There are many hospitals in Rome and quite a few, just like in London, named after a saint. One of these is called the San Camillo hospital. Now, we all know what hospital food is like, hardly ‘food’ at all, nothing to look at, tasteless and egregiously unappetising. And it is moreover very very very very plain, bland, So for some reason completely unbeknownst to me, perhaps some wicked finger pointing dating back to goodness knows when, when conversation veers towards the topic of uninteresting food in Rome, very often people will make reference to San Camillo. “Gosh, this is so tasteless, just the sort of fare you’d get at the San Camillo” might be one such comment. Or: “Tell your mother that this wouldn’t do even at the San Camillo”. Or yet again: “Oi! I’m going to add plenty of pancetta, we’re not at the San Camillo you know!”. You get the picture.
And thus it is amongst some members of my family with regard to green beans. They can so easily slide into the San Camillo slot when I serve them, just simmered and then seasoned with olive oil and lemon juice. Some will refuse to eat them altogether. Others will take the tiniest of portions and squeeze more lemon juice over them. I happen to like them that way, so there, mneah. It’s not as if I lose sleep over green beans. I just happen to like them.
But I did have second thoughts over some leftovers in the fridge last week.
When I took it in the ‘look’ of that cold glass bowl, I had a San Camillo moment, I have to confess. It looked thoroughly underwhelming. Sad even. And so after a little head scratching, I went about ways of making these green beans a bit more interesting. Tell me what you think. Here we go.
Lardo di Colonnata. Lard. Mmmm. Always good.
Some olive oil, chilli and garlic – classic concoction.
Rosemary needle, chopped very fine. Now that’s different where green beans are concerned.
And though I am not a huge lover of balsamic vinegar (not in salads, that is), why not? I thought to myself.
So much for othe ingredients. The cooking part was easy, for obvious reasons.
Don’t forget the salt too.
The balsamic vinegar last.
I think next time I will add less balsamic vinegar. Probably the best thing is to add a little at a time.
I’m not sure I would bend over backwards to serve green beans this way every time but I think the final result was pretty good.
Nothing “San Camillo” about this whatsoever. Tee hee.
I cut up some aubergines/eggplant into chunks, sprinkled salt over them and placed a plate and weight over them to help their inner liquid demon ooze out more readily. By the way, the Le Creuset-type cast iron saucepan you see? Slightly battered. So sad, I dropped it the other day and was on the brink of throwing it away but just couldn’t find the heart to do so because it had belonged to my Swedish grandmother and so it is easily close to being 100 years old. It can continue to be used in other ways.
I had left the aubergines to sweat for at least an hour and this is how much ‘stuff’ they released.
Time to squeeze the water out of them. This can be a bit of a pallaver so another good hack is to find an obliging husband to do this manly job for you.
I lay the chunks on a pyrex dish and dribbled some nice olive oil and sprinkled a little bit of salt and … yes, you guessed it. I put them in the oven to cook. (Where’s that icon for the palms of both hands resting on both cheeks in a show of amazement?). UNHEARD OF!
They cooked in the oven at 180°C for about 40 minutes.
When they cooled down, I covered them in plastic wrap and put them in the fridge. I was exhausted and went to bed.
I placed 4 tablespoons of sugar in a small pan and poured white wine vinegar to cover it by more than 1 inch. Cook the vinegar until the sugar melts and set aside.
Chop up some onions and cook over a low heat. Add a bit of salt as well as sugar.
When the onions have gone golden ..
Add some very good-quality Italian plum tomatoes. A caponata is best made with sweet fresh tomatoes but I didn’t have any on me. I used a pair of scissors to chop ’em directly in the saucepan. This is the ‘salsa’ that we are preparing, and it should cook for about 15-20 minutes.
Celery. Celery is an integral part. Pare the celery stalks, cut them up and blanch them in some salted boiling water. Drain and set aside.
Also – but I don’t have any photo – rinse some salt dried capers over and over again, and have them at the ready.
The sauce was getting a little thick and now was the right time to pour in the sweetened vinegar. Sorry, no photo of me pouring it in.
Then in go the baked aubergines.
Lots of fresh basil. Combine all the ingredients. Job done, the heat can be turned off.
