by Lisa

A few weeks ago, the excellent Amanda Hesser, wrote about bagna cauda in her old/new New York Times column, which is worth following if you don’t already.  (Also worth checking out is her newer endeavor, food52, dedicated to home cooking.)  When I opened the magazine and saw the piece, I felt like I had been returned to a very old, very dear childhood friend because we eat bagna cauda all winter long, but no one else we know does. It’s dark, and weird, and made almost entirely of anchovies and garlic, but it’s totally, completely delicious.  Bagna cauda has been a kind of food secret for decades for me, and now for our family. And yes, it’s another sort of unusual thing our kids love (at least for a non-Italian/non Italian-American), but, like fegatini, it’s comfort food, pure and simple, that can be served just as easily to a crowd at a holiday feast.

So when I saw Hesser’s piece singing the praises of Bagna Cauda, not only did I feel validated, I felt like it was about time! Maybe now a wave of bagna cauda eating would sweep the nation, and I could serve it to others and they would know what it was, and wouldn’t give me weird looks, etc. etc.  Maybe now when I serve it to others, or bring it to a potluck, I can tell people: you know, the stuff Amanda Hesser wrote about the Times….

As Hesser writes, there are many variations of bagna cauda, which means warm bath. It’s a warm dip for cold weather and cold weather vegetables, and ideally everyone will hover around the warming pot and dip their slivers of peeled broccoli stems, sliced cauliflower, carrot, celery, toasted bread, puntarelle–whatever–into the rich, deep brown, garlicky mess, and drink a glass of a big Italian red, and be very, very happy.

Bagna cauda has a very long history for me. I learned about it from my friend, Ted Zoli, who was a terrific cook when we were in college, and who is now a certified genius doing completely amazing things in the world with bridges.  He took a friend and I fishing, once, in the woods behind his upstate New York home, and we caught loads of baby brook trout, which his father fried up for us, and the meal completely made up for nearly getting lost in those woods. (One of us, mind you, was in a cast, had injured a leg? an ankle? And had to be practically carried out. It was cold, wet, dark…an adventure with a great reward at the end.)

It came as a great surprise, then no surprise at all, but a very great happiness when it was announced this year that Ted had won a MacArthur Grant.  He has worked impossibly harder than anyone I know, at significant things, for decades, and it was gratifying to see such work rewarded.  Thankfully, there is some justice in the world. And thankfully, there is bagna cauda, for the rest of us.

Many years ago, when we were just out of college, he lived in an adorable, exposed brick, one bedroom walk-up on Christopher St. in NYC, and we all used to cram in there and hang out and eat good things. One day, when we weren’t planning on eating there, he had a small pot of something simmering on the stove over just the barest lick of flame.  It was bagna cauda, and I was sort of amazed that it was so simple and so good and that he could just leave the pot like that, simmering for hours, while we were out in the city. It seemed sort of brave and risky back then when none of us really knew much about cooking.

His method:  take a ton of garlic, a lot of anchovies, cover the  lot of it with olive oil, and simmer, simmer, simmer,  over the lowest possible flame until it all dissolves.

I’ve adapted his method some, adding a tiny amount of butter, but my proportion of garlic to anchovies is still generous compared to some.   The key is not to leave out or skimp on the anchovies, even if you’re a little afraid of them. Buy good ones, in a glass jar, and they will reveal themselves to you, I promise. They add depth, richness, and a lovely color and saltiness. There’s nothing like them.

Today, for my bagna cauda, which we’ll eat tonight after Mass, for our Feast of the Seven Fishes (of which we only eat 3 or 4 courses), I’ll use something like:

• 2 jars of good anchovies
• 6 or 7 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
• 2-3 tablespoons butter
• olive oil to cover

and I’ll simmer, simmer, simmer on the lowest possible heat until the fish dissolve, the garlic becomes a thin paste, and the everthing is blended and transformed into something utterly new. Which is not only delicious, but a kind of metaphor for the night.

by Lisa

This dish is an all-time crowd pleaser and a family favorite. I’ve been making it since before we were married, and both Ella and Finn ate it well before they were a year old.  I’ve converted my entire family, my husband’s family, and all of our closest friends. We’ve met very few kids who won’t eat it, and there have been several holidays where a good helping of fegatini constituted most of the kids dinner.    It’s easy, it’s healthy, it’s protein rich, and it’s one of the most delicious things you can serve, especially alongside a glass of prosecco.

To give you an example of just how good this is, and of the lasting impression it can make in your gastronomic memory, when I made the first batch of this year back in November, Ella smelled the early stages of cooking and shouted in from the other room, “You’re making fegatini!”  and she and her brother clamored around the stove until it was ready. In fact, the dish is simmering right now as I type, and Finn just walked in the door and said, “Mmm, It smells good in here!”

Don’t let the ingredients put you off.  Unless you’re a vegetarian, you’ll love this. No matter what.

I start making fegatini on Thanksgiving, and then we have it pretty steadily through the cold months.  It  keeps for several days in the refrigerator, freezes really well (you can double the recipe and save half for later), and it’s is just as good for a lazy Sunday dinner or a quick lunch or an easy weeknight appetizer as it is for a family celebration.  If you have fegatini in your refrigerator, and a decent bottle of Italian bubbly, you will really want for nothing.

I found the recipe originally in Bon Appetite, and there are many variations, but none I’ve found as good as this one.

Fegatini

• 1 lb organic chicken livers
• 3-4 anchovies
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 3-4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 cup white whine
• 1 cup chicken broth
• olive oil
• chopped sage, 1/2 tablespoon, to taste
• zest of one lemon
• salt and pepper to taste

1. In a large saucepan, sautee onion, garlic, and anchovies in olive oil on medium heat until anchovies are dissolved and onion is soft.
2. Add chicken livers and cook until nicely browned on all sides but not cooked through.
3. Add white wine and simmer until nearly evaporated.
4. Add chicken broth and cook until livers cooked through, breaking up livers with a fork, and most of the liquid is evaporated. There should be some liquid left in the pan.
5. Let cool slightly and process until smooth in a food processor with the sage and lemon zest. Add more sage or zest to taste. Season with salt and pepper to taste. (I rarely add salt and never pepper, but you might like to.)

Serve at room temperature on toasted slices of Italian bread.

Buon Natale!