After spending an oozingly satisfying morning making burrata from scratch, I knew I had to have a superlative plan for serving it later that night.  The whole crew who came along for the burrata adventure was going to be there, and I wanted them to experience the efforts of their toils in a way they would not soon forget.  The task was compounded in difficulty by the fact that I was pretty insistent upon doing multiple courses with different variations of the burrata.  I was hoping to make each course unique enough that every time someone experienced that gushing burst of burrata bliss it would be just as good as the first.  This post deals with two of those courses- both succulent enough to inspire salivation in the most sated soul. 

We started with burrata in white nectarines with a fava bean puree because it’s refreshing, light (even with the burrata!) and the nectarines act as a great amuse bouche opening the palate to further pleasures.  I’ve served many variations on this fairly classic presentation of burrata, though normally I opt for apricots.  They were not in season at the market, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The nectarines had the added benefit of intensified sweetness to counterbalance the fava as well as a larger depression where their pits used to be, allowing me to cram in a perfectly plump dollop of burrata.  In the past, I had always oscillated between balsamic drizzle and mint simple syrup when dressing this dish, but this time I decided to go for broke and try both.  I wanted to be sure that each would have a different texture, so I upped the ante with the mint simple syrup and continued it to the point of caramelization.  That way, I could crumble the mint and drizzle the balsamic, and trust me, everyone was very happy. 

The more daunting project of the afternoon was pulling a random idea out of my head for stuffing burrata into sheeted pasta and bringing it all together.  I was lucky to have the assistance of my good friend Deanna for this course, because cuscini don’t exactly make themselves.  Cuscini is the moniker we came up with once we saw what shape our pasta had taken- they looked just like delicate little Italian pillows.  I had originally intended on a form closer to the Piedmontese agnolotti, but it became apparent that the texture of the burrata filling would not lend itself to a pasta quite so small. 

My biggest worry in stuffing the cuscini was that the burrata would be so full of liquid it would be difficult to contain within the pasta.  I actually thought for weeks on this, and finally remembered frenzied afternoon lunches with friends at Eataly; the only way to ensure that you got your fair share of burrata was to arm yourself with a fat slice of bread to lap up the juices once the ball was placed upon the bar for all to have a go.  I went with my hunch that breadcrumbs would do the same thing inside the pouches, and it worked like a charm.  My husband had major trepidation with me adulterating the simple goodness of burrata by annihilating its awesome form and tearing it to bits as a stuffing, but one bite shut his trap permanently- well, except to chew! 

The actual process of rolling and stuffing the cuscini took a fair amount of time, so naturally Deanna and I indulged in a bit of wine to get us through.  Because I didn’t want to pulverize the burrata completely beyond recognition, I tore it a fair amount but left some particles decent sized.  I’m glad I did because when you bit into the pasta the larger pieces gave it a silky texture not at all reminiscent of the sometimes gritty ricotta-filled ravioli.  The slightly larger pieces also caused our stuffing pockets to require about an inch of space, thus making our entire rectangle of pasta close to 2” long when it was all said and done- hence calling them “Pillows.” 

I went back and forth on a sauce for my little bedtime bundles; too creamy would take away from the cheesy interior, but call me crazy, I’ve never been a huge fan of burrata with tomato, so a red sauce was out of the question for me.  In the end, I decided to incorporate peas and prosciutto so that they would be the stars of the sauce- the white wine reduction and bit of cream thrown in for good measure merely provided some sleekness.  The sauce turned out to be just the right thing to accent the subtle flavor of the burrata; not one thing in the dish screamed “look at me,” rather they all worked together to reduce us diners to stunned silence.  It’s a good thing the Bach Cello Suites were doing a nice job keeping our ears entertained, as there was a good few minutes when all anyone did was chew and swallow- and this from a group of carousing partiers. 

I urge you to host your own burrata bash presto, if it’s anywhere near as successful as ours, you’ll be kicking yourself for not doing it sooner.  Both recipes follow the post, so scroll down for the burrata and nectarines. 

