We arrived in Bergen after a seven hour spectacular train ride amidst fjords, gorges and glaciers. Also known as the World’s best train trip, this long journey from Oslo to Bergen, is a payback experience. You sit and stir in your carriage through colourful scenes of green forest banks, stretches of blue ice, emerald rapids and waterfalls, brown, rocky mountains, and occasional golden rays of light from a sequestered sun.

A popular port, surrounded by the Norwegian fjords and a name on the Unesco World’s Heritage list, Bergen is primarily a rainy destination. Records show that, in Bergen it rains approximately 275 days in a year. So, if rain disheartens your travelling vigour then visiting Bergen should not be on your where to go file.  In summer, you might be lucky and get some sunny days. We weren’t and it was July.

Yet, Bergen is charming. With its colourful wooden structures and narrow cobbled lanes it feels like a scene from the Hansel and Gretel fairytale. We set to explore Bergen on foot.  Battling with the umbrella, as the wind cheered our arrival, and holding my camera like a kangaroo would hold its Joey, only using my raincoat as a pocket, we passed through Bryggen. This is a Unesco protected merchant area dating back to the times of the Hanseatic League’s trading. Bryggen is an architectural marvel which preserves the history of the city.

Enough said on nature, history and architecture. I want food in the limelight. Fish precisely. I love to linger through food markets when we travel and as soon as we arrived in Bergen I wanted to run to the fish market. Fisketorget, which in Norwegian stands for fish (fiske), square (torget), is now open to everyone. There was a time when a law enforced that the market was available for the poor only to buy food for personal use.

It was crowded under the towering red umbrellas, with tourists mainly. All fastened with raincoats they made their way for shelter in the pungent area, locking their umbrellas and breathing in the fishy smell which could attract any cat in the entire town.  The sky was one huge dark-leaden mass contrasting vigorously with the picturesque market ambience. I could hear Spanish and Italian accents which reminded me of the food market in Campo di Fiori in Rome, or the one on the Ramblas, in Barcelona. The bunch of traders, duly equipped with their stainless steel stalls, was definitely not of Viking descent. Their body odour could be repugnant to my sensitive, although sinus troubled nose, but they looked gorgeous in their bright orange waterproof dungarees and dishevelled aura. I walked on only to discover more merchants, this time outstretching their butcher’s knives with slivers of cured salmon. I really had to taste the salmon.

The atmosphere at the fish market is jocund – visitors gently pushing around to sample the fish, vendors attracting buyers with their charismatic statements. It is also a colourful and varied display of fresh fish laid on beds of ice flakes, including the superior quality Norwegian salmon, the Ocean trout, the ugly but versatile monkfish, the favourite mackerel, and also whale. You could not miss the unappealing dried cod hanging like bats under the tents. There was abundance of pink, deep-water prawns. And in water tanks you could pick your live lobster, crabs or scallops. Neatly stacked crab claws came in different sizes. I was intrigued by the smoked and cured salmon varieties and stupefied by the assortment of caviar jars, which you could taste as they ask you to extend your hand so they place a clot of roe on your hand between thumb and index finger. Similarly to the way you take your salt before drinking Tequila.

Indeed, the market is a pleasant subject for fish lovers and a palatable alternative for a Bergen kind of lunch. It is an open kitchen where to enjoy a prawn or smoked salmon baguette with mayonnaise and cucumber, a boiled shrimp salad, grilled lobster, freshly opened oysters or a salmon burger. Fish and chips is also popular. I opted for the salmon burger, it was remarkable. Other stalls sold fresh strawberries, cherries and berries. Souvenirs and flowers were also found around.

The entire Scandinavia is quite pricey and stuff at the fish market is no exception. But, the market experience is rather authentic. It exhibits the wide selection of fish and crustaceans available in the underwater world of Norway. For us who hail from the Mediterranean and are more familiar with the organisms living in our seas, this proves to be rather like a visit to the Museum. The difference is that at the end of your tour you will be definitely putting your mouth around some fishy snack which was on display.

