Lucca, June 2022 . London, August 2022. This has been the best, most rewarding recipe of this summer. Just love it
I am a bread collector. All those stale loaf-ends (apparently called “the heels”) that cannot be eaten but cannot be turned into breadcrumbs either, I put aside – “I will make a bread pudding or a pancotto, an Italian bread soup”, I solemnly declare. P and Lucia roll their eyes, because they know their chickens: often these grand plans are not acted upon and, after weeks of ignoring it, I bin my bread, with a bad conscience.
This time, I looked at my collection of odd ends of bread and I decided to make polpette di pane, bread polpette and what an inspired decision that was. Over the last month I have cooked them a few times, actually buying and collecting bread with this purpose in mind.
On a hot, summer day in Lucca, few places are more agreeable to have lunch at than under the stone arches of the old trattoria Da Giulio, well protected from the gaze of the sun. The menu never changes (dreary to be a chef there, one would have thought) and the food is solid rather than exceptional, but the combination of decent food, smiling service, reasonable prices and perfect location, makes this place dear to its many customers. I generally stick to the usual summer suspects: either pappa al pomodoro or panzanella, both stalwarts of Tuscan cookery. The former is a a thick bread and tomato soup served at room temperature; the latter a salad of crumbled stale bread, tomatoes and red onions.
Don’t be fooled by the title – this recipe is actually meatless. I do not know much about Sardinian food and cookery, but whenever I browse through books on the subject, I am surprised by how often (and how creatively) mint comes up in recipes – a herb not generally associated with Italian cooking. This recipe makes the point and it has become a favourite. It is modelled on the way tripe is often cooked in Sardinia, with tomato sauce, mint and sharp pecorino, but with butternut squash taking the lead role.
Mint can be bossy and it is here kept in place by two equally strong flavours: peperoncino and pecorino cheese. They all play big, loud sisters to the quiet butternut squash, which, nonetheless, manages to retain its sweet identity. An excellent, beguiling dish based on contrasts and yet very harmonious. A discovery.
3-4 portions
600g butternut squash, peeled and sliced into half cm slices (net weight) One large clove of garlic, finely chopped A generous pinch of peperoncino 1 x 400g can of crushed tomatoes, plus half its volume in water 50g grated, aged pecorino, plus extra at the table 2-3 tablespoons chopped fresh mint leaves
Shallow fry the butternut squash in olive oil. Cook the slices until tender but still holding their shape (because they will undergo further cooking). Drain on kitchen paper and salt them. If there is still a lot of oil left in the pan, remove it bar a couple of tablespoons, otherwise add some. Add the garlic, the peperoncino and stir, watching them with an eagle eye because the pan will be hot and the risk of burning the garlic is high. When the oil is fragrant and garlicky (which will happen almost immediately), add the tomatoes and the water. Stir and salt lightly: you will add salty pecorino later on, hence go easy. Simmer uncovered for ten minutes. Add the pumpkin and simmer for about extra five minutes, turning the slices in the sauce: some will break up and that’ s fine. Add the pecorino and the mint and stir again, as gently as possible. Rest for 5 minutes and serve, passing extra cheese at the table.
The dish can be made in advance, but it will thicken as it sits: add some water to bring it back to a looser consistency, when you reheat it.
Notes
Ideally you want a sharp, crumbly Sardinian or Tuscan pecorino, but pecorino romano works too and this is easier to find here in the uk.
According to my Sardinian friend and great chef Andrea, this dish works well also without the cheese.
Non traditional as it is, I might be tempted to add, just prior to serving, some coarse, crisp breadcrumbs, fried in oil.
Update: summer 2022, Lucca: with top Italian pomodorini this dish is even more spectacular. I noticed they improve after a good rest, i.e. the day after they were even better.
Original version:
It is now summer, or at least this is what the calendar says; it has been raining for days here in London and the sky is grey, an elegant pearly shade of grey, but grey nonetheless. Not fun. To raise my endorphins, I decided to make this Apulian tomato sauce, pomodorini scattarisciati, literally crackling tomatoes (in the local dialect) — vibrant, intensely tomatoey and uplifting.
Italian home cooking 