I learned this dish probably two dozen years ago from Laura di Collibiano, the woman who’s helped to revive the production of the terrific olive oil Tenuta di Valgiano estate in the western part of Tuscany. She makes it, she said, whenever she has “leftover champagne.” You can of course also let some sparkling wine go flat overnight just to make the risotto—the flatness is important—if the sparkling wine is still freshly opened the heat of the alcohol will dominate the dish.

Risotto, I should say, has long been one of my favorite cold-weather dishes to make. In northern Italy, people eat risotto as often as folks in the rest of the country eat pasta. And, although it can understandably feel intimidating to make risotto if you didn’t grow up with it, it’s actually not very hard to do. If you have a copy on hand, the chapter on Italian rice in Zingerman’s Guide to Good Eating will walk you through the whole process in a great deal of easy-to-understand detail. We have Parmigiano Reggiano cheeses and Carnaroli rice at Deli and on Mail Order’s website that would be ideal for the dish!

INGREDIENTS

4 cups chicken broth (you may not end up using it all)—we sell great housemade bone broth at the Deli. You can also use vegetable broth to make the dish vegetarian.

2 1/2 cups flat champagne or flat sparkling wine

Rind pieces from Parmigiano Reggiano cheese (optional)

2 tablespoons butter, plus more to taste

1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped (about 3/4 cup)

1 cup Italian rice, preferably Carnaroli or Arborio

4 ounces Parmigiano Reggiano broken into 1/4-inch chunks

2 tablespoons finely chopped Italian parsley—rinsed and squeezed dry

Sea salt

Freshly ground Tellicherry black pepper

1/4 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano, for serving

DIRECTIONS

1. Combine the chicken broth with 2 cups of the champagne. If working with an unsalted broth, add sea salt to taste. If you have some Parmigiano Reggiano rind on hand, put a piece into the liquid. Bring broth and champagne mixture to a boil, reduce heat only slightly, and simmer for about 10 minutes. Reduce heat slightly again.

2. Melt 2 tablespoons of butter in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Sauté the onion in the butter until soft and golden (don’t brown or the onion will become bitter).

3. Add the rice and stir well. Sauté for a couple of minutes until the rice is very hot and shiny. Add the remaining 1/2 cup of champagne. Stir until it’s been absorbed by the rice. Add 1/2 cup of the broth-champagne mixture. Stir until absorbed. Repeat the process over and over again until the rice is tender but still firm.

4. The risotto is done when the rice is al dente, about 18 minutes from when it first went into the pan. Add a touch more butter and one last 1/2 cup of the broth-champagne mixture. (If you’ve used up all the broth you can use hot water at this stage.) Stir, yet again, then remove from the heat.

5. Add the parsley and Parmigiano pieces and mix well. The cheese should still be in chunks—don’t let it melt into the dish. Let stand for a minute. Add salt to taste.

6. Serve in warm bowls. Top with the additional Parmigiano Reggiano cheese and a generous dose of black pepper atop each bowl. Serves two generous main courses or four appetizers.

The whole dish can be made in under half an hour and you can probably play with your kids or read your emails while you’re stirring! The result is a great dinner! Because the two featured ingredients here—Parmigiano Reggiano and bubbly—are already so special, it’s a great way to impress company or convey the importance of any event (such as New Year’s Eve!), or in truth, just to make another otherwise remarkable mid-winter evening into some special. I like to celebrate every day as if it were a holiday—cooking this dish for two on a Tuesday evening is a wonderful way to enhance the quality of any relationship! Cheers!

An annual holiday classic
handcrafted across the ZCoB 

I can’t remember when we first started making spiced pecans a holiday treat. What I do know for sure though is that over the years, they’ve become a Zingerman’s classic—people start asking me in August when they’ll be available.

In our never-ending effort to always improve what we do in small but meaningful ways, I’m happy to say that spiced pecans are literally tasting better than ever! About 10 years ago now, we took the pecans themselves up a notch too, when we started buying them from the South Georgia Pecan Company in the town of Valdosta. The firm today is owned and run by the Work family who bought it a year after we opened the Deli (i.e., 1983), but for historical context, the company was started in 1913 by one of the first Jewish families in town, the Pearlmans.

The pecans are pretty darned delicious—fresher tasting, and a small, but meaningfully, bit more flavorful than what we’d been getting. (We sell the pecans at the Deli in their un-spiced, natural form. Pick up a bag next time you’re in!) After being toasted with butter, the pecans get tossed—while still warm—with lots of freshly ground Tellicherry black pepper, Jamaican allspice, ginger, Indian cloves, and other enticing spices.