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Ingredients: (these are approximate since the recipe was spontaneous)

• 400g ricotta
• 150g sugar
• 75g dark chocolate, grated or finely chopped
• 75g candied peel
• 200 – 250g savoiardi (I used the savoiardi sardi)
• rum

Beat in the sugar with the ricotta until you obtain a creamy mixture. Add the chocolate and candied peel and put mixture in the refrigerator.

Line a medium sized glass bowl with cling film. Soak the savoiardi in rum and line inside the bowl until the sides and base are completely covered. Pour in the ricotta mixture and cover top with remaining soaked savoiardi. Cover with cling film and freeze for 2 or 3 hours.

Remove from freezer approximately 30 minutes before serving. Place a large plate on top of the bowl, turn upside down and remove bowl and plastic wrap. Sprinkle with icing sugar and serve.

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What you will read has nothing to do with the popular cover version in the Moulin Rouge soundtrack and its ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi (ce soir)?’ chorus. This is about a lady, my first love, who every year, during this time, preserves oranges in the form of marmalade.

‘What a zingy orange smell, Mum must be doing marmalade!’ I thought as I unlocked the door of my parents’ house. Every January, Mum transforms her kitchen into a marmalade production zone. Not that in other months it is dormant, given that Katy (Mum) is always brewing in our kitchen.

Marmalade may be regarded as a humdrum condiment and recently industry figures suggested that sales of marmalade jars fell substantially. But this jar of tawny preserve is a representation of warmth and confidence. Preserving means capturing seasonal abundance and saving it for the scarcer months. So whilst in January it’s raining oranges, ‘waste not and prepare this bitter sweet preserve to last for the year to come’, Mum says.

The marmalade production starts soon after locally grown Seville oranges are delivered to our doorstep by a gentleman who owns a tree of this kind. You can find Mum hustling and bustling with piles of oranges first thing in the morning or at some odd hour late at night. Yet, she loves marmalade making and this time, as I breathed in the intoxicating sweet sharp scent; I sat down and followed the process for the second bunch of oranges.

Following an inherited recipe, Katy scrubs and cleans a kilo of Seville oranges. With knives and chopping board ready and set she cuts the oranges into quarters and removes pips. She stores the pips tied in a piece of muslin and reserves them for later use. Next comes the chopping. Mum prefers doing this the accelerated way, so she puts one lemon and the kilo of oranges in a food blender and whizzes everything up with enough water to cover the fruit. You require 2 litres of water for a kilo of oranges therefore it is suggested that you first measure 2 litres, then top the fruit in the blender with part of the water and keep the rest aside. The blender races on high speed for about 10 seconds and the chopping was done. Mum advised that you might need to do this step in two batches, depending on the size of your blender.

By this time, the kitchen is a clutter of orange strands and drops, utensils, jars and cloths. I am taking notes and drinking coffee. In a deep pan, Mum pours the chopped fruit and the remaining water. She places the muslin bag with pips inside the pan and brings contents to boil until the fruit softens. This process should take approximately an hour. I waited whilst leafing through a preserve book from our food book library. ‘It’s time to add 1.5 kilograms of sugar and stir well until all the sugar dissolves’, Mum articulated whilst stirring. She subsequently increases the heat and boils the mixture rapidly. The result is plenty of orange peel swimming around in juice. Though, this is the point where the fruit turns into jelly. Mum removes the pan from heat and leaves it to cool slightly. Apparently there is a trick of the trade – ‘to test whether marmalade is thick enough spoon a little marmalade onto a small saucer, transfer it to freezer then after two minutes pull your finger over the surface. If it creases then it’s done,’ Katy instructs. Finally, she pours the mixture into sterilised, hot dry jars, covered with greaseproof paper and seals with the lids immediately. The jars are set aside to chill and then stored in our cool, dark larder for at least a month before serving. The marmalade should last for a year, if it’s unopened.

There are numerous assorted recipes to create this marvellous marmalade. Indeed, Mum was already looking at preparing a new recipe for this year and that is bitter orange marmalade with fresh ginger and cinnamon. I couldn’t wait for this recipe to be completed but I will definitely take some jars away with me the next time I visit.

