Is it Sicilian? Is it Tuscan? Fish in tomato olive sauce

Ciao amici e ragazzi.  Do you remember Annalena?  If you felt that she abandoned you, she did.  She was tired.  And, honestly, some of those people out there never learned any manners.  Annalena would say "were born in a barn," but truth to be  told, having spent some time in barnyards, Annalena would choose the residents over some of the people who felt they had carte blanche to say whatever they wanted.  Annalena was accused of stealing recipes (she does:  but she always credits the source), of being an elitist (she is.  And sees nothing wrong with that), and of not writing the recipes "in contemporary style"  (also guilty.  ).  BUT... the machinations of a sort of wicked Canadian/Italian have gotten Annalena back.  She does issue an edict/warning:   THIS time around, she will make sure you are banned if you break protocol twice.  She will warn you once. You won't know it after that.  Trust her.

The title of our (newly) initial blog post, comes from discussions Annalena had when she learned how to make the sauce for this dish. She learned it from her little sister from a different  mother, a wonderful Sicilian woman who is a cooking teacher and runs her own school.  Should you go to Sicily, look her up.  The link is at the bottom of this entry.  And if  you happen to be in a city she visits during her annual trip to the United States, TAKE THE CLASS.  You will learn SO much.  Annalena is serious.  She has taken 3, and learns, at every single one.

When we made this sauce, in class,  Annalisa told us that  "you may think of sauce Livornese, and it IS very similar."  Annalena had heard of sauce Livornese, but she only had the faintest idea of how to make it.  When she looked it up, she learned that, like so many "classic" or "named" dishes, there were about a million variations.  All contained tomato, and all contained olives.  Beyond that....  And ragazzi ed amici, that's what cooking is about. Seriously, Annalena wants to stress:  there are very few "right" and "wrongs" about cooking.  There are opinions, just like with Broadway shows.  What Annalena likes, you may not.  What you like, Annalena may not.  So if you feel you've made a Livornese sauce and it needs "something," next time, add the something.  You may be right, you may be wrong, but you'll now have TWO sauces. And if you were wrong in your choices, at some point, you will have a third sauce. 

You will also hear, not without reason, that Italians are very protective of their cuisines.  For example, if you go to Rome, you will get the cooking of Lazio.  Amatriciana anyone?  And if you go to Venice, you will get the wonderful golden cookies called zaletti.   This is not to say you will not get these dishes elsewhere;  rather , with typical Italian ingenuity,  Italians will take a dish, claim it as their own, and rename it.  Then they can fight, internally, over who was there first, and who makes it right.

This sauce is a good example.  Annalena learned it from a Sicilian woman.  She cited to Livorno.  Now, if you look at a map of Italy, you will find Livorno on the coast of Tuscany:   WAY up north ,  far away from Sicily.  BUT... Livorno is a port.  Sailors went to sea (and if you want to eat well, ragazzi, marry a sailor), and we know Tuscans were in Sicily.  The dish, as we will see, does not rely on anything particularly regional to make.  In fact, Annalena thinks of it sort of as "piatto della dispensa" or a pantry dish:  when you see the ingredients, you will recognize immediately that every self respecting Italian cook, has these ingredients in his or her home.  So, ragazzi, let's get to work.

As promised, here are our ingredients:

What you see is a red onion, behind the capers, green olives, canned tomatoes, and a can of olive oil.  Salt and oregano are going in besides these, but those were Annalena's choices.  

Do you see why it's a dispensa/pantry sauce?  EVERY Italian has olives, capers, onions, and tomatoes around.  ALL THE TIME.  Need Annalena speak of olive oil?  How many kinds do you have?   So all you need to do on the way home, is get your fish (or maybe not:  we'll get to that below).

Now, to cook this dish, you first slice the onion in half moons  

Next , you have to reconcile yourself to one of the major distinctions between ITALIAN cuisine, and American Italian cuisine.  Italians do not measure.  Also - and this is a tough one, even for Annalena - Italians use much more olive oil than Americans do.  Indeed, when Annalena watches Annalisa cook, she sometimes watches the eyes of other students widen, as her sorellina pours the "Sicilian gold" into the pan.  So, ragazzi, no tablespoon measures here. Cover your pan, which is preferably non stick, with good olive oil, add the onions, and cook them at medium low.  You don't want them to brown, but you want them to soften:

If you compare the onions in the pan, to the ones on the cutting board, you shall see what  Annalena means.  

While the onions are cooking, prepare the olives.  Correctly, this dish requires those green olives with a pimiento in the middle. Annalena did not have those.  So she took green olives, smashed them, and pulled out the pits.  If you are using the pimientoed variety, cut them in thirds.  

How many?  Chissa'?  (who knows).  Do you like olives? Use a lot.  Not fond of them?  Don't use many.  You're going to combine these with drained capers:  don't use the ones preserved in salt here, ragazzi.  Sott'olio,  sott'aceto, sott'aqua (if you must), are fine.  How many?  Think about the olives .  Add these to the onions:

Technically both olives and capers have already been "cooked" because they are "cured."  So you won't need to spend too much time here.  Annalena suggests you just toss them into the onions and get them warm. 

Now, you add the tomato sauce.  Annalena was cooking for two:  she and the Guyman, so she only used one 16 ounce can.  All she had were pre-diced tomatoes, so she used them.  If you have whole tomatoes, they are better, and do a really Italian thing and crush them with your hands (Annalena has a wonderful photo of her friend Daphne playing in the sandbox of canned tomatoes.  If you want it, Annalena will ask if you can have it.  ).  

Now, stir this all together, lower your heat to really, really low, and let it sit for:  ok, now we're going to be Italian again, ragazzi.  The recipes Annalena has seen say 30 minutes.  What you're trying to do is drive most of the water off of the dish, and that may happen in 20 (as it did with Annalena), or 30.  You're looking for something like this: 

Now, let's presume you're a vegetarian.  If you are, you now have your sauce for pasta.  And since we haven't added cheese, this is also vegan.  If you don't like fish, but you like chicken, replace the fish Annalena talks about below with skinless chicken (skinless, because cooking raw chicken, with skin on it, in a liquid like this, will give you flabby, disgusting skin.  Maybe on your chicken too). 

BUT... if you are doing a Sicilian version, now you add your swordfish.  Let us say, however, that there was no swordfish at the market.  Or, there WAS swordfish but you refused to pay the ridiculous price they were asking.  Or, let's say that your Orthodoxy says swordfish is forbidden.  Then, think about the texture of swordfish, and pick something else.  Annalena had monkfish in the house, which is very firm, and very meaty, just like swordfish.  You could use cod (which Annalena has seen), if it's cut in a big thick piece.  You could use bass, but then you need to watch the cooking time. 

See what Annalena means about rules?  

Now, lay the fish into the sauce, raise the heat to medium, and don't cover the pan:

How long does it take?  Annalena cannot answer that question.  She cooked her fish like this for five minutes.  Then she turned the pieces over, for another five.  She probed one piece (which was for her cat) and found the fish not quite cooked, so she turned it again for two more minutes on each side.  So, at about 15 minutes, she had:

Speak truth, bambini:  does that not beg you to eat it?  Two pieces for each of Annalena and the Guyman, and one small one for Annalena's beloved cat Oliver.  (He got leftovers too). 

And there we are.  In the time it took Annalena to write this, you could have this on the table.  

So, ragazzi, get to work.  Call it Livornese, call it Siciliano.  Call it good.  Call  it dinner. 

Baci ed abracci a tutti. 

You can find Annalena's sorellina at:  https://www.go-sicily.it/