Two Very Special Sardinian Sweets
"...every time I spoon out a little miele di corbezzolo, I'm not just trying something exotic. That spoonful captures an entire culture, one finely balanced between the bitter and the sweet, and the slightly bitter aroma of the island rises in my memory." —Nancy Jenkins, "Undiscovered Italy" in Food and Wine, May 2000

Miele Amaro from the Corbeezzolo tree
— The Mysterious Bitter Honey of Sardinia
Unless you're a Sardinian or have never had honey before, this has to be one of the single strangest, most disorienting foods in the world. It's made from the nectar bees gather from feeding on the flowers of the corbezzolo, known in English as the Tree Strawberry, or in Latin as Arbutus. What's so weird about it? Well, instead of starting out with the standard sweetness we've all come to expect from a honey, it's got a pronouncedly bitter, slightly sour, almost mentholated flavor, with only the slightest hint of sweetness. Known in Italian as miele amaro, or "bitter honey" it's produced in very small quantities high in the wild central mountains of the island. It's made in the late autumn and early winter when the corbezzolo flowers are out in bloom. The cold temperature at that time of year causes high fluctuation in the annual production, and adds enormously to the cost. Yields are always low because the bees must work so hard to produce it. I haven't tracked this myself, but supposedly they have to fly two to three times as many sorties from hive to blossom to make a pound of corbezzolo honey as they would ordinary stuff (7 or 8000 trips compared to 3000). Not surprisingly, Sardinians hold the corbezzolo honey in high esteem; it's served typically with fried cheese ravioli. I'd say spread it on toast along with fresh ricotta, or with the Pecorino Sardo cheese.

Abbamele from Sardinia
Super special stuff from Sardinia, I give Efisio full credit for turning us onto this one. I'd never even heard of it 'til I met him a few years ago. Made by pressing (as in "crushing") the leftover honeycomb from the hive after the honey's been taken out. (The name means "honey water" in Sardinian dialect.) In the process, all the residual honey and pollen is then reduced to thick, dark syrup by cooking it down in copper pots. The finished product is the consistency of molasses but because it's made of honey not sugar, you have to extrapolate the intensity and angle of the flavors from there. In this case the bees were feeding on wild flowers, adding to the intensity and complexity of the finished product. The Talia Glass, who used to work at the Deli, put out one of the more poetic descriptions I've ever heard when she said, "It's like a beehive boiled down into a bottle." I love that line. But then her friend whose name I don't know came up with an equally exceptional one by adding that the abbamele "is the Guinness of honeys."

For serving on the fancier side of things, abbamele would be pretty amazing on warm foie gras. On a simpler level, Efisio has a sandwich on his lunch menu made with fresh mozzarella and prosciutto, a bit of arugula and abbamele. Very good on toast with a lot of good butter or ricotta. Toss with thick slices of pear and roast in the oven at about 450° 'til slightly caramelized. You could definitely put it on gelato, drizzle it over fresh fruit, mix it with yogurt or the Creamery's yogurt-like Fromage Franc. And of course, if you want to keep it really simple, just eat it by the spoonful out of the jar.

A Pair of Superior Sardinian Oils
If you want to really experience the authentic flavors of any area, one of the most important places to start is to use the right "fat." In Sardinia, as in so much of the Mediterranean, olive oil is where it's at. These two oils are Sardinia at its best — small production, big bold flavors, and long clean finishes. Try 'em both.

Montiferru Olive Oil from the West
From the other side of the island, from the slopes of Montiferru, an extinct volcanic area with soil particularly suited for olive cultivation. It's made from three of the native Sardinian varietals — the above-mentioned Semidana, Bosana, plus a third called Manna. The trees are very old (which generally means lower yield but higher flavor) and the growing is organic. The oil has a very thick mouthfeel, nice big fruity flavor with the kind of underlying olive bitter green flavors I love. It you like your oil on the bigger side of things, give this one a try. An excellent taste of rustic Sardinian country flavors.

Montalbo Olive Oil from the Eastern End the Island
A lovely, large oil that's made from two varietals native unique to Sardinia — Bosana and Semidana olives. Although the fruit isn't formally certified organic, no sprays are used on the trees. The olives are handpicked, then pressed within 24 hours yielding an oil with a very big aroma, a touch of positive bitterness, a bit of the flavor of artichoke, a very nice pepperiness. The pizzica (or pepperiness) is more of the "red pepper" you'd taste typically in the oils of Puglia than the "black pepper" you'd get with Tuscan oils. It has a nice sweetness to pull it all together, and I think it's a bit nutty as well. Great for salads, grilled meats, and full flavored fish like tuna, swordfish and mackerel. Very good as well on gnochetti or other small pasta tossed with freshly ground black pepper and some grated dried and/or 'fresh" bottarga (sea — sorry, couldn't resist — below). And of course you can use it on salads, to finish soups, etc.

The Secret Pastas of Sardinia:
Little Balls and Little Bulls
Although everyone eats pasta and most people have heard of — if not been to — the island, hardly anyone other than Sardinian natives are familiar with either of these two really unique pastas. Sardinian wheat has been highly prized in the Mediterranean since Roman times, and Efisio's gone to great lengths to get us really good modern day versions of each. They're made by couple that are friends of Efisio's family. Working out on the west coast of the island, near the town of Oristano, Pietro and Donatella make small batches of the pasta using hard, Sardinian durum semolina. Check 'em both out and get 'em into your regular pasta eating routines.