Marmalade may be considered unexciting to many youngsters most probably because it is associated with the older generations or because of the bitter bits and pieces found in the conserve. Many would rather have their toast with chocolate spread.  But marmalade is so flexible that you can prepare it according to your taste, make it sweeter or lighter, and add whisky or apples. The options are countless.

The snap of the toaster redirected me towards the kitchen. There was my treat – two fragrant slices of toasted crusty Maltese bread, spread with butter and topped with my mother’s velvety marmalade. With the first bite, the zingy orange flavours explode across your palate as they meet the melting butter. Who said that marmalade tastes best on a cold toast?!

MARMALADE FACTS

• The word marmalade comes from marmelo, Portugese for quince
• Marmelo derives from the Greek word melomeli, a honey-sweetened quince preserve consumed as a digestive
• By the late Middle Ages the Portuguese were making marmelada, a sugar and quince paste
• In Scotland they shifted from quince to orange marmalade and started serving this as part of breakfast
• James & Janet Keiller of Dundee in Scotland are thought to have been among the first commercial producers of marmalade
• The World’s Original Marmalade Awards is organised annually in Cumbria in the United Kingdom
• A recent research showed that the best way to enjoy marmalade is to eat it on cold toast

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I know what you are thinking. Am I going to propose a Christmas recipe now? More than a month after Christmas!  Well, when I was looking for recipes of this pandolce during Christmas time, I read that according to the tradition a slice should be kept for the feast of San Biagio which is today, the 3rd of February. Not that there is any slice left, but I took the opportunity to prepare another pandolce and celebrate the feast of San Biagio!

Although there are some complicated pandolce recipes which require long hours waiting for the dough to rise, this recipe is simple. Ingredients are mixed together to form a dough and oven-baked immediately, without any resting time.

Ingredients:

• 300g flour ‘OO’
• 10g instant yeast (ideally use the one for sweets)
• 2 eggs
• 120g icing sugar
• 120g butter
• 100g candied orange peel, cubed
• 50g candied lemon peel, cubed
• 150g sultanas
• 50g pine nuts
• 1 tsp aniseed

Preheat oven at 180 degrees Celsius. Sift the flour and yeast in a large bowl. Form a well in the center and break the eggs, beat them lightly with a fork. Add the sifted icing sugar and butter and mix together quickly to form a dough.

In a small bowl, mix the candied fruits, sultanas, pine nuts and aniseed and add to the dough.

Transfer the dough on the floured table top and work the dough well to form 2 round balls. Flatten the dough until it is like 2 fingers high. Place the pandolci on an ovenproof dish covered with baking paper and cook in oven for 45/50 minutes until the surface becomes golden. Remove from oven and leave to cool on a wooden board.

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My concentration was scarce. I spent five hours leaning on the kitchen cupboards cooking a three course meal which result was offensive to my ego. I have to publicly confess that the risotto with smoked salmon and prosecco was dull, and the cod with orange, pancetta and pears was ferociously salty. I also cooked two T-bone steaks to a tiresome chewy state. Only the dessert was fine, maybe since it was a ready made Christmas pudding. But after this slap in the face I was back on track by Sunday and prepared a much tastier array of dishes including the following:

Baked apples with Christmas pudding leftover

• 6 eating apples
• leftover Christmas pudding
• 3 tblsps brandy
• grated rind of 1 lemon zest
• butter

Wash and core the apples. Cut a fine slice from the base of each apple so that it stands up straight. Prick the apples with a fork to score the rind and prevent it from bursting.

In a bowl mix the left over Christmas pudding with the brandy and grated lemon zest. Stuff the apples with the pudding mixture and top with a knob of butter.

Place apples in an ovenproof dish, cover with foil and bake in a preheated oven of 150 degrees Celsius for an hour. Remove the foil halfway through and baste the apples with the juices.

You can serve warm with the juices and vanilla ice cream.

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I have recently acknowledged the truth that my love for Italian food has left me no eye for other cuisines. So, I have endeavored to widen my horizons and liberate my taste buds for the gastronomy of other countries. And there I was, few days after my declaration, falling in love with Lebanese food, and cooking, and wondering, about their traditional and creative dishes for Christmastime.

