Tuscan pasta with kale, leeks and sausage
- 16 hours ago
- 10 min read
Tuscan pasta with kale, leeks and sausage, traditionally served with pappardelle, is another great dish for those who like pasta but can't eat or don't like tomatoes. I'm doing it here according to the recipe my father recorded in his journal in the 1960s, though it's easily turned lactovegetarian. It's neither slow-cooked nor a quick dish, but easy to cook with relatively few ingredients.
On the road to Florence
After the surprising response to the last recipe for a pasta sauce that uses no tomatoes that I published on here, I've dug up another one. I had no idea there were so many people out there who like pasta but who can't eat tomatoes or simply don't like them.
This is another recipe from my father Denton's journals of recipes he harvested on his travels, this one from Pisa in 1964. He'd taken a little detour to visit the Baptistery of St John—he could take or leave the comedy leaning tower and was rather scathing about the tourists it attracted—but, he was truly in awe of the baptistery, the largest in Italy. His other agenda was to meet his mate Tancredi so that they could argue about the future direction of shipbuilding. Tancredi was from an old Adriatic shipping family but had moved to Tuscany after his recent marriage.
It was the first time Denton had met Tancredi's wife and was utterly charmed by her, describing her as "eloquent in every phrase"—the fact she was an archaeologist would certainly have helped shape his positive opinion given he always felt that that was the path he should have followed himself. In the spirit of the times, she insisted they go to some hole-in-the-wall traditional osteria and not somewhere chi-chi.
Better still, Denton didn't even have to pull his usual schtick of working his charms to get the recipe. Guiseppina, Tancredi's wife, was clearly familiar with the husband-and-wife team that ran the modest establishment. She simply explained that the ginger Celt, the Barbarosa, so admired the dish and would like to know how to cook it and shortly afterwards the husband, Ugo, the chef, was explaining how to do just that in great detail.
Name that sausage!
Despite his enthusiasm, one thing that Ugo never fully cleared up for Denton was exactly what the sausages were, other than small sausages of pork. Denton describes them as "a kind of pork chipolata made without fennel or strong seasoning, just a small amount of herbs such as marjoram, basil and thyme". And, indeed, that's exactly what I am using here; good-quality pork chipolatas.
The confusion is easily understood because chipolatas are primarily a French and British invention, not really a term used much in Italy to describe small sausages. The versions we know today became very fashionable in French and British cooking in the 18th-century, following increased interest in Italian cuisine as affluent young men took The Grand Tour to verse themselves in Ancient Roman and Italian Renaissance culture. The very wealthy took their chefs with them, most notably French nobles with a typically Gallic scepticism about the food of other nations and uncertain of what they might encounter on their tour. Ironically, they went as crazy for Italian food as Italy's art, instructing their chefs to learn Italian dishes. The English were similarly enthusiastic. Quite separate from these very privileged young men, canny English and French chefs, sensing the zeitgeist as those returning waxed lyrical about the wonders of Italy, including its food, travelled to Italy themselves to learn Italian cooking. Others simply learned from a distance, interpreting what they understood as Italian cooking from anecdotes of returning travellers or quizzing local Italian immigrants.
This latter group included some heavy-hitters with a lot of influence. Perhaps the most famous of these was the French chef Louis Ude. Ude had earned his stripes in the kitchens of Versailles before heading to England where he spent much of his working life. He later returned to France where he sat out the Revolution until being appointed head chef to Napoleon's mother. But, it was in England, where he headed up top London kitchens, that his prestige and influence was greatest and longest remembered. In 1816, he published The French Cook in English in London where his popularity did not seem dented by his association with the Bonapartes. People will forgive anything for good food.
In his cookbook, he includes a number of recipes that use chipolatas. His certainly wasn't the first cookbook to to do so: an English cookery book from 1750 includes a number of recipes "à la Chipolata".
But, this is where things become confusing. The term "à la Chipolata" seems closer to its original Italian use. In the 18th-century, when travellers encountered dishes described as "cipollata" (meaning "containing onions" in Italian) it referred to dishes made with lots of onions and little sausages, a kind of sausage casserole or thick soup. The word referred to the style of dish, not the sausages. But the French and English, in a lost-in-translation shift, began use the term to specifically refer to these little sausages rather than the casseroles. And, it's easy to see why they were hooked on them.
