We sweated in contemplation, salivated in desire and strained our eyes to envision a feast of succulent fruits, thinking long and hard about the sweet things on offer during the summer season in our previous post. Thus, it seemed only right to introduce the more dominant and exciting flavours and colours of the warmer weather, with a herald offering of boastful bites in a recipe for an ostentatious, delicious and decorarative antipasto. For a starter that is so appealing and so wonderfully diverse, the best methods in making a mouthful involves more than just good style; you’ll notice first upon this post the antipasto pictured above, in a setting more picturesque than the one beneath. It’s not an eye-test nor a game of spot the difference, but rather a demonstration of the versatility of this starter in providing what your guests crave most of all.
It all started one stinking hot summer day, during the birthday of a relative celebrated at our grandmother’s home. Amidst the plethora of dishes on offer from chilled and cooked seafoods, scintillating salads with grilled meats and warm potato salad with a drizzle of virgin oil and freshly churned cream and chives, I made a decision that would change my life… for a few minutes. A giant antipasto dish occupied the centre of the table and put on offer some of the most exotic-looking meats and most pungent smelling olives I have ever encountered. Being young and thus impetuous as I was, I decided that waiting for the communal dinner time was not worth it; who wouldn’t be tempted to reach for a small sample of that mysteriously tasty looking selection? In what I suspected to be a bundle of fennel (aniseed) layers, which I chewed greedily, actually turned out to be a bundle of coarsely cut uncooked brown onion. My eyes watered, my mouth burned, my fingers tingled. Reaching for water or soft drink seemed to be my only option, but it didn’t help. So in my desperation, I decided to fill my mouth with even more of the offerings on the platter regardless of what it was. And in a moment reminiscent of Lady and The Tramp, the combination of subtle and strong flavours counterbalanced the bitter, biting attack of the onion and made for a miniature barbecue in my mouth instead. Come to think of it, you could call that unusual taste combination a kind of gourmet delight, where the mushiness resembled a spicy olive tapenade and the counterbalancing agents acting through the Swiss cheese and cured pork sausage.
Now, not to get the wrong idea here. Antipasto is there to be savoured and enjoyed, nor devoured as I have shown myself incapable of resisting. But when the antipasto is as tempting as the first platter (the foremost photograph of this post), arranged and prepared with ingredients that seethed, marinated, bubbled over the chilly winter months, some depths beneath my grandmothers’ house… there’s little resistance left over. It put on offer some juicy, freshly plucked vine-ripened tomato, tender, thin slices of prosciutto ham, seasoned chicken breast, Jarlsberg cheese, homemade cacciatore salami and home-made bottle-aged green olives. The latter was prepared in my kitchen with a focus on supermarket provided goods and an obvious departure from the traditional roots of the dish with a continental array of fresh vegetables. Essentially, it doesn’t matter so much how closely you stick to the “original” recipe, for after all the concept of antipasto means for a few appetizing bites before proceeding to the next course. Various regions of Italy (and even countries around the world) will mention their own variations by including artichoke hearts, anchovies and even a few spicy pieces of whole garlic cloves. So whatever your taste, whatever your desire, an antipasto dish can cater perfectly to your ‘appetizing’ needs.
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In those long lost days as a fresh-faced, scruffy and scrawny wee cherub of those distant childhood years, I recall that any time that salad was served on the table it was prepared in such enormous proportions as to almost compete with the main meal. My grandmother would select the choicest of tomatoes from a mound of equally appealing, tender and firm-skinned fruits, slice one quarter for me to sample (and be sure it was of my approval) and use the remainder for the salad. To this day, I believe she guards some divinely inspired method for preparing fresh produce and some secret number of stores she visits to gather only the cream of the crop. Today? It’s a sad truth that I can no longer revel in those same wonderful flavours from yesteryear, but at least this recipe can stand as an ode to that basic regime and perhaps inspire me to evolve the side dish for the tastes of the next generation of family.
In keeping with the traditions of good style and edibility, I believe a salad should follow a few simple tenets to ensure the hungry visitors came back for seconds: always mix up an eclectic medley of colour, don’t be sparing with the olive oil and vinegar and never subject the tastebuds to old ingredients. Forget those horrific visions of heads of lettuce at the supermarket, which look as though they have been submerged in several months of cryogenic preservation. Be sure to give this salad a stir only when you have the finest of fresh ingredients on hand, or else leave it lingering upon your curiosity.
For many of us, nothing quite compares with a cold beer and a hot grilled steak or juicy catch of fish during the midst of a summer day lunch. And although the vegetarian diet has received a lot of praise in recent times, many of us are still afraid to integrate more wholesome alternatives in our diet to supplement a primarily carnivorous lifestyle.
This charmingly festive dish is not only aesthetically pleasing with its eclectic medley of colour and firmness but suits perfectly with all other salads on the table and has a wonderfully sweet and nutty taste and texture to support the dense proteins on your plate. On the nutritional side of things, beans are naturally high in plant protein, are a good source of fibre and iron and have a profoundly beneficial effect on stabilising blood sugar - you feel fuller after just a small serving.
Vinegar: is there anything it can’t do? It starts raging fires in craftily wielded skillets over a once placid flame, flavours once flavourless salads and sauces, in some cases can be used as a household cleaning product and is frequently utilised in its plight in the works as a wonderful preservative alternative to salt that has lasted throughout the ages.
Truth be told, your sour grapes make a great flavour to crepes (rhyme unintended) But have you ever heard of the uses of apple cider vinegar in a broad variety of roles around the house, from disinfecting grazes and stirring cocktails to a fundamental role in dieting?
Personally, such an idea is as foreign to me as the notion of flying saucers dripping with spaghetti, but in the light of a naturally inquisitive nature, I decided to see just how useful it really can be.
Fleas and ticks beware, gout and sickness be fair, shine and lustre come back to my hair, night frights and boogeymen return to their lairs and best of all, calorie busters come to task with one of the more interesting variety of uses from a single product.
So if you haven’t already, see what thousands of hits search engines yield to this simple product that has ailed us since (and possibly even before) the earliest stages of ‘Modern Europe’. In the meantime, I will continue to add to my ever-growing vinegar library on the kitchen bench.