In search of familiarity with the cuisine and traditions of Lebanon, I headed to meet the devoted chef, of Lebanese origin, Hany Harb. This time, I was not in to dine from the sumptuous feast of mezzes on his menu but to discover the Christmas orientations in the kitchen of Lebanese families.

It all started with a geographical briefing. I did know that Lebanon is in the Eastern Mediterranean but I was not aware that this land is within what is known as the Fertile Crescent – an area in the shape of a crescent where the soil is rich and fertile. Hence, the abounding variety and flavours present in the cuisine of this land, like olive oil, cheese, copious spices and numerous herbs. Moreover, the landscape and climate blessings lingering over their Bekaa valley make this basin the main source of food in the country.

Then there is history. Lebanon has a long past of invasion and foreign rule which left its inheritance in the cuisine. Like, the Byzantine Empire who decided on a no meat, no fish, no milk and no wine policy during Lent. The Islam introduced new religious restrictions indicating the way meat should be prepared. The Ottoman Turks made lamb and bread popular. And the French handed over their sophisticated skills in the presentation of food and elegant quality of service.

So what is Christmas in Lebanon like? From what I compiled, Christian communities celebrate Christmas in Lebanon in similar ways we enjoy in Europe. People go to Midnight Mass. Santa Claus is around disseminating gifts. Seeds of chickpeas or wheat are planted in cotton some weeks before Christmas and then are placed to decorate the manger, similar to what us Maltese call gulbiena. Christmas trees are adorned with shaped orange peels. And of course, abundant food and drink is at hand in every household. Christmas day lunch is usually held in the home of the grandparents or the eldest son and even, the familiar dishes such as roast turkey are present on the tables of Lebanese natives.

But which recipes, of his beloved country, is Hany Harb, with his scrumptious creativity, thinking about? First the national dish of Lebanon, served as a sign of hospitality to guests – the Kibbeh Nayeh - a mixture of pounded lamb and bulgur wheat with onion, cumin and fresh herbs formed into lumps and shallow-fried. Accompanying this customary dish is the Tabbouleh – fragrant finely chopped parsley, bulgur, tomatoes, onions, olive oil, and lemon juice. And three dips: Muhammara – roasted bell peppers, walnuts, garlic, pomegranate molasses, breadcrumbs, and chilli; Baba Ghanouge – smoked aubergines, tahini, garlic, and lemon juice; Homous Awarma – dried chickpeas paste with tahini, garlic and lemon juice topped with pine nuts and corned lamb.

The feast continues. Pan-seared breasts of a month-old domestic pigeon, raised locally served with pigeon broth. Lamb tenderloin marinated in baharat (spice mix of black pepper, coriander seeds, cumin, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and paprika), sumac (crushed dried berries), and grain mustard, then grilled. Lebanese rice with ground lamb and Turkish sultanas. Mouth-watering aren’t they? It must have been the look in my eyes as Hany vividly explained the preparation of these dishes that made him stand up, walk to his kitchen and there we go – the recipes for 4 servings for the young pigeon breast and the yellow spiced rice:

Zaghalil as-Saag

• 2 whole local squab pigeons, deboned
• 50g frozen butter
• 1 tblsp honey
• Extra virgin olive oil

For the marinade:

• ½ tsp salt
• 1 tsp pepper
• 1 tsp allspice
• 1 tsp ground ginger
• 1 tsp hand-picked fresh thyme
• 2 cardamom cloves, crushed
• Extra virgin olive oil

Mix together all the marinade ingredients. Add the pigeon pieces and marinate overnight.

To cook, take a non-stick pan, melt butter and pan-fry the marinated pieces. Place breasts skin-side down and cook for 1 minute. Turn and cook for another minute. Drizzle with honey and olive oil, swirl pan and serve with the remaining juices.

Lebanese rice with minced lamb

• ½ kg parboiled good quality rice
• 1 litre water
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp turmeric
• 1 tsp allspice
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 tblsp extra virgin olive oil
• 100g ground lamb, pan-fried
• 100g Turkish raisins
• 50g roasted pine nuts
• ½ tsp ground cinnamon
• Salt & pepper

Pour some olive oil in a deep pan; add the rice, salt, turmeric, allspice, cinnamon stick and bay leaf. When the rice starts to sizzle add the cold water. Bring to boil and then reduce heat to a minimum for 20 -25 minutes. When the rice is cooked remove from heat; remove bay leaf and cinnamon stick. Add the Turkish raisins, roasted pine nuts, minced lamb, and cinnamon. Season with salt and pepper and serve.

