Here, I say it: I'm with the minimalist for minimalism. And when it comes to minimalism in the kitchen, I just go into raptures. Yes, because recipes that start listing more than the three or four ingredients humanly acceptable make me really sick, striking some sort of culinary terror, and awakening in me two opposite temptations:
a) the unnatural and deceptive desire to run for cover to the nearest take-away, to please my laziness;
b) the need for a bowl of plain white rice (even without parmigiano cheese!), to accommodate the aspiration to the ethereal purity of the lonely hero.

I realize that starting a food blog was not really a great idea. True, I have a soft spot for colorful salts and flours made from mysterious grains, and over time I've collected an embarrassing series of powders, spices and other rather enigmatic concoctions (all that being edible material, ça va sans dire), not to mention bowls and pottery on sale, redundant cutlery and trendy gadgets. Still, if it was for me, I'd post spaghetti pomdoro 304 days a year, reserving the approximate 52 Sundays for gnocchi (always strictly with tomato sauce), and the remaining 9 days for the surprise dish. An effective blog, indeed.

Therefore, you can imagine my joy when I tried this phenomenal macco di fave, in my to-do list from time immemorial: the linearity of a minimal dish meets the vanity of a post. A perfect combination. In my dream blog, macco found its way all of a sudden, winning as many as 8 of the 9 surprise-dish days. Because to be more minimal and more delicious, I think it's really difficult.


Macco di Fave
(Dried Fava Bean Puree)
for 4-5 people

dried, peeled fava beans about 1 lb.
olive oil, salt, pepper, water as needed
garlic 2 cloves
wild fennel, chicory, kale, dandelion, rapini, mustard greens
(or some other green stuff of choice)
one big bunch

Soak the beans in a bowl of water overnight. The next day, drain and cook them over medium-low heat in a large pan, barely covered with water. Cook until the beans are tender and begin to come apart, skimming when needed, stirring occasionally, and adding more water if necessary. If you’d like, you could also add a carrot and a celery stalk to the cooking water, or start by sautéing a sliced spring onion in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil, but I preferred to stick with the most proletarian version out there: fava beans, fava beans, absolutely fava beans, with the sole addition of a good pinch of salt near the end. When the beans are tender, reach for the evergreen immersion blender in the cupboard, and puree until creamy, adding oil little by little until you get a smooth texture.
In the meantime, wash the greens (in my case it was some Russian kale, a kind of purple kale, slightly sweeter and less pungent, something I didn't even know until the day before yesterday, to be honest); remove the tough ends and cook them gently in a large saucepan with an inch of water. Drain, remove excess water and sauté them in a pan with a little olive oil and the garlic cloves, peeled and cut in half. Season with salt and pepper.
Place the macco in a bowl with the greens in the middle, and serve with a dash of olive oil and a sprinkling of black pepper.

It's a good day for Donna Hay.
(OGITK, Confessions of a Blogaholic)

I've already told you, haven't I, that blogging makes me do strange things. Such as this little roast here.
A fillet. Of pork. Roasted. Me. Who until few months ago almost didn't even know the flavor of pork ...
The thing is, today I woke up and started thinking of her, the Coco Chanel of food styling; the most beloved and most celebrated cookbooks' author among all food bloggers, the rookies and the pros; object of worship and source of untold frustration for those photos of her, clean, minimalist and always tres chic. A cult that transcends the logic of what's edible, an absolute reverence, for the most part incomprehensible to those who have never stood in front of a chicken with their camera.

And while thinking about the Divine, I remembered that:
1) By Donna Hay I own one book, which, like its other fellows on the shelf, is new, untouched, and sadly dusty (and how couldn't it be?);
2) By Donna Hay, I've never tried anything.
Shame on me. It was definitely time to make amends. And to make up for the lost time, I've studied the volume from top to bottom, only to choose the easiest recipe, as custom.
Divine, I hope you can forgive me anyways. I mean, I say it again, it's pork!


