Buckwheat Bigoli

In June of 2020, A Serious Bunburyist turns 10 years old. I conceived of this website as a place where I would share information about pasta-making, review new cookbooks and memorialize some of my favorite recipes. In my inaugural post I shared a recipe to make a regional Italian pasta called bigoli in a bronze Venetian pasta press called a torchio da bigoli (here). Over the years I’ve posted a number of different bigoli recipes on this site. To start 2020, I want to share another one, this time a dark bigoli version made with buckwheat flour.

Dark Bigoli (Bigoli Scuri)

Oretta Zanini De Vita’s Encyclopedia of Pasta (2009) lists bigoli’s ingredients as “[g]enerally whole-wheat flour made from durum wheat, but sometimes soft-wheat flour, water, and salt, and often duck or hen eggs.”  Zanini De Vita makes no reference to buckwheat flour, but she notes in her remarks that bigoli “…was always dark until not long ago because peasant women made it from whole-wheat flour.” 

In Bugialli on Pasta (1988), the late Italian food historian and teacher Giuliano Bugialli writes “[o]riginally, dark bigoli probably were made using buckwheat flour, since the grain was once plentiful in the Tre Veneti. (Today, the region is more commonly known as Friuli-Venezia Giulia.) But earlier in this century the Italian government began to require that certified commercial pasta be made only from durum wheat flour, and soon even in the home whole-wheat flour came to replace the buckwheat.”

As Bugialli points out, regional Italian pasta makers were—and still are—naturally opportunistic and used available ingredients. In the Encyclopedia’s Entry No. 200 for Pizzoccheri, Zanini De Vita writes “[t]he cultivation of buckwheat in the alpine valleys from Lombardy to Trentino was already widespread toward the fourteenth century, especially in Carnia….” Italy’s Carnia province lies approximately 40 miles northeast of the Veneto region. Whether buckwheat is the original bigoli flour or not, one can easily imagine buckwheat pasta dough finding its way into a Venetian torchio.

Buckwheat

Buckwheat, a flower seed and not a true wheat grass grain, presents challenges to the pasta maker because buckwheat flour contains no gluten. Buckwheat’s characteristics differ by variety, but generally its seeds have a very dark, bitter-tasting outer hull that surrounds a lighter-colored triangular kernel (aka groat). After de-hulling the seeds, mills grind the groats to make buckwheat flour.

Most buckwheat noodle recipes, whether to make Italian pasta or Japanese soba, blend wheat and buckwheat flour to strengthen the dough. In Cooking By Hand (2003), Paul Bertolli writes that buckwheat flour “…has a forceful taste all its own, though the necessity of mixing it with a greater proportion of white flour to strengthen the dough structure also serves to tone down its flavor.” Bertolli’s buckwheat flour blend in Cooking By Hand is approximately 30% buckwheat flour and 70% extra fancy semolina (aka extra fancy durum).

In my experience, extruding a buckwheat dough (e.g., in a torchio) permits the pasta maker to reduce the amount of wheat flour used when making buckwheat pasta without detrimentally affecting the dough’s structure. Exceptions to this general rule exist, especially if making pasta with a coarse, stoneground buckwheat flour containing flecks of hull. However, using a torchio to extrude buckwheat pasta generally allows the pasta maker to focus on taste and texture and worry a little less about dough strength.

Over the last three years I have made buckwheat pasta with buckwheat flour from a number of sources. I used my KoMo grain mill to grind fresh buckwheat flour from store-bought groats. I tried different buckwheat flour from mills here in the Pacific Northwest and beyond. My favorite homemade buckwheat pasta uses a Japanese Ni-Hachi style soba flour (80% buckwheat and 20% type 00 wheat flour) that I bought on-line from Anson Mills in South Carolina. I enjoy the flavor and texture of pasta made from this finely ground blend.

The following recipe, which serves 2, uses Anson Mills’s soba flour without adding any additional wheat flour. The first few times I tried this soba flour to make bigoli with my torchio, I added small amounts of extra wheat flour believing I needed to strengthen the dough. I found adding additional wheat flour unnecessary. Anson Mills’s buckwheat-rich blend works just fine as is with a torchio.

1) Put 115 grams of Anson Mills Ni-Hachi style soba flour into the bowl of a standing mixer equipped with a mixing paddle.

2) Put 1 whole large egg and 1 egg yolk into a glass beaker and beat the egg mixture together.

3) Turn on the mixer and set it at its lowest speed. Very—and this is important—slowly add small amounts of the beaten egg mixture into the flour. Patiently wait between each small pour to allow the mixer to incorporate the egg into the flour. From start to finish, the step of adding the egg mixture to form the dough takes me about 10 minutes, more or less.

You will probably not need to add all of the egg mixture to get the proper consistency for this particular pasta dough. On average I use approximately 58 to 59 grams of the egg mixture for 115 grams of Anson Mills’s soba flour. The dough should not come completely together in the mixer bowl and will look crumbly. I point this out because it is very easy to over-hydrate a buckwheat-rich pasta dough and a sticky dough can cause a mess when extruding a long, thin noodle like bigoli. Here’s a picture of the ready dough in my mixer bowl.

4) Remove the bowl from the mixer and reach into the bowl to bring the dough together with your hand. Form the dough into a log shape that will fit into the torchio’s chamber. The dough will look and feel dry, but don’t worry, it will soften as it hydrates in step 5, below. 

5) Very tightly wrap the dough log twice in plastic film and let the dough rest at room temperature for 30 minutes. Tightly wrapping the dough helps to hydrate the dough.