Was wondering what’s usually for dessert when Hany, anticipated my curiosity and portrayed the sophisticated Baklava made from fillo dough with rose-water syrup and nuts and the Buche de Noel, a frosted sponge cake in the shape of a log, a sweet marking Lebanon’s history as a French colony. Pity we did not have time to prepare these sweet dishes.

My first-time close encounter with Lebanese food intends not to be the last. As things stand I am tempted to prepare a lavish feast of Lebanese dishes for Christmas.  Off to buy a recipe book! Or will there be one waiting for me under the Christmas tree?! Till then Milad Saeed – Merry Christmas!

I would like to thank Hany Harb for his time and contribution towards this article. Hany Harb is the chef patron of Ali Baba restaurant in Gzira.

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Bizarrely dressed in white polypropylene overalls and sky-blue plastic shoe covers I shuffled behind Giovanni Roncalato, eager to discover the artisan cheese making process at La Casara.

Accompanied by the warm September sun, as it was breaking through the wispy morning clouds, we made our way to La Casara. This family-run cheese making business is situated above the slopes of the Soave vineyards in Ronca, a village in the province of Verona. The drive towards this spot is magnificently accompanied by structured vineyards and olive trees which immediately set you in a rustic ambiance. I felt an air of joyful anticipation in my chest as one of the road signs indicated La Casara. We were approaching the caseficio and it was as if I could already taste the almighty combination of cheese and wine on my palate.

We were greeted by Giovanni Roncalato, whose grandfather, Ermenegildo Roncolato, in the 1920s began to make cheese together with his children Romano and Angelo. At the time they established the Roncalato cheese making factory. Then, in 1964, Romano and his wife took over the management and named the factory La Casara. Today Giovanni, son of Romano, together with his brother Gildo and sister Letizia manage La Casara with the same passion of their ancestors. Despite the changing times, they work hard to retain the traditional methods in cheese making and aim towards producing unique and distinctive tastes in their range of cheese products.

Moving in to the cheese making area of La Casara is a serious matter. We were provided with overalls and plastic shoes for the sake of hygiene and safety. We looked like surgeons ready to access the operating theatre but fortunately we were instead entering the cheese manufacturing section. I could sense a concentrated smell of warm milk, the floor wet and slippery underneath my artificial shoes and the temperature cosy. Giovanni explained that at La Casara, fifteen types of cheese are produced including the historical Monte Veronese DOP – a cheese variety typical of this Italian region which has been awarded the DOP status (Denominazione di Origine Protetta). This status, regulated by the European Union, is an indication of a genuine product which is produced, processed and prepared in a particular geographical zone, mostly in rural and agricultural areas. This cheese is, in fact, made solely from the milk of cows which rear in the hills of Verona known as the Lessini Mountains.

In the room, we met il casaro – the cheese maker – a tanned man with muscled biceps. Il casaro was working through the production of sixteen cheese rounds of Monte Veronese weighing eight to nine kilos each – that actually explains the origin of the biceps. While the toned casaro continued with his job, Giovanni recounted how the untreated milk arrives at the factory and is then poured into the boilers where natural rennet is added to it. The milk starts to coagulate, transforming itself from liquid to solid and the casaro intervenes to manually stir the mixture and break the clumps by a special tool, which looks like the whip accessory of a home mixer but of a gigantic dimension. The curd is cooked at a temperature of 42° Celsius and then cut into irregular rectangular shapes by the casaro using an appropriate wire. The weighty pieces are placed into the round cheese moulds, pressed and left to rest until the whey, which is the word used for the liquid remaining after the milk has been curdled, drains down and the cheese takes the shape of the mould. The salting process takes place either by putting the wheels in brine or air-dried. The cheese is then left to mature between 25 days and 60 days in the appropriate chambers. Time and the perfectly controlled balance between temperature and humidity will mature the cheese to the desired point.

