Erica De Mane

Buddy samples my homemade ricotta.

Recipes:

Cavatelli with Nutmeg-Scented Ricotta, Thyme, and Pecorino
Homemade Ricotta, New and Improved

Ricotta is one of the loveliest tastes in all Italian food, but when you add a few scrapings of nutmeg to it, it becomes sublime. My mother used this sweet-smelling mix to fill lasagna, big shells, and, best of all, slim crespelle that she’d bake with a topping of Pecorino until they were crisp-edged but still fluffy within. I could eat a ton of them. If you add a little sugar to nutmeg-scented ricotta, you’ve created the filling for cannoli, one of the genius desserts of Southern Italy. For Christmas Eve I often make a ricotta cheesecake seasoned with nutmeg and sometimes lemon or orange flower water, so this mix of flavors really is the aroma of the holidays for me. I also love ricotta in an unstructured state, eating a bowl of it simply drizzled with honey (great with a glass of vin santo), or, if I’m in a more savory mood, with herbs and chopped olives or sundried tomatoes scattered over the top. That’s the beauty of the thing. It can go either way.

Nutmeg-scented ricotta has the essence of sweetness without actually being sweet. That’s because nutmeg is such a soft and gentle spice. I love to just take a whiff of it every so often, even when I have no plans to cook with it. I’ll scrape once or twice at a nutmeg seed just to release its soothing warmth and breathe it in. It can seem to help clarify my culinary thoughts when they’re in a jumble. Scraping nutmeg into a bowl of ricotta has a ritualistic feel for me, since the two are such a time-honored Italian marriage of flavors. And the most familiar combinations are often what inspire me to create.

My absolute favorite use for this mixture is as a pasta sauce. I’ll mix the ricotta and a few scrapings of nutmeg together in a large bowl. Add a little salt and black pepper, maybe parsley or basil and a quick grating of Parmigiano, and then drain the pasta, leaving some water clinging to it, add it to the bowl, and toss gently. The pasta-cooking water blends with the ricotta to warm it and create a creamy, rich sauce that envelopes the pasta in luxury. I make versions of this often when I’m home alone or if I’ve come in late and starving, since the whole dish takes about ten minutes. Everybody loves it-kids, dogs, cats.

You don’t want to add too much nutmeg to your ricotta; that can make it a little bitter. A few generous scrapings are all you need to achieve the subtle warmth you want. My friend John Colapinto once invited me for over for a lasagna dinner. I thought that sounded pretty good, and he doesn’t do much cooking, so this was kind of a big occasion for him. He had followed a lovely recipe, I believe by Marcella Hazan, but instead of adding 1/8 teaspoon of nutmeg to the ricotta filling, he thinks he added 1/8 cup. It was quite a strange evening, everyone becoming lethargic and withdrawn after dinner. Nutmeg can be a narcotic in large doses, and in really large doses even a bit on the poisonous side. You’d have to eat a ton of it to get ill, but as the evening wore on we all became sweaty and nauseated. So maybe his nutmeg-laced lasagna approached the tipping point. But used in the right quantity the spice is wonderfully uplifting.

Cavatelli with Nutmeg-Scented Ricotta, Thyme, and Pecorino

(Serves 6 as a first course)

Salt
1 pound cavatelli pasta
1 cup whole-milk ricotta
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 cup freshly grated Pecorino Toscano cheese
4 large thyme sprigs, the leaves chopped
A handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves, chopped
8 big scrapings of nutmeg
Coarsely ground black pepper

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add a generous amount of salt, and drop in the cavatelli.

In a large, warmed serving bowl, add all the other ingredients, and give everything a good mix.

When the cavatelli is al dente, drain, leaving some water clinging to it and saving about 1/2 cup of the pasta-cooking water. Add the cavatelli to the bowl and toss, adding a bit of the reserved cooking water if necessary to make it creamy. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more salt, coarse pepper, and/or another scraping or so of nutmeg. Serve hot.

Homemade Ricotta, New and Improved

In my book The Flavors of Southern Italy I have a recipe for homemade ricotta using lemon juice (a pretty standard recipe). The results are good but sometimes a little drier than I like. Since I wrote it I’ve been playing around with it and have decided that adding buttermilk instead of lemon as the curdling agent gives moister results. I’ve even gone ahead and added a little heavy cream, so the ricotta is extra rich and soft.

(Makes about 4 cups)

1 gallon whole milk
1 pint heavy cream
1 quart buttermilk
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon sugar

Put all the ingredients in a large pot and put it on medium heat. Let it heat, uncovered, stirring once or twice, until little bubbles form on the surface. This will take about 8 to 10 minutes. Then let it bubble for about 5 minutes. You’ll see curds start to form. The temperature should get up to 170 to 175 degrees (a thermometer is helpful). Turn off the heat, and let the pot sit there, undisturbed, for 10 minutes. Now gently pour the ricotta into a strainer lined with cheesecloth, gently scraping the bottom of the pan to loosen any stuck-on ricotta. Let it drain until all the whey runs off but the cheese is still moist.

I love eating it still warm, but the ricotta will keep in the refrigerator for several days.