In The Pyramid of Mud, the newest paperback Montalbano mystery to be released in English, it takes only to page 34 to find the intrepid Sicilian police detective regaling himself with one of his favorite things to eat: “a glorious pasta ‘ncasciata” that his housekeeper Adelina had made and left for his dinner. That dish appears in many of the 22 books in the series, always eagerly greeted and blissfully consumed by our hero.
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A few years ago I wrote here about my attempt to make that fabulous pasta ‘ncasciata, using the recipe in the cookbook I segreti della tavola di Montalbano: Le ricette di Andrea Camilleri. My version was a bit of a disappointment – a decent baked pasta dish, but not extraordinary.
I knew that there’s no single, canonical version of pasta ‘ncasciata, but they all should be good. Encountering it again in the new Montalbano story, I felt I should really give the recipe another chance.
I had ideas for changes I wanted to try, some because of guesses I’d made about vague recipe directions, and others to liven up the dish I’d made – about which, in my original post, I said “All the ingredients and textures blended too much. You didn’t get the symphony of individual flavors that a forkful of a truly great baked pasta dish provides. The eggplant was barely noticeable, the salami and eggs indistinguishable.”
Ingredients that are available in this country for Sicilian recipes aren’t always identical to the same-named items grown and made on their home turf. Thanks to American agribusiness, ours are often blander, more processed, less flavorful, and less fresh. I’d want to make allowances for that, while still keeping to the spirit of the book’s recipe. (Also, this time I was going to be extremely careful not to overcook the pasta.)
An occasion for my attempt soon presented itself: We’d invited a few good friends for a casual “family” dinner. These were adventurous eaters who wouldn’t mind being experimented on – at least, not if we also gave them lots of good wine! So I set to work.
To start, I peeled, sliced, salted, and fried two one-pound eggplants in olive oil. That was more eggplant, more thickly sliced, than I used last time, but the recipe merely says four eggplants, no size or slice thickness given. We like eggplant a lot.
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Next was to make a tomato-meat sauce. To perk it up, this time I infused garlic and peperoncino in the olive oil for browning my half pound of chopped sirloin. Then I stirred in a pint of my own light tomato sauce, salt, and pepper; and simmered for 25 minutes, until it thickened. That was more tomato and longer cooking than the recipe seems to call for, but its instructions on that point aren’t very clear, and I wanted more tomato richness. Having no fresh basil, I used parsley.
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I boiled a pound of imported Italian penne until they were not quite done, drained them and sprayed them with cold water to stop the cooking. The other ingredients to prepare were two hardboiled eggs, two ounces of mortadella or salame, and two cheeses: caciocavallo and pecorino. Last time I’d used a mild salame; this time I bought a livelier one: hot soppressata.
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My cheeses were the biggest accommodation to ingredient differences. The recipe calls for 7 ounces of tuma or young caciocavallo, plus 3½ ounces of grated pecorino. The only caciocavallo available here is somewhat aged – not soft and fresh, like Sicilian tuma, which isn’t here at all. The first time around, I hadn’t realized how much difference the age would make. The large amount of strong, dry cheese dominated and sort of flattened the flavors of the other ingredients. I didn’t want that to happen again.
Since caciocavallo is in the same broad cheese family as mozzarella (I’ve seen it called “mozzarella on steroids”), I decided to substitute mozzarella for some of the caciocavallo. The cheese in the picture above is 4 ounces of chopped mozzarella mixed with 2 ounces of grated caciocavallo.
I took a broad, shallow baking dish to assemble the ‘ncasciata, making layers of pasta, meat sauce, eggplant, sliced eggs, diced soppressata, and the cheese mixture. The recipe called for grated pecorino on each layer too, but I left it out this time.
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The top layer was eggplant, dabs of sauce, the cheese mixture, and just a light sprinkling of grated pecorino.
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The dish baked for 25 minutes in a 425° oven, sending out a very tempting aroma. Hopes (mine) and expectations (everyone else’s) were high as I brought it to the table. It looked and smelled so good that I began to serve before even remembering to take a photo of it – as you can see by the missing piece at the bottom right, below. (Thanks, Steven, for reminding me!)
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Well, this pasta ‘ncasciata was a definite success. All the flavors stood out as themselves and companioned beautifully with each other. The eggplant was luscious. The two cheeses balanced each other in taste and texture. The amount of tomato seemed just right: it was mostly absorbed by the other ingredients, providing flavor and moisture but no loose liquid. The soppressata tidbits were tiny sparks on the palate. The penne in the center were properly soft, and those at the edges nicely crunchy.
All in all, this was a dish I’d be bold enough to serve to Montalbano himself – at least if Adelina wasn’t around.
Chapeaux! A Montalbano fan, I applaud your persistence and good results. I have always longed to eat where he does…
What a lovely revisit!
Brava !!!
Sounds great, probably too much work for me to try.
YUM! And, this reminds me to get the new book!
New books for me to read! Thanks.
Bravo
Perseverance in the pasta realm pays off–bravissimo! Loved that you dug in before taking the final photo, and that it was worth it.
Sounds Yummy!!!
It looks like exactly the kind of pasta dish I love!
Very interesting & entertaining. I love watching Montalbano tuck into his food with gusto. I shall give this dish a go after reading both your results. But thanks to you I should be able to get it right by following your instructions. Thank you very much.
Aileen Russell England.
I watched Montalbano share this with his two side-kicks and just had to find the recipe. You have done all the hard work for me! Thank you.
Me too! Had to stop the iplayer to look up the recipe and here we are 😊😊😊 I love aubergine 🍆 Tx
Well done for trying again – and succeeding!
Thanks. It was well worth the effort.
I eat every meal with Salvo, but this one is in a class all it’s own.
Thank you. Just read the latest instalment. Yes at page 34 I decided…have to make it.
I was so happy to read your before and after
I will look for heirloom eggplants tomorrow at the Farmers Market.
We have 2 Italian Pointers (Bracco Italiano) named Salvo and Montalbano
Thanks for letting me know. I hope it works as well for you as it finally did for me.
It was a success. Nice non-stressful recipe. Served with a good but expensive Cusumano. (Sàgana) Nero D’Avola from Sicily.
A very nice wine — I expect it went well with the ‘ncasciata.
Did you say it would work well without the meat?
No, not at all. Don’t know where you got that idea from.
I came across your posts on this subject while planning to revisit my own version; I make it in a bundt pan lined with long slices of eggplant. It’s quite spectacular when unmolded. I’ll include photos after I make the next one (this weekend?). I’ll check the domestic caciocavallo I bought–thanks for the tip! Love Camilleri’s novels!