The cheese is ready and the time has come. It was the moment I had been eagerly awaiting since our arrival – the tasting session. And what is a visit to a cheese factory without a concluding tasting arrangement?! We were presented with a selection of four cheeses, cured meats, all produced by La Casara and accompanying wines. Here is what we tasted:

• Monte Veronese DOP latte intero

We witnessed the making of this cheese. As the name suggests, it is made from whole milk and has a whitish soft and elastic texture spotted with small holes. It has the delicate flavour of cream and a sweet milky smell.

• Monte Veronese DOP d’allevo vecchio

This is another Monte Veronese but aged for a minimum of one year therefore its flavour is sharp and its smell recalls hazelnuts and almonds. It was remarkable to learn that the colour of the cheese depends on the season when it is produced and the type of nourishment given to the animals.

• Monte Veronese di malga

A cheese recognized by the Slow Food Presidia in order to preserve its tradition. This is made exclusively with raw milk from cows that have been feeding on the mountainous pastures, known as malga. The cheese with its hard golden texture has an intense and slightly piquant flavour with a alternating fruity aroma.

• Veronese Ubriaco

Yes it is a drunken cheese! Made with cow’s milk this cheese is then soaked in wine and covered with the crushed grape skins for a month. Its maturity age reaches 6/8 months and forms a coloured crust varying from yellow to orange or purple to dark-violet, depending on the grapes used. Its firm but slightly crumbly texture and the light hint of wine makes this cheese my favourite.

The cheese degustation was accompanied by regional wines including a prosecco, a Soave and a Valpolicella and followed by a medley of cured meats prepared from the pigs reared at La Casara. These pigs are fed whey, the residue from the cheese making process, mixed with home-grown cereal crops. The speck, sopressa and coppa are the result of a slow curing process which takes place in cellars and the result is a pleasantly spicy and tender selection of cured meats typical of Verona.

Cheese making at La Casara is an edible craft. The Monte Veronese is still produced by hand retaining the traditional and artisan methods of long ago. And whilst biting into the chunks of Monte Veronese presented to us, I figured out that this cheese represents a particular spot on the Earth, the animal, the grass, the weather, the casaro’s able hands, perception and sensitivity. Cheese captures that moment in time.

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Ten in the morning. Torino centre. Piazza della Consolata to be exact. Uninterrupted rain and a shocking temperature of 5° Celsius. We’re looking at the entrance of Caffe al Bicerin. Inside is chock-full. My brother queued whilst we shopped next door: gianduiotti, baci di dama, hazelnuts, crema di gianduia. A table emptied and we staggered in, compressed ourselves like sardines in a tight corner of this narrow 18th Century cafe and waited to be served.

Wood-paneled walls, graced up with mirrors, and white marble-top tables. At the back, a solid, upstanding counter with an array of colorful jars filled with sweets. Vintage boxes of biscuits stacked to decorate. To the side a display of freshly baked croissants, brioches, biscuits and torte. We ordered the famous Bicerin – a drink originally known as Bavereisa but changed its name when it started to be served in a stemmed glass with a metal base and a handle known as bicerin.  A delectable drink made from three gratifying layers of thick, melted chocolate, an espresso shot and fresh cream. As you take your first sip, the cold fresh cream meets your lips then the hot chocolate follows and its a burst of sensation as the aromatic coffee invades your mouth. Simply unique.

The bicerin is a delight from historical times and thankfully the owners of Caffe al Bicerin are keen to preserve this tradition. And, once you are there, taste their assortment of home-made biscuits. And, if you go again, try the zabaione instead or as well. You need to wait a bit, it’s made there and then by their gifted hands and high quality ingredients.

http://www.bicerin.it/eng/

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In April 2012, Italian master chef Gabriele Ferron was in Malta for a week courtesy of Eatmania. The week was entirely dedicated to rice and rice products from Riseria Ferron. Here is how it developed.