The spiced pecans are delicious, just as they are. Bring a bag in the car or on the plane if you’re traveling. If you put a bowl of them out at most any gathering, they’re pretty sure to be gone before you know it. They’re also excellent in the kitchen—try them chopped, then tossed onto gelato, mashed sweet potatoes, roasted carrots, or green salads. They pair particularly well with blue cheese—I love them with the Roquefort—and also with fresh slices of pear or apple. Coarsely chop some and toss them on top of rice pudding or noodle kugel. Or try sprinkling some atop your holiday stuffing.

They make a great little nibble when you’re partaking in a bit of bourbon, too. In the spirit of how we have long defined “full flavor” here at Zingerman’s (see “A Taste of Zingerman’s Food Philosophy” for more on this), the Spiced Pecans have a wonderful complexity. They are nicely balanced so that the flavor of all the spices, butter, and nuts come together as you eat. And they have a lovely long finish that you can savor long after you’ve stopped eating.

Available at the Deli, the Candy Store, and Mail Order.

The name of the classic French holiday cake, Bûche de Noël, means, literally, “Christmas log.” It seems to have its historical roots in the traditions of Celtic Brittany, where trees were used to celebrate the winter solstice. At that time, trees were believed to have magical powers; hauling a large log or tree trunk to the manor of the local lord (a small part of the above-mentioned Subject Story) became a tradition. Later, people of more modest means began bringing a log to their own homes as well, where the wood would be blessed, anointed, and burned ceremonially. When the church banned these old “pagan” rituals, many people found covert ways to continue on apace, by keeping the ceremony private in their homes.

As more people moved to cities in modern times and the Consumer Story came into play, people shifted to buying and eating cakes decorated like logs rather than burning real wood. The earliest written mentions of this kind of cake buying began to show up in the late 19th century, appearing in print in La cuisine anglaise et la pâtisserie, which was published in 1894. (The same year, I’ll note, that the notoriously anti-Semitic Dreyfus trial took place.) Bûche de Noël has long been one of Bakehouse co-managing partner Amy Emberling’s favorite cakes. In the book Zingerman’s Bakehouse she writes,

Making Bûche de Noël at the bakery during December is a joyful sign of the holidays. We start to anticipate and plan in October, start making the decorative mushrooms in November, and have log-rolling parties in December. It wouldn’t be Christmas at the bakery without Bûche de Noël. 

This year the Bakehouse is offering two versions of this traditional French holiday dessert. One is a light vanilla cake rolled around a really wonderful, walnut-rum buttercream, then covered in chocolate Swiss buttercream. The “log” is then decorated with hand-crafted edible sugar and fondant “mushrooms,” “holly,” and freshly fallen sugar “snow.” The other is a White Chocolate Bûche de Noël, especially intriguing for anyone looking for an alcohol-free or nut-free version! It features our light vanilla chiffon cake, and it’s filled with chocolate buttercream, frosted with white chocolate Swiss buttercream, decorated with blue and silver snowflakes, a dusting of cocoa powder, and some more of that freshly fallen sugar “snow.”

Like all our cakes, you’ll enjoy the Bûche best when it’s allowed first to come to room temperature (same as cheese, cured ham, salami, etc.). Order now to make sure to get your Bakehouse Bûche de Noël in time for the big day!

The week before last I wrote about some wonderful sardines we have from the folks at Fishwife (you can find them at the Deli and at the Roadhouse). This week, it’s Sardinia, the island, since I’ve got the Zingerman’s Food Tour on my mind that’s coming up the first 10 days of May 2024. If you’re looking for a life-changing gift to give to someone you love, consider scoring them a spot on this tour. It’s a remarkable week in a remarkable place. In fact, Sardinia is so special you may end up wanting to move there. That’s what happened to the great mid-20th century Italian folksinger, Fabrizio de André.

De André, also an introvert, was known in his homeland as “the poet of Italy.” Think Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, or Willie Dunn. De André was active in mid-20th century protest movements and his fame rose when his songs were adopted as anthems of the protests that swept Italy in 1968. Although De André grew up in the lovely environs of Liguria, the remarkably beautiful Italian Riviera, as soon as he spent time on Sardinia he was smitten:

This land is magic, it gives joy to the spirit, even when you go back home exhausted. It nourishes and doesn’t leave space for bad thoughts. To live in this dimension is the most simple but also the most profound way to live on earth. … [Sardinians] are people looking at the future with respect of the past.

