Certain things about me are just a result of how I was raised. There's no sense running from it.
I read the newspaper (an actual newspaper) every morning before work, just like my father did.
I find enormous fulfillment in cooking delicious (& sometimes very healthy) food, just like my Nonna did. And I really like researching things, just like my mother always has.
When I first heard about farinata
(or
faina in my father's Genovese dialect) I knew there was something pretty special about it. My Nonna would carry on about how delicious it was (back in Italy) but how it never quite turned out right when she tried to make it here. My father would join in and tell us all about how his mother "used to make it pretty good" and how "she'd use those big focaccia pans of hers to cook it in" but that you needed a wood-burning oven to really get it right. Hearing tales of fresh, hot farinata being sold to folks in Genova and Savona on their way to work in the early morning (at shops that made nothing but this mysterious chickpea bread) really fired up my curiosity. But when I tried a time or two to make it for my parents, it wasn't right at all. Although my too-soggy or too-crispy farinata attempts didn't quite cut it, a little flame kept burning inside me. Maybe it was a deeply rooted memory from another life. Maybe it was in my DNA. But it was all there, just behind that somehow Medieval taste of the
ceci flour & the rosemary. (Yes! It was another awesome food memory from my childhood!) It all came back to me, with the huge metal roasting pans and the smell of the herbs. It was something very special that would carry me to that precise moment yesterday afternoon in my very own kitchen, as I picked up my iPhone and googled: farinata. I had finally hit the jack pot!
The best basic farinata recipe I've yet to come across (that's written in English) and appropriated for those of us without wood-burning ovens can be found here:
http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/farinata
It's very easy to follow, but it does require some advanced preparation. Believe me, it is well worth the time and you'll be in a blissful olfactory and salivary state after eating it, especially if you make a second
faina in the style of the magical ladies of Stella San Martino, where I left my heart. Here's a picture of the farinata I made tonight, using Michela Larson's recipe:
 |
| That handsome pepper mill is over 100 years old. |
The basic farinata is at the front of the frame, and the San Martino version is behind Nonna's antique pepper mill. (It sat in her kitchen my entire life, but no one used it. Works like a charm!)
After having tried several other farinata recipes without perfect results, this is the one for me, since
I don't yet have an outdoor wood-burning oven, like the famigia in S. Martin'. The reason this recipe works so well is that it calls for a very hot oven and two preheated cast iron skillets. They really do the trick! And if you're a food geek like me, you get a real kick out of things like well-seasoned cast iron.
I should also mention that farinata just so happens to be perfectly vegan!
Here's a photo of cousins Biancangela and Maria Teresa, workin' their magic:
And here's cousin Elena, tending to the wood-burning oven in her kitchen:
Believe me, this girl can cook!
When it comes to the ingredients, you'll find chickpea or garbanzo flour in the bulk bins of your local natural foods store. Bob's Red Mill also packages it in small bags. Or you can look for it at Middle Eastern markets or pretty much any market that has "Halal" in the name. Folks in many parts of the world have had the culinary smarts to make excellent use of this golden flour since, oh, just about the beginning of time.
Here's a bit more history...
Known as la socca in Nice, farinata is eaten just as it is in Genoa. The pancake-like bread is usually torn from its pizza shape, but is sometimes cut into wedges. In her cookbook World Vegetarian Madhur Jaffrey shares that other versions of farinata, called Poora/Pudla are eaten in India, particularly in the Western state of Gujarat. They are served with relishes and chutneys and are stuffed with "just about anything that can be wrapped inside them" like cauliflower or even leftover lightly crushed green peas. Sounds tasty!
My Egyptian friend Samir swears that his mother prepared something similar to farinata when he was little, but that he hasn't eaten it since he was, at most, seven years old. (I'd say a farinata party is in order.)
In David Downie's gorgeous book Enchanted Liguria: A Celebration of the Culture, Lifestyle and Food of the Italian Riviera the author has this to offer about the prized food:
"In the pantheon of regional foods it rivals pesto in stature. There are associations to promote and protect it (since 1984 Genoa's chamber of commerce has awarded the honorary title of Maestro to traditional farinata makers). Festivals in various villages and towns scattered across the region celebrate it. It has become a cause célèbre: militants fear that farinata is losing the battle against pizza in the same way that Genoese dialect has been swamped by Italian. Professor David Bixio, a regional delegate of the Accademia Italiana della Cucina and a founding member of the Tigullio area's Association for the Protection and Promotion of Farinata, claims that the dish is mentioned in
The Odyssey. It is surely a very ancient food. Like focaccia, it is not unique to Liguria, but farinata reaches the state-of-the-art only here. Pisans call it
cecina, Piedmontese
calda-calda or
bella-calda, and Tuscans
farinata or
torta di ceci..."
To create your own farinata or
faina, in the glorious Stella San Martino style, add a good amount of chopped onion to the batter. What I did was prepare one skillet just as the recipe suggested and I added about 1/2 a large white onion, chopped into small pieces, to the remaining batter, just before pouring it in to the second preheated skillet. Tradition says that you are to stir it with a wooden spoon, counter-clockwise, but I didn't. I used a wire whisk, let it sit for about 4 hours, skimmed the foam off the top and baked it for about 25 min.
Your batter should look like this:
And it should have the approximate consistency of runny pancake batter.
(Use fresh rosemary, straight from the garden. If you don't yet have any growing, plant some!
It thrives best in the ground in full sun. If you must grow it in a container, don't let it dry out.)
The result will be something like this:
Farinata is a gluten-free food and is high in protein. If you're afraid of carbs, well... get over it.
I guarantee that you'll be so satisfied after eating farinata that you'll forget all about that low-carb crapola.
Please let me know what you think of it! I welcome your comments, photos and emails.
Buon appetito!
