I spend as much of the summer as possible in Sperlonga, which is to say not all that much. Would that I had my grandmother Ginny’s work ethic. She spent most of her time there, doing little and living larger.
My grandparents moved to Italy in 1952, seeking a rest cure for Ginny’s recurrent tuberculosis. My grandfather John was a writer and gallerist, my grandmother a Broadway and Hollywood starlet and painter. Arriving in Rome they found themselves surrounded by friends old and new. It is incredible to hear my mum recall their names – Ginny died not so long ago – but suffice to say that Fellini’s La Dolce Vita was inspired by Ginny and Grandpa, and specifically a party they threw. They are Steiner and his wife in the film, and Ginny’s paintings adorn the walls of the infamous party scene, her guests Fellini’s extras.
That scene was their life in Rome and, for sanity, a regular antidote was essential. They bought an apartment in an isolated fishing village, Sperlonga, a couple of hours to the south. We still own it, but the town is no longer remote: connected by the Via Flacca, it is now a mecca for Roman and Neapolitan youth in the summer.
The evening fish market in Gaeta(the town where Ginny, fresh from a plumbing course she took God-knows-why, repaired her friend Gore Vidal’s toilet), butchers (little hole-in-the-walls on Gaeta’s Via dell’Indipendenza or the carnal temple that is Scherzerino in Itri) and greengrocers (none better than Poco Poco in Sperlonga) have produce that cries out to be cooked – simply – and eaten. This is the swamp Mussolini drained, leaving the most fertile land in Italy for tomatoes, courgettes, aubergines, melons, figs and peaches. This is the sea of grey mullet and gurnard, pink bream, black cuttlefish and red prawns. It is the sea Odysseus sailed – my balcony overlooks the false island, Circeo, thought to be Aeaea, where the goddess Circe turned Odysseus’s crew to pigs. It is the sea of my childhood, which I cannot return to often enough.
APERITIVO
White wine and peach punch
In Italy it is not uncommon to steep a peach in wine. It’s not entirely obvious whether this is for the benefit of the peach or the vino but both seem to like it.
Makes enough for 1
fresh ripe peach ½, cut into segments (skin on, unless it bothers you)
white wine ½ a bottle
mint or basil a sprig (optional)
ice
soda water (optional)
Steep the peach in the wine for at least half an hour, but up to half a day, in the fridge. Serve it over ice, with the mint or basil submerged if you fancy it, and top with a mere splash of soda water.
Italian Pimms. Drink the wine, then fish the peach from your glass and eat that too.
Olives, walnuts and rosemary
Aperitivo time is a time to nibble. Very crunchy salted crisps, peanuts and taralli, Italy’s answer to the pretzel, are the norm, as are a few slices of pecorino and dried local sausage. Olives are on the table, too. Mixed with walnuts and rosemary, they make for a surprisingly complete moment on their own, or alongside a glass of something cold and fizzy.
Serves 4
stone-in olives 150g (look for gaeta or cerignola)
walnuts 75g, lightly candied, lightly roasted or raw
rosemary 1 good sprig, leaves picked
lemon 1 wedge, cut into very small fragments
extra virgin olive oil 2 tbsp
Toss everything together. Eat alongside your drinks.
ANTIPASTO
Aubergines ‘a funghetto’
A wonderful woman, Leontina, helped Ginny look after my mother when she was a baby. She helped my mum with me when I was tiny, then did the same when my sister was born 10 years later. A few years ago, when she was still well enough to travel, Leontina came down from the convent to which she had retired and met us all in Rome. We drove with her to Sperlonga and she made two things I remember particularly well. She made a magnificent tomato sauce (see note below), and she did something fiendish with aubergines. Later, I discovered these were aubergines ‘a funghetto’ – cooked as one might cook mushrooms.
