Limoncello - Like Sunshine in a Bottle

 There are certain things Italians do that make absolutely no sense until you grow up around them.

Like keeping plastic on the furniture. Or arguing passionately about tomatoes. Or insisting that every ailment, from heartbreak to a stubbed toe, can be cured with a little something from the freezer.

And that “little something” at one of my friend's house was almost always Limoncello.

My earliest memory of it isn’t even drinking it. It was watching my friend Giovani's adult relatives pull a frosted bottle from the freezer like it was a holy relic. The glass would fog instantly. The liquid inside glowed that impossible yellow, somewhere between a lemon rind and a summer sunset. Gio's pop would pour it into tiny glasses that looked like they were stolen from a dollhouse, and everyone would sip it slowly and reverently, as if they were tasting the Amalfi Coast itself.

Limoncello isn’t just a drink. It’s a ritual.

It starts with lemons. Not the sad supermarket ones, but the big, fragrant, thick‑skinned monsters that smell like they were raised on opera and sea air. You peel them carefully, avoiding the bitter pith, and let the zest bathe in grain alcohol until it gives up every last drop of sunshine. Then you sweeten it, chill it, and wait.

Italians are good at waiting.

Especially when the reward is cold, sweet, and strong enough to make you forget your own name. Every family has a recipe, and every nonna swears hers is the best.

Every uncle insists the secret is more lemon or less sugar or something mysterious like “don’t shake it, you’ll bruise it.” This makes absolutely no sense, but you nod anyway because he is already halfway through his second glass.

And the thing about Limoncello is this: It isn’t fancy. It isn’t complicated. It isn’t even meant to be impressive. It is meant to be shared.

After a big meal, after a long day, after a story that went on too long, someone reaches into the freezer and pulls out that frosted bottle. Suddenly the night gets a little warmer, a little funnier, a little more Italian.

Here’s my recipe:

Homemade Limoncello

Prep 20 min

Cook Resting time: 7–30 days

Makes about 2 bottles

Ingredients

10 large lemons (thick‑skinned if possible)
1 liter grain alcohol or high‑proof vodka
3 cups water
2 cups sugar

Instructions

1 Wash the lemons thoroughly and peel them with a vegetable peeler. Avoid the white pith, which is bitter.

2 Place the lemon peels in a large glass jar and pour in the alcohol. Seal the jar and store it in a cool, dark place for at least 7 days. Longer is better.

3 When the infusion is ready, combine the water and sugar in a saucepan. Heat gently until the sugar dissolves, then cool completely.

4 Strain the alcohol to remove the lemon peels. Add the cooled syrup to the infused alcohol and stir.

5 Bottle the Limoncello and store it in the freezer. Serve ice cold in small glasses.

At the end of the day, Limoncello isn’t about lemons. What it's about is family, memory, and that kind of sweetness that lingers long after the glass is empty. And what it's really about? It’s tradition, and it's Italian.

Insalata di Broccoli al Limone
(Broccoli salad with lemon)

1 head broccoli
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 lemon
6 cloves garlic

Wash the lemon and the broccoli cut the broccoli to the desired size.
Put the broccoli in a pot with boiling water and let it cook for about 10 to 15 minutes.
Drain the broccoli gently in a colander then place on paper towels to finish draining.
Place the broccoli in a deep rectangular glass container.
Cut the lemon into 6 wedges and halve each wedge.
Squeeze each wedge gently over the broccoli, but leave some juice in each lemon wedge.
Chop the Garlic into 1/3-of a-clove size pieces and distribute evenly throughout the broccoli.
Place the 12 lemon pieces peel side up evenly in the broccoli dish.
Chill the broccoli in the refrigerator for 1 to 2 hours before serving.
Drizzle 2 tablespoons of olive oil on the broccoli and serve.