Burrata Cuscini con Prosciutto e Piselli:  Burrata Pillows with Prosciutto and Peas

Serves 4-6

For the pasta:

• 11 egg yolks
• 12 oz semolina flour
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• ½ tsp salt
• Water as needed
• All purpose flour as needed for kneading

For the burrata filling:

• 1 roughly 15 oz ball of burrata
• ½ cup breadcrumbs from 2 slices of potato bread, crusts removed
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• ¾ c Parmigiano Reggiano grated
• ½ tsp Trapani sea salt, crushed
• ¼ c fresh basil leaves chopped fine

For the prosciutto sauce

• 2 tbsp butter and 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 shallot julienned
• 2 cloves garlic minced
• 1/3 lb prosciutto separated and chopped into 1/2” squares
• ½ c white wine
• 16 oz frozen peas (Cascadian farm are great)
• 1.5 c heavy cream
• Trapani sea salt and pepper to taste
• ½ c Parmigiano Reggiano
• Chiffonaded basil for garnish

1.  Put the semolina, egg yolks, oil and salt into a standing mixer fitted with the dough hook attachment.  Mix on low speed until mixture resembles coarse meal.  Add a little water and continue to mix until dough starts to come together.  Turn out onto a very large, floured surface.  Knead until dough becomes a malleable ball- not too dry, but not overly sticky either.  Cover with a tea towel and let rest while making the filling.
2. In a medium bowl, mix all filling ingredients together and set aside until ready to fill the pasta sheets.
3. To roll out pasta sheets, divide dough into six small, manageable balls and shape each ball into a rectangle.  Roll the pasta sheet out retaining the rectangular shape.  The width of the sheet should end up around 3-4”.  The length will depend on the size of dough ball you started with, but you should strive to roll out the dough as thin as possible without tearing it, as well as keeping an evenly sided and straight rectangle.  Repeat with remaining dough balls, covering each sheet once it’s rolled with a lightly misted tea towel so that it retains its moisture and doesn’t dry out to the point of cracking once you stuff it with filling.  Once all your sheets are rolled, it’s time to begin filling.
4. Prior to filling the pasta sheets, I highly recommend watching this short video for hints on technique.  Essentially, you want to use a teaspoon to drop dollops of filling equally spaced about 1.5” apart down the middle of the pasta sheet.  Because my dough often dries a bit while I’m rolling out my sheets, at this point I use a pastry brush to brush along the bottom edge of the sheet, in between each of the dollops, and along the top part of the sheet where the bottom will be rolled up and sealed.  Working carefully and quickly, roll the bottom of the pasta sheet over the dollops and seal it with your fingertips near the top of the pasta sheet.  Do not go all the way to the top of the sheet; rather leave a little lip that you will eventually trim off like in the video recommended at the beginning of this step.  Pinch the cuscini closed between each dollop, pinch the ends closed, and using either a pasta cutter (if you want the fluted edge) or a pizza cutter (if you want a straight edge, which I prefer), trim off the upper edge excess as well as cutting between each cuscino.  Do a final check to make sure all edges are sealed, and place on a sheet pan lined with parchment and floured while you make the rest of the cuscini.  Once you have formed all of your pasta, cover the sheet pan with a tea towel and set aside for up to one hour at room temperature.  If you need more time, cover the cuscini and put them in the refrigerator for up to 4 hours. 
5. Fill a large stockpot with water and bring to boil.  Oil and salt the water.  Cook cuscini in batches- 10-12 at a time, or as you feel comfortable to manage.  Once cooked, let them rest on an oiled sheet pan set in a 200° oven.
6. Meanwhile, heat butter in a large sauté pan over medium heat.  Add shallot and garlic and sauté until softened, about one minute.  Add prosciutto and sauté for 2 additional minutes, stirring frequently to break up clumps.  Toss in the white wine and stir vigorously until reduced almost completely, about a minute.  Add the peas and cream, turn the heat to low, and cook for four minutes until sauce thickens slightly.  Season with Trapani sea salt and pepper and toss in cuscini. Coat the pasta with the sauce, toss in the Parmigiano, and serve immediately, garnishing each plate with a bit of basil. 

