La Buona Cucina: Sfogliatella Riccia

Monday, January 23, 2012

Sfogliatella Riccia

My Dad ~in the middle~ with some friends and a sfogilatella filled belly in Italy.

Sfogliatella Riccia (means: many leaves/layers) & (pronouced: sfowliatella reecha) is a famous pastry from Naples, Italy and is my Dad's favorite Italian sweet which he fills up on when visiting family in Italy. It is a most delicious pastry with a ricotta filling and a very crispy flaky dough. I really want to learn how make these and surprise him with one when he comes to visit, partly because I'm such a great daughter but mostly because he said it couldn't be done, "It's just not somting you make at home, save it fo the experrrts...uh?" And so of course this only encouraged me to become a sfogliatella experrrt!
Here is the recipe I plan on using: Sfogliatella Riccia Recipe I will keep you posted......wish me luck!

2 comments:

Jenny said...: Good luck!! Can't wait to hear about your progress! And one day when I can have dairy again I hope to try one...they look soo yummy! :); January 23, 2012 at 6:04 AM
Italian Fine Arts said...: It's good to learn Italian stuff, specially about their food. Pasta is one and there's bread, so it's really cool.; February 12, 2012 at 11:58 PM

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Food Memories

Italian Lemon Squeezer
My Dad used to squeeze a lemon with his teeth! He would cut it in half, squeeze it with his hands, and then finish by placing it in his mouth and biting down!

Eat your Fegato!
My Mom used to make liver once a month, in Italian called Fegato, and I hated it. I would sit at the table for hours just staring at it hoping it would just go away. Sometimes I think I can still hear her saying, "Annuccia, Eat your Fegato!"

Cavallo Stew
One time I almost ate horse meat! My great grandmother, Nona Cornacchio, who was from Naples, Italy where it was perfectly acceptable to eat horse, had us over for a nice "beef" stew. My Mom took a bite and then quickly gave us a sign to stop eating, I swear we understood sign language, as soon as my Nona left the room my Mom swiftly dumped the bowls back in the pot. When my Nona came back we all sat there rubbing our bellies and saying how good it was!

Clink... clank... clink.... clank....clink

As a small child the sound of a whisk beating rapidly against a metal bowl could mean only one thing, zabaglione! I remember my Daddy would never let us know ahead of time that he was making zabaglione but rather he loved to surprise us with that melodious sound of....... clank clink clank clink clank clink....... ringing from the kitchen and then we would come running from all corners of the house to watch the magic........that little blob of egg yolk, sugar, and liquid sitting at the bottom of the bowl would all of the sudden become a light fluffy mound of pure bliss! We just drank it from espresso cups using a little demitasse spoon to get the last little drops at the bottom. And every New Years Eve my Daddy would start the magic as it neared midnight, what a wonderfully decadent way to start the new year: champagne & zabaglione!

You say Tomato...
When my husband and I were dating we were out one day and decided to stop for a quick bite to eat at a hamburger place. As soon as he got his burger he opened it up and hastily removed the tomato asking me if I would like it. I love tomatoes and felt there was never enough fresh veggies on my burger so I grabbed it and slapped on my burger. We still continue this ritual to this day. Truly a match made in Foodie Heaven!

Pizza, Pizza!
We ate pizza atleast once a week growing up and my Dad and I had a funny little system. You see he loved the cheese but couldn't stand the hard crust and I loved the crust but couldn't stomach all that gooey cheese. So I would start by removing all of my cheese and placing it on top of his pizza. Then he would eat the pizza all the way up to the crust and the hand me the crust.

Cappuccino and Croissant Merci!
When I was a little girl my Mom, like many others, liked to reward us with a treat when we made good grades. I remember this quaint little place in downtown Charleston called Jackies that was one of her favorite places to take us to. She would pick us up straight from school and we would sit at a table for two on the back porch and order croissant with real butter and cappuccino. I felt so cosmopolitan in downtown Charleston in my school uniform sipping cappuccino.

Musical Pasta
My Dad used to play music with his pasta! He would always grab one tube of pasta out of the box before dumping it in the water. Then he would hold it to his lips just so and blow. I can still see him walking around the house tooting out The Drinking Song from Verdi's La Traviata as we waited for the rest of the pasta to cook.

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Monday, January 23, 2012

Sfogliatella Riccia

2 comments:

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