Erica De Mane

La bella figura in Amarcord.

Montasio melts onto asparagus straight from the hot oven.

Recipes:

Roasted Asparagus with Montasio and Lemon Zest
Calamari and Watercress Salad with Chives and Pistachios

You’re not fat, so why are you dieting? I hear this all the time, but the truth is I used to gain a few pounds every year just going about my business eating gobs of mozzarella and downing bottles of semi-cheap wine. I started to notice a touch of dumpiness. I was stunned. A few extra pounds on my five-foot-one Sicilian/Neapolitan frame are, I’d say, equivalent to at least ten on a normal person. It’s so unfair. When I began mentioning my weight to people, that’s when I got laughed at or, worse, condescended to. But if I continued at the rate I was going, I figured in ten years I’d be truly huge. How fat do you have to be before you can knock off a few pounds without offending such friends? Dieting as an act of betrayal? Forget it. Everyone has a right to be comfortable in his or her own body, and personally I feel more comfortable without a bulge of blubber hanging out over my belt loops. Call me narcissistic. If that’s narcissistic than getting up in the morning and combing my hair and putting on deodorant is narcissistic too. I also wasn’t in the mood to develop diabetes, as many of my aunts and uncles and grandparents had. They seemed to accept that as an inevitable part of aging. Getting “the sugar” was like sprouting gray hairs—just happens. But I’m now enlightened, and unlike my grandmother, I now know that it’s not inevitable that you get dumpy and diabetic when you pass forty. You just need to change your tack. There’s no getting around it. I had to start paying attention.

Growing up in an Italian-American family has its benefits. The food is exotic, and the decibel level dramatic. But there are drawbacks too. There’s too much food, and there is that special Italian form of punishment, guilt, so if you don’t eat a huge amount every time you sit down to dinner, it’s a grave insult. You’re asked repeatedly, “Are you sick?” “Get the thermometer!” As I child I ate all the food that was put in front of me, and somehow it didn’t manifest itself as fat. Where did it all go? Maybe I just burned it off in nervous energy. Not any more, no matter how nervous I get. Too bad.

So now I can’t eat as much, especially when it comes to pasta. At first this was a real mind blower, but I stumbled upon a wonderful solution: Make all the diet-conscious food I cook and eat as glamorous as possible. So in the spirit of sharing, here are two intense and fabulous spring recipes for your dieting excitement. If you can no longer wiggle into a pencil skirt but would actually like to, try not to listen to the “You’re not fat!” crowd and instead do what you need to make yourself comfortable. I hope my recipes help.

(Recipes serve 2)

Roasted Asparagus with Montasio and Lemon Zest

Note: When I roast asparagus I don’t want it to get too flabby, but I don’t like tough skin either, so what I generally do is stripe the spears with a vegetable peeler, giving each one two or three long swipes, just to break up the skin a bit. If the asparagus is very thin and tender, I don’t peel it at all.

A dozen medium-thick asparagus spears, the tough ends trimmed, the stalks partially peeled
Salt
Extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup grated Montasio cheese (a semi-hard cow’s milk cheese from northeastern Italy)
A few big scrapings of nutmeg (less than 1/8 teaspoon)
The grated zest from 1 large lemon, plus a big squeeze of lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 475 degrees.

Lay the asparagus out on a sheet pan. Drizzle it with about 2 tablespoons of olive oil, and sprinkle it with salt. Toss the asparagus well with your hands until it’s all evenly coated with oil. Arrange it in one layer, and roast until fragrant and tender and the tips are just starting to turn golden, about 10 minutes. The timing depends on the spears’ thickness, so check by poking one with a knife.

In a small cup, mix the Montasio, lemon zest, nutmeg, and a generous amount of freshly ground black pepper.

Transfer the asparagus to a serving platter, and give it a generous squeeze of lemon juice. Now scatter on the cheese mixture. Serve while still very hot.

Calamari and Watercress Salad with Chives and Pistachios

2 bunches of watercress, well stemmed
About a dozen chives, chopped, plus the blossoms, if available
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 1/2 pounds small, tender squid (2 or 3 inches long), cleaned and cut into thin rounds, the tentacles left whole
1 garlic clove, thinly sliced
A generous pinch of Aleppo pepper, or a smaller one of cayenne pepper
Salt
A splash of dry white wine
A small handful of salt-packed capers, soaked in several changes of water for 10 minutes and then rinsed and drained
1 teaspoon lemon juice
A palmful of unsalted pistachio nuts

Place the watercress in a medium salad bowl. Scatter on the chives (and blossoms if you have them).

Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a medium skillet over high heat. When the skillet is very hot, add the squid, spreading it out in one layer. Let it sear without moving it for about a minute. Add the garlic, and season with the Aleppo pepper (or cayenne, but Aleppo is much more fragrant) and salt. Turn the squid, adding the capers, and let it cook a minute longer. When it’s opaque, it’s done. Add the splash of white wine, and let it bubble for a few seconds. Then scatter the squid, with any skillet juices, over the watercress.

Drizzle on 2 tablespoons of olive oil and the lemon juice, season with a pinch more salt, and toss gently. Divide the salad onto two plates, and garnish with the pistachios. Serve right away. I find this salad especially good served with breadsticks.