Erica De Mane

Recipes below: Ricotta and Strawberry Torta with Anisette; Strawberries with Ricotta and Rosemary Syrup

Early morning anxiety is so predictable for me that I know exactly when I should reach out and find my colors. Staring hard at colors is an antidote, drawing me out, loosening the bad stuff. I’m now looking at my window box geraniums, reddish orange, light pink, peach. They’re catching the sun in spots. They look edible. Most things reddish or orangish look edible to me. Tomatoes. Strawberries.

Strawberries are just out. I picked up a few pints at the Greenmarket. I made a torta with one pint and an herby syrup for the others. Their colors, the more I look, should be simple to describe, but they’re actually hard. Deep red with tones of pink? Crimson? Sometimes they seem a little orange, depending on the type. That’s the thing about colors, they’re hard to tell someone about. I have these incredible geraniums, they’re orange verging on red, or red heading toward orange. I have strawberries that are red with under-hits of pinky blue. What that means to me it might not to you. Colors are personal. At times they seem empty but beautiful, but more often they’re confounding, especially the longer I look. When you really think about them they make you lose your words. Maybe that’s why color is salve for wasteful suffering. I can lose myself in color.

As a kid I was drawn to the tomatoes in my father’s small garden. I found red verging on orange, red verging on maroon, red verging on blue, depending. I loved slicing them to find out what went on inside (the same color as their skin?). I also loved watching their colors darken and their tastes change when they were heated. Tomato sauce is an amazing thing. It’ll be a while before we get good tomatoes around here.

When I bought my pints of strawberries, I knew wanted to pair them with something light colored, like cream or cheese, so that their juices could mingle, creating another color. Dark pink was what I wanted. I got that when I came up with this strawberry and ricotta torta. I knew everything would run a little. Actually the color is more pinky orange, like an old debutante’s lipstick.

If you don’t want to go the pasta frolla (pastry dough) route, you can get a similar color seep, more quickly, by making a syrup for your strawberries and pouring that over ricotta. I love rosemary with strawberries. It sounds like a strange pairing, but taste it and you’ll see. And the colors are beautiful.

Ricotta and Strawberry Torta with Anisette

This is for a 9-inch open-face torta. I used a straight-sided tart pan with a removable bottom, to get a rustic look. Nicer than fluted, I think.

For the pasta frolla

2½ cups regular flour, plus a little more for rolling
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon baking powder
⅓ cup powdered sugar
The grated zest from 1 lemon
1½ sticks butter, cut into tiny cubes
2 large eggs, lightly whisked
About 2 tablespoons dry vermouth, maybe a little more

For the filling:

1 cup full-fat ricotta, well drained
⅓ cup powdered sugar
The grated zest from 1 lemon
1 tablespoon anisette or Sambuca
1 large egg
1 pint small spring strawberries, hulled but left whole (if you can find Tristar, they will be perfect)

To make the pasta frolla, put the flour, salt, baking powder, sugar, and lemon zest in the bowl of a food processor, and pulse a few times to blend everything. Add the butter, and give it a few good pulses, just until it is broken up into tiny bits. Add the eggs and vermouth, and pulse a few more times, until all the ingredients come together into a crumbly, moist mass. Tilt the dough out onto a floured work surface, and knead briefly, maybe with 3 or 4 strokes, until you’ve got a smooth ball. Wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for about an hour or so.

Take the dough out of the refrigerator about 15 minutes before you plan on rolling it.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Put all the ingredients for the filling, except for the strawberries, into a bowl, and mix well.

Grease the tart pan with a little butter. Roll out your dough, and drape it into the pan, leaving a little overhang. Place the strawberries, hulled sides down, in the pan (a nice circular pattern will look good). Pour on the filling. Now trim the edges of the dough, and go all around the pan making little folds.

Bake for about 35 minutes, or until the crust is golden and the insides look firm and a little puffed up. Let rest for about an hour before slicing.

Strawberries with Ricotta and Rosemary Syrup

Strawberries with rosemary whipped cream, or custard, or ice cream are all combinations I’ve heard of, mostly in the French kitchen A touch of rosemary’s deep resin flavor with sweet fruit makes so much culinary sense. I’ve Italianized my recipe by including ricotta, which cushions the strong herb nicely.

(Serves 2 to 3)

For the syrup:

3 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon wildflower honey (I used acacia)
3 big sprigs of rosemary, lightly crushed with the side of a knife to release their oil, plus a few small sprigs for garnish
A small piece of vanilla bean, split
A long peel of lemon skin
1½ cups of dry white wine

Plus:

1 pint small local strawberries, left whole (again, Tristar are a good), or larger ones cut in half or quarters
About 1½ cups high quality whole-milk ricotta
Freshly ground black pepper

Put all the ingredients for the syrup in a small sauce pan, and simmer over medium heat until large bubbles appear on the surface, about 5 minutes or so (the bubbles will let you know that it has properly thickened). Let sit for about 5 minutes on the turned-off burner to further blend the flavors. Now strain into a small bowl. Stick the bowl in the refrigerator until cool.

Before using the syrup, bring it to room temperature.

Place the strawberries in a bowl.  Pour the syrup over the top, and toss gently.

Divide up the ricotta into small bowls or big wine glasses. Spoon on the strawberries and then some of their syrup. Finish with a few grindings of black pepper, and garnish with rosemary sprigs.