A grain by any other name

The thrill of finding something entirely new is high octane. Among the pulses, grains and bagged rice on the bottom shelf of Gennaro’s delicatessen in Greenwich, sweet ristretto con medicino in hand, I fell onto ‘Fregola’.

Pasta not Strawberries

Not a strawberry (fragola), but an artisan pasta called fregola. The grains look like the off-white air gun pellets we had as kids. My nose twitched and I began immediately asking questions. Forgive me, my readers that know all about Fregola – hands up, I don’t.

Fregola comes from Sardinia - brought there by the Moors - and it’s more a couscous than a pasta, hand rolled and formed from durum wheat and then dried in the oven. My love of Sardinian food and wine stretches to luxurious bottarga (sun dried grey mullet roes), carta di musica and tales of illicit roasts set amid stones under the ground by bandits and rogues. Mirto di Sardenga I also love – a digestif made from wild myrtle berries. But Fregola, it’s new. Some write it as Fregula.

Research also tells me it’s one of the island’s best kept secrets, so maybe I am forgiven for not having instant recall.

Pea Season Ending

The day I found it I was set on a Risi e Bisi as this season’s excellent peas are coming to an end, and we wanted to eek out the very last. I decided to replace the rice with the new found pasta.

Locavore’s Food

I’m told fregola is very local, even by Sardinian standards – it’s home is the south, around Cagliari.  Many living in the north of the island know no more than its name.

The fregola with peas and salted capers was stupendous – starting with the soffrito of finely chopped, peeled celery and, yesterday, shallots. I work to the Chinese method where ingredients are all sized the same – not only do they then cook identically, but they are more pleasing to the eye.

In goes the clear chicken broth – up to the boil and then in with the Fregola – a 12-14 minute cook.  I like to cook the peas separately in more of the stock.  This gives me the control to ensure they are perfectly cooked.  (Ignore all writers who wax on merits of frozen peas.)

A couple of minutes before the Fregola is al-dente, in go the peas and rinsed capers – then with a slotted spoon transfer to a serving dish – I say slotted spoon, because it should be quite soupy like a Risi e Bisi. I added a well-aged ewes’ milk Pecorino for a flavour switch from Parmesan, grated very last minute to soak into the finished dish. It was a success, one for the family repertoire. Salted capers are superior for this dish: save the ones in brine for fish and slow-cooked lamb.

Clams and Tomatoes

In Sardinia, clams and tomato are the classic pairing – a dish called Fregola Sarda con Arselle.  I made this today and it was another wonder. I spiced up the sugo with extra garlic and dried Italian chilli flakes. I added a ladle of the fregola cooking water for absolute correctness to Nonna’s kitchen where nothing is wasted.

Luckily I found fresh Palourdes in our only local fishmongers, although the smaller and sweeter Talines clams would have been best of all.  These are all but unavailable in England though they are plentiful across the water.

Sardinians also eat fregola stirred into salads and on feast days, warmed through, dressed with the best olive oil they can afford and topped at table with grated Bottarga.

Mid-week and on a budget I would have no qualms using good quality Italian clams in brine, added to the tomato sugo. Fresh clams make for a more ritualistic dinner as each of us sucked the meat from the shells, discarding them between forkfuls of the sea-rich tomato fregola. Even the clatter of the shells being strewn into the dish made us think we were on holiday – the fregola brought in the sunshine and we thought the cars in the car park had become boats on the quayside.

Brigand’s Food

What a find – Fregola, ‘pasta tipica della Sardegna’. We ate it twice this week. Now I’m thinking of stealing a lamb to slow-roast under the communal lawns outside our apartment – sitting around the turf topped underground oven drinking rough Sardinian country wine, singing songs and pretending nothing untoward is happening below our feet, until opening the stone lined oven after dark and have our more brigand-like friends around to feast and laugh.

Warning:  Fregola is still a fairly specialist ingredient, so persevere in your search, or write to me and I’ll find you a mail order supplier.

Read more from Gareth Jones: garethjonesfood.com