In a medium bowl, mix together the milk, beaten eggs, salt, pepper, red pepper flakes, and cooled onions.
Sprinkle one-third of the remaining cornmeal evenly over the bottom of the pan. Scatter one-third of the mozzarella evenly over it. Ladle one-third of the milk, egg, and onion mixture over the cheese. Repeat two more times. The mixture will look quite wet.
Set the pan on a baking sheet and bake for about 1 hour, until puffed and golden brown and quite fluffy; do not let it get too firm, or it will be dry. Cool in the pan on a rack.
Run a metal spatula around the sides of the pan to loosen the sopa, place a platter or tray over the top, and invert to unmold.
Black Bread with Nuts
It’s fun to have special recipes for special times and places. This is a bread that I only make when I am on The Island. Often I will bring along some hazelnuts, walnuts, and chestnuts gathered in the forests of Mendoza just for this bread. It is a dense, black health loaf that keeps for weeks. Slice it very thin for the most beautiful toast. MAKES 1 LOAF
One ¼-ounce package active dry yeast
1½ teaspoons sugar
2⅓ cups warm water (100° to 110°F)
1½ cups whole wheat flour
1½ cups unprocessed miller’s wheat bran (available from Bob’s Red Mill)
1½ cups raw wheat germ
1 tablespoon coarse salt
2 cups coarsely chopped toasted nuts, such as hazelnuts and/or walnuts
All-purpose flour for dusting
Extra virgin olive oil for the pan
Combine the yeast, sugar, and ⅓ cup of the warm water in a small bowl and let stand for about 10 minutes, until foamy.
Combine the flour, bran, wheat germ, and salt in the bowl of a heavy-duty mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and mix on medium speed. Add the yeast mixture and the remaining 2 cups warm water and, mix until a wet, batter-like dough forms. Dust the nuts with a little all-purpose flour and, with the motor running, add them to the flour mixture and mix until well combined. Scrape into a floured bowl and set in a warm place to rise until doubled in size, about 2 hours.
Heat an horno or the oven to 350°F. Oil an 8½-by-4½-by-2½-inch loaf pan and dust it with flour.
Stir down the dough and scrape it into the pan—it will come almost to the top. Bang the pan on the counter a few times to get rid of any air bubbles. Bake for about 55 minutes, or until the top is brown and crusty and a bamboo skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. The bottom should sound hollow when tapped. Cool slightly, then unmold and let cool completely on a rack before slicing.
Chapa Bread
Our romantic, rough-and-tumble gauchos would split open the bread and toss in a slice of meat straight from the parrilla. MAKES 12 SMALL BREADS
One ¼-ounce package active dry yeast
1 tablespoon sugar
¼ cup warm water (100° to 110°F)
3 cups sifted all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 tablespoon coarse salt
1 cup warm milk (100° to 110°F)
Combine the yeast, sugar, and warm water in a small bowl and let stand for about 10 minutes, until foamy.
Whisk together the flour and salt in a large bowl. Make a well in the center and stir in the yeast mixture. Gradually stir in the warm milk, then bring it all together with your hands into a soft dough.
Flour a work surface, turn the dough out, and knead for about 5 minutes, until smooth. Shape into a ball, put in a floured bowl, and let rise, covered with plastic wrap and a damp cloth, in a warm place for about 2 hours, until doubled in size.
Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and roll it under your palms into a cylinder about 2 inches thick and 14 inches long. Cut into 12 disks. Stretch each disk out with your fingers until about ½ inch thick and lay the disks on a floured baking sheet spaced well apart. Cover with a damp cloth and let rise a second time until puffy, about 30 minutes.
Heat a chapa or a cast-iron griddle over medium-low heat. Cook the breads, in batches if necessary, for about 5 minutes on each side, until puffed and lightly browned.
To serve, split open with a knife. Fill with desired sandwich ingredients.
