Giardiniera (pickled vegetables)
When I was growing up in Italy it was part of the fabric of life to grow your own vegetables or buy them in the market when they were in season, and at their most prolific, then prepare some to keep under oil or pickle them in vinegar in jars for the rest of the year, ready to put out with some prosciutto or salami if someone special called around. It is a tradition Plaxy and I always carried on when the kids were younger, because I liked the idea that anyone could come home at any time, especially after a journey, and there would be some carta di musica (see here) in the cupboard, some cured meats in the fridge, and jars of vegetables as in this recipe, or onions, as in the recipe that follows, to put out with them.
Our village, Corgeno, only had one butcher, Stefanino, and they would kill a cow once a week, outside. My brother and I would be coming home from school, and we would stop and wait to see the guys kill the cow under the supervision of the vet before we went home, which was an important thing, because it taught us where our food came from, and to respect the animals that were providing it. Every part of the animal needed to be sold: the tripe, lungs, heart and the bones for the dogs. Stefanino knew everybody in the village and who liked what, and he would say to my mother sometimes, ‘I kept you the knees’ – clearly the animal only had four legs, so I am sure he had to rotate these specialities between people. My mother would simmer these pieces of bone very slowly – I can still smell it now. Then she would pull off all the bits of meat and cartilage, chop them up and mix them with the giardiniera, to make insalata di nervetti. I used to hate it at the time, but now I love it: all the different consistencies of soft and gristly meat mixed with the sweet-and-sourness of the peppers, carrots, cauliflower and courgettes: so delicious.
Makes several jars
extra virgin olive oil 1.5 litres
red wine vinegar 1.5 litres
caster sugar 300g
sea salt 150g
cauliflowers 3, separated into small florets
red peppers 3, deseeded and cut into squares about 1cm
yellow peppers 3, deseeded and cut into squares about 1cm
carrots 6 large, cut into cubes about 1cm
courgettes 6 large, cut into cubes about 1cm
red onions 3, sliced vertically
white onions 3, sliced vertically
mild red chillies 6 large, chopped
Makes 1 large jar
extra virgin olive oil 750ml
red wine vinegar 750ml
balsamic vinegar 350ml
caster sugar 150g
sea salt 75g
baby onions 2kg, peeled
1 In a pan mix the olive oil, vinegar, sugar and salt and stir to dissolve the sugar. Add the chopped vegetables and chilli and bring to the boil, stirring regularly, then immediately take off the heat and leave the vegetables to cool down in the liquid.
2 Once cold, store in sterilised jars in the fridge for up to a month.
Sweet and sour baby onions
1 In a pan mix the olive oil, vinegars, sugar and salt and stir to dissolve the sugar. Add the onions and bring to the boil, stirring regularly, then immediately take off the heat and leave the onions to cool down in the liquid.
2 Once cold, store in a sterilised jar in the fridge for up to a month.
Pinzimonio
I can tell a lot about someone by the way they prepare their pinzimonio, which is nothing more complicated than raw vegetables cut up and put out with a sauce (typically bagna cauda, made with anchovies and garlic) to dip into as an aperitivo before lunch or dinner.
In the 70s and 80s the fashion was to cut vegetables into identical short, sharp, geometrical shapes, then slowly, slowly they began to appear more loosely, until the 90s, when everyone began to acknowledge that vegetables should just look natural. Personally I have always thought that when you slice vegetables for pinzimonio, you should follow their shape and structure as much as possible.
You can add or subtract any vegetable you like, and instead of the sauces suggested here you can put out anything you want, maybe some olive or sun-dried tomato paste loosened with extra virgin olive oil, or even a spicy chimichurri (see here), made with plenty of very finely chopped parsley (and/or coriander), oregano, garlic, shallots and chilli, seasoned and mixed with some olive oil, vinegar and lemon juice.
Serves 6
carrots 2
celery 3 stalks
cucumber 1
fennel 1 bulb
radicchio tardivo 1
yellow pepper 1
red pepper 1
asparagus 1 small bunch when in season
radishes 1 bunch
For the bagna cauda:
milk 9 tablespoons
garlic 9 cloves
anchovies in oil 12, drained
extra virgin olive oil a little
butter a knob
For the artichoke sauce:
artichokes 5
olive oil a little
onion 1, finely chopped
white wine ½ glass (35ml)
lemon juice of 1
good vegetable stock 150ml
bay leaf 1
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
(see picture)
1 Cut all the vegetables into thin strips lengthways and lay them on a bed of crushed ice to keep them crisp. Put into the fridge while you make the sauces.
2 For the bagna cauda, put the milk and garlic into a small pan and bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes, until the garlic is soft. Just before you take it off the heat, put the anchovies into a shallow heatproof bowl with a little olive oil and the knob of butter and place it over the pan, for a minute or two, until the anchovies ‘melt’. Take the pan off the heat and press the anchovy mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl. Crush the garlic with a little of the milk in which it was cooked and stir into the anchovy mixture. Loosen if necessary with a little more olive oil.
3 For the artichoke sauce, prepare the artichokes as here, and cut into quarters.
4 Heat a little olive oil in a pan, add the onion and cook gently until soft and translucent, add the artichokes, wine and lemon juice and bring to the boil, then add the vegetable stock and bay leaf and cook for about 10 minutes, until the artichokes are soft.
5 Lift out the artichokes and put into