MORZEDDU DI AGNELLO DELLE PUTICHE DI CATANZARO
During the sovereignty of Byzantium over southern Italy in the tenth century, it was in the workshops of Catanzaro that the silks that emblazoned the courts of Costantinopoli were loomed and crafted and tinged. Thus it was that from these handiworks, humble Catanzaro, its cheek brushing close upon the Ionian, lived its few lustrous moments after the glory days of Magna Graecia. But save the lacy Oriental architecture raised up by the Byzantines, nothing of the comforts of that epoch endured. And so Catanzaro, as did all of Calabria, pressed on in the severest of lives. And when, late in the 1700s, an earthquake felled the city, its fierceness left but dust. Reborn then, Catanzaro is now all of eighteenth-century alleyways, the parishes of the people insinuating upon the palaces of the nobles, the whole formed of a crooked, good-natured charm. And everywhere-round each curve and set into the arms of every angle wait the beloved putiche-the taverns-of the workingmen. Small, dark-wooded dens are they, wrapped in sharp, grapy vapors breathed up from the fat, brown barrels of gaglioppo (a local red wine) over these past hundreds of years. Traditionally le putiche were the dispensaries of only three balms-honest red wine, compassion, and a hellaciously spiced mash made from the viscera of pork, veal, lamb, or goat, sometimes from baccalà, the flesh braised in tomatoes and wine with peperoncini then cradled in a leaf of soft, flat, chewy bread, folded and devoured out of hand. And these morzeddu-dialectically, morsels-made the breakfast, the later morning's merendina-snack-a consolingly juicy partner throughout the day and evening with stout doses of purply wine. Sadly, there seems of late a flurry of gentrification among the putiche, the work of those who would sophisticate them into whitewashed osterie with wine lists and menus translated into English and German. The cooks, too occupied with carpaccio and tiramisù, no longer make morzeddu. Even the compassion has perished. Enough of the old and crusty taverns endure, though, their comforts unfaded, at least for a bit longer. Here follows a version of morzeddu made with lamb-its shoulder rather than its spleen or its lungs-and a fine terra-cotta pot of the mash and a basket of warm breads are the rustic stuff with which to open an outdoor feast while some other meat or fish might be roasting on the fire.
Yield serves 4
Number Of Ingredients 12
Steps:
- In a large terra-cotta or enameled cast-iron casserole over a medium flame, warm the olive oil and sauté the salt pork. Brown the lamb-perhaps only half or a third of it at a time-crusting it, coloring it well, then removing it, with a slotted spoon, to a holding plate.
- When the lamb has been sealed, soften the onions and garlic in the fat for 2 or 3 minutes, taking care not to let them color. Add the oregano, the bay leaf, and the chile peppers into the pan and cook another minute before quieting the flame a bit more and adding the tomatoes, the sea salt, the wine, and the sealed lamb. Cover the casserole with a skewed lid and permit it to simmer gently for 1/2 hour or until the lamb has all but melted into the thickened sauce.
- Off the heat, stir in the pecorino. Permit the sauce to cool, cover it, and let it rest an hour or so before a gentle reheating. Carry the casserole to table with a basket of warm, small breads, already split and readied for filling, or some good baker's best crusty rolls. Invite everyone to stuff their little loaves with the tantalizing mash and to drink rough red wine with the thirst of the Catanzarese.
Are you curently on diet or you just want to control your food's nutritions, ingredients? We will help you find recipes by cooking method, nutrition, ingredients...
Check it out »
You'll also love