Burrata with White Nectarines, Fava Puree and Caramelized Mint Balsamic Droplets

Serves 6

• 1.5 c fresh mint leaves washed
• ½ c sugar
• ½ c water
• 1 lb fava beans boiled and shelled
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 2 tsp lemon juice
• Salt to taste
• 3 white nectarines
• 1- 15 oz ball of burrata
• Few drops balsamic vinegar for garnish
• 6 mint sprigs for garnish

1.  Boil ¼ c sugar with ¼ c water in small saucepan until slightly reduced. Remove from heat and stir in one cup mint leaves.  Cover saucepan and allow leaves to steep until slightly cooled- about ten minutes.  Meanwhile, chop remaining mint leaves fine.  Once syrup has cooled, strain out steeped mint leaves, add remaining sugar and water, and set over low heat to boil again.  Bring simple syrup to point that it forms large bubbles stirring constantly.  At this point it will feel sticky and start to mass up.  Remove from heat, add chopped mint leaves, and continue to stir until cooled.  The mixture will turn into hard crumbles of caramelized mint. Set aside.
2. Puree fava beans, olive oil, lemon juice and salt in immersion blender.  Place a dollop of fava puree in the center of each of six serving plates.
3. Halve and seed nectarines.  Place each half open-side up on top of fava dollop.
4. Cut the burrata ball into six wedges.  Place each wedge inside each peach where the pit used to be.  It should spill out a bit. 
5. Garnish each plate with some crumbles of caramelized mint, a few drops of balsamic, and a mint sprig. 

I have the greatest neighbors in the world who are always performing thoughtful little gestures that mean the world to me.  The most recent came in the form of a “just because” package left on the front mat- a cardboard box wrapped with a length of my favorite chartreuse ribbon.  The box contained five beautifully cushioned little gourds, all a different color, some with spiky protrusions, some with striated patterns.

These gourds go a long way toward satisfying my growing need for fresh flowers in the house as the chill air settles around us. I think it stems from a want-what-you-can’t-have sort of ideology, but my desire for fresh flowers is always in inverse proportion to how warm it is outside.  In other words in summer, when fresh flowers are in over-abundance all over town including in my yard, I feel much less need to have them on my dining table than in winter when they have to be carted up from faraway tropical paradises at prices that make my husband wince.  It is my hope that the cheerful, bright gourds Robert and Patrick dropped by will somewhat curb my appetite for flowers since I can arrange them happenstance around the house in lieu of pricy peonies.

The added bonus of these little mini-squashes is that they spawned last night’s dinner idea: sachetti d’oro-bags of gold.  Not literally, of course, just a great name for little squash-stuffed ravioli-like packets of satisfaction I’ll hereto for be referring to as caramelle-the Italian word for individually wrapped candies.  The ravioli-like packets are called caramelle because that is the word that most closely resembles their shape- just like little wrapped candies, only infinitely better for dinner.  I first had the occasion to try this pasta shape at Vintage 1997, one of the finest restaurants in Torino.  I am eternally indebted to their chef, as I’ve been making them in one way or another ever since.

You see, the little squashes elicited such excitement in me that I was reminded of the acorn squash yet another kind neighbor gave us that is languishing in the fruit bowl.  Time to turn it into something decadent and vegetarian since the weekend houseguest I would be feeding tends toward the herbivorous side of life.  I called Robert and Patrick to solidify their places at the dinner table as well that evening, and set out to decide on all the little details.

I knew I wanted to cut the sweetness of the squash with something a bit more rounded in flavor, so I opted to throw in some amazing ricotta I found at my favorite local fromagerie. I also felt it was important to bring in some flavors of fall, and to me nothing does that better than a bit of smokiness, so Halen Mon smoked salt was also a necessary addition.