Fregula Sarda
Traditional Sardinian pasta made from coarsely ground semolina made by rubbing pasta dough into small round balls, about the size of Israeli couscous. Fregula are lightly toasted which gives them an interesting flavor unlike that of any other pasta shape I've eaten; Pietro and Donatella toast theirs twice making theirs a bit nicer and nuttier than other versions I've had. The double toasting also helps the pasta hold up a bit better and, as I said, also adds to the flavor. It also adds color — fregula range from a light toasty yellow to shades of gold, brown and even almost red sometimes.

Fregula are great for salads, soups, main courses, and pasta. One of Efisio's recommended recipes is to sauté a range of vegetables from the market, toss them with fregula that have been cooked in saffron-scented chicken or fish stock, and then top them with chopped fresh arugula and then sautéed scallops. He finishes the dish with a swirl of the slightly sweet abbamele and olive oil. If you're not into the fish, you can do the same dish without the scallops, in which case I'd grate on some Pecorino Sardo cheese instead.

Malloreddus Sardi
Also known as Gnocchetti Sardi, or Sardinian gnocchi, this is a little teardrop shaped pasta that is the second signature pasta of the island. I've come across two meanings for the name — one source said it means "little bulls," for reasons that I've not yet figured out. The other said it's from the Latin mallolus meaning "morsels." Either way I like 'em. Efisio recommends making malloreddus with a wild boar ragu (which I'm sure you've been planning to cook this weekend), but they're great with any meat that's been cut, ground or chopped into small bits because the shape of the pasta scoops up the little pieces of meat. More manageably for last minute cooking they're very good with tomato sauce, just or served simply with extra virgin olive oil and a sprinkling of bottarga.

Two Sardinian Cheeses imported by:

The Roth and Jaeckle families' work with cheesemaking dates back to 1863 in Switzerland. A part of the family came to the US back in the early years of the 20th century in order to begin distribution of Swiss specialties, founding a firm that became one of the leading US cheese importers. Fifteen years ago they decided to take things one step further still — they built their own plant to make cheese in Wisconsin. Today they both make great cheese — we love their Wisconsin Mountain Cheese — and also import great cheeses from Europe. First and foremost amongst the latter are these two from Sardinia.

Fiore Sardo
Unique to Sardinia, Fiore Sardo is a well-aged sheep's milk with a firm texture and a nice smoky (it's actually smoked) flavor. Despite the fact that I don't usually love smoked cheese it's actually become one of my favorites over the last few years.

We're getting ours through the Pinna family who been making, selecting and maturing it since 1923. The cheese is still hand made by half dozen shepherds the Pinnas have been working with for many years. Andrea Pinna, the 4th generation to work the cheese, told me that, "I can produce the cheese myself at our factory but I don't want to. I want to buy from the people who my father and my grandfather bought the cheese from." The cheeses are still made in the traditional style — from raw milk, using the traditional lamb rennet. (More modern versions are made with calves' rennet. Having tasted the two side by side, there is an enormous difference in flavor — the sheep rennet is much more flavorful, far more pungent.) When I say "handmade" I mean the curd is worked only with the cheesemaker's hands, not any machinery.

The Pinnas select the cheeses at about four months of age, and then mature them through for another four to eight months. The rind is rubbed with olive oil during the aging and the cheese is matured in the traditional way at ambient temperatures, allowing the natural temperature swings to encourage moisture loss in the summer. The flavor is big, bold, intense and a little wild, as most Sardinians seem to be as well. In the old days the cheese was typically made by shepherds — because it would have been stored at the top of the shepherd's huts, it was naturally smoked as a result of being in such close proximity to the fires they'd keep burning for warmth and for cooking. The Pinna's cheeses are smoked for about a month over slow-burning macchia Mediterranea (wild Mediterranean heather). I like it because although the flavor is smoky it doesn't have any of that pseudo-smoky taste you get with so many cheeses — in this case the smoke is part of the flavor of the cheese, not an element artificially added at the end.

You can do pretty much anything you want with Fiore Sardo. Grate it onto pasta for sure. It's excellent on meat sauces, or just with good olive oil for a really simple meal. Also on pastas with braised greens — Andrea Pinna recommended turnip greens in particular. Grate it onto green salads — recommended with more full-flavored greens. Grate it onto bean soups. Of course it's easy to offer it up as a part of antipasto plate along with cured ham, salami, and olives. Eat it with a bit of Corbezzelo honey. Mostly just eat it. It's good!

Fresh Sheep Ricotta Air-Shipped from the Island
We've come so, so far in terms of food quality here in the US over the twenty-six years we've been here at Zingerman's. It's amazing how much good stuff is now available to us every day — either because it's now being grown or made here (much better fresh vegetables all summer; bread, pastry, coffee and cream cheese made here at Zingerman's, etc.) or because we now can get it here from abroad after years of not being able to (as in the recently arrived, cured Iberico ham from Spain). All that said there are still some things that I have to go abroad to get. And one of 'em is fresh ricotta. No offense to all the folks in the US that make pretty good ricotta, but it's just not the same. And I love the stuff and I'll to great lengths to get it when I'm in Europe. Either fresh cow's milk ricotta made up in the area around Parma, or the sheep's milk ricotta made in the south. In the mean time though...we've got a way to get pretty darned good fresh ricotta here from Sardinia. Granted I'd still rather eat ricotta that's a few hours old while standing in the Sardinian sun and looking out on the mountains or the sea, but given that that's not going to happen this winter I'm going to happily continue to consume large quantities of this darned good air-shipped stuff. It's great for pasta dishes, eaten with the corbezzolo honey or the abbamele, spread on Bakehouse toast, or honestly, just by the spoonful.