In the hands of English and French chefs, they were used a bit like a meat-based garnish or the supporting act to a larger main course, everything from chicken wings or veal cutlets on a bed of chipolata sausages to a goose stuffed with twenty of them...and twenty truffles. In the UK, where Ude had his biggest fan base, they filtered into mainstream bourgeois cooking. By the time Queen Victoria's consort Prince Albert was inventing the unique Anglo-German "traditional British Christmas", the seasonal goose—and later turkey—would be presented encircled by roasted chipolatas or with a side dish of "pigs in blankets", chipolatas roasted wrapped in bacon.
Italians, of course, had very little awareness that this was going on beyond their borders. So, no wonder, when Denton rocked up in 1964 that Ugo couldn't give him a specific name for the sausages and he certainly seemed confused when my father asked him if they were chipolatas. Naturally he would be: one of the more unusual things about this dish for an Italian pasta sauce is that it contains no onions.
But Ugo did pass on some very useful information about the seasonality of the dish. He explained that the version in this recipe was usually eaten in late summer, with small sausages and only a small amount of cream, just enough to give a luscious coating to the pasta. But in the winter, it was made with larger sausages—fresh or dried—containing fennel and triple the amount of cream to create a heavier, hearty dish, sustenance against the cold. Similarly, the winter version was usually made with chicken stock, the summer with vegetable stock.
Take note:
This version is for 3 to 4 diners, depending on appetite and any side dishes. But, you can easily scale it up for a larger group—as long are you have a pan big enough in which to finish the al dente pasta.
Please note that the images are indicative because I have put half of the sauce aside—at the stage just before the cream goes in—to freeze. This is what I advise anyone who wants to freeze it; to add the cream once you have defrosted and reheated it on a subsequent occasion. Of course, you could make it in half the quantities listed in the recipe. But I had leeks that needed to be used (I abhor food waste) and it is also convenient for a time when you don't want to cook the whole meal from scratch.
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Shopping list
for the Tuscan pasta with kale, leeks and sausage
Approx. 80-90g (dried) pappardelle per diner
6 to 8 good quality chipolata sausages (or other small pork sausages)
2 leeks, sliced
Approx.160g curly kale; roughly chopped
500ml vegetable stock (or chicken stock)
2 dried bay leaves
A small clutch of fresh curly leaf parsley; finely chopped
4 cloves of garlic; finely diced
3 to 4 tbspns virgin olive oil
Approx. 250ml dry white wine
1 tspn dried oregano
100ml double cream
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
A little grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese for dressing (optional)
Side dishes
I almost always serve this pasta with a salad with tomatoes because while others may not be able to eat them or dislike them, I love them. On this occasion it's lots of baby plum tomatoes on a bed of young chard leaves and a small amount of cooled steamed asparagus dressed with a vinaigrette of walnut oil and white wine vinegar. One of the things I learned on my own travels in Tuscany from the matriarch, the contessa, who oversees the kitchens at the family pile, the Castello de Trebbio—where, incidentally, the Pazzi plot against the Medici was hatched—is that Tuscan salads that contain a lot of tomatoes will often have dressings of white wine vinegar rather than balsamic vinegar. It's not only about the colour, but because of the way white wine balances out the acidity in tomatoes. Go figure.
Of course, if you really can't or don't want to eat tomatoes, any number of green salads work well with this dish.
