of a poor Italian mining community in the Pittsburgh area hit hard by the Depression, I have it in my blood to not throw anything away.

            My parents are champions at keeping EVERYTHING, especially my mom, who throws nothing away until it is utterly and completely ruined, and even then not everything gets the boot. She still has all of her college t-shirts, and she keeps food until every single drop or crumb is gone or it is obviously non-edible (expiration dates are merely a suggestion). There have been so many times in which I, cleaning the kitchen, have found three crumbs of a muffin on a plate placed on the counter. Thinking this is the plate of someone who did not take the time to put the plate in the dishwasher, I throw the crumbs into the trash. Like clockwork, a few hours later my mom enters the kitchen asking Where’s my muffin? Marti…did you throw away my muffin? I was keeping that for snack! I pretend not to hear her or know what happened, which rarely works, and in time I have gradually learned to keep to my crumbs and let others take care of theirs.

            My grandmother survived the Great Depression with no mother and three brothers in a poor Italian immigrant community,  She is always thinking about how we can save or not have to go to the store to buy something new. Grandma makes rags out of old clothes, sews holes in socks, and even saves the bags that sliced bread comes in to use instead of Ziplock bags when she makes too many cookies or needs a bag of ice for a grandchild’s boo-boo. My grandma is also the Grand Master of using left-overs to create new and inventive meals, such as using leftover mashed potatoes to make some of the best gnocchi I’ve ever eaten, or using leftover meat to make a ragu’ by shredding it and serving it with red sauce. She’s brilliant, my grandma.

            I have a little bit of both my mother and my grandmother in the way that I live. I will keep a bottle of balsamic vinegar until there are two drops left, and I love to make creative new dishes out of leftovers.  (I do step out of line with mom’s habit of keeping all food  and throw away things that have expired…my less-frugal boyfriend has made that influence on me in that way.) In a quest to not have to make the decision of throwing away old food, I try to use leftovers as quickly as possible the next day, creating a new meal out of the old one, and I find that the Italian cuisine lends itself beautifully to this. You can always throw some leftover meat or vegetables into a sauce or stew (ribollita was made just for this – a stew of leftover vegetables served over day-old bread). My favorite thing to make, however, comes from leftover risotto (rice made with short-grain, or arborio, rice), and is a Sicilian specialty. Literally meaning “little oranges” arancini are traditionally friend balls of rice, similar to croquettes, stuffed with cheese or ragu’ (made of meat or vegetables). In order to save myself some stomach aches and the pain of using a deep fryer, I bake mine in the oven with a drizzle of olive oil and serve these as a side dish or tasty snack.

**You can also use sticky rice if risotto is not on hand – as the forming of the balls is based on the idea that the rice sticks together by itself, basamati or long-grain rice might not have enough starch. However, if you would like to try with regular rice and maybe throw an egg in the leftover rice to give it some binding agents, go for it!

Arancini

1 ½ cups leftover risoto

½ cup cubed cheese (any kind that you wish)

½ cup Sauce or Ragu (optional

1 egg, beaten

¾ cup breadcrumbs

¾ cups flour

olive oil

           

 Preheat the oven to 425. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil or parchment paper, and place the flour, egg, and breadcrumbs in three separate bowls, one after another.

Form six patties with the leftover risotto and place them on a plate. Take a patty in the palm of your hand. Place the cheese (and sauce if you choose) in the middle of the circle and reshape the rice around to form a ball.  Repeat with the other five patties. 

 Once each ball of rice is stuffed with cheese, dip the balls into the flour, then the egg, and then roll in the breadcrumbs to create a breading, and place back on the pan. Drizzle the balls with olive oil if you like and cook for 25 minutes. 

Let cool for five minutes and then, serve immediately.

Eggplant Endeavors

           Eggplant. It’s not a beautiful name. It’s not romantic or appealing. The name doesn’t even invoke curiosity to find out what is behind the unfamiliar word – maybe instead it does the opposite and repulses you. Say it to yourself. Eggplant. Kind of awkward; definitely unattractive. What has this innocent plant done to deserve such a name?  Poor thing, it’s not just in the English language that it has a less-than-alluring name. At one time all plants in the nightshade family, of which the tomato, eggplant, and potato are a part, were believed to be toxic. This is reflected in various names for the plant. The Italian word for eggplant is melanzana, from mela non sana, or “unhealthy apple”, because it was once believed that it was poisonous, and is still believed to be toxic when eaten raw. Other Mediterranean populations called the fruit (like its cousin the tomato it is, in fact, a fruit) mala insana, “crazy apple” because they believe it would make anyone who ate it crazy.