Joe Capuano, long-time purchasing manager at Zingerman’s Mail Order, is also the tour leader for this special trip to Sardinia. He loves it too! Here’s what Joe wanted to share:

Lobster, octopus, mussels, and sea urchin can all be found at the markets and restaurants. One unique specialty of Sardinia is the Bottarga di Muggine, the roe of Mediterranean mullet. The mullet “caviar” is cleaned, cured in sea salt, pressed, then dried. The result is a delicacy with a salty flavor and a dense, silky texture. And one of the stops on the tour is a restaurant where every dish highlights the bottarga. There are also specially selected vineyards, one of which uses Vermentino grapes grown in the hard Sardinian soil with abundant sun, a windy climate, and temperature changes through the day and night that give birth each year to Vermentino di Gallura.

And that’s only the beginning. There’s pasta making, amazing cheese, the traditional island flatbread, Pane Carasau; cooking lessons, walking tours, and a whole lot more! In the spirit of what we will learn from Gareth Higgins next week, great stories are sure to be started—stories you will be telling for many years to come. Still not sure? Fabrizio de André said:

Life in Sardinia is probably the best a man can wish: twenty-four thousand kilometers of forests, countryside, shores immersed in a miraculous sea, this corresponds to what I would suggest God to give us as Paradise.

Tasty treats to take your day to more delicious places

Party Time Pumpkin Pie from the Bakehouse

A classic coming together of Native American and European and Asian culinary influences—features a creamy filling of pumpkin (native to the Americas), spiced with cinnamon, ginger, and cloves from Southeast Asia, enhanced by heavy cream in an all-butter crust (both of which arrived in North America with Europeans). The Bakehouse’s Party Time Pumpkin Pies are only lightly sweetened with local honey—part of what appeals to me about them is that they aren’t, to my taste, overly sweet. I like to take mine up a notch with a drizzle of sorghum syrup, a sprinkling of toasted walnuts, or cinnamon-scented whipped cream (or all three!).

Harvest Pumpkin Gelato from the Creamery 

Smooth pumpkin purée spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, blended with a bit of the Creamery’s classic Burnt Sugar syrup. Super tasty! It’d be great with a bit of ground espresso or shaved chocolate sprinkled over top. Or turn it into a great fall sundae—a Bakehouse Ginger Jump-Up cookie for a base, a scoop of this great Harvest Pumpkin Gelato, a little whipped cream, and a ribbon of dark sorghum syrup poured over top!

Pumpkin Spice Latte from the Roadhouse 

A slowly simmered blend of Muscovado brown sugar, pumpkin purée, real vanilla bean, and Épices de Cru’s compelling Pumpkin Pie Spice—Indonesian cassia, Jamaican nutmeg and ginger, Sri Lankan cinnamon, and Jamaican allspice. All then blended with whole milk from Calder Dairy and a couple shots of the Coffee Company’s Espresso Blend #1 from the Daterra Estate in Brazil. Customers have been raving about this all month.

Pumpkin Cheesecake from the Bakehouse

I wrote a bunch about how terrific the Pumpkin Cheesecake is a few weeks back. To my taste, it really is one of the best things we make in the entire ZCoB. That ginger cookie crust is just fantastic! Terrific, too, sprinkled with a bit of freshly ground (not brewed) espresso?!

P.S. We also have the Épices de Cru Pumpkin Pie Spices at the Deli for you to cook with at home too!

P.P.S. On the savory side of things, here’s a reminder that Bakehouse will be doing a Special Bake of one of my favorites, the Walnut Sage Bread, this Friday and Saturday, November 16 and 17.

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The story of a kind man I never met and the catfish for which he became famous

It’s true! The cat is back! If you come into the Roadhouse this month, you might be happy to see the whole fried catfish has returned to what so many of you believe is its rightful place on the regular menu. I’m glad it is—I tried some the other day for the first time in a long while and was reminded just how tasty it truly is. Moist, meaty, delicate, with the crunch of the super flavorful Anson Mills artisan cornmeal on the outside, and a sprinkling of garlic salt that adds a bit of culinary embroidery to an already excellent dish. It’s served up alongside the Anson Mills grits (made with a different corn and a different milling texture than the cornmeal), long-cooked collard greens, and a ramekin of mustard coleslaw. Having this classic fried catfish for dinner would be the making of a great night!

In “A Taste of Zingerman’s Food Philosophy,” I encourage all of us (myself included) to “Get curious about the story behind your food.” Without knowing the story, I always say, the food may be fine—but we’re missing so much of the background that makes it what it is. In the same way that knowing a person only by their job title or as an offshoot of their family tree does them a disservice, it is true for food. We need to know the story to truly know, appreciate, and understand what we’re eating.