Beurre noisette was the logical choice in terms of sauce because I knew I did not want anything that would take away from the decadent filling, however I wanted to spruce it up a little bit.  First I thought maybe a beurre blanc instead because it has slightly more complexity, then I hit upon the key flavor accent in the beurre noisette and decided to accentuate it: hazelnut.  Most people say beurre noisette tastes like hazelnut anyway, what with all that browning, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to help the palate along a touch, hence the chopped nuts to really bring home the flavor.

The rolling of the dough is the really fun part- you’ll definitely want a glass of wine for that since it will help you get in touch with your inner muscle-man.  You want to go paper-thin on it or your caramelle will turn out tough, but not so thin the dough rips when you’re stuffing and rolling.  I usually make a bit more than I need so I can get the hang of my system with the first few, and if they turn out really wonky I just boil them up early and snack on them before anyone else has a chance to witness their homeliness.  The only other snag you may run into depends on how well you know your dinner guests.  These sacchetti d’oro are so good you might catch yourself licking your plate, and that could be pretty embarrassing in the wrong crowd!

Sacchetti D’ Oro: Acorn Squash Caramelle with Hazelnut Beurre Noisette

Serves 4-6

For Filling:

• 1 large acorn squash halved, seeded and oven roasted until tender (45-55 min)
• 4-5 roasted garlic cloves from 1 head roasted in oven along with squash
• ½ cup quality ricotta (like sheep’s milk, or at least whole milk)
• Halen Mon smoked sea salt to taste
• Pepper to taste

For Pasta:

• 10 oz semolina
• ¼ tsp fine sea salt
• 8 egg yolks
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1/8-1/4 c water
• All purpose flour (or tipo “00”) for kneading

For Sauce:

• 1 stick butter
• ½ tsp juice from one lemon
• 2 oz finely chopped hazelnuts

1. Place semolina and salt in bowl of standing mixer fitted with dough hook, and add egg yolks into well in center.  Mix on low speed until fairly incorporated.  Add olive oil and water just to the point that dough begins to stick together.  Turn out onto floured surface and incorporate enough regular flour that dough forms a malleable ball.  Allow dough to rest covered while you whip the filling together.
2. Mix all filling ingredients together very thoroughly either in food processor or with your hands.  You want to be sure to distribute the garlic evenly throughout the filling. Set aside.
3. Divide dough into several portions and work with one at a time, keeping others covered.  Form dough into a cylinder with your hands that is several inches long and maybe 1” in diameter. Proceed to roll dough out into a long, skinny rectangular sheet, roughly 3” wide by however long you are able to roll it taking it down to a cardstock-thin consistency.  Repeat with remaining dough, covering as you make new sheets.
4. Once all your sheets are formed, work with one at a time to start the filling process.  Cut each sheet into rectangles roughly 3×3.5”.  Place a dollop of filling inside each rectangle, moisten the top edge with a pastry brush dipped in water, and begin rolling, bottom side up to top side.  Once you’ve rolled the caramella into a tube, pinch each end together like you would if wrapping a candy.  Since you rolled up to the top side which was wet, the water should have sealed the edge closed, and your pinched ends should hold in the filling.  Place each caramella onto a sheet pan lined with parchment paper dusted with flour and continue until you are done filling the sheets.  You should have 20-25 caramelle.
5. Meanwhile, boil a large stockpot of salted water.  Cook the caramelle 4 at a time in the stockpot for roughly 30 seconds.  Sometimes they rise to the top, sometimes not.  Pull them out with a slotted spoon and let rest on a cooling rack while you cook the remainder.  To gently reheat before plating and saucing, place the cooling rack of caramelle over the boiling stockpot and steam heat through.
6. Meanwhile, brown the butter over low temperature stirring frequently.  Add the hazelnuts once the butter is light caramel color, but keep cooking until butter is nicely browned, just before the point of blackened.  At that point, remove from heat, toss in lemon juice, and pour over caramelle to serve.

