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How to make vincisgrassi

We teamed up with our very own pasta granny, 80 year old Leondina, to learn how to make vincisgrassi; Le Marche’s version of lasagna.

Like so many here in Italy, Leondina’s kitchen is tiny, but that doesn’t stop her producing some of the tastiest food we’ve eaten here in Le Marche. She grows much of her own veg, has eggs from her chickens, oil from her olives and wine from her grapes – all of it organically produced. She cooks every day for her children and grand-children, invariably inviting anyone else to sit down and enjoy the feast if they happen to just be popping by. And unsurprisingly there’s a steady stream of visitors to her house.

She very kindly took time out over two consecutive days to show us how to make her version of vincisgrassi. I say her version, because as with many recipes here, they’ve been reinterpreted from household to household, through generations, and different seasons, depending on availability of the various ingredients.

The most authentic version of this dish would include chicken livers, hearts and sweetbreads, something that was missing from the dish we cooked. The rustic nature of the ragu was spot-on though, and Leondina added a mix of meat that she was able to get from the local butcher on the day. Lamb, veal and pork were all included, with lots of bones for extra flavour. The pieces were left whole, or in large chunks, whilst equally large chunks of carrot, celery and onion were added and all browned off in a pan together. In went the homemade passata from last year’s tomato crop, some water and some of her homemade red wine. This was left to blip away slowly on the stove for 3 to 4 hours, perfuming the kitchen and beyond.

This was day two of the cooking lesson, whilst day one had been all about the pasta. Leondina had her trusty Imperia pasta machine clamped to the side of her kitchen table, but we also hand-rolled half of the pasta so that I could see how it was done. She made it look ridiculously easy, but of course, it really wasn’t. We rolled it, cut it and left it in between some clean table cloths to sit out the night until the next morning when we boiled them in batches in a huge pot for around 60 seconds, plunged them into cold water and then lay them out to dry on yet more clean table cloths. (Maybe this is why you see so many table clothes hanging out to dry on the clothes lines around here).

Once the ragu was done cooking, Leondina fished out all of the meat, bones and veg and we were left with a rich tomatoey sauce with all the flavour of the meat. She made a simple bechamel of flour, butter and a litre of milk, and then we started to build the vincisgrassi (all three of them!).

Layers of the meaty/tomato ragu, followed by the pasta were topped with a sprinkling of grated parmesan. Leondina doesn’t like putting the bechamel in between each layer like some folk do, so it was simply tucked in half way through and then a thick layer on top. This gave the top the perfect crispy edges that are a firm favourite of mine.

We then cooked the vincisgrassi in the oven for about 40 minutes. I couldn’t tell you the exact temperature as (of course) we cooked it outside in her wood-fired oven. If had to hazard a guess, I’d say it was about 200 degrees C.

Finally, there was only one thing for it – to sit around her large dining table with two of her grown-up children and one of their friends and sample our hard work. What can I say? It was totally delicious. And much like my Polish grandmother, Leondina wouldn’t take no for an answer when offering both a second, and third portion each.

If you’d like to learn how to make this dish, we’d be happy to offer a relaxed class in our large kitchen as part of your stay with us at Casale Volpe. Just drop us a line.

If you’re interested, you can also see a more authentic version of the recipe here on the Great Italian Chefs website.

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The Olive Harvest

From late October through to the end of November – and sometimes later – you’ll start to see people out on their land, the ground covered in large nets, as they rake the small, odd, bitter fruit from their olive trees.

We have about 25 – 30 olive trees here at Casale Volpe, and this year is our second year of harvesting. Last year was a pretty poor one for us with only around 14kg of olives in total, but like many fruit trees, there’s a tendency to have a high production one year with almost nothing the next. Needless to say, this year has been a bumper crop for us. In total, we picked 157kg of olives, with one beautiful tree (no favourites here, but if we had to pick one…) netting us a whopping 50kg.

We picked over 3 days – sharing the load with some local friends – in both rain and sun, spending the evenings sharing wine and food as we cleaned the olives of all the leaves and general detritus. Once finished we took the whole lot to our lovely local oleificio where they went through various processes to become cold-pressed olive oil.

Fancy an olive-picking holiday?

There’s nothing like tasting this peppery green liquid gold, straight from the press, so if you’ve not experienced it, we can highly recommend it. Next year we’ll be inviting guests to get stuck in with the harvest with a trip to the oleificio to watch the pressing process, followed by a tasting of the end result with some simple bruschetta and maybe a slice or two of pecorino cheese. Get in touch with us if you like the idea of climbing tress, drinking wine and watching some crazy old machinery turn olives into oil. Click on the photos below to get a sense of the goings on in the oleificio.

In the meantime, when you come to stay with us, you’ll no doubt get to taste the oil on pizza, bruschetta, tomatoes, pasta… you get the idea.

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Italian Vegetable Garden

We’re on a mission to be as self-sufficient as possible here at Casale Volpe – with our vegetables, fruit and (coming soon, care of some hens), our own eggs. Neither of us has lived a rural life before. In the past, the most we’ve had to contend with is a small (typically north-facing) London garden, which did little more than give slugs and snails the perfect home.

Now, with almost 10 acres of land, we’re putting down the first roots – pun intended – of self-sufficiency, with the start of our vegetable garden and planting of some fruit trees.  Whilst you can easily and cheaply buy small veggie plants here, we’re growing as much as we can from seed. Not only does this create another layer of satisfaction (ok, we mean smugness here), but it allows us a much wider range of interesting and heritage vegetables to grow.