Roasted Pork Tenderloin
with Honey & Mustard
for 3

pork tenderloin 1, about 1 lb.
honey 2 tablespoons, full
whole grain mustard (aka Moutarde à l'Ancienne, which is much more In) 3 tablespoons, full
parsnips 4
olive oil, salt, pepper, fresh oregano to taste

Not only pork, but also parsnips. And whatthehell are these parsnips? Try to think of a pale carrot, or an oblong potato, or maybe something in the middle, and there you go, you'll have a fairly accurate idea of parsnips. For more information, you just need to read here.

Peel the parsnips, remove ends and cut them in half lengthwise. Season them with two tablespoons olive oil, salt and pepper, and place them side by side on a slightly greased baking pan. Bake at 375 for about 45-60 minutes, depending on their size.
Meanwhile, prepare the marinade by mixing honey, mustard and few sprigs of fresh oregano, finely chopped (if you wish, you can add a couple of teaspoons of mustard seeds). Trim the meat from the fat and cover it with the sauce. Let it stand in refrigerator until ready to bake.
Lay the fillet over the parsnips, brush the marinade on top, making sure to cover it even on the sides, and bake at the same temperature for 25-35 minutes (depending on its size), until the fillet is golden on the outside and fully cooked on the inside.
And so this is done as well. Time to check mark it.

Or, How tagliata went back in fashion, from Milan to San Francisco.

As soon as I've seen this beautiful black thing, here, I said to myself I want it! And as soon as I've seen this beautiful recipe, again here, I said to myself I'll make it! There are some instincts you can't really resist, and if you do, please let me know how you manage because I'm really not able to.

Few days later, I was fated to run into a sheet of slate while browsing through a gardening store, thinking of everything else than my duties In The Kitchen. Apparently one cannot escape his own fate, or at least this was the official excuse I gave myself to justify the purchase of yet another triviality. Two minutes later - it goes without saying - I was at the butcher shop, because she had told me imagine how nice it'd be the tagliata on top of a slate sheet....

So, what you think, you like it?
Yes? So do I!!


Beef Tagliata

one piece of beef, sirloin or roast beef, about one inch thick
olive oil, salt, pepper to taste
fresh rosemary, thyme, marjoram to taste

For the recipe I've followed exactly Lydia's instructions. Put a non stick pan over high heat. When burning hot, add a tiny bit of olive oil. Season meat with salt and pepper on both sides, then place it in the pan and let it cook for two minutes per side.
Meanwhile, preheat the oven to the minimum temperature (about 120 degrees) and prepare a piece of foil lined with a kitchen towel. Put the herbs on the kitchen towel. Remove meat from the pan and wrap it in the foil as if it were a package.
Place it in the warm oven and let it rest for about 15 minutes. As explained here, this step allows both to absorb the blood so that meat becomes more tender, and to warm up the center, which otherwise could be still cold.
Remove meat from the oven and cut it in slices a little less than 1/4 of an inch thick. Serve on a bed of arugula with few cherry tomatoes cut in half.

This is the classic secret weapon, a very easy and superfast recipe that you can show off with nonchalance even in emergencies. Success is guaranteed, even for those who've been scared for years to confront fish dishes, like me.

The most difficult thing, if anything, is to go conquer the tuna. And also to go through the cash register without looking at the total, dropping the card and signing the receipt with your eyes closed : )


Sesame Crusted Tuna
with Mango Salsa

For The Tuna
fresh tuna steak, about 1 inch thick
balsamic vinegar, ginger, salt, black and white sesame seeds, olive oil to taste

For the Mango Salsa
mango 1/2
fresh pineapple 1-2 slices
red bell pepper, small 1/2
green chili pepper 1/2
salt, pepper, lime juice, fresh cilantro to taste

Rub tuna with the freshly grated ginger and let it marinate for about one hour with some balsamic vinegar, turning it around few times.
Drain from marinade and then coat both sides in the sesame seeds, previously combined in a bowl. Press slightly on all sides, so that the seeds will stick and form a nice thick crust.
Using a paper napkin, lightly grease a non stick pan with oil, and heat it up until it gets really hot. Turn the heat down and place the tuna on top of it, cooking it for about one minute each side. Season with salt and let it cool down before slicing it.
For the mango salsa, cut mango, pineapple, red bell pepper and green chili pepper in very small cubes. Put them in a bowl, mix well and season with salt, pepper, fresh cilantro and lime juice. Let it sit for at least one hour before serving.