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Francesco's Romantic Recipe
I mentioned in my New Year's letter than I have inherited my dear friend Francesco de' Rogati's personal recipe files. I even mentioned in passing that he was born in Genoa of an Italian-American mother and a Neapolitan father, and that his parents' story was a lovely romantic one. I didn't tell you, however, that I have a recipe in my files that Francesco inherited from his mother, a dish that is connected to her romance with his father, a dish that he made once for a dinner party years ago, and that I liked so much I insisted he share it with me.
Someone, not me, can date this party, because I noted, when I wrote up the recipe in the Daily News, that it was on the night that Murphy Brown responded to Dan Quayle's comments about her being a bad example to America. Murphy Brown, the TV character, not the actress Candice Bergen, was having a baby out of wedlock. Remember that? Culturally, that seems so long ago. Nowadays, no one flinches at the mention of out-of-wedlock babies. Well, no one around here anyway.
In any case, I do remember that the other guests that night were his neighbor and friend, the late, great Jerry Ohrbach and Jerry's still great wife, Elaine. And I remember well that as soon as I walked into Francesco's apartment and asked "So what's for dinner?" Francesco put this small sheet of yellowed stationary before my eyes.
"My mother got this recipe while she was traveling on the Conte Verde." As if I knew what he was talking about. "She loved the dish so much that she had the chef write it out for her."
That was in the early 1920s, when Francesco's young, orphaned, unmarried, American-born mother-to-be was supporting two younger brothers as a custom dress maker. "A couturier," as Francesco liked to say. Every year, to see the French and Italian fashion collections -- "just as they have today," said Francesco -- she would take a cross-Atlantic steamer to Europe. The Conte Verde was a ship of the Italian Line. Apparently, she brought back recipes as well as design ideas.
It was through these frequent cross-Atlantic trips that Francesco's mother met his father. He was a custom's agent in Genoa. It was love at first sight, although second sight did not come until months later. The courtship was conducted by letter.
"Do you still have the letters?" I asked Francesco. "No, most sadly, after my father died, my mother took the letters out to sea and buried them there."
The Conte Verde recipe for Stoccafisso Marinara remained in her possession, however. Francesco actually changed it, making it with what he called "fresh stockfish," not real stockfish, which is air-dried cod, somewhat like baccala, which would also be excellent cooked this way.
At the time Francesco gave me the recipe, I couldn't figure out what he meant by "fresh" stockfish. It wasn't fresh cod, I was pretty sure. So I called The Central Fish Market on Ninth Ave., where he was buying it. It ends up it was silver hake. Today, I would use fresh cod, which is so much easier to buy than silver hake. I would also use baccala.
Flash forward to last week. I am going through the final box of Francesco's recipes. What do I find but the yellowed Conte Verde stationary with the recipe handwritten by the ship's chef. The recipe is written in a beautiful script in sepia-colored ink, and it is signed with an initial that looks like "G."
Stoccafisso Marinara
Serves 6
I offer this recipe from Francesco de' Rogati in his words with some of his charming Italian-isms -- "string" of anchovy paste … an espresso cup of milk … not to mention the use of Knorr fish broth. Did you know? Italian home cooks have no compunctions about using bouillon cubes. Francesco used to import Italian ones – in particular the porcini cubes that used to not be available here, but are now -- swearing that they were better than American ones, even though both were made by Knorr. In fact, when I got home from Puglia in November, I found vegetable bouillon cubes in my refrigerator. They were bought by the Italian friends who were staying in my apartment. Refrigerator!? I wondered about that myself. My Italian friends say they should be kept refrigerated. Bouillon cubes do, indeed, have a fat content that can turn rancid more quickly at room temperature.
This fish dish is, by the way, excellent for a dinner party, as you should make the sauce base a day ahead. Then all you have to do is put the fish in and pop it in the oven.
1 medium onion, finely chopped
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 cloves garlic, each cut into 2 or 3 pieces
8 small all-purpose potatoes (about 2 pounds), boiled until half-cooked, then peeled and cut into chunks
1 28-ounce can peeled Italian tomatoes, lightly mashed with a fork
1 teaspoon powdered Knorr fish broth (or use ½ a fish bouillon cube)
4 ounces Gaeta olives, pitted
3 tablespoons finely cut parsley
2 3-inch long "strings" anchovy paste from a tube or 4 anchovy fillets
5 bay laurel leaves (Francesco used strong-flavored leaves he brought back from his summers in Ischia at the home of f Anna Gosetti, founder of Cucina Italiana magazine)
1 espresso cup (1/3 cup) whole milk
2 pounds silver hake or cod fillet, cut in 2- to 3-inch wide pieces
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
In a large ovenproof casserole (enameled cast iron is good, terracotta is perfect), gently cook the onion in about 3 tablespoons of the olive oil, until wilted, about 3 minutes.
Add the garlic and sauté another minute.
Add the remaining ingredients except the fish and simmer very gently for an hour over low heat. Add a few tablespoons of water if necessary to keep the tomatoes "saucy." Cool and let sit, covered, in the refrigerator over night.
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Take the casserole from the refrigerator and bring it to a gentle simmer on top of the stove.
Place the fish in the casserole, drizzle on the 2 tablespoons of olive oil, spoon over some of the sauce, and bake, uncovered, until done, from 20 to 30 minutes, depending on the thickness of the fish.