The story of the Roadhouse fried catfish begins with a guy named Joe Burroughs. In his community of Albertville, Alabama, he was known to most folks as “Uncle Joe.” I never met Joe Burroughs, but he was the father of my long-time friend Peggy Burroughs Markel, who for many years has co-led the Zingerman’s Food Tour to Tuscany. I know Joe Burroughs’ beautiful story only through her. American ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax, who spent much of the 20th century recording little-known traditional music to preserve it for posterity, believed that “traditional songs are the poetry of everyday people.” In a culinary context, dishes like this catfish offer the same loveliness for cooking. They are culinary poetry from the back kitchens of the country. Every time we serve the catfish, I come back to the story of Joe Burroughs.

After Uncle Joe passed away in 2008, Peggy shared this story with me. He went to school at Auburn, then went into the army in WWII, where he spent most of his time in Italy and North Africa. Not surprisingly, the story her father told about the world was influenced greatly by what he experienced there.

He expressed how the Italian people reminded him of his own people, who grew gardens and loved to cook, even though times were rough. He was inspired to write poetry and sculpt in alabaster. … His heart was broken open by the beauty of Italy. He was happy to return home, but the memories of Italy were constantly on his mind, in his expressions and countless tales told over and over again.

Joe went to work for South Central Bell. He was a telephone man, a supervisor, who taught other men how to be fearless on cold stormy nights high up on a telephone pole. His ‘men’ loved him, just as they did when he was 1st Sergeant in Communications. In his private life, he was a gentleman farmer and caring family man. He was creative and artistic. He expressed himself best as a gardener and cook. He took over for my mother on the weekends and it was always a party. Fried catfish on Friday night, steaks on Saturday, and omelets on Sunday night. My mother made Sunday lunch—fried chicken. He loved growing and pickling peppers and was known as a master pepper pickler.

He had a passion for frying catfish. The Tennessee River was a stone’s throw away and he was down to visit his good friend, who we called Uncle Charlie, often. Uncle Charlie had a boathouse on Pole Cat Hollow, an offshoot of Guntersville Lake, where the TVA created 800 miles of shoreline around the foothills of the Appalachian. We grew up swimming in the river, boating, waterskiing, and chowing down on catfish, hushpuppies, and home brew. After all, we lived in a dry county. My dad liked his beer and we had to drive to the next town to get it. We had two refrigerators out back by the Bar B Q pit. One was for beer and the other was a smoker. If you got it mixed up, you’d open the fridge door and find catfish hanging upside down by their tails.

The Tennessee River was a goldmine for catfish—catfish farms were not even invented yet. I can still remember how proud I was as a kid to learn how to take my fork and go up the spine of a freshly fried fish, still steaming, filet it and dab it into some homemade “goush”; an equal mix of catsup and mayonnaise. It was so good. My sisters and I would turn on Elvis Presley and “do the mashed potato.” Wasn’t a Friday night that I didn’t go out on a date smelling like fried fish. At that point, Mama made him start cooking it outside of the house. There he built his domain. … His cast iron deep fryer, full of Mazola, kept the fires burning until everyone had their share. The bone plates were stacked high. All of our friends came willingly. It was the place to be for the best food in town. “Uncle Joe’s famous catfish” right in our own backyard. He was inspired and designed a room off the house and thought to start a small café complete with a conveyor belt, designed to take the fried fish to people sitting around the bar. He was ahead of his time.

Uncle Joe Burroughs died peacefully and quietly in his sleep in the second week of July 2008. Peggy shared this: “The lesson for me? Kindness and gentleness is the key to happiness and a peaceful passing.” Joe never built the café he dreamed of, but in the spirit of Alan Lomax’s work to record people who might never have otherwise been heard of, I really wanted to have his catfish on the menu.

Two weeks ago, October 24, would have been Uncle Joe Burroughs’ 105th birthday. The catfish dish on the Roadhouse menu is a tribute to the memory of the kindness and gentleness and generosity with which he moved through the world. Sharing his story here is another of my “secular prayers,” a hope that we can live lives based around generosity, beauty, and coming caringly together around good food the way Uncle Joe did for so many years. When you raise your forkful of delicately fried catfish at dinner, consider giving a quiet “toast” to Uncle Joe, and the joy he brought to the world. And if you want to channel Peggy’s childhood and bring this touching fish story alive, we can happily bring you the ketchup and mayonnaise to make a bit of Burroughs’ family “goush” to go with it.