A Dishwasher And Her ‘Biscotti’
Posted: November 14, 2012
By The Book
In her foreword to “Biscotti,” the first cookbook in the series published by the Rome Sustainable Food Project of the American Academy in Rome, Mona Talbott talks about the evolution of the food program.
It was designed, at first, simply to feed the American students and — by all accounts — was a lackluster institutional take on American and Italian standards for foods cooked in large quantities. Under the guidance of Alice Waters — Talbott is a former chef at Chez Panisse — the cooking program took on more importance and finally became a kind of laboratory for preserving Italian traditions, using organic sources close to Rome for ingredients, and traditional recipes for its inspiration.
The ingredients weren’t hard to find: citrus, almonds and hazelnuts, fresh butter and cream, olive oil and fresh-milled flour, concentrated jams, farm eggs, spices and splashes of Italian liqueurs. The real key was to find some of the ancient biscotti (cookie) recipes. Talbott credits the school’s dishwasher, Mirella Misenti, with the eventual collection of 50 perfect little bites in this wonderful book, released just in time for holiday baking.
Nobody knew at first that the dishwasher (she spoke only Italian) had a number of hand-written recipes from grandmothers and aunts. Realizing that cookies were an important element of any endeavor involving a student community, Talbott set out to teach the dishwasher to bake the American cookies so familiar to us all. She translated to Italian dozens of chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, ginger snap and peanut butter cookie recipes for Misenti to bake and serve at the library teas or for dessert after lunch. Cookies were also tucked into bag lunches, served at weekend events and, generally, snapped up as fast as the dishwasher could pull them out of the oven.
When Misenti started baking some of her family favorites, it was a revelation, Talbott said: “They were elegant and made the American cookies seem almost childish.” Besides the more subtle flavors, there were other differences: The biscotti were generally not as sweet as the American version; and they were truly small bites to end a meal rather than gigantic rounds, denser in calories than the meal itself.
Most of us are familiar with the twice-baked biscotti, designed to be dipped in milk, espresso or wine; there are several examples in the “Milk and Wine” chapter. There is also a chapter on nuts and chapters on citrus and spices, chocolate, and meringue. I noticed, as I began working through this wonderful little book, that a great many of the recipes were designed as what we call “refrigerator” cookies; meant to be mixed up and stored, to slice off easily when time permits. With clear directions and some historic notes provided, the cookies themselves may be piccolini (small) but the accomplishment is huge.
Order “Biscotti” at your local independent book store.
It was designed, at first, simply to feed the American students and — by all accounts — was a lackluster institutional take on American and Italian standards for foods cooked in large quantities. Under the guidance of Alice Waters — Talbott is a former chef at Chez Panisse — the cooking program took on more importance and finally became a kind of laboratory for preserving Italian traditions, using organic sources close to Rome for ingredients, and traditional recipes for its inspiration.
The ingredients weren’t hard to find: citrus, almonds and hazelnuts, fresh butter and cream, olive oil and fresh-milled flour, concentrated jams, farm eggs, spices and splashes of Italian liqueurs. The real key was to find some of the ancient biscotti (cookie) recipes. Talbott credits the school’s dishwasher, Mirella Misenti, with the eventual collection of 50 perfect little bites in this wonderful book, released just in time for holiday baking.
Nobody knew at first that the dishwasher (she spoke only Italian) had a number of hand-written recipes from grandmothers and aunts. Realizing that cookies were an important element of any endeavor involving a student community, Talbott set out to teach the dishwasher to bake the American cookies so familiar to us all. She translated to Italian dozens of chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, ginger snap and peanut butter cookie recipes for Misenti to bake and serve at the library teas or for dessert after lunch. Cookies were also tucked into bag lunches, served at weekend events and, generally, snapped up as fast as the dishwasher could pull them out of the oven.
When Misenti started baking some of her family favorites, it was a revelation, Talbott said: “They were elegant and made the American cookies seem almost childish.” Besides the more subtle flavors, there were other differences: The biscotti were generally not as sweet as the American version; and they were truly small bites to end a meal rather than gigantic rounds, denser in calories than the meal itself.
Most of us are familiar with the twice-baked biscotti, designed to be dipped in milk, espresso or wine; there are several examples in the “Milk and Wine” chapter. There is also a chapter on nuts and chapters on citrus and spices, chocolate, and meringue. I noticed, as I began working through this wonderful little book, that a great many of the recipes were designed as what we call “refrigerator” cookies; meant to be mixed up and stored, to slice off easily when time permits. With clear directions and some historic notes provided, the cookies themselves may be piccolini (small) but the accomplishment is huge.
Order “Biscotti” at your local independent book store.
Theresa Curry blogs about food, health and gardens at www.gma85.com.