Caprese love

Feb
2010
22

posted by on Recipes

No comments

As I’m a bit mental about Italian food, I just had to share my favourite salad recipe with you.  Yip, I’m awesome like that.  The trick with all good cooking is the quality of your ingredients.  I know you’ve probably heard it a million times, but it’s that important.

Fresh, unblemished, super ripe tomatoes of varying shapes, sizes & colours; perfect, fresh basil leaves; quiveringly fresh buffalo mozzarella (or a great quality cow’s milk mozzarella will do)… the Holy Trinity of the Caprese.  I don’t need to tell you about how fabulous your extra virgin olive oil needs to be, you guys have totally got that covered, right?  Good-oh.

It may not be all that traditional, but I like to use a rustic home-made basil pesto to toss the mozzarella in just before I serve it.  I finish the salad off with some finely shaved zest of unwaxed, unblemished lemons, which takes the flavours into another dimension.  If you’re a traditionalist, forget I said that, and just go with the naked mozzarella.

This is how it goes: (serves 4)

4 large ripe tomatoes (heirloom; beefsteak; plum; Roma; black; green)

1 punnet yellow cherry tomatoes, sliced in half

1 punnet mini Roma tomatoes, sliced in half

6-7 large sprigs of sweet basil, unblemished & washed (thick stems removed)

3-4 balls of buffalo mozzarella or boccincini, drained just before serving

Sea salt flakes (Maldon is all I use)

Freshly crushed black pepper (tellicherry pepper is the black gold of pepper)

Optional: chunky basil pesto, freshly grated lemon zest & a good quality balsamic vinegar reduction

And then…

Slice up the large tomatoes into thin slices with a very sharp knife.  Arrange these without too much care or precision on your serving platter.  Followed by the halved cherry & mini tomatoes, and season with salt flakes & black pepper.

Scatter the basil leaves over the tomatoes.  Drain the mozzarella balls, and tear into bit-size chunks with your hands – NEVER cut up mozzarella with a knife, it kills the beautiful lacy texture.  You can toss the mozzarella chunks with the basil pesto at this point, or just scatter them over the basil leaves.

Top off with a good drizzle of that beautiful extra virgin olive oil we spoke about, and some more salt flakes & black pepper.

Get out your aquaplane gadget if you have one, and finely grate some of that gorgeous lemon peel over the salad.  None of the white pith should be included.  Please make sure your lemons are at room temperature, as all those lovely oils where the flavour sits in the skin will be in their liquid state, rather than in a solid state if they’re refrigerated.  Bigger, more lemony flavour release.

If you need to make the salad pop for a dinner party or similar, put the balsamic reduction into a squeeze bottle with a very narrow nozzle.  Practise big, bold zigzags on a dinner plate, so that you feel confident about the motions you’re about to make on your prepared salad.  You can gauge the width of the zig-zag by either pressing softer or harder on the bottle.  Ensure your arm action is quick, so that you get lots of thin zigzags, instead of fewer, thicker ones.  This gives the salad a very subtle sweet, acidic dressing, as opposed to an over-powering flavour of balsamic vinegar, which will totally kill the delicate, fresh flavours of the cheese & the tomatoes.

Boom!

posted by on Reviews

No comments

It’s been ages since my last visit to Limoncello in Gardens – a firm favourite of mine – so I was really excited! My Lovely made the reservation, and it was game ON baby!

We got to the restaurant within minutes of our reservation, and as usual it was teeming with people. We walked up to the heat of the pizza oven where the waitrons were buzzing like hummingbirds, catching the eye of one pretty young thing & announcing our arrival for our table. Blank stare. 8.30 table for 2, I say. Give the name again. Now, haunting blank stare progresses to a worried glance over my shoulder to a couple sitting at a table. Our table, I’m deducing. So instead of being presented with a profuse apology at the mix-up (was it really a mix-up, or were they quite happy to fill seats with whomever walked in first?), we were ushered upstairs to park ourselves on a couch in an unused dining area & offered drinks. Aforementioned hummingbird mutters something relating to “10 minutes or so” & gaps it back downstairs to the safety of the pizza oven.

We wait. We drink our softdrinks. We locate some menus behind a dusty bar. We savour the contents thereof, decide on what we’re going to eat. We wait some more. We’re then joined by a group of about 8 Italians who sashay past us to a table, (Italians mostly sashay – I’ve seen it with my own eyes) sit down & as if by magic, a hummingbird descends upon them in a flash. Head-reel. What? I look over at My Lovely. Same shocked expression. I whisper what he’s thinking, that we should get our sashay on & go claim ourselves a table. Before we can do that our own helpful hummingbird approaches: the couple at our table are not moving & have tucked themselves in for the night. Do we want to wait for another table to become available? It’s now 9pm. I’m ravenous after a long run earlier in the evening, & I’m glancing longingly yet spitefully at the Italians. No way, I say, we’re outta here. An apology from the hummingbird – finally, yet too late china bean!

Honestly, what is the point of calling a restaurant and making a reservation if they do not intend to make some sort of effort towards managing or even recording those reservations? Why even accept reservations if you don’t plan on holding the tables? I was very disappointed & will not be going there again.