Erica De Mane

Veal, prosciutto, and sage, ready to roll.

Recipe:

Saltimbocca with Chicory and Capers

My initial attempt to diet was very lame. Being a complete novice at it, I figured it would be easy. Why, I have no idea, since I’d watched my sister and friends struggle with diets of all sorts for years. I suppose I reasoned that I didn’t have much weight to lose, so it would be no problem (in fact it seems to be just as hard to lose 12 pounds as 25). So in my naive way I decided to just eat less of everything, not cutting out any foods in particular. It didn’t work, mainly because having such small portions of things I loved made me antsy. So I added exercise. That may have been working, but it made me eat more, so it boomeranged.

So then what? I finally decided to really think about what I was eating too much of. What were my eating habits anyway? I didn’t need a lot of soul searching to zero in on my fairly huge carb intake, hunks of bread, bowls of pasta, potatoes of all nations (why wasn’t I diabetic? I’d better nip this in the bud before it gets out of control). I cut way back on all those things, and to my astonishment I quickly lost about eight pounds. When you’re five foot one, that’s substantial. It felt like una miracola.

Being pretty handy in the kitchen, I knew exactly what kinds of dishes I would devise to replace my huge consumption of bread and pasta: small portions of deliciously seasoned and garnished meat or fish, with lots of side vegetables, sort of like Atkins with class. But what I’d heard of the Atkins diet and how it played out in most people’s kitchens sounded repulsively Neanderthal to me, basically a huge slab of unadorned meat reminiscent of the barely cooked liver Mia Farrow desperately stuffs into her mouth in Rosemary’s Baby. So now I often eat a dinner of a single small lump of fancied-up protein and lots of relatively low starch vegetables. That’s it, with a glass or two of wine, of course. But I’ve Italianized these meals to the hilt, adding the all-important chic and civility that Italians are supposed to have in abundance. My new style of eating has helped me clarify my Italian flavor palate, but it’s also gotten me thinking about all the time-honored classic Italian dishes that are naturally low in starch and naturally fabulous. (Plenty of Italian cooking has nothing to do with pasta.)

Saltimbocca is a beautiful dish, rich in flavor but clean and contemporary-feeling at the same time. You most often hear it called saltimbocca alla Romana, for it is of Roman origin, though now made in many parts of Italy. Veal scallopini is the usual meat, but I’ve had it made well with pork and okay with chicken cutlets. As you probably know, the name means “jump in the mouth” (from saltare, to jump, and bocca, mouth). Saltimbocca can be cooked flat, with prosciutto and sage sort of pinned to the veal, which is quickly sautéed on both sides, or you can roll it into a little tube, an involtini. I prefer the rolled way. The prosciutto remains moist, since it’s tucked inside; it often becomes stiff and doggy-tasting in the flat version, where it can get hammered to leather.

The sage tastes fresh because, being just barely warmed, it doesn’t get musty the way it can in a long braising. I like finding something really delicious to make with fresh sage. Often I buy a bunch and add it to something as an experiment only to find that it doesn’t fit (for instance, I’ll throw a few chopped leaves into a tomato sauce, especially one that includes a little pork taste; sometimes that works, but sometimes the musty taste comes through too loudly). I’m starting to think I like sage better raw than cooked.

The dry Marsala I’ve chosen for my skillet sauce adds warmth and lushness, not the acidic kick you’d get from a dry white wine, although that might seem a more standard addition. The result is a really great blending of Italian flavors. It shows off both the prosciutto and the Marsala, two gorgeous regional specialties. And I add a little lemon zest right at the end just to give all that richness a lift.

Forget the potatoes while you’re dieting. You wind up eating so much of them, almost mindlessly. Mashed potatoes are especially easy to get down in huge mouthfuls, and I don’t care what people say about comfort food, they’re ultimately boring, not worth it, and in any case very un-Italian (I can’t stand meat or fish propped up on mashed anything; you get such a mushy mess). Saltimbocca is traditionally served over sautéed spinach. That makes perfect sense, but what I find I enjoy for a change, contributing crunch and refreshment, is a simple chicory salad (a little bitter is always good with a rich meat dish). That, with a slice of good bread and a glass of frascati, is my idea of a full meal. And an added bonus happens to be that this classic dish takes about ten minutes from prep to plate.

Saltimbocca with Chicory and Capers

(Serves 4)

1 1/2 pounds very thinly sliced veal scallopini, lightly pounded and cut into 8 more or less uniform pieces
8 slices prosciutto di Parma or San Daniele
16 fresh sage leaves
1 large head chicory, torn into small pieces
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
A few big scrapings of fresh nutmeg
Extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 garlic clove, peeled
1/2 cup dry Marsala
The grated zest of 1 small lemon, plus a few generous squeezes of lemon juice
A palmful of capers
A handful of flat-leaf parsley, the leaves lightly chopped

8 toothpicks

Lay the veal pieces out on a work surface. Cover each one with a piece of prosciutto, and then place two sage leaves on each. Grind on some black pepper, and roll them up, securing the rolls with a toothpick. Season the outsides with a little salt.

Place the chicory in a salad bowl, and lay out four dinner plates.

Put the flour on a large plate, and season it with salt, black pepper, and nutmeg. Coat the veal rolls in the flour, shaking off any excess.

Toss the chicory with 1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil, a few squeezes of lemon juice, and a little salt and black pepper, and lay it out on the four plates.

In a large skillet, heat a tablespoon each of olive oil and butter over medium-high flame. When hot and bubbly, add the veal and the garlic clove, and brown the rolls on all sides, turning them with tongs. This should take only 3 to 4 minutes. The rolls should be cooked through, slightly firm to the touch, and tender throughout. Remove them to a warmed plate.

Add the Marsala, the lemon zest, and a squeeze of lemon juice to the pan, and let the sauce boil down for about a minute. Add the remaining tablespoon of butter and the capers, and give the skillet a few shakes to swirl everything around. Remove the garlic.

Place two veal rolls on each salad, removing the toothpicks, and pour some of the sauce over each serving. Garnish with the chopped parsley. Serve right away.