Meatballs

Friends in the Kitchen: Manacotti

The Miraculous History of Italian Pasta by Marino De Vito (as translated by Torre DeVito)
Good morning everyone, my name is Marino De Vito and I would like to discuss this wonderful Italian dish (with thanks to "Mediterranean Diet" for all their help).

We begin with a brief history of pasta. It's origin is one of the most obscure in the history of food. Its roots are as old as agriculture, because at its most basic, it is simply water mixed with milled cereal grain. You can get flour (farina in Italian, from the latin far) from many different cereal grains, although the most common is wheat. When man learned to grow grain, grind it for flour, mix it with water, and dry it in the sun to preserve it, bread and pasta were born. Pasta was probably developed in different parts of the world in parallel. There are theories that establish pasta's origin in  in China, India, the Arab world and the Mediterranean. The earliest references to pasta are from 4000 BC in China but both Arabs and Greeks also developed similar products.

Pasta refers to any food prepared with flour mixed with water, to those simple ingredients you can add salt, egg or other ingredients, forming a product that is usually cooked in boiling water. Though the flour from any cereal grain may be used for this purpose, most of Western recipes follow the Italian tradition and use wheat flour (Triticum durum); In the East other flour is more common such as buckwheat (Fagopyrum esculentum) and rice (Oryza sativa).

There are many theories about how Italians discovered pasta. Some researchers advocate that it was dicovered by Marco Polo in the thirteenth century, who could have introduced it to Italy upon returning from one of his trips to China in 1271, but more recent research confirms that the oldest references to pasta in Italy dates back to 1152, a century before Marco Polo alleged discovery. In the chapter CLXXI "Books of Wonders of the World", Marco Polo refers to the pasta in China. For others it goes back much further, to ancient Etruscan civilizations, elaborated by the crush or crushing of various cereals and grains mixed with water, then boiled and resulting in a tasty and nutritious food. When the Greeks founded Naples they adopted a native dish that was made with a a paste of barley flour and water then dried in the sun called "makaria". In ancient Rome, there are also references of pasta, dating from the third century BC. In fact, Cicero, the Roman politician and orator, speaks of his passion for the "Laganum" Latin for "Laganas" which are long strips of pasta. At that time the Romans developed instruments, tools, procedures - machines - to prepare these noodles that we now call "Lasagna". From there,pasta has become ever more popular due to its ease of transport and storage. Meanwhile the Roman empire was expanding which encouraged the cultivation of cereals throughout the whole Mediterranean basin.

Today noodles can be found anywhere, but pasta, that's Italian!

Editors note: This article was original published in Spanish on http://www.dietamediterranea.biz/

Lentils and Sausage for New Years!

Our new years meal has often been black-eyed peas and collard greens. Down here in the South-Eastern United States this combination is supposed to bring luck and money for the new year, but in Southern Italy it is lentils for the New-years meal, the little lens-shaped beans  look a bit like coins, some argue, and thus they are supposed to bring wealth. I don't know about all that, but I do know I love them! My Italian grandma   used to make them with carrots, celery, onions,  and of course garlic, and she would serve them with fresh Italian bread, extra-virgin olive oil, and freshly grated Parmigiana or Locatelli cheese. We'd grate in the cheese, drizzle on the oil, and Dad would crack some fresh peeper on his. Oh, I can almost taste it now! On rare occasions my grandma would add a few sweet Italian sausages halved lengthwise to the pot to flavor the lentils. Here is the recipe:

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ITALIAN LENTIL SOUP

1 1/2 cup dried lentils, washed and drained
2 cloves garlic, peeled and halves
1 small onion, peeled and halved
1 stalk celery, chopped
1 lb. sweet Italian sausage (Optional)
1 medium carrot, chopped (I like to leave them as little rounds)
4 cups beef broth
3 cups water
2 Tbsp. tomato paste
1 tsp. paprika
1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1 small bay leaf
1 Pinch thyme
1 Pinch oregano
In a large soup pot, combine lentils, garlic, onion, celery, and carrots. Stir in beef broth, water, tomato paste, paprika, pepper, bay leaf, thyme and Oregano. Simmer, covered, about one hour or more, until lentils are soft. Optionally:cut sausages in half lengthwise (or cut into 1/2 inch slices crosswise on the bias) and add to soup before cooking.