Scones from The Teapot
These very crumbly scones must be eaten immediately for the most tender consistency. They toughen as they sit. Almost all of the mixing should be done with a fork; you barely touch the dough with your hands. When I was a schoolboy in Bariloche, every day when I got home from my studies (or at least I was supposed to be studying), I would have some of these with butter and jam. The hot scones would melt the butter. A heavenly memory!
MAKES 16 SCONES
Vegetable oil for the baking sheet
4 cups sifted self-rising flour
4 tablespoons cold unsalted butter
2 large eggs
1 cup milk
Grated zest of 1 lemon
Pinch of fine salt
2 tablespoons sugar
Heat an horno or the oven to 400°F. Oil a large baking sheet.
Put the flour in a bowl and cut the butter into it with two forks or a pastry blender.
Break one egg into a bowl and lightly beat in the milk, lemon zest, and salt. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and pour in the egg mixture. Working quickly, bring it all together with a fork into a soft, shaggy dough; do not overwork.
Turn out the dough and shape it into a thick roll about 16 inches long. Cut it into sixteen 1-inch pieces and arrange them about 1 inch apart on the baking sheet. Beat the second egg and brush it over the scones to glaze them. Sprinkle with the sugar.
Bake for about 15 minutes, or until the scones are golden, rotating the pan halfway through. Serve immediately.
TRAVELS WITH FIRE
“THE ISLAND,” PATAGONIA
There are many islands in the world, but, for me, there is only one place that is The Island. It is in a remote lake in Patagonia, a hundred miles down a dirt road and then an hour by boat across the lake. It is surrounded by the Valdivian Forest—an actual alpine rain forest on the slope of the Andes just over the mountains from Chile. Through all the changes in my life, it has been my one constant, my “true north”—although it is actually to the south. It is where I go to rest, to think, to be alone with family and special friends. The only other creatures are the waterbirds, brook trout, huge Andean condors, deer, and mountain lions. There are wild mushrooms by the basketful.
I built the main cabin with my late friend Marcial and my brother, Carlos, who shares my affection for the wild heart of Patagonia. The cabin sits in the lee of the winds coming off the Andes and the storms that blow in from the west. Twenty years ago, I thought that was perfect, but now I want to see those storms and feel them as they roll in, so I built my own private cabin on The Island’s other side, with a perfect view of the incoming tempests.
I always insist on at least ten days on The Island for me and for my guests. The first three days, you are still filled with the concerns of the outside world, but then the quiet and the solitude and the immensity of nature take over and you move to a different clock, the timeless metronome of Patagonia. No phones, no Internet. You get to know people in a new way. It is a very intimate situation, so I have learned to choose my guests well. Everybody reveals themselves. Are they enjoying it or not? Are they scared? Do they feel that the place is too remote? Or have they shed the skin of civilization and slipped into the primeval wilderness?
The house is ruled by fire: a woodstove inside and a chapa, a parrilla, and an horno in a hut by the lakefront. My kitchen is quite basic and rough, but I have very good pots and pans, lots of cast iron, of course. I bake bread every two days and make fresh pasta as the spirit strikes me, which is often. I have a chocolate cake that I only make when I am on The Island. There is fresh brook trout whenever you want it; in half an hour, you can catch enough one-to two-pound trout to feed everyone for lunch and dinner. And I carry in beautiful meat: big briskets, rib roasts, steaks.
At nearly 4
,000 feet, the climate, especially in winter, is quite harsh, but even when the snow is piled to the eaves of the cabin and we have to dig our way in, there is no place I would rather be. Because it is so remote and the winters so intense, I had assumed that the native peoples never visited my island. I could imagine no reason for them to venture from the lakeshore, if indeed they had ever made it to that supremely isolated spot. But last year I found a sharpening stone, unmistakably the work of the Mapuches, who still live throughout Patagonia. I envision them here five thousand years ago, digging a curanto pit to cook a deer. And afterward, perhaps having a dessert of wild berries gathered in the forest.