I like to take the chill off the late afternoons in our Indian summer by baking a couple loaves of bread.  I sort of cheat and keep the oven on so the air is nice and hot for my loaves to rise, so I figured I’d toss in the acorn squash my gracious neighbors gave us from their harvest last week to soften it up.  One thing led to another and I started to think about just how the squash might best accompany my bread. Hmmm, smeared all over it a la fingerpaint-style the way my one year old Bentley would surely prefer it given his penchant for all things messy? Yeah, probably not.  “I have it!” I thought to myself, some sort of squashy dipping sauce for my little chewy french bread nuggets- what do they usually call that? Oh yeah, soup. Well, in my house we like to whir it all up into a tizzy with the immersion blender and call it bisque, so what the hell, why not make squash soup- sounds fabulous!

I’ve always been a fan of pairing gourds with the firmer orchard fruits in soups, and the pears could not be sweeter right now, so that was an easy one.  Oftentimes I would use apples instead of pears, and if that were the case I would typically grill them to seal in their juices and caramelize their flavor, but since the pairs are a bit more mealy, I wanted to cook them in a style befitting their properties, so I thought a slow poach woud just about do the trick.  Poaching liquid can be tough, however- water is simply too boring, and chicken or vegetable stock puts too much savory into a soup with a sweeter base, so I went back to the drawing board I often find myself staring at in instances like these- the wine fridge (hey, you can’t blame me for going there for inspiration- everything’s better through rosé-colored glasses, right?).

That’s when the second !Aha! moment of the experiment occurred.  You see, I’ve had a bottle of Moscato tooling around my wine fridge for the past six months that I just haven’t been able to justify drinking.  Allow me to attempt to explain my logic.  Moscato is no more than 6.5% alcohol and it’s very sweet.  This means that in order to, shall we say, feel its effects, you’d have to drink so much of it you’d surely end up with quite the headache the next day from all the sweetness. Trust me J.  Therefore, when I spied the bottle peering back at me I had finally found its intended purpose- to poach my pears.  Unfortunately now I’ve opened quite the can of worms as it performed so well in the soup I see cases and cases of it in my future. 

Just about the time I was rolling my dough into loaves for a final rise, I traded the acorn squash for the pears in Moscato in the oven, and set about chopping up a mirepoix of carrots, celery and onions to formulate the base of the soup.  At that point it was well past 5’oclock, even in my own time zone, so I felt justified pouring an ample glass of Roero Superiore- all in a day’s work, right? Without further ado, please enjoy this bisque as much as everyone in my house did!

Moscato-Poached Pear and Acorn Squash Bisque

Serves 6-8 with fresh baked bread as accompaniment

• 1 acorn squash halved, seeded, and baked flesh side down in 1/2” of water at 400° until soft
• 1 750 ml bottle Moscato d’Asti
• 5 pears halved and cored (Comite or other sweet variety)
• 4 tbsp unsalted butter
• 2 medium carrots chopped coarse
• 2 celery stalks chopped coarse
• 1 sweet onion (such as Walla Walla) chopped coarse
• 2 cups heavy cream
• Fresh grated nutmeg to taste
• Halen Mon Welsh smoked salt to taste (or your preferred salt.  We like the smoky flavor the Halen Mon imparts on the soup)
• Crème fraiche to garnish (optional)

1.  Preheat oven to 400°.  Place pears halved side down in a medium shallow baking dish. Pour Moscato over pears and bake in preheated oven until needed in recipe (about 20 minutes).
2. Melt butter in large dutch oven. Stir in carrots, celery and onions and cook until soft (about 10 minutes).
3. Add hot pears and moscato to dutch oven. Stir to break up pear clumps and continue to cook over medium heat for 10 minutes.
4. Add acorn squash flesh to dutch oven and stir to incorporate into soup.
5. Add half the cream to the soup then puree using an immersion blender or in batches in a standing blender. Add the remaining cream, heat through, add nutmeg and salt to taste.  Ladle into bowls, garnish if you desire, and serve with fresh-baked french bread straight from the oven.