Starting tentatively

So we don’t fail at the first hurdle, we’ve started with the easier crops, planting the seeds earlier in the spring for this summer. Right now we have four varieties of tomato (one being San Marzano for cooking, as no Italian orto would be without them), borlotti beans, zucchini (we’ve also been stuffing and frying the flowers), purple french beans, yellow french beans, two types of chard, lettuce, aubergines, peppers, a whole plethora of herbs and some companion plants such as nasturtiums.

We’re now starting to plan the winter crops, such as red cabbage, romanesco cauliflower – which is actually closer to broccoli but with a seriously mesmerising pattern of growth  – and cavalo nero – a favourite topping for bruschetta. The great thing about this is picking and planning meals as the different vegetables are ready to eat. This will be our approach when putting together meal menus and picnics for our guests, so you’re always eating the freshest of fresh, packed with tons of flavour, at exactly the moment it’s supposed to be eaten.

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Ricotta Gnocchi

The sharing of food, especially homemade or homegrown produce is pretty common here in Italy, but that still doesn’t stop me from getting ridiculously excited when someone turns up with a bottle of grappa, some figs, wild boar, or fresh sheep’s milk ricotta.

We’re chatting to a local guy who we’re hoping will cut down two of our dead pines (one unceremoniously struck by lightening), and he popped down to the house a couple of days ago to review what needed doing. It’s not untypical of people to turn up with goodies in hand, but this was pretty much the first time we’d met Eduardo so it was especially sweet. He lives in San Ginesio – a beautiful hill-top village about 10km from us – and his old dad makes sheep’s cheese for a living.  I’m politely waiting for an invite to go and watch him at work, but in the meantime I was more than happy with a huge tube – about 500g – of fresh ricotta.

So, what to make? I asked my brilliant foodie connections on Instagram to suggest some dishes and someone came up trumps with ricotta gnocchi – or ndundari as is their official name. A recipe that’s so simple it could be classed as fast food, and so tasty people will be fooled you’ve spent hour upon hour in the kitchen. It’s similar to the classic potato gnocchi, but more dense, without being heavy. In fact they hold their shape so well you can also fry them – perhaps with some butter and sage – as a side dish to some grilled meat.

Do your best to source some good ricotta from an Italian deli for this recipe as this dish is all about the quality of the ingredients.

Feeds 4 for a starter or 2-3 hungry people for a main.

Ingredients
200g of flour – preferably tipo 00
220g of fresh ricotta
3 egg yolks
20g of parmesan – grated
Freshly grated nutmeg
Salt & pepper to taste

Put a large pan of salted water on to boil.

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, ricotta, egg yolks, parmesan, nutmeg, s&p (so, that’s all the ingredients listed above). Work it with your hand in the bowl until it starts to come together. It may feel rather dry initially, but once you’ve worked the egg yolks and ricotta into the flour, it’ll start to make a nice, silky dough.

Ricotta gnocchi dough

Continue working it on a floured surface for about 5 mins or so, then roughly divide it into 4 portions – this is just so it’s easier to manage.

Using your hands, roll the dough into thin(ish) sausages. You can have them as thick or thin as you like, but too thick will make large gnocchi which may be a bit much, and too thin might mean they don’t hold together as well. With an ordinary butter knife, cut the ‘sausage’ at right angles into (roughly) 2cm long shapes. You can then leave them as they are, like small pillows, or press the back of a small fork into one side. The latter creates little gullies for the sauce to get caught in, so I like this method.

rolled ricotta gnocchi dough

Repeat with the other 3/4 of the dough and then pop them in the boiling water. I wait for them to bob to the surface and then leave it another 2 minutes or so before scooping them out with a slotted spoon and popping them into whatever sauce I’ve made as an accompaniment (in this case a very simple tomato and basil sauce with garlic).

ricotta gnochhi cut into shapes

ricotta gnocchi boiling in a pan of water

These also freeze really well. Make them, pop them on a flat tray in the freezer until they’ve gone hard, and then transfer them to a freezer bag. Cook from frozen, as mentioned above.

gnocchi with tomato and basil sauce

Delicious.

 

 

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Walks in Le Marche

We love the range of walks around Le Marche and we’ve been thinking about getting a rescue dog since we first moved here 2 years ago, but in the meantime I’m lucky enough to have a good friend living nearby who has 2 very enthusiastic dogs that like nothing more than to go on long exploratory walks.

The lovely thing about this part of the world is the range of terrain over such a small area. There’s the coast – flat as a pancake, with wide open sandy beaches which are especially appealing out of season.

Porto San Giorgio
Porto San Giorgio in the winter

There are the rolling hills between the mountains and the coast, and the actual mountains themselves. There are numerous lakes too, typically up in the mountains, which are wonderful all year round. Great for bird watching and for escaping the summer heat.

Lago di Fiastra
Lago di Fiastra in September

On most walks – especially further inland – you’re likely to come across old, crumbling, abandoned houses and barns, all in various states of disrepair. I remember taking so many of these in when we were first house hunting all those years ago, and they still hold a fascination now.

On a recent walk near the village of Gualdo, we came across a huge abandoned water mill. Set – unsurprisingly – next to a small river and with no visible habitable houses around it, it was both magical and slightly foreboding. With no obvious way of getting inside, which of course we were desperate to do, we had to make do with a squint through the huge keyhole and a thorough stomp around the outside, peeking through gaps in doorways wherever possible.

River in Le Marche
River by the abandoned water mill
Abandoned mill in Le Marche
Part of the water mill
Looking through the keyhole of an abandoned mill
Peeking through the keyhole to get a look inside
1799 graffiti
Graffiti from 1799 on the mill door
I love imagining what these old derelict places were like before they were abandoned, and what they could be like if someone came along and gave them some love. We thought the mill could be a fabulous wedding venue, with wonderful outside spaces set up near the river, the sound of gushing water and the complete sense of privacy and relaxation. Hopefully someone out there wants to give it a new lease of life soon.