I mean this most sincerely, it’s not some cheap trick to lure porn-surfers to my food blog; why would I want to do that? It’s wordplay on Pigs in Blankets but to satisfy those at the back, here’s an uncut image (for illustration purposes only, please) from the mind-boggling immeatchu blog.
Not sorry to disappoint, I’m referring to the sexiest pasta sauce of all, Puttanesca; a store-cupboard classic from Naples. Puttana being Italian for whore, puttanesca means whore-style: naturally there is some debate about how it acquired this intriguingly salty name. It’s all true no doubt, but as importantly it’s a delicious dish to give hunger a good seeing-to and a pushover to pull a few ingredients from fridge and cupboard for the laziest gal – or guy – in town.
Or on a languorous afternoon, do as I did: put a bit of lead in the pencil of some elderly olive oil dough and wrap it around puttanesca’s uncooked ingredients for a putta nuda al forno: salaciously delicious – or deliciously salacious…just try twisting your tongue around that.
Putta Nuda al forno
- 2 salt-cured anchovies, filleted
- 4 sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, sliced
- 10 Niçoise olives, stoned
- 1 TBS capers, drained
- dried oregano
- a fistful of olive oil dough
Shape, strew and scatter as in first pic, stretch the long edges of dough over the filling to meet in the middle and press to seal. Bake in a hot oven about ½ an hour, basting beforehand and after 15 minutes with oil from the tomatoes. Cool slightly, slice and serve.
Although there are acceptable variations to the cooked sauce, never have I encountered as total a travesty as at a certain trattoria in Vieux Nice, to which I not-entirely-ironically refer as Casa della Disasta: according to our waitress, their pasta puttanesca contained no olive, neither anchovy nor caper! Incidentally, on top of that surprise, the line at the till was not for takeaways but disgruntled diners queuing to question the errors on their bills – all in the management’s favour, natch. Make of that what you will.
Thanks for calling my salade nicoise “correct”. That must be my favourite food blog comment of all time.
I also see that I’ve found a kindred spirit in puttanesca-repurposing.
And thank you Michele for coming up with a novel take on tradition which retains the spirit of the original: Salade Nicoise