Aunt Jenny wanted to talk not about scones, but about sourdough. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, kept a sourdough starter alive for many years, and baked from it every week, something I never knew. (This is the same great-grandmother who played the violin, raised some of the most rambunctious boys imaginable - my father included - and switched them when they misbehaved. I think I would have liked Great-Grandma Vera, had I met her.) Apparently the desire for sourdough runs in the family, although not the ability to raise a starter.
One of her sons, my great-uncle Bill, turned 80 last week, and his party was Sunday afternoon, and I got to spend some time with clippings from my Dad's family shrub. I do mean shrub, not tree. For as far up as we can go, we go even farther out. Third cousins, step-cousins, cousins out your ears, and a smattering of aunts and uncles. And as crazy as that is, it was awesome.
I came away from the family gathering with three things: one, a culture of my Uncle Fred's sourdough starter, which he was nice enough to share, and which I will hopefully not kill. Two, a promise of alpaca fiber for spinning, knitting and reviewing in the mail from a cousin-cousin-cousin who raises them. Three, my father's uncle's cousin's wife's recipe for manicotti.
Pam's Manicotti for a Crowd
1 1/2 cup flour
1 1/2 cup water
6 eggs
A liberal pinch of salt
Pam says the key to good manicotti is to sift the flour twice; once as you measure it and again as you add it to the eggs and water in a blender or food processor. Let it sit for 30+ minutes. To cook the crepes, she recommends a good enamel omelet pan, over medium heat; oil the pan, and then blot the excess with a paper towel.
Her trick to the perfect size: measure the batter with a coffee scoop, which is just under 1/8 cup, or 2 tablespoons. Pour your batter into the hot pan and spread it out so it is uniformly thin. Let it cook until the crepe is dry on top, then flip it and give it just a few seconds on the other side. Stack them separated by wax paper.
For the Filling:
3 pounds of ricotta cheese (If you're feeling ambitious, try this recipe from Elise Bauer's blog.)
6 eggs
Parsley, fresh or dried
Salt
3/4 pound shredded whole-milk mozzarella
Pam says if you have any really good cheeses you like sitting around, throw them in, the more the merrier!
Mix until uniform in a large bowl. Depending on how stuffed you like your manicotti, each can take 1/3 - 1/2 cup of filling. Line it up, roll up the crepe around it and voila - you have a manicotti. This recipe makes roughly four dozen - Pam wasn't kidding when she said it feeds a crowd! If a large crowd isn't in the cards, you can always freeze them for easy dinner later.
To freeze the prepared manicotti, put them in a foil pan, ideally 12 in each of four. Cover with foil and put in the freezer. It's really that simple. When you're ready for that cheesy goodness, you can thaw them overnight in the fridge or pour sauce over the frozen manicotti and bake right away. (How long? What temp? Your Betty Crocker Sense should be tingling - 350 until the cheese is gooey and melted.)
Pam, the wonderful person and cook that she is, has promised to pass on other delicious recipes that I can't wait to try out and share with you - Mama Leone's one-skillet veal made student-friendly with chicken instead; a whole onion pink vodka sauce - with real vodka, so this one will have to wait until next month, when I'm old enough to buy vodka; and a tomato sauce slow-simmered with country spare ribs that sounds so good, I am practically drooling. In the mean time, I suggest you skip freezing the manicotti and make enough to feed your whole big family so you can sit down and talk about the recipes that they make, because you never know what gems you'll find.
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