Recipe: Baccalà Mantecato and Peperonata Bruschetta
In the last week or so several people have asked me about baccalà mantecato, knowing that I always make it for Christmas Eve. This salt cod preparation is not my usual Southern Italian fare. It comes from Venice, and it’s essentially the same as Provençale brandade. I’ve had versions of it in Liguria, too. It’s fluffy (mantecare means to whip) and mellow. People who say they don’t like baccalà almost always like this. It’s traditionally been the opener to my big Christmas Eve fish dinner. It’s a perfect fit with couscous-stuffed shrimp, spaghetti with clam sauce, zuppa di pesce, orange and fennel salad, or whatever I decide on for any given year.
Christmas Eve has always been my favorite holiday meal. Its food incorporates many of my favorite flavors, such as baccalà, and is pure joy for me to prepare. Lots of fish, lots of wine and candles, lots of people, lots of drama. Unfortunately, Christmas has now become quite hard for my family and me. A few years ago my mother had an operation that has, so far, left her unable to eat by mouth, a frustrating situation for anyone but in a food-centric Italian family like ours, up there in the realm of heartbreak. It’s almost impossible for her and us kids to get around this, taking a lot of creative thinking to shift the focus from the traditional food-heavy Christmas Eve and go in a more forgiving direction. A return to Catholicism doesn’t seem to be an option. Music helps, Verdi, Modugno, but the forbidden heart of the evening is always there, the platters of shrimp, the aroma of garlic and mint, the gorgeous color of blood oranges. What to do? What I do now is cut way way back. At first I found this upsetting, but now it’s really okay, actually the only way.
I might not be making seven or thirteen fish dishes this year. They, from experience, would just make my mother withdraw into a dark place. But nothing’s going to stop me from making this baccalà.
We all have our problems, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a Merry Christmas. Best to you.
Baccalà Mantecato and Peperonata Bruschetta
(Serves 5 or 6 as an antipasto)
1½ pounds salt cod (try to get the thicker middle section, which has fewer bones and less skin to deal with)
1 fresh bay leaf
½ cup dry white wine
1 baking potato, cooked soft, peeled, and roughly mashed
1 large garlic clove, minced
Extra-virgin olive oil
The grated zest from 1 small lemon
A few big gratings of nutmeg
5 or 6 thyme sprigs, the leaves lightly chopped
Freshly ground black pepper
A few tablespoons of milk
About a dozen slices of Italian bread
2 roasted red bell peppers, skinned, seeded, and cut into thick strips
Sprigs of marjoram for garnish
You’ll need to soak the salt cod in a big pot of cold water for about a day and a half, changing the water a bunch of times and putting the pot in the refrigerator overnight. Toward the end, taste a bit to see if a sufficient amount of salt has leeched out. If not, soak it a little longer. Then drain it.
Place the salt cod, cut into pieces if necessary, in a large skillet. Add the bay leaf, and pour on the white wine. Add enough cool water to just cover the cod. Bring to a boil, and then turn the heat down very low. Cover the skillet, and gently simmer the cod until it just begins to flake. This should take only about 15 minutes, maybe even less if you’ve got thin cuts. If it cooks any longer, it might become dry. Take the cod from the skillet, and when it’s cool enough to handle, pull off any bones and skin.
Put the cod in a food processor, and give it a couple of pulses. Add the potato, the garlic, about ¼ cup of your best olive oil, and the lemon zest, thyme, nutmeg, and some black pepper. Give it a few more pulses. You want a texture that’s creamy but not completely smooth. Add 2 or 3 tablespoons of milk, and pulse again. You shouldn’t need any salt.
Scrape the baccalà from the food processor, and spoon it into a bowl.
Toss the roasted pepper strips in a little olive oil, and season with a pinch of salt.
When you’re ready to serve, place the bread slices on a sheet pan, and toast them on one side under a broiler. Take them out, give them a flip, and spoon some baccala mantecato on each one. Top with two strips of the roasted pepper (a cross pattern would be in spirit). Now put them back under the broiler to lightly toast the bread and warm the cod, about a minute or so. Garnish with marjoram sprigs, and serve warm.
Life is change. How well or poorly we adapt is ultimately up to us, I suppose, depending on whatever level of resilience we bring to our changing circumstances (not everyone being equally gifted in this area, alas). It sounds as though you’re managing amazingly well in the face of some very unfortunate circumstances, all to the good. Merry Christmas to you and your mom. I’ll think of you as I down this delicious-sounding baccalà Tuesday night.
Girl of Steel, So right you are. And as frustrating as it is to cope with what we may consider another person’s low level of resilience, kindness is always the best medicine.
Merry Christmas to you.
Erica
Erica, what a beautiful essay and what a devoted and sensitive daughter you are. Like you, I have a hard time separating food from the “success” of an event or gathering. It is hard for this all- Italian girl to remember that it is being together that counts. Happy holidays!
Reblogged this on City Girl Country.
Sandwich Lady,
I feel the same way. My new reality has brought this into focus and, at first, left me quite confused. Now I’m working it.
Have a great Christmas.
I’m with the Sandwich lady: this is a beautiful, honest and heartfelt essay. So sorry to hear about your Mom but you’ve got to remember that every Christmas that she gets to spend with you is a blessing. And I’m sure she loves to watch you cook. Honestly, I don’t know how you do what you do: endlessly creative and passionate about your craft; ( I wish you could infect me with some of that positive attitude…) devoted to your heritage; gracious and funny. You’re a very inspiring person, you know that? Wish I could be there for one of your Christmas eve dinners. Best to all for the holidays. Love you as always.
-michael
Hey Michael, Thanks so much for your kind words. My mother is truly a pain in the ass, despite her medical problems. We doing our best out here. Love to you too. Merry Christmas, and I hope to see you soon. Come out and stay with Eddie for a week. He’s got a big apartment. It would be fun.
Erica
Even though your mother,’s plight is not laughable, i did have to chuckle at your very honest description of her. Yes, just b/c a person is quite ill does not exempt them from being a horse’s ass. ..& it doesn’t mean that the caretaker is not allowed to ventilate & express some anger & resentment. I salute you for doing the “cod soaking”. My parents used to go through the ordeal for xmas eve dinner. The back porch was stinky for days & it was a magnet for every cat w/in a 3 block radius. Mama used to make several separate bacala’ dishes: stewed w/ potatoes, in tomato sauce, batter fried, she was in the kitchen all day w/ my aunts, cooking. She also made a cod fish salad, too. I was not in the cod soak mode, so i just made “cioppino bianco” w/ fish, sliced lemons, potatoes, onions & celery. It was good enough & the feline hordes didn’t target my house. Hope this isn’t too long & tedious. Buon anno nuovo a tutti gl’italiani e loro chi vogliono essere. Z
Zingara,
Never too long.
Happy New Year to you too.
Erica
Erica, you are a great daughter, keep being you; your mother needs you, with your patience and love you will get you through this. I know how you are feeling my mother had a stroke and went into a coma and never regained her life back for seven weeks we watched and it was not pretty. You are strong, God is watching you, he knows what your doing. Keep up the good work. I too make the baccala and I love it, this year I soaked it for 3 -4 days was still too salty, what I did I saved it and later I made baccala stufato and it was amazing no salt needed. Have a good year and stay healthy. All the best from this Italian household of 14. Sylvia
Sylvia, Thanks so much for your kind words. I’m not sure how much strength I have, but I have courage, and a sense of humor, two qualities that have gotten me this far.
Best to you and your family.