One last thing. Toast some pine kernels.
Once it had all cooled down, I put the caponata in a glass container in the fridge. So the great thing about this recipe is that it can be prepared in advance.
We were getting ready for an outdoor grill with family, at my in-laws’ house in the Marche and the caponata took pride of place where the vegetable side dishes were concernerd.
I stuck some more fresh basil in the middle.
And everyone said the caponata tasted lovely.
I removed the flowers after about 15 minutes and left them to dry out for a bit. Notice how they have plumped out by a good soak in the water. Set aside.
Grate some pecorino cheese. If you can’t find pecorino, parmesan will do very nicely. Set aside.
Now add the slices of guanciale.
Give the guanciale enough time to render its fat and then add the courgettes.
Cook the courgettes until you are happy with their texture and now add some lemon zest – in slices, not cut up finely. Because you will remove the lemon zest before serving the pasta. If you are a lemon zest fiend, as Luigi the chef most definitely is, you could chop it very very finely and leave it in.
Time to add the almonds. Combine the ingredients.
Tear the courgette blossoms and add them too.
Mix them in and turn the heat off until you are ready to drain the pasta directly into the saucepan. Next time, I would add the blossoms last.
Here we go.
Add some of the pecorino and mix it in.
Taste.
Add some more. Taste.
Add a little bit more cooking water if necessary. And yes, it was necessary. It helped to make everything come together.
Enjoy some the next day on the beach – an essential secret ingredient for this recipe.
As we tucked into the dish, we commented appreciatingly about it and drew similarities to the classic Parmigiana di Melanzane.
This is how I prepped the aubergines/eggplants – I took a lot of skin off.
I sliced them length-wise and sprinkled plenty of salt over them.
I placed the slices between two large plates.
I put a heavy saucepan over the plates, to squeeze the aubergine slices and help rid them of whatever liquid in them makes them slightly bitter.
This was quite the tower I created in the kitchen, eh!, what do you think!
It didn’t take long for the aubergines to start ‘perspiring’.
So much so, that quite a lot of liquid started trickling out.
I had left (if I remember correctly) the aubergines to sweat away for one hour – and then threw away the liquid and put the slices of aubergine to rinse in a tub of cold water. I then patted them dry, or as dry as I could.
Get hold of the sweetest tomatoes you can lay your hands on, cut them in half, cut an onion in half, sprinkle plenty of salt and add a few basil leaves.
Turn the heat on and cook for about 20 minutes.
Use a food mill to strain the tomatoes.
Don’t throw the watery bit away – you can use it in another sauce. Or make a Bloody Mary with it!
Our sauce can be cooked down now. Add some olive oil.
Cook away, add some salt, taste, add a pinch of sugar if you think it needs it. Set aside.
Pour plenty of olive oil into your frying pan.
Dry the slices of aubergine as much as you can – and then get frying.
This is the busy bit: the aubergines being fried in batches, then left to drain on a colander. But it gets exciting too! Notice how little oil drips off the fried aubergines? See below.
Spoon some sauce onto the bottom of a baking dish – not a lot.
Add some tomato sauce: not too much.
Repeat until you finish all the aubergines. Add one last dolloping of the tomato sauce on top, as well as some more olive oil. Bake in an oven at 200°C for about an 40-45 minutes (maybe less? I can’t remember, sorry – but you’ll see when it’s ready).
And now … bake in a preheated oven at around 200°C for 50 minutes or until done.
Forgot to mention that I baked them with the lid ‘on’. If you haven’t got a lid you could always use aluminium foil.
Very easy to make. And the mentuccia did indeed add a little bit of ooomph.
I added the tarragon shortly after taking this photo. See below.
I added some cognac.
Once the cognac had cooked off its alcohol, I added some cream. Salt and pepper (white pepper if you have some).
Ready to be served.
It is a very old-fashioned way of cooking spinach – very rich too. We like to cook it this way at times and it seemed like just the best accompaniment for Francoise’s langoustines.
Please don’t ask me how long it took to cook the langoustines – not a long time at all. A question of minutes.
As you can see, the flesh is not overcooked, it hasn’t gone “gummy”.