            My first experience with eggplant was also not the most wonderful. I remember it vividly – I was in the third grade and we were writing a play for school. The characters were different fruits and vegetables: there was a jolly blueberry, a stupid but lovable stalk of broccoli, a sexy strawberry, an intelligent zucchini squash, and an unpleasant eggplant who was always in a bad mood: Eggbert Eggplant. At this point in my life, I had never eaten an eggplant…and this play assured that I never wanted to eat one. You know the TV shows for kids in which the characters are likeable fruits and vegetables so that kids will feel comfortable towards them and eat more? This experience had exactly that effect but opposite – every time I thought (and still sometimes when I think) about eggplant, I thought about unlikable and unpleasant people.

            My disinterest in the eggplant was amplified by the uncomfortable sound of the word itself: eggplant. To write this blog, I decided to do a little research on the history of the name. In reality, the name does not reflect any qualities of the eggplant we know today. The word was created in the 1600-1700’s when European traders brought back the fruit from its indigenous Asia. The species of eggplant that was brought back was a white-yellow fruit about the size of a goose egg. So it looked like an egg, but was a plant…the Europeans were faced with a difficult task in naming this new specimen? The first name that they tried, plantegg, didn’t go over well, so the imaginative  Englishmen choose the ever-more creative eggplant. With the years, Americans kept this name, but our English cousins opted for the more "fancy" French trend of aubergine, originally from the Arabic al-badinjan. This difference in names reflects the differences in our historical stories and our rebellious American spirit. In England the French language enjoyed a high prestige as the official language in various sectors of society for centuries after the Norman Invasion (it actually remained the official language of the courts until 1731). Therefore, it is highly likely that the English choose the French aubergine over the creative and beautiful eggplant for reasons of prestige. However, for us Americans, prestige was found in doing exactly what the English weren’t doing or the opposite of whatever they were doing, and therefore we choose to go with the other word. If the English call it aubergine, no way we’re doing the same. God bless America and its eggplants!

            Although I love eggplants today, I honestly did not even begin trying to eat them until I was 23 years old, when I was living in Chicago and worked at a Lebanese restaurant. Lebanese cuisine is famous for its baba ghanoush, a delicious puree of roasted eggplant, made very similarly to hummus and DELICOUS. My lunches became baba and pita several times a week, and from this discovery that I liked the food, I branched  out a bit and came more in contact with the food. My travels in Sicily resulted in the most delicious bites of pasta alla norma (made with rigatoni, eggplant, ricotta salata, and red sauce), parmigiana (not the kind we think of, but something more like a layered casserole of fried eggplant, Emmenthaler cheese, and red sauce), and my personal favorite, grilled eggplant. These were all delicious, but I hold dear my first experience with eggplant in that taste of baba ghanoush, and today that is the recipe that I want to share, in addition to how to choose a good eggplant when buying it and how to prepare it for cooking.

            Finding a good eggplant and treating it correctly before cooking are the most important factors to creating a delicious dish. The eggplant is part of the nightshade family, which also includes the potato and tomato. Members of this family contain alkaloids, cousins of nicotine and morphine and which can be toxic when eaten in very large quantities, and the eggplant has the highest level of alkaloids in the family. Never fear, however! Unless you are planning on eating 36 raw eggplants at any time in your life (the amount you’d have to eat to get a harmful effect), you are safe! Alkaloids are found in the seeds and even if they aren’t going to kill you by eating one of the fruits, they do give a distinct bitterness that is often quite unpleasant. So, first thing when choosing an eggplant: avoid the unpleasant bitterness. Older eggplants are usually bigger, which means they have more seeds. Therefore, choose the younger, smaller ones. If you are faced with only large, old eggplants, consider the sex.  Eggplants are male and female, and can be distinguished as such by looking at the bottom end (away from the part where it was attached to the vine). Female eggplants, recognizable by the light brown, deeper oval indentation, have more seeds and therefore more alkaloids. Male eggplants, which have a shallow, round naval, contain less seeds and less bitterness. In addition to avoiding bitterness, it is important to choose a fresh and healthy eggplant. The skin should be firm without any wrinkles or pronounced imperfections. The stem at the top should have a clean cut and not be too dry (a dry stem means it was harvested a long time ago). The last thing to do is press on the skin, it should give a little but then spring right back to its original form.