Cooking Method
Simmer the kale in the stock Brown the sausages in a little oil Sauté the leeks in the white wine After the garlic, add the parsley Add the stock, bay leaves and oregano
the Tuscan pasta with kale, leeks and sausage
Cook the kale fully before starting the sauce. In a pot with a lid, bring the stock to the boil and add the chopped kale, adding a little additional boiling water if needed to largely submerge the kale. Boil vigorously for about 2mins, then cover and reduce the heat to a gentle simmer. Simmer until the kale is tender with the slightest firmness (but not still actually al dente). This will take between 15 and 30mins depending on how young or fresh your kale is. Remove from the heat, but leave in the pot
Heat three quarters of the oil in a deep frying pan with a lid on a medium-high heat. When hot, add the sausages, turning and cooking quickly so that they brown deeply on all surfaces. You don't need to worry about fully cooking them, only that they are browned on the outside. Remove from the pan and place to one side
Leaving the juices from the sausages in the pan, add the remaining olive oil and reduce to a low-medium heat. Add the leeks and stir so that they are fully coated by the oil and juices. Add half of the wine and allow to cook off, stirring occasionally
Once the wine has cooked off, add the garlic and stir in. When its aroma releases, add the chopped parsley. Before the garlic burns, add the remaining wine and stir in
When the wine has cooked off almost fully, pour in about three quarters of the stock from the kale pot. Add the bay leaves and dried oregano, and stir in. Cover and simmer gently for 10 to 12mins
Add the kale and remaining stock from the pot and stir in. Re-cover and simmer for a further 8 to 10mins, until the liquid has reduced notably and slightly thickened. Taste and season with salt as needed
Cut the sausages into small bite-size pieces and place back in the pan and stir in. Re-cover and simmer gently for 6 to 7mins, stirring occasionally
Uncover and add the cream, stirring in, until it integrates with the sauce, adding freshly ground black pepper to taste. The sauce should have a slight creaminess, but not overtly be a cream sauce. Allow to reduce down until almost all the liquid had evaporated
Time cooking the pappardelle (or your preferred pasta) so that it is ready when the sauce is optimal. Drain, keeping back 2tbspns of the "pasta water" to add to the sauce and stir in. Add the drained pasta to the sauce, finishing it by ensuring that is it fully coated
Plate and take to table with any side dishes and the optional grated cheese
Add the remaining stock and the kale to the pan When the sauce reduces, add the sausage back into the pan Add the cream to the sauce Cook briefly so the cream is assimilated Finish the pasta in the sauce
Alternatives
This carnivore dish is easily turned lactovegetarian simply by using Quorn or other firm vegetarian sausages much as you do the chipolatas. For a vegan version, follow the same process, but use a non-dairy cream. In my experience, with the plant-based cream alternatives on the market, they work better if you add them at the final stage where you are finishing the pasta in the pan, rather than cooking them in. Alternatively, you can simply leave out the cream altogether. I have often eaten versions of this sauce without any cream and they are also very tasty.
I have never tried a pescatarian version of this dish, though I can imagine it working well with large prawns or smoked mussels added in the later stages.
Pairings
Quite obviously, I am going to recommend that if you can get your hands on them, go for a Castello del Trebbio Chianti Rufina Riserva D.O.C.G. or their Chianti Superiore DOCG Castello del Trebbio or, if you're feeling particularly bloodthirsty the less traditional Toscana IGT De’Pazzi Castello del Trebbio, which works particularly well with the heavier winter version of the recipe.
Castello del Trebbio is a 100% biodynamic estate, going way beyond merely being organic. They have returned to using horses in the vineyards, eschewing any mechanical machinery and disallowing mobile phones anywhere near the vines to keep the bees happier.
Demands for these excellent yet affordable Tuscan wines is high and for a long time, it was hard to find them outside of Italy. Fortunately, they have grown their distribution network and now they are easier to find abroad.
The Castello del Trebbio wines are primarily blends of traditional Sangiovese grape varietals and other varieties in varying proportions. And I think that this Tuscan classic is a good direction to go; a classic Chianti, for example. However, some might find the medium-bodied reds I'm recommending a little heavy-bodied for this dish, especially in summer. In which case, perhaps look to a Sicilian Frappato or Piedmontese Grignolino.
Of course, pork is one of those meats that is often paired with white wines and they work well with this dish given the dominant creamy vegetable flavours, especially in the summer. One I have enjoyed with it is Pemo Pecorino, which is dry with nicely balanced acidity, more usually paired with seafood. It's also affordable. But, my top recommendation would be a Birgit Eichinger Grüner Veltliner Strass. Unsurprisingly, the Germanics are good at white wines that work with pork. This Austrian number, which is very dry, fairly light in nature but with a high acidity does the job of standing up to those chipolatas. Its dominant notes of white fruits—apples and pears—blend well with the green flavours and cream.
If you want to stay on the wagon my favourite options for this dish are a chilled apfelschorle or iced water infused with cucumber and basil.
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