Serves 4 or more as an antipasto or side
aubergines 1kg (violet are best), cut in 2cm chunks
extra virgin olive oil 80ml
ripe plum or San Marzano tomatoes 600g, cut in 2cm chunks
garlic 2 cloves, halved
basil 12 leaves, torn
Heat a non-stick or well seasoned, very wide pan over a high heat. Add the aubergines and half the oil at the same time. Stir occasionally until just starting to brown (10-15 minutes).
Push the aubergines to one side. Add the tomatoes, garlic and remaining oil and fry for a couple of minutes. Lower the heat right down, stir everything together and add generous salt plus a little pepper. Make sure to cook in a single layer and stir very occasionally – every 5 minutes or so – or rather, gently turn in the pan. Cook like this for a good hour, or even more, until the tomatoes and aubergines are largely intact yet meltingly tender, all the liquid evaporated. Take off the heat. While still hot, stir in the basil, then let the dish cool to room temperature. Serve with firm brown bread or toasted white bread as an antipasto, a snack or a side.
NOTE: The way Leontina made her tomato sauce was almost brutal in its simplicity. She took perhaps a kilo of tomatoes (good, ripe ones – halved, keeping seeds, skins and all), a finger of oil, a small onion (halved), and I think some whole garlic cloves. Everything was raw. She set the pot to simmer for half an hour with salt and pepper (or chilli), then blended the lot. It was one of the most delicious sauces I have ever tasted.
Sauté of clams and mussels
Some foods are the subject of much debate in their hometown, especially if that hometown is in Italy. What to argue about in a sauté of shellfish? How much oil? Chilli? Tomato? Wine? Parsley? What is the best tasting bivalve?
You might have a preference for clams or mussels, so use one or the other (double the quantity in the recipe below). You may prefer the dish without the tomato or with regulation parsley added instead of my heretical basil, or with fresh chilli or the conventional splash of wine. Cook it your way, and it’ll come out just fine.
Serves 4 as a starter
live clams 750g
live mussels 750g
extra virgin olive oil 6 tbsp
garlic 2 cloves, thinly sliced
crushed dried chilli flakes 1 pinch
cherry tomatoes 6, quartered, or 1 regular one in 1cm dice
basil 8 leaves
Sort through the clams and discard any with broken or empty shells, or open ones which refuse to close when tapped on the table. Beard the mussels, discarding any with broken or empty shells or open ones which refuse to close when tapped on the table.
Heat a big, wide, heavy pan over a high heat. At the same time, add the clams, half the oil, the garlic and the chilli. Cook, with the lid on, for 1 minute.
Add the mussels and tomatoes, and some black pepper if you fancy. Cook, with the lid on, for 2-3 minutes, shaking the pan every so often.
Peek under the lid. When about half the shellfish have opened, start picking out the fully open ones and place them in a serving bowl. Keep the rest cooking, removing the opened ones to the serving bowl until the very last has opened (or has refused to, in which case, discard it).
Tear the basil leaves and stir into the sauce with the remaining olive oil. Pour this sauce over the bowlful of cooked clams and mussels.
Serve with crusty bread.
NOTE: To turn this into a primo (starch course), boil 500g dried spaghetti or spaghettini until al dente, and toss it in with the cooked shellfish and their juices just before serving.
PRIMO
Rigatoni with ricotta and guanciale
It is worth seeking out fresh ricotta if you can; an Italian deli in the UK might have it, or get some if you go on holiday to Italy. Seek out sheep’s milk for the best flavour – they make it in the Dolomites, Sardinia and southern Italy.
This recipe is one I made up in Sperlonga, where we normally eat ricotta every day. For breakfast or lunch, or dinner’s antipasto, room temperature with oil and rocket and bread; stuffed into courgette flowers; baked into a dessert or whipped with sugar and served with strawberries. Or in pasta.
Serves 4
rigatoni 400g (or penne rigati or tortiglioni)
ricotta 250g, preferably sheep’s milk
freshly ground black pepper 1 full tsp
parmesan or pecorino romano 100g, grated
guanciale 150g, cut into 5mm lardons, or pancetta cut the same way (for pancetta, which is less fatty, add also 2 tbsp olive oil
Have ready a large pan of boiling, well-salted water, 10-12g salt per litre. Put the pasta on to boil.
