DC Culinarian

Recipes Revisited: Lamb Chops Scotta Dita

The Italians know how to name their foods.

They have a twirled and twisted pasta called strozzapreti, which means "priest strangler." There is a central Italian dish of veal and ham called saltimbocca -- literally, "jumps in the mouth." Puttanesca, the savory tomato and caper sauce found in almost every Italian eatery, means "whorish."

This dish shares in that tradition of charmingly direct nomenclature. Scotta dita means "burnt finger." You can take that to mean what you will. Traditionally, the lamb chops so named because they are grilled and picked up right off the hot coals. I lend it a somewhat macabre interpretation -- the charred rib chops with the protruding bone do sort of look like a horribly burnt finger. But that's just me.

The chops themselves are marinated in mustard and balsamic vinegar and then charred on the grill. They're tangy, savory, and all kinds of good. Pair them with some sauteed fennel and capers, and a stout zinfandel or rioja, and you'll have an excellent winter meal to enjoy with your burned fingers.

Photos and recipe (from the incomparable Union Square Cafe Cookbook) after the jump.

Recipes Revisited: Almond Biscotti

Technically, I should hate these biscotti. I'm not a tremendous fan of nuts -- almonds included -- and I loathe licorice, the flavor of which is imparted to these cookies by copious amounts of anise seed.

And yet, I can't get enough of them. I love the stiff, crumbly texture and the snap of biting into one, letting the crumbs fill your mouth, and washing it all away with a sweet moscato.

These twice-baked Italian cookies come courtesy of my go-to recipe guide, the sure-fire resource, the ninja of my cookbook shelf: The Union Square Cafe Cookbook. Every recipe I've prepared from that book has been an unqualified winner, and the biscotti fall squarely into that category.

The method of preparation is easy, yet engaging. You mix together a dry and crumbly dough, shape it into logs, and bake them. While they're still soft, you slice them into individual cookies and bake them again. The result is a wonderfully crisp dessert that pairs well with just about any sweeter wine.

Photos and recipe after the jump.

Recipes Revisited: Buzara-Style Shrimp and Gnocchi

I love shrimp.

No, that's not right. "Love" doesn't quite capture the rapacity with which I devour shrimp. I demolish shrimp cocktail. When I eat shrimp skewers there's a real danger of impalement. I will peel-and-eat until my fingers bleed.

It verges on inappropriate.

That's why this recipe from the northern part of Italy, where Slovenia and Croatia converge, was right in my wheelhouse. Shrimp cooked in their shells have a deeper savoriness to them, and marrying that flavor with white wine, garlic, shallots, and tomato paste is, for me, as just about as close as you can get to perfection.

Bit of a confession: I did cheat on the gnocchi, in that I didn't make them myself. BUT, that doesn't detract from the fact that those store-bought gnocchi, boiled and tossed with brown butter and sage, were completely delicious and an ideal partner for the shrimp.

Picture and recipe below the jump.

Recipes Revisited: Squid Ink Spaghetti with Shrimp and Lemon Cream Sauce

When I started January Italian, there was one ingredient that I put on my absolutely-must-use list: squid ink pasta.

I'd never had it. I had no clue what it tasted like. I had no idea where to get it. More than anything, I secretly dreaded that I'd have to make it myself. Removing the ink sac from a squid undamaged is no mean task. But my intrigue was such that I was prepared to borrow a pasta maker and go wrist-deep in cephalopod if necessary.

My fears went unrealized. After calling around fruitlessly to several local Italian stores, the Dean & Deluca on M St. in Georgetown came through with the goods.

The preparation was simple enough, but the pasta was fascinating on its own. The uncooked strands are matte black, but the tips have an anthracite sheen. For those accustomed to the semolina yellow of traditional pasta, it's jarring.

As far as the flavor, the pasta had a subtle and very pleasant brininess that sat just beneath the lemony tang of the sauce and enhanced the sweetness of the shrimp. Overall the dish had a wonderfully fresh taste that would have absolutely shined in the spring and summer months, but was no less delightful in the January cold.

Additional photos and recipe (which I just sorta threw together) below the jump.

The finished plate

Recipes Revisited: Monkfish in Brodetto with Artichokes

As explained in the introductory post, I'm already three months deep into The Plan -- a scheme to broaden my culinary horizons by devoting each month of 2011 to a specific regional cuisine. As such, there are three months' worth of recipes and photographs that should -- nay, must! -- be recorded here.

And the best place to begin is, of course, the beginning. To kick off The Plan, I chose a cuisine that was familiar to me (Italian) and an ingredient that was not (monkfish).

The result? Pretty damn good. The monkfish stood up admirably to browning and braising, and was complemented nicely by earthy artichokes and salty, pungent capers. The fish medallions and brodetto were served over toasted Italian bread.

More photos and recipe (adapted from Lidia Bastianich) below the jump.

Plated, garnished with chives, with a Christmas tree in the background