The character Bruno in The Food of Love describes the Saltimbocca meal as a proper Roman dish.

It’s basically veal, prosciutto, and fresh sage leaves dipped in flour, salt and pepper and fried. A sauce is made out of Marsala wine, butter, lemon, and the juices of the fried veal.

The recipe calls for pounding the veal with a rolling pin to thin it out. So, I went out and bought a rolling pin and you should have seen and heard me banging away on the piece of meat. Oh, the noise I made – my poor neighbors below! I’m surprised that no one pressed my doorbell to complain.

I’ve since found out that I could save myself the trouble (and noise) by simply buying veal scallopini, which are already thinly sliced veal and therefore causes no need to abuse the meat (or my kitchen counter).

It may be a proper Roman dish, but it is also a simple one to make.

Paz

Saltimbocca

For two, you need 4 slices of veal. Wrap them in waxed paper and beat them until very thin with a rolling pin. Place a slice of prosciutto on top of each one, then a couple of fresh sage leaves. Traditionally you should hold this together with a toothpick, but I find it’s easier to just fold the veal over and bang it all into place with the same rolling pin…. Dip them in a mixture of flour, salt, pepper and maybe a few chile flakes. Then you just fry them for a minute or so on each side. Remove & keep warm. Pour a glass of white wine or marsala into the juices and reduce quickly. Add some butter and a squeeze of lemon before pouring over the meat.

Added notation: It’s really good if you take another half-dozen sage leaves and fry them in a little oil that’s VERY HOT until they go transparent. Take the leaves out of the pan and put them on some papertowels to soak up the excess oil. Sprinkle a little salt on them; they’ll be crispy, which is nicer than raw sage leaves, which are a bit leathery. Serve them as a side dish or garnish to the meat.

A couple of successful recipes later, my family and friends who know that I’ve taken an interest in cooking start calling me “Chef Paz.” It’s all in jest but soon the moniker sticks. My family actually begs for my food…. Okay, okay… They don’t beg, but do ask me whether I’m going to cook. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?

“What’s for dinner?” I’d frequently hear. They’re a vocal group and will let me know if they like something or not. Lately, they seem to be happy with the dinners I prepare and I don’t hear any complaints from them. Good. Very good.

So, my cooking adventures continue as I jump at the chance to try another one of the recipes from The Food of Love: Coda alla Vaccinara – oxtail soup.

I LOVE oxtails. Always have. I’m not sure why. Sometimes I wonder if it’s a taste that I developed from the time that I was in my mother’s womb. Really!

I remember a story that my mother mentioned a long time ago. It’s about one of her eating habits when she was pregnant with me in her third trimester:

Just before my mother’s due date, a woman gave birth to quintuplets. To help with the financial burden of an instantaneous large family, people and companies donated gifts ranging from a long-term supply of diapers, to baby food, and clothing. The Government also arranged free spacious housing for the quintuplet family.

In an interview, the press asked the new mother what she had eaten during her pregnancy. She told them that she’d eaten a lot of oxtails because it was the cheapest meat in the supermarket and that was all she and her husband could afford.

The next day, oxtails were sold out in the meat section. My mother was one of those people who ran to the supermarket for the oxtails. Hoping for quintuplets, she ate it for the remainder of her pregnancy.

Poor lady, she got me instead – one child with the energy of five. However, four more children eventually followed after me. So, she did end up having the five children she wanted; it just didn’t happen at once.

I’m unsure if my mom’s story is the reason for my love of oxtails but it certainly comes to mind.

This oxtail recipe is good at anytime. Contrary to what the instructions call for, I now leave out the nutmeg, cinnamon, bitter cocoa powder, and raisins. The first time I made the soup, I included them but didn’t care for the sweet taste that it gave the soup. I had to add water to the soup to dilute the taste.

I didn’t bother looking for ox or pork cheek, for which the recipe calls. One day I will. I think it’ll be an adventure looking for it, as I wonder if they are readily available at the butcher’s. At the moment, I’m a bit intimidated to go asking for them.

I did use bacon instead, and I added chopped celery. I like the crunch that the celery adds to the soup. This oxtail soup makes a satisfying meal. Here are the instructions.

Paz

Coda alla Vacinara (Oxtail soup)

You’ll need an oxtail, about 3-4 pounds, washed and chopped across the joints. Boil for ten minutes and remove any scum. Add 1 carrot, 1 leek, 1 celery stalk, and some parsley or thyme. Simmer for about 3 hours. If you can get ox or pork cheek, put that in, too. Keep the liquid.

Next, in a different saucepan, heat some lard or oil and gently fry a chopped onion, chopped carrot, the pork cheek, also chopped (or some bacon if you couldn’t get pork cheek), an a chopped garlic clove. Add some chopped parsley and the oxtail. Pour in half a bottle of dry white wine and allow some to evaporate. Then add half a dozen chopped tomatoes (i.e., about a tin an a half) and a big spoon of tomato paste. Nutmeg and cinnamon could also make an appearance. Simmer for 2 hours, adding a little of the stock from the other pan whenever it gets dry.

You could also add some boiled, sliced celery hearts, raisins, pinenuts, and even some bitter cocoa powder. If so, add at the end and cook for 10 minutes extra.