In a large bowl, whisk together the ricotta, pepper and half the grated cheese with a ladleful of the pasta water, until it’s the texture of thick cream. Settle this bowl on the pasta pot, like a lid, to warm it.
In a wide frying pan over a high heat, fry the guanciale (no oil – it has enough fat of its own) for 3-5 minutes, until it’s crispy outside but still juicy within.
When cooked, but al dente, drain the pasta and reserve a bowlful of its water. Toss the pasta in the guanciale and its cooking fat.
Add the lot to the warmed ricotta mixture, stir to coat, and add a little more water if it gets claggy. Serve with the remaining grated cheese on top.
NOTE: Guanciale is cured pig’s cheek and jowl, like an über-bacon, which is very fatty and piggy and spesh. For a vegetarian version of this dish, at least as flavoursome, omit it (and omit steps 4 and 6) and instead whisk into the ricotta 8 basil leaves (chopped), grated zest of 1 lemon, ⅛ of a nutmeg (grated), and 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil.
SECONDO
Baked bream with tomatoes, olives and rosemary
Bream is a lovely, clean, white-fleshed fish. You can use any smallish white fish – bass or snapper or gurnard – whatever is freshest and most appealing. Beautiful fish should not be messed with.
Serves 4
whole fish 1.5kg, very fresh, scaled and gutted (any number of fish but keep them whole)
sea salt 25g
baby plum tomatoes 800g, datterino are best, halved
extra virgin olive oil 5 tbsp
black olives 100g, stone-in and drained (gaeta if possible, otherwise kalamata or similar)
rosemary 2 sprigs
white wine 2 tbsp
Preheat the oven to 200C/gas mark 6.
An hour or two before cooking, take the fish from the fridge. Inspect it for tenacious scales and rinse the belly. Rub it inside and out with half the salt. Let it come to room temperature.
An hour or so (or more) before you plan to eat, toss the tomatoes with 4 tablespoons of the oil, spread them on a wide oven tray and bake for 25 minutes until condensed – you can do this ahead if you like.
Take the tomatoes from the oven and scatter with the olives and rosemary. Lay the fish on top. Sprinkle with the wine and the remaining salt.
Bake the fish – one 1-1.5kg beast will take 40 minutes (ish), roughly 750g fishes will take 30 minutes, and 400-600g specimens about 20 minutes.
Test for doneness. You can use a food thermometer – you want an internal temperature of 55C – or test by gently pressing the fish with a finger; springy is underdone, just giving is perfect, firm or mushy is overdone. (Meaty fish goes firm, delicate fish goes mushy.) Or you can lift open the belly cavity with the tip of a knife and see if the flesh will – just – separate from the spine. Drizzle with the remaining oil and serve.
Pan-fried greens
If one thing gives me the greatest joy to eat it’s a plate of properly cooked, totally tender, still vibrant and verdant greens. There are only two ways to serve them. Either boiled properly in plenty of well-salted water, refreshed and squeezed dry, then served room temperature with lemon and good olive oil. Or, as here, pan-fried with garlic and chilli.
Serves 4
greens 1kg, cicoria (bitter green chicory), spinach, fine-stemmed chard or escarole
extra virgin olive oil 4 tbsp
garlic 1 large clove, thinly sliced
crushed dried chilli 1 pinch
Prepare the greens and wash them thoroughly. Cut them into large (10cm) pieces. Put a large pan of very well-salted water on to boil (as for pasta, 12g salt per litre).
Boil the greens until they just lose any hint of crunch, so they are tender but still green. Drain, refresh in a colander under running water, and squeeze dry.
Heat a frying pan over a medium heat. Add the oil and garlic at the same time. Fry until some of the garlic just begins to brown at the edges. Add the chilli, then straightaway the boiled greens.