For the second time, the World’s Ambassador of rice Gabriele Ferron, accepted Eatmania’s invitation to land in Malta with his rice portfolio. Gabriele Ferron has been moving across the globe spreading information and promoting rice and risotto for years. On his first visit to Malta, he discovered the potential of introducing the world’s most important cereal – rice – to our population. And from thereon, together with Eatmania, he kicked off a profile-raising and gastronomic campaign called Riso e Risotti.

This year’s events commenced at the Institute of Tourism Studies where the final year chef students were presented with knowledge about rice and rice-growing in Isola della Scala in Verona.  The chef, born from a family of rice growers, guided them through the history of rice, identified the diverse characteristics of this cereal and distinguished between the vialone nano and the carnaroli rice varieties, both of which are suitable to prepare a delicate risotto. Eventually, the students were able to observe a demonstration of different methods of cooking risotto.  Gabriele Ferron showed off the method he is so passionate about – the no stir method. He prepared a carnaroli risotto with fresh aromatic herbs with this new challenging technique of cooking risotto without stirring continuously. This simple procedure includes toasting the rice in some extra virgin olive oil, adding double the amount of rice in boiling broth and cooking the rice on a minimum heat, covered for around 10 minutes. There is no need to stir until you reach the final stages, then you mix in the desired condiment, butter and grated parmesan cheese and that’s it!

A similar event was held the day after for the professionals and restaurant owners in the local gastronomic industry. On this occasion, Gabriele Ferron, also demonstrated and introduced the entire range of products from Riseria Ferron including the black riso Venere, red riso Ermes, whole-wheat Carnaroli rice, Carnaroli and Vialone Nano rice for risotto, rice flour, and rice flour for polenta.

The possibility of getting to know rice and risotto was also offered to the public. A degustation event was held at Tartarun Restaurant in Marsaxlokk on two separate evenings. Gabriele Ferron and James Schiavone put their chef’s brains and hands together in the kitchen and prepared a series of degustation dishes for the guests. An arancina with squid ink placed on a tomato and chili relish was served as an amuse-bouche. The first course consisted of mixed vegetables and red mullet fillets battered with a rice flour mixture and deep-fried. This warm salad was served on a selection of leaves and dressed with home-made citrus mayonnaise.  The salad was followed by a rice flour creamy polenta topped with fresh clams and a tomato concasse. Next in line was a train of 3 diverse risotto dishes: a carnaroli risotto with fresh basil, mint and wild fennel; a carnaroli risotto with cauliflower puree and baked scallop; and a vialone nano risotto with artichoke hearts and fresh anchovy fillets. The degustation was concluded with a classic tiramisu however prepared with cream of rice.

The jovial personality of Gabriele Ferron, his skills and passion about rice and risotto and his discovery of local ingredients have made Riso e Risotti a successful experience and an event with a future. Eatmania have recognized the possibility of amplifying the Riso e Risotti campaign to encompass on a twinning project between local ingredients and the Vialone Nano IGP rice for risotto. Hence, this week in April dedicated to rice was the beginning of a series of events devoted to rice and its culinary combination in the Maltese culture and cuisine.

For more information visit www.eatmania.com or www.risoferron.com

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Read about my experience at the World’s best restaurant 2012: Noma – the delicious Nordic cuisine made of regional, seasonal and sustainable ingredients.

We walked for nearly thirty minutes until we got to the waterfront of Christianshavn. There I saw the name of the restaurant I read so much about.  We arrived earlier than our booking time and stood outside waiting for the clock to strike noon so that I could venture into the renovated 18^th century warehouse of Rene Redzepi and live my dream (or at least one of them): eating at the world’s best restaurant – NOMA.

We had planned to reserve a table at Noma immediately after we booked our flights to Copenhagen. However, this turned out to be mission impossible and with some psychological training I managed to dismiss my desire to eat at this two Michelin-star restaurant to the disappointments corner within me. Little did I know, that, my determined sister-in-law, was secretively calling Noma day in, day out, asking for a table whilst hoping for a possible last-minute cancellation. And on our last day in Copenhagen whilst we were walking languidly towards the centre she looked at her watch and said: ‘look we have thirty minutes to get to Christianshavn you are going to have lunch at Noma!’ I walked towards our destination flabbergasted. I could not believe that I was minutes away from attending to a culinary experience at the legendary Noma.

