Honey Bees

It is with great sadness that I said goodbye to my bees yesterday. Apparently you can't keep them in a wall. A man came, opened a square in the wall and took out three big 50-lb buckets of hive and honey. Although I had nothing to do with this operation directly, it was nonetheless terrifying, exhilarating, absolutely astounding. At one point he invited me into the room literally filled with swarming bees for a chunk of comb. The first chunk was golden and tasted a little like orange. I don't think I've ever tasted anything like it in my life. This is the second chunk, apparently older, and probably from different flowers. That's all they could spare, as they need the rest to start up in a new spot, a few miles away. Many of "the girls' were left behind to clean up the rest of the honey, which is now oozing out of the walls. Rather surreal if you ask me. So is the plastic covering the hole and the furious buzzing behind it. The weirdest thing, is the bees through this whole operation just did what they were told. Remarkable.

Lardo Battuto

Who knew this would be so simple and delightful! It is called lardo battuto, which means literally beaten lard. Not the sort you find in a block in the supermarket, and in fact never heated at all, but salted and cured lard-o pounded in a mortar with garlic and parsley. I just happened to find a casing filled with cured fat in the back of the cave. I must have made it this past winter. I became familiar with this kind of lardo (in print) through my old friend Bartolomeo Scappi, personal chef to Pope Pius V in the 16th century. He uses it in stuffings especially, and anywhere some extra fat and flavor can be used. Apparently in Italy it gets tossed into soup and stews. OH YES. I tried it on toast this morning, and let me tell you: imagine compound butter, but cured pig instead. Aromatic, unctuous, dizzying. Thanks to Miss Butter who prompted this line of inquiry. It's a thing I should have done years ago. Now let's just think where this might go. Maybe a dollop on a pork chop? For some odd reason I want to stuff a fish with it. Scappi must have done it. Bread crumbs, cheese and lardo battuto. I couldn't have come up with anything that magnificent.

Pizza Madness

Somehow I think this speaks for itself. If you're going to make pizza, you might as well do it big time. There's classic pepperoni, the rabe and tuna, a pickled pork and sauerkraut up front, which turned out fabulous, and others included coppa which I found at the back of the cave, asparagus and a slew of other vegs. Arranging them all first this way made it easier to load and unload in the oven and take down the block to a party. There's still more, anyone free tonight?

Bee Keeping

I always thought one day I would take up bee keeping. Ever since I read Virgil's Georgics in grad school. And I've consistently kept my eye on equipment and where to find bees. I never expected that bees would find me. I spotted a few outside the kitchen window about a month ago before I left town. Then the next time it approached a swarm. And now there are hundreds upon hundreds, especially in the late afternoon flying around in the shade of a trumpet vine a few feet from the Dutch door in the kitchen. I expected there would be a hive, the sort you see in Winnie the Pooh, and that I could just ask the bees for some honey, nicely of course. But no, they're in the wall. I put my ear up to it, and it sounds like the roar of a jet engine. Clearly thousands of bees busy making honey, flapping their wings to cool the Queen and do whatever it is bees do in their spare time. This is a whole city of bees, replete with a mall, supermarkets, even an airport. My first instinct is to live happily with them, but apparently the hive continues to grow and it's not at all good for the house. And there's no way to ask for honey politely if it's in the wall.  I'd definitely rather not kill them, given the status of honey bees in general. Does anyone know if they can be moved? Or if there's a way I can live with them? Or even transfer them to a conventional frame-hive? Or convert the wall somehow???

Pizza Perfect

I have been having explicit pizza fantasies for several weeks now. And somehow every time a pie presented itself, I thought, "This can't be it. Don't waste your opportunity on this specimen of mediocrity." But I did succumb a few times. There was that weird practically crustless perversity in the suburbs of Chantilly VA: a lot of cheese and meat and nothing else. Hardly anything even vaguely pizza like. I couldn't bring myself to eat pizza in Germany either, though it looked good. Perugia offered a decent one two weeks ago, but it was all crust, a hint of dark tuna and broccoli rabe. The idea was pure genius, but the execution so imbalanced and off center, that it was very unpizzaic in the end. And then NY this past week. WHAT WAS I THINKING??? I ate no pizza, but certainly ogled, smiffed and dreamed about it every moment. So, I am home today and thought I must just cook it. And the idea Perugia was still stuck there. And it truly is genius. Not my idea, but the ingredients must be right. Sautee the rabe first so it comes out crisp in the oven. Canned (YES) solid tuna in water, ordinary mozzarella. But all in perfect balance. Got to be a paper thin crust or you would lose the tuna, but very crispy. And it is beyond beyond. If you can think of a better unusual combination, let me know.

Cooking in a Castle in Germany

This past week I was in Nideggen, Germany cooking in a medieval castle. It was, oddly enough, for a documentary on the life of 17th century Italian composer Claudio Monteverdi. They wanted cooking segments with food that reflects the same Baroque aesthetic as his music. Cooked in a wood-burning oven and over an open flame. I chose a few dishes, a kind of gnocchi from Cesare Evitascandalo, an asparagus dish from Bartolomeo Stefani, and then a grand veal pie from Vittorio Lancellotti, who was an exact contemporary. Now, you have to imagine this. It is veal chopped finely then pounded in a mortar into a fine paste with sugar and candied citron, plus grapes set inside. This is in a rather sweet thick flaky pastry that is glazed and decorated with flowers. It's upside down here, but heart-shaped. Apart from being totally over the top, it is absolutely baroque in flavor and form. Lancelotti doesn't have a recipe, but it is featured in many of his menus, so reconstructing it wasn't too difficult. The best part was of course watching the crew wince at the idea of a sweet veal pie. But it was quickly devoured after shooting.

This magnificent photo was taken by Claudia van Koolwijk.

Sweet Little Piggie

I know you're not supposed to get attached to your food, but this little piggie was so sweet. Kristine bought her and brought to a yearly Hootenany. It took 5 hours to roast her (the pig, not Kristine) slowly over white hot coals. Just salt. I thought the huge wooden stake was a good idea, though covered in foil so it didn't ignite. Two piles of rocks on either end held it up. Best of all: I cut it up as quickly as I could and it was litterally grabbed and gobbled up within a few minutes. About 60 pounds. There's only a little ziplock bag left, which I think will have to be pulled and sauced for dinner tonight.