Reduce the heat to low and pan-fry, stirring, for 10 minutes or so until you are satisfied with the flavour.
Salad with lemon dressing
My wonderful mum makes wonderful salad. It is lemony and refreshing and simple. She sometimes serves it as we sit down, sometimes with the main, sometimes after, but it is always our favourite part of the meal.
Serves 4
lemon 1 large and very juicy
garlic 1 clove
very good extra virgin olive oil 5 tbsp
salt 1 tsp
freshly ground pepper ¼ tsp
lettuce 1 large and very beautiful – round lettuce, romano (cos/romaine) or escarole
Zest the lemon – use a potato peeler for a delicate dressing or a grater for a punchier one. Squeeze the lemon juice and crush the garlic.
Stir together the lemon zest and juice, garlic, oil and seasoning.
Wash the lettuce and spin it properly dry. Dress it and serve immediately.
PUDDING
Double torta caprese
Capri is an ancient island of two halves, Capri and Anacapri. There are two types of visitor to the island: the raucous daytripping tourist and the vulgar bejewelled billionaire. There are two Capresi dishes: the caprese salad (tomato, mozzarella, basil) and the caprese cake (almond cake). And there are two caprese cakes: lemon and chocolate. Both sides of the island are beautiful, both visitors make for extremely entertaining people-watching, both Capresi dishes are delicious and both cakes are irresistible.
Trying to have the best of both worlds, I make a torta caprese in two layers, dark and light. The lemon and chocolate cakes, united by almond, go beautifully together. Making two in one is double the effort, and you may be just as happy if you double the quantities of one mix, omitting the other.
Serves 10-12
For the lemon layer
blanched almonds 125g
cornflour 20g
caster sugar 125g
eggs 2 large
egg yolk 1 large
unsalted butter 100g, softened
lemon finely grated zest and juice of 1 decent
limoncello 50ml
baking powder 1 tsp
For the chocolate layer
blanched almonds 125g
bitter chocolate 100g, chilled and broken into pieces
cocoa powder 25g
eggs 2 large, separated
caster sugar 90g
vanilla extract ½ tsp
lemon finely grated zest of 1 small
unsalted butter 100g, melted
To serve
icing sugar
strawberries 100g per person, sliced, or whole wild strawberries
caster sugar ½ tsp
lemon juice a small squeeze
Have ready a 23-24cm round cake tin, the bottom greased and lined with ovenproof paper. A loaf tin is another decent way to go. Making two cakes in one requires part-baking the first layer so it doesn’t mix with the second, before baking both together. Preheat the oven to 180C/gas mark 4.
Make the lemon mixture first. Grind the almonds finely with the cornflour and 25g of the sugar in a food processor. Whisk the whole eggs and egg yolk with the remaining sugar until pale, thick and fluffy. Combine with the ground almond mixture and all the other lemon cake ingredients.
Fold together until just incorporated, pour into the lined baking tin and level approximately with the back of your spoon. Par-bake for 12-15 minutes until semi-set.
While the lemon cake is baking, quickly make the chocolate mixture: grind the almonds, chocolate and cocoa powder in a food processor, as finely as you can without the chocolate melting and clumping the lot together.
Whisk the egg yolks with the sugar, vanilla and lemon zest until very thick and pale. Add the chocolate and almond mixture. Start to stir – the mixture will be so thick it won’t come together, so add the melted butter to help it along. Whisk the egg whites to soft peaks and fold them gently into the cake mix.
Take the half-cooked lemon cake from the oven. Spoon the chocolate mixture over the top, and smooth it gently as best you can. Return the tin to the oven for another 30 minutes, until just set.
Remove it from the oven and leave to cool partially, about 15 minutes, before unmoulding onto a plate. When cooled to room temperature, dust the top with icing sugar before you slice it.
Toss the strawberries with the caster sugar and a drop of lemon juice, to serve alongside.
Jacob Kenedy is chef-owner of Bocca di Lupo, Gelupo and Plaquemine Lock, all in London
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