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Lentils are "lenticchie" in Italian, and early Italian anatomy students first named the lens of the eye the "lenticchie" because it was shaped like a lentil, and in fact this is where the word "lens" first came from.


Before the American Civil War, lentils were planted as a secondary crop in the south, the alternate rotation with wheat because they release nitrogen into the soil. When Sherman made his march to the sea fields of lentils were lost but fields of black-eyed peas, little more than feed for livestock, were ignored as Union troops destroyed or stole other crops. I can find no proof of it, but perhaps there was a tradition of eating lentils on New year's Day that switched to black eyed peas after the Civil War, and that tradition of eating black eyed peas or lentils? It's Italian!

A Punch in the Bread Basket -or- How Pancetta Got Its Name

It's Christmas season, and I'm sitting in Panera Bread, and I've just been to Capri Flavors  where my friends the Vuotto's run a wonderful Italian import business, and there the shelves were piled high with  a Christmas sweet-bread called Panettone and I began to think. I wondered if "Panera" was derived from "panare", the Italian word for bread... and then I wondered, does the "Pane" in Panettone" mean bread? And wait, Hayden Panettiere the actress, "panettiere" means baker, she must  be descended from Italian bakers... and Panzanella is a Tuscan Bread and Tomato Salad.  This odd stream of consciousness led me to wonder: "where in the world did pancetta, a sort of Italian bacon, get its name?"

Well before I answer that, let me tell you a little more about panettone and pancetta.

Panettone is the Italian version of fruitcake or stolen, it is more bread-like than fruitcake is, and lighter than either fruitcake or stolen, but it often has fruit in it (though less than either fruitcake or stolen). I can also tell you that panettone has no place in my memory as having anything to do with my family traditions, other than lining the shelves at the deli on the corner of the street I grew up on in Manhattan.

Though I called pancetta an Italian bacon, it has one major difference. Most American bacon is smoked. Italian bacon, on the other hand, is cured with salt, and sweet and savory spices, and then it is dried. My favorite use of pancetta is in pasta carbonara. Here is how I make pasta carbonara:

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PASTA CARBONARA

1 Tbsp olive oil
1/2 pound pancetta, diced
1-2 garlic cloves, minced, about 1 teaspoon (optional)
3-4 whole eggs
1 cup grated parmigiana cheese
1 pound fettuccine
Salt and black pepper to taste

While the pasta water is coming to a boil, heat the olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the pancetta and cook on a low heat till crispy. Add the garlic and cook for another minute, then turn off the heat and put the pancetta and garlic into a large bowl.

In a smaller bowl, beat the eggs and mix in about half of the cheese.

Once the water has reached a rolling boil, add the pasta, and cook, uncovered. When the pasta is still a little firm (al dente - when it sticks to the wall you throw it at) , use a spagheti comb to move it to the bowl with the pancetta and garlic. Move the pasta quickly, so it stays hot; the heat of the pasta will cook the eggs sufficiently to create a creamy sauce. Toss the pasta like a salad to mix it, then add the egg and cheese mixture and toss quickly to combine once more. Add salt to taste.

Serve at once with the rest of the parmigiana and freshly ground black pepper.

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As it turns out, the "pan" in pancetta has nothing to do with bread... or does it? Pancetta is an Italian cured meat made from pork belly, and the Italian word for belly is pancia, so pancetta means something like little belly, but wait a minute...  pancetta sounds like "pane cesta"  which means "bread basket" (though it would be rendered cesta de pane) and paniere, paniera the other forms of basket are very close to "panare" and "pancia". No wonder the belly has been nick-named "the bread basket" - it's Italian!