Almost Italian

Just as the mufuletta sandwiches of New Orleans and lamb spiedies of Broom County, N.Y., are considered to have been conceived and refined in particular regions, the seafood stew known as cioppino is associated with San Francisco. Mention any of these Italian-American dishes to a native—or a tourist who had the good fortune to enjoy the definitive version in the restaurants deemed to produce the real thing—and nostalgia will flow as freely as the wine once poured from raffia-covered bottles of cheap Chianti.

Copyright © 2009 Skip Lombardi

Genoese were among the earliest Italian immigrants to San Francisco. In many ways their transition to America was easier than that of other Italians who struggled not only with a new language in a new land, but also found themselves having to learn new industrial trades. For the Genoese, fishing in the cold Pacific was not so different from casting their nets in the Gulf of Genoa. Just as they had back home, fisherman concocted stews based on unsold leftovers from each day’s catch, including whatever unmarketable creatures they found in their nets.

Essentially a fish soup, any given cioppino might also have included shellfish and crustaceans as well as octopus and squid. Both name and components can be traced back to the seafood stews, or zuppe de pesce of Liguria. And in Genoese dialect, ciupin was simply the truncation of the Italian zuppina, or “little soup.” As culinary sleuths, we must constantly remind ourselves that the dialectical names of dishes developed by Italian immigrants to America do not necessarily match any names back in the old country.

Cuipin, also known as passato di pesce, is a Ligurian dish that relies on some very tasty, if bony, fish. Among the favorites are various sharp-spined scorpion-fish (members of the Scorpaena family) and gunards (of the Triglidae family)—native to the Mediterranean. Traditionally, these are added—bones and all—to a stockpot, to be poached with water, white wine, and herbs. The cooked flesh is removed by hand and reserved; the fish bones and any remaining meat are then pressed in a sieve to extract every last bit of flavor and nourishment; that extraction is added back to the stockpot, along with tomatoes, onions, and various herbs.

But thanks to the waters of San Francisco Bay, with their great diversity of shellfish—particularly the Dungeness Crab—ciupin developed a far more complex character. And once the next wave of Italian immigrants, the Sicilians, had settled in San Francisco, the dish was embellished with both sweet green and hot red peppers. The white wines of Liguria gave way to more robust California reds, whose color and flavors gave the stew more depth.

It was not long before the aristocracy of San Francisco caught a whiff of what was cooking down on Fisherman’s Wharf. Eventually, the recipe was codified, though the name of the first recording cookery writer is lost in the legendary fogs of the city. Once cioppino began showing up on the menus at tony dinner parties on Nob Hill and Pacific Heights, its place as an iconic San Franciscan dish was assured.

Savvy cioppino-makers use the recipe only as a starting point and let the market determine the ingredients. The result is that cioppino rarely tastes the same way twice, and in that, the best versions are true to the stew’s Old World Italian origins. Exciting as this variability may be, it makes cioppino an elusive item on restaurant menus. Chefs, and more importantly, their patrons, seek consistency. Thus, if suddenly one restaurant’s famous cioppiono should have to be made without one or more marine elements, one night’s stew might disappoint the “regulars.” So whether you seek the essence of cioppino in the city by the bay or in your own kitchen, know in advance that like a marine weather forecast, there will always be a delicious element of unpredictability.

Ingredients:

1/4 Cup Olive Oil
4 Cloves garlic, peeled and minced
1 Large yellow onion, roughly chopped
1 Green bell pepper, cored, seeded, and chopped in 1/2 inch dice
2 Tbs. Tomato paste
1 Cup dry red wine
1 28 oz. Can Italian plum tomatoes (whole or diced; preferably San Marzano)
1/2 tsp. Crushed red pepper flakes (or more, to taste)
2 Whole bay leaves
4 Tbs. Fresh basil, torn or cut into shreds
1/4 Cup flat-leaf Italian parsley, coarsely chopped
12 Live Cherrystone or Littleneck clams, thoroughly scrubbed
1 Lb. Live mussels, thoroughly scrubbed and debearded
1/2 Lb. Squid, cleaned, cut into 1/2 inch rings, tentacles chopped
1 Lb. Shrimp (36– 40 count), peeled and deveined
1 Lb. Boneless fish cut in 2-inch chunks (cod, halibut, monkfish, haddock)
Salt & freshly-ground black pepper

At serving:

6 Thick slices of good bread, toasted
2-3 Tbs. olive oil
1/4 Cup flat-leaf Italian parsley, coarsely chopped
Lemon wedges (optional)

Preparation:

Heat a large heavy-bottomed soup pot (6 quarts or larger) over medium heat. Add the olive oil and garlic and sauté for about 1 minute.

Add the chopped onion and red pepper flakes. Season with salt and black pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is translucent.

Add the green pepper and saute until it has softened, 3 – 4 minutes.

Raise the heat to medium-high. Stir the tomato paste into the oil and onion-pepper mixture.

Add the wine, and stir to incorporate with the tomato paste. Boil for 1 – 2 minutes to evaporate the alcohol. Add the plum tomatoes. If you are using whole tomatoes, break them up with a wooden spoon or with the back of a fork as they go in.

Add the bay leaf, basil, and parsley. Reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer, partially covered, for approximately 20 minutes.

Raise the heat to medium, and add the clams and mussels. Simmer, covered, for 5 – 6 minutes, or until the shellfish have opened. Discard any that have not opened after 10 minutes. Using tongs or a slotted spoon, remove the clams and mussels as soon as they have opened. Reserve them in their shells in a bowl to catch their liquid.

Add the fish chunks, shrimp, and squid to the pot. Simmer, covered, for approximately 5 minutes, until just cooked through. Taste for seasoning and salt to taste. Resist the urge to stir the pot at this point. If you do, the fish may disintegrate.

Return the shellfish in their shells to the pot, along with any juices that have accumulated at the bottom of the bowl. You simply want to bring the shellfish to the same temperature as the rest of the stew.

To Serve:

Place a slice of toast in the bottom of each deep bowl and drizzle each with a little olive oil. Ladle some of the stew liquid over each. With tongs or slotted spoon, carefully divide the fish and shellfish equally among the bowls. Finally, ladle as much hot liquid into the bowls as you’d like. Garnish with additional parsley and lemon wedges and serve immediately.

Accompany with a warm, crusty loaf (or two!).This stew cries out for additional bread.

Serves six.

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