BASICS
Chilled Flavored Olive Oil
I had a bottle of chimichurri in my refrigerator and it struck me that when the olive oil congealed, it looked like butter. Then I thought, why not add different herbs or other ingredients to olive oil, chill it, and serve it as a condiment with all kinds of food? In the same way that you might offer a choice of mustard or ketchup, I now put a selection of oils on the table with a roast or a fish and let my guests choose. I love it when the chilled oil melts just like a pat of butter and gives you a fresh, delicate flavor. I use parsley, thyme, oregano, chives, and rosemary, each in its own container.
It is critical that you chill flavored olive oil. I wish I could say chilling oil until it becomes solid was an inspiration, but in fact it was simply what happened whenever I returned to The Island; my chimichurri and my plain olive oil would turn solid in the cold nights. The cold oil reminded me so much of maître d’hôtel butter that I decided to use it like butter.
MAKES ABOUT 1 CUP
1 cup packed fresh herb leaves—one herb only or a combination of herbs
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
Wash the herbs and pat thoroughly dry with a kitchen towel. Lay a dry towel out on a baking sheet and spread the herb(s) out to air-dry. When they are completely dry, chop and stir into the olive oil.
Refrigerate in a tightly covered jar until ready to use. To keep for longer than a few days, store in small portions in the freezer.
Pimentón Oil
As a variation on the chilled herb oils, I like the peppery effect of pimentón as a flavoring, smoked or unsmoked, depending on the dish. The optional garlic adds a little kick. MAKES 1 CUP
2 tablespoons pimentón (Spanish paprika), smoked or unsmoked
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon minced garlic (optional)
Put the pimentón in a bowl and stir in the olive oil. Add the garlic if desired. Let stand for 20 minutes, then strain.
Refrigerate in a tightly covered jar until ready to use. To keep for longer than a few days, store in small portions in the freezer.
Roasted Grapes on the Vine
This recipe was inspired by a schiacciata I had in Tuscany, a bread studded with grapes that caramelize as the bread is baked and are both burnt and sweet at the same time. I had completely forgotten about those grapes until one day last summer when Donna Gelb and I visited the vineyard of my friend Alejandro Bulgheroni, near Garzón. When I tasted his grapes, which were overripe, I immediately thought of that schiacciata. All I did here was to get rid of the bread part and keep the grapes. And ever since, I have been playing with adding roasted grapes to recipes—as a garnish for meat (see the Pork Loin Chops on page 134), or as a topping for desserts (see the Sabayon Ice Cream on page 254). SERVES 4
1 pound small red, white, or champagne grapes, in small bunches
¼ to ½ cup packed light brown sugar, depending on the sweetness of the grapes
Heat an horno or the oven to 475°F, with a rack in the lower third.
Pat the grapes dry and arrange them on a baking sheet. Sprinkle the sugar evenly over them and roast for about 15 minutes, until the grapes are nicely browned but still juicy. If they are not browned, pop them under the broiler for 3 minutes. Serve.
Toasted Nuts
I often use combinations of toasted nuts, sometimes adding a spoonful of the chopped nuts to a stew for texture or using them as a crunchy topping for poached fruit or ice cream or the base of a salsa. They keep well in an airtight jar. MAKES 2 CUPS
½ cup shelled pistachios
½ cup unblanched whole almonds
½ cup walnuts
½ cup hazelnuts
Heat the oven to 350°F.
Spread all the nuts out on a large baking sheet, keeping the hazelnuts separate. Toast in the oven for about 10 minutes, rotating the pan occasionally if they are browning unevenly. When they are golden brown and fragrant, remove from the oven. Transfer the pistachios, almonds, and walnuts to another baking sheet to cool. Wrap the hot hazelnuts in a clean dish towel and let steam for a minute or two, then briskly rub off most of the skins with the towel. Let cool completely.
Place all the cooled nuts in a food processor and pulse several times, until finely chopped. Do not overprocess, or they will become pasty. Store in a tightly sealed jar.
