NOTE: Whether you own cast-iron or not, do not miss the Mozzarella in Carrozza recipe below!
When we sold our house and moved back into an apartment with a tiny kitchen with a drastically reduced amount of storage space, I freaked. Then I realized that of all the cookware I own, I use about 10 % of it on a regular basis. So most of the stuff is in an upstairs storage room, the rest of it is in the sole storage cabinet in the kitchen large enough to hold it. It’s not that I buy every new item that comes onto the market- I don’t. I haven’t bought a pot or pan in 15 years, although a few have been given to me over the years. I buy good, (usually that means expensive) pieces, treat them with care, and expect them to last a lifetime.
An exception to the expensive, but definitely not the last a lifetime rule stated above is cast iron. All the pieces I own—two large skillets, two small skillets, a griddle, a grill pan and a stew pot—I have had for 20 or more years. My favorite by far is the cast iron griddle. I use it for griddle-y things like pancakes, French toast and eggs. Also for cooking fillets of salmon and other fish, chicken breasts, little kabobs at parties and a whole bunch of other things. Because it is largish, rectangular and fits over two burners it holds more than a very large round skillet or even two large skillets. It is amazing how beautifully big fat sea scallops cook on the griddle. With a little olive oil, a good shot of salt and pepper and a hot griddle, I can make enough scallops in under 5 minutes to serve 6 people at a dinner party. I have for my cast iron griddle the kind of feeling some people have for fuzzy, mewing kittens. When I find a fuzzy mewing kitten that can produce 30 perfectly cooked sea scallops in 4 minutes I might change my tune. Until then, it’s griddle 30, kitty 0.
A couple of the cast iron pieces I mentioned I got at garage sales and nursed back to health. The rest I bought new and seasoned them from scratch—at first manually, after that, through continuous use. Seasoning a cast iron skillet is a bit of a pain in the kiester, or used to be, anyway (more on that in a minute). I started by pouring in a big glug of vegetable oil, adding a handful of kosher salt and using the two together to scour the inside of the pan. Then it went into a 300° F oven for a couple of hours. Repeat and repeat, until it comes out of the oven smooth and shiny. Unless you own an old pan or buy one cheap, all that is now moot. Lodge (www.lodgemfg.com) sells pre-seasoned cast iron skillets which are ready to use right off the shelf. Fran Liebowitz, in her collection of short pieces titled Metropolitan Life, talks about the advent of calculators in grade school classrooms. Her attitude at the time was, “If I had to learn how to do long division, so do they.” It’s tempting to subscribe to this attitude when I think about cast iron, but I don’t. Just because I had to walk 6 miles in the blinding snow to the hardware store to buy a skillet that took 2 weeks to season (in between doing my math homework in coal on the back of a shovel and harvesting by moonlight), why should they? Seasoning cast iron is, frankly, tedious and iffy. Just when you think you’ve got it, something sticks badly enough to need a good scrubbing with detergent and you’re back to where you started. If you do find yourself buying cast iron that needs seasoning or returning a neglected garage sale beauty back to health, take a tip. Do the salt/bake, salt/bake thing mentioned above, but the first few times you use the pan, use it for shallow frying. That seems a good way to give the seasoning process a big jump start. It is also a wonderful excuse to make one of my favorite dishes, mozzarella in carozza. Here is an outline based on the version we made in my first restaurant kitchen job at an Italian-American restaurant/swim club in Clark, NJ. If you would like a more detailed recipe, email me, and I will send the one from Primi Piatti , the first cookbook I ever wrote, which is now out of print. Sometimes you can find a copy or two on Amazon, under the “new and used” headers. They sell for somewhere around $1.89, which I don’t let affect my self esteem. At all.
Here we go: start with dense, good quality white bread. Pepperidge Farm will do in a pinch, just not the “very thin” kind. Slice, not too thin/not too thick, some good fresh mozzarella and make a more or less even layer over one slice. Top with another slice and trim off the crusts. Cut the sandwich into 4 triangles. Dip the edges in flour, which helps keep the cheese from completely oozing out. Have ready a bowl of beaten eggs, a small handful of chopped parsley, a few anchovy fillets (or not), a heaping teaspoon of capers and a lemon, cut in half. Pour about ¾ inch of good (not great) olive oil into a cast iron skillet and heat it over medium heat. When a drop of egg start to sizzle nicely, not frenetically, when you drop it into the oil, it’s hot enough. Dip the triangles into the egg and turn them to coat them well and generously. Slip them into the oil as you go. The oil should be hot enough to give off a nice, steady sizzle. You don’t want it too hot or the sandwiches will brown before the center gets gooey. Turn them gently to brown them on all sides. I’m obsessive enough to stand them on their sides so those brown too. When they’re done, drain them on paper towels. Pour off all but a couple of tablespoons of oil from the pan. You can use the poured-off oil again to cook vegetables, etc. Add the anchovies and capers to the pan and cook until the capers sizzle and the anchovies start falling apart. Add the parsley and squeeze the lemon halves into the pan. Add salt and pepper if you think it needs it. Spoon the sauce over the sandwiches.
If you live in or near New York or are coming for a visit, check out the assortment of pre-seasoned cast iron cookware upstairs at Zabar’s Broadway and 81st; www.zabars.com). It is really impressive, as are the prices. Not just on Lodge, but on everything they sell there. It is easy to lose an hour or two upstairs at Zabar’s, so be warned. You will need nourishment after fondling all that kitchen equipment- go to Café Frida (as in Kahlo; www.cafefrida.com) at Columbus and 78th and order a cactus salad tostada and some tacos al carbon. Think of me kindly as you eat them.
Mozzarella in Carrozza
Makes 4 servings
The carrozza, or carriage, that the mozzarella rides in is a pillow of egg-encrusted bread. I was going to include two versions, one plain and one with this simple anchovy and parsley sauce, but the sauce is so delicious, it would be criminal to steer anyone away from it.
8 slices day-old white bread, crusts removed, about 3 inches square
½ pound mozzarella, preferably fresh, sliced 1/8 inch thick
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
All-purpose flour
3 eggs
1/3 cup olive oil
8 anchovy fillets
2 tablespoons coarsely chopped Italian parsley leaves
2 teaspoons lemon juice
Top 4 of the bread slices with a single layer of sliced mozzarella. Sprinkle the cheese with salt and pepper. Trim the cheese even with the edges of the bread. Top with the remaining bread. Cut the sandwiches into 4 triangles. Dip the edges of the triangles in the flour and tap off the excess.
Beat the eggs with a few drops of water in a shallow bowl until well blended. Place the coated sandwiches in the beaten egg one at a time and turn to coat all sides. Place the coated sandwiches on a tray and repeat until all are coated with egg.
Pour ¼ cup of the olive oil into a heavy large skillet. Heat over medium-high heat until a corner of a sandwich dipped in the oil gives off a lively sizzle. Fry half the sandwiches, turning as necessary, until golden brown on all sides, about 3 minutes. Remove to paper towels to drain. Give the oil a few seconds to reheat and fry the remaining sandwiches. Drain briefly on paper towels and arrange all the sandwiches on a serving platter. Remove the skillet from the heat.
With the skillet off the heat, add the anchovies and parsley. Fry until the anchovies break apart, about 10 seconds. Add the lemon juice, remaining olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Spoon the sauce over the sandwiches.