            After choosing an eggplant, it is necessary to rid the fruit of its water, which carries a lot of the bitterness. This can be done in several ways: cut the eggplant into rounds or long pieces, place in a colander in the sink or on a cooling rack with a pan underneath, and salt heavily. This breaks down the cells and releases the water; leave the eggplant to drain for 2-3 hours (sometimes I even do more), and then rinse, squeeze, and pat dry. The other option, as is the case with baba ghanoush, is to roast the eggplant whole, peel the skin, and put the roasted meat in a strainer with a bowl underneath for 30 minutes. (Side note: I’m really emphasizing the importance of avoiding the bitterness because it really ruins the dish for me – if you’re into it, go for it! After all is said and done, it’s you who has to like your dish).

            As I ‘ve mentioned, today I will share the recipe of my first experience with eggplant: baba ghanoush. Baba ghanoush is a typical dish of Mideastern cuisine, particularly in the region that contains Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Israel, and Palestine. This puree is made with roasted eggplant and a paste of ground sesame seeds called tahini (found in Arabic specialty stores and increasingly in American groceries and markets). If you do not feel like putting tahini in the baba, you can try substituting a sesame oil (I might only do one tablespoon) or leaving it out all together. This food is traditionally served with pita, but can also be eaten on top of crostini for a twist on bruschetta or however else you choose to eat it.

Baba Ghanoush (adapted from Alton Brown’s Recipe)

1 eggplant

2 cloves of garlic

¼ cup fresh lemon juice (bottled has a much milder flavor, and this recipe needs the pop that you get from fresh lemon juice)

2 tablespoons of tahini paste

parsley

salt, pepper

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Poke holes with a fork in the eggplant and then place it on a cooling rack with a pan underneath it to catch any water that might escape and roast for 30-45 minutes. *If you do not poke holes in the eggplant to allow gases to release, it will explode, which might be cool to watch but much less so to clean.*   

When the eggplant looks a little shriveled, take it out and let cool for 15 minutes. 

Then, remove the skin and place the meat in a colander over a bowl and let drain for 30 minutes (throw away the alkaloid-laden liquid at the bottom). 

Place the pulp, garlic, lemon juice, and tahini in a food processor or blender and mix. Salt and pepper to taste – if the baba is still too bitter, you can always add a bit of honey or sugar to balance the flavors. To finish, add parsley and lightly pulse to give the leaves a few chops. 

Serve cold or at room temperature with pita or anything else you desire.

What's in a Name?

            One thing I love about America is its diversity. We are founded on the idea people are from different places, have different backgrounds, speak different languages, and follow different cultural traditions. We are founded on these and we cling to them. Growing up, my friends and I constantly compared stories of what our families did at home; my Russian friend recalled stories of a quiet game involving a story about a dead cat, my Bosnian friends brought in baklava on school Food Days, and I proudly compared differences between my Catholic upbringing and that of my protestant friends. I took the fact that people come from different cultures as a general assumption of life…but maybe that’s not always so.

            While I was recently teaching my students from Saudi Arabia and China, a question popped in my head: Do people ask others how to spell and pronounce their names in other countries in the sense that is a standard, regular question?  America’s being used to and appreciation of various languages and cultures is a rarity in the grand scheme of the world’s cultures. You can tell an Italian name, a Spanish name, an Chinese name, or an Arabic name by just looking at it, and most of the indigenous people in said countries carry names that show so. An American name, however, can be deceiving in the fact that you can’t look at it and say it’s American. You can have an American who knows no Spanish and never set foot in a Spanish country with a name of blatantly Spanish origin (take my sister’s half-Swedish boyfriend with a Mexican last name…his family goes back to Spanish conquistadors), or one with Indian, Asian, Irish, or any origin.  How cool is it that our diverse uniqueness is present not only in the fact that there is not one stereotypical “American” color or physical features (such as dark African skin, Arabic almond eyes or large Italian nose) that peg us as American, but also that there is no one type of name. Our demarcation is the fact that we are different.