Katie Caldesi's Diary of Italian Living, Food & Culture.

After my jam and bread fiasco with my father, I thought I might just please him with a sformato  – a word I find impossible to translate as I think literally it would be a ‘moulded’; now who is going to choose a ‘mould’ from a menu. It is actually somewhere between a soufflé and a mousse.  My father, who is in his eighties and dentally-challenged is a fussy man.  Looked after by my mother, who in her day was a fantastic cook, he is used to good cooking. Nowadays however, food is measured not only by its flavour but by its softness and easiness to eat!   So a sformato it was and I am happy to report a great success for my husband, brother and ageing parents.  I won’t repeat what Flavio (6) called it but it is evidently not something for small boys.  You can’t please everyone, at least the boys are chomping into my homemade bread and plum jam that my father was so rude about.      I had originally eaten something similar to this cheese recipe at Peck in Milan where they called it Flan di Parmigiana. A delicious cheese and egg combination that melted in your mouth, this recipe is similar I think and equally delicious.Sformati di FormaggioCheese soufflé-ish, mousse-y, delicious soft things 

These can be served with a tomato sauce, red-pepper sauce or a simple dressed green salad.  They are good hot or at room temperature.  If you want to make them the day before, re-heat them in a bain marie for fifteen minutes in the oven. 

Serves 6

250g ricotta, sheep or cow’s milk

4 tbspns double cream, mascarpone or greek yoghurt

3 free-range organic eggs

50g Parmesan or Pecorino, finely grated

Quarter of a nutmeg, finely grated

1 tbspn thyme, oregano or rosemary, finely chopped

Salt and freshly-ground black pepper

Butter for greasing

Handful of fine breadcrumbs or Parmesan cheese, finely grated

Pre-heat the oven to 160oC.  Then find six moulds, such as thin metal dariole moulds or ramekins.  Butter them inside generously and line the base with a small circle of baking parchment.  Dust with the breadcrumbs or the cheese and shake out the excess.

In a mixing bowl, combine the ricotta, cream or yoghurt, cheese, nutmeg, thyme, pepper and salt.  In another bowl whisk the eggs until frothy and then combine them with the rest of the ingredients.  (Season to taste if you don’t mind tasting raw eggs).  Pour this mixture into the moulds until they are three-quarters full. 

Stand these in an ovenproof dish such as a lasagne dish and then put this into the oven.  Pour a jug of water into the dish, avoiding the moulds, so that the sformati are surrounded by water up to halfway.  Cook for around 40 minutes or until they are golden brown and slightly raised.  Remove from the oven and leave to rest for a few minutes.  When you are ready to serve them, work around the edge with a dinner knife and turn out.  Serve onto individual plates with salad or sauce.

I am writing a cook book, in case I hadn’t mentioned it before.  My house, therefore is usually full of the intoxicating aromas of Italian cooking.   At least that is how feel about it.  Sometimes I wish Italian cooking didn’t smell or taste so good as I battle with my increasing waist line.  Each spoonful of gelati or pasta gets me nearer a perfect recipe but equally nearer a size 16.  This week it has been jam.  I thought I couldn’t tire of plum jam but actually after almost a whole jar I did.  To make it easier to go on tasting I made some wholemeal bread, it made the sugar-loaded sticky stuff feel almost virtuous when slathered onto a slice of wholesome wholegrain. 

I also experienced a feeling of self-satisfying, self-rightousness as I consumed my own bread and homemade jam.  If I had only made the butter (and lost four stone) I could have been Felicity Kendal in an episode of the Good Life.  Unfortunately my moment of wellbeing was quickly dispelled by my parents.  Love them as I do, so much that they live with us in their old age, their honesty can drive me to distraction.  My father pronounced my bread as heavy (which it was not) and a bother to cut (which is easy with a sharp knife and a pair of glasses) and promptly demanded some sliced bread of a well-known brand from the nearest supermarket on my next trip.  I couldn’t believe he could prefer something manufactured to homemade.  But when he added Baked Beans and fishfingers to the list I knew I had been defeated.  So tonight my children are eating little pillows of pasta filled with ricotta and spinach in a fresh tomato and basil sauce and my parents are having freezer food.  Each to their own I suppose! 

I have come to realise it is a generational difference as well as a question of taste.  My parents would have had homemade bread, jam and everything else pre-1950 but then saw the wonders of commercial baking and sliced bread.  As I delight in a homemade unsliced loaf they would have delighted in the ready cut plastic wrapped variety that we take for granted now.  When I have time, I relish activities such as shelling peas that I can share with family or friends whilst chatting. However when rushing during the week I can’t help thinking of the freedom that frozen peas gave women from being tied to kitchen duties for most of the day.