Toasted Nut Salsa
In the 1990s, I exchanged some staff with London’s River Café when they were installing a wood oven like the one I had in Uruguay. At that time, they were making something like this salsa. I thought that it had the depth, yet lightness, to add layers of flavor to grilled fish. MAKES ABOUT 1¼ CUPS
2 tablespoons pimentón dulce (sweet Spanish paprika)
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
¾ cup chopped Toasted Nuts (at left)
Coarse salt
Cayenne pepper
Whisk the pimentón into the sherry vinegar in a small bowl. Gradually whisk in the olive oil. Stir in the chopped nuts and season with salt and cayenne pepper to taste. The salsa is best served the same day it’s made.
Salsa Llajua
This sweet, piquant, spicy all-purpose salsa is a favorite in the province of Jujuy. I first tasted it in a huacho locro, which is a traditional one-pot stew of corn, vegetables, and meat. Huacho is a lovely word in the Indian tongue; it means something like orphan, as in a goat that has lost its mother. And llajua, in the Indian tongue, means “spicy”—and I like it that way, especially with eggs. MAKES ABOUT 1 CUP
1 large ripe red or yellow tomato
½ teaspoon sugar
½ teaspoon coarse salt
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 hot chile pepper, seeded and finely chopped
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
Crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
Using the coarse side of a box grater, grate the tomato, including the skin, into a bowl. Add the sugar, salt, vinegar, half the chile pepper, the olive oil, and black pepper to taste. Mix well, taste it, and wait 5 seconds. If it is not hot enough for your liking, add more of the chile and/or red pepper flakes until it is.
Salsa Provenzal
After chimichurri, this simple fresh sauce is the most popular condiment in Argentina. I’ve been told it is named for Provence because these are favorite ingredients in that sun-splashed part of France.
MAKES ABOUT 1 CUP
½ cup packed minced fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 teaspoon minced garlic
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
Combine the minced parsley and garlic in a small bowl. Slowly add the olive oil, whisking to combine. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Salsa Criolla
Traditionally served with roast meat as an alternative to chimichurri, this light, colorful salsa is also great with eggs. MAKES ABOUT 2 CUPS
1 large red bell pepper
1 large yellow bell pepper
1 red onion, minced
¼ cup red wine vinegar
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup extra virgin olive oil, or more as needed
Cut the peppers lengthwise in half and remove the stems and seeds. With a very sharp knife, r
emove all the white ribs. Slice the peppers into very fine strips, then mince very fine. Place in a small mixing bowl.
Add the minced onion to the peppers and mix well. Stir in the red wine vinegar and season with salt and pepper. Stir in the olive oil to combine. There should be enough to cover the onion and peppers; add more if necessary. Allow to stand for at least 30 minutes to blend the flavors.
The salsa will keep refrigerated for up to three days.
Sun-Dried Tomatoes
These are my signature wafer-thin dried tomatoes that I make in every one of my restaurants: fruity and slightly sweet, with just a hint of chewiness. If you keep them on hand, you’ll be surprised how often you use them. MAKES ABOUT 2 CUPS
4 or 5 large firm plum tomatoes
About 2 cups mild olive oil
Line several large baking sheets with Silpats, rough side facing up. Slice the tomatoes paper-thin on a mandoline. Lay the slices out in rows on the Silpats. Do not worry about the seeds—they will dry along with the rest of the tomatoes.
Set the trays out in the sun to dry for a day, depending on the weather, or place the trays over or near a radiator. The edges will start to curl up, but when they are completely dry, they will be flat, crisp, and delicate.
Carefully lift the tomatoes one at a time off the Silpats and layer them in an airtight container or jar, covering them completely with olive oil. Store in the refrigerator for a week or more.
Salmuera
At its most basic, this is the saltwater solution—1 tablespoon salt to 1 cup water, boiled then cooled—gauchos use to baste their meat as it roasts or grills, whether it’s a whole lamb on an iron cross, or a whole cow, or a smaller cut. Chimichurri is nothing more than a basic salmuera with oregano. The Mint-Chile Salmuera I serve with lamb and chicken and the Orange, Black Pepper, and Rosemary Salmuera I serve with pork are my own variations on this theme.
Mallmann on Fire Page 16