 The restaurant opened its doors sharply at noon and a handsome maitre d’hotel lead us to our table. The decor is unrefined and minimalistic. The worn out, limed beams and unfinished brick walls, bare tables and chairs draped with sheepskins evoke an earthy look. There is no menu at Noma. Our lunch consisted of 24 innovative, delectable and aesthetically beautiful dishes served by an amazing number of enthusiastic young chefs who continuously walk in and out of the kitchen with their creations. The service is natural and unpretentious yet impeccable. Dishes arrive at the table with a detailed description of the ingredients used and the cooking method adopted to create the dish. By this time my excitement was sky high.

First a cold towel to clean our hands, then a train of 13 dishes with one-bite, finger food creations. A centrepiece was placed on our table; it was an edible flower arrangement with malt flatbread branches and juniper. There was fried reindeer moss served with powdered cep (mushroom), crispy pork skin draped with a black currant strap, cheese cookie with rocket and stems, a fried blue mussel served in an edible shell. What came next was challenging. A locked glass jar filled with ice cubes was placed on our table together with a tiny dish of creamy butter. As the chef opened the glass jar two tiny see-through creatures were looking at us, not sure if they were prepared to die under our teeth after being dipped in the butter. My first attempt to grab the live shrimp failed. It started to twist and turn between my fingers until I let it free and it fell into the butter splashing drops of it on our table. I was bewildered and must scandalously admit that I could not bring this fidgeting creature to my mouth but my husband did. Then I could understand the philosophy of serving live shrimps – they simply taste better in their natural state.

The food parade did not seize after the commotion created by the live Fjord shrimp. We ate chicken skin and lumpfish roe topped with rye bread, pickled and smoked quails’ eggs served in a ceramic egg on a bed of smoking hay, dried carrot with sorrel sauce, and ‘soil’. Soil is one of the signature dishes of Noma – a terracotta flower pot with carrots and radishes planted in a dark brown, crunchy edible mixture of malt and hazelnut flour which resembles soil and an underlying greenish yoghurt-based sauce. The taste is extraordinary fresh, crispy and unsophisticated. And on it goes until the 13 dishes are consumed and it’s time to savour the monumental main courses.

The warm and freshly baked sourdough bread with churned butter and pork fat introduced to us the main dishes. Fresh peas and fermented peas with aromatic tea, brown crab with egg yolk and herbs, a Limfjords oyster with sea weed oil, gooseberry and buttermilk served on a chilled rock plate, Danish beef tartar and sorrel leaves with juniper and tarragon, white asparagus and pine sauce, veal sweetbread and bitter greens with turnips and mushroom. Our penultimate course was another signature dish of Rene Redzepi – The hen and the egg.  It was our turn to cook now. A timer, hay-infused rapeseed oil and a hot iron pan on a layer of hay was placed on our table. We were instructed to break the wild duck egg and let it sizzle for two minutes in the hay oil, then add a knob of thyme butter and cook the fresh spinach, basil leaves and courgette flowers. After some minutes the waiter poured some green ramson (wild garlic herb) sauce, added a crispy potato curl, and sprinkled some fresh wild flowers on top. It was the best fried egg I ever tasted.

We closed our four hour experimental eating experience with desserts and petit fours which included rhubarb and milk curd, walnut and berries, weird caramel served in bone marrows, fried potato crisps covered in chocolate and fennel seeds, and marshmallow trees.

Throughout this gastronomic phenomenon I felt like a six-year old opening 24 different Christmas gifts.  I stared in admiration at each jaw-dropping serving, breathed in its aromas and clicked my camera. Each dish contained a natural sweetness or saltiness. Each bite was a sensual experience where you could smell and taste the original flavour of each distinct ingredient.  Noma is not only an eating experience it is about restating your connection with food and its origin. As you eat the live shrimp or cook the wild duck egg you are smiling, laughing, sweating and talking about it. Eating at Noma is a challenging and interactive experience, where you feel out of the comfort zone but at the same time close to Mother Nature and the Nordic environment. Noma is a celebration of honest and generous, plain and simple, true and original dishes inspired by Nature. Once in a lifetime you have to eat at Noma!

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