6) After 30 minutes, unwrap the dough, assemble your torchio with a bigoli die and place the dough in the torchio’s chamber.  Set the piston into the chamber and turn the handle. Cut the pasta at your desired length. (I aim for approximately 8-inch long noodles.) The extruded bigoli should feel just a little tacky, but not unworkably sticky.

Once cooked, this dark buckwheat bigoli boasts a pronounced toasty, almost nutty flavor. Many traditional Northern Italian recipes for buckwheat pasta (e.g., bigoli, blecs, grumi di grano saraceno and pizzoccheri) call for less buckwheat and include milk and butter in addition to eggs. These ingredients, although delicious, often mask buckwheat’s unique flavor.

If the idea of a buckwheat-extruded pasta appeals to you, feel free to try different buckwheat blends and torchio dies to create a pasta that has your desired taste and texture. I like making a buckwheat version of fiorentini (here). Or consider using a spaghetti quadri die (here) to create a square, soba-like noodle.

Finally, I cannot end this post in good conscience without providing this caveat: Extruding a dry dough will put stress on a torchio and, after extruding your pasta, you may find it difficult to remove the die ring nut by hand. I solve this problem by employing a rubber mallet to gently tap the die ring nut clockwise to loosen it.

Flour Lab by Adam Leonti

The Fall 2019 Cookbook Season has arrived! On 10 September 2019, Clarkson Potter released Flour Lab by Adam Leonti with Katie Parla. On 24 September we’ll see American Sfoglino by Evan Funke with—again—Katie Parla (Chronicle Books) and The Gaijin Cookbook by Ivan Orkin and Chris Ying (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt). In October the floodgates burst open. I look forward to reading: Alpine Cooking by Meredith Erickson (Ten Speed Press); South by Sean Brock (Artisan); Pasta Grannies by Vicky Bennison (Hardie Grant); Poilâne by Apollonia Poilâne (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt) and Lavash by Kate Leahy, John Lee and Ara Zada (Chronicle Books). I’ll hold back on my picks in November’s crop, but will note that November’s offerings look as exciting as October’s.

If you frequent this site, you know that I spend a lot of my energy exploring fresh pasta and home-milling flour for pasta making. When I heard about Flour Lab by Adam Leonti and its section on pasta, I became pretty excited. Few books meaningfully cover making pasta with freshly milled flour, the exception being Paul Bertolli’s 2003 classic Cooking by Hand. Leonti worked with Marc Vetri and both clearly know pasta.

Although Flour Lab contains a section on pasta, it is not and does not bill itself as a pasta-centric text. The book’s subtitle reads “[a]n at-home guide to baking with freshly milled grains.” Flour Lab divides into six chapters: The State of Grain; Cooking with Fresh Flour; Making Bread; Making Pasta; Making Pizza; and Making Pastry, Cookies, and Cakes.

Flour Lab’s Making Pasta chapter runs about 50 pages long.  It opens with this sentence: “If you’re a novice, I want you to forget about recipes for a moment and instead get acquainted with how dough feels beneath your fingertips.” Sound advice. 

The challenge of a book like Flour Lab lies with having something meaningful to offer beginning, intermediate and experienced pasta makers. Based upon my reading of the book’s milling overview and pasta section, Flour Lab will satisfy and best serve the motivated novice and, perhaps, a slightly more seasoned maker. Beginners should not expect to be spoon-fed, but rather will be exposed to milling basics and possibilities. The real teaching comes from experimentation and the lessons gleaned.

Flour Lab rewards the attentive reader. For example, when attempting Leonti’s pasta recipes take note of his recommendations regarding Extraction (on pages 119 and 120 of the US hardcover first edition). He writes “[y]ou can make all of the pasta recipes here with 100% bran inclusion, but I recommend sifting out the bran, then adding a percentage back to taste.” He continues: for a pasta paired with a “hearty Bolognese, I add 5% of the weight of the flour—for example, I add 25 grams of bran to 500 grams of flour.” Personally, I think this important information belongs on the same page as the pasta dough recipes or with the pasta sauce recipes found at the end of the chapter. I understand that the amount of bran that a pasta maker wants in a pasta dough is, in part, a matter of personal taste. However, I believe the beginning pasta maker working with whole-grain flour will benefit from more guidance. A pasta novice trying to make Leonti’s whole-egg dough with 100% bran inclusion Sonora wheat will certainly be in for a wild ride.

The more advanced pasta maker should appreciate the legwork that Leonti put into the book’s Resources section and review his grain recommendations.  However, I don’t believe the advanced maker is his intended audience. In my opinion, Bertolli’s Cooking by Hand will better serve the more experienced pasta maker interested in using home-milled flour. With this said, any book that propels the home-milling movement forward deserves praise. If you are a new or intermediate pasta maker with an interest in home-milling flour, definitely check out Flour Lab.

Stinging Nettle Powder Pasta

I wrote (here) about making green pasta with a torchio pasta press. During my research to create a torchio-friendly green dough, I came across an interesting note in Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking (Knopf, 2008).

Outside of spinach, no other coloring can be recommended as an alternative to basic yellow pasta. Other substances have no flavor, and therefore have no gastronomic interest. Or, if they do contribute flavor, such as that of the deplorable black pasta whose dough is tinted with squid ink, its taste is not fresh. Pasta does not need to be dressed up, except in the colors and aromas of its sauce.

Other pasta masters take a more favorable view of flavored pasta. In Bugialli on Pasta (Simon and Schuster, 1988), Giuliano Bugialli devotes an entire chapter to flavored pasta and shares dough recipes incorporating: tomato paste; saffron; paprika; tomato and oregano; green bell peppers; red bell peppers; artichokes; wild mushroom; rosemary; sage; black pepper; and lemon.

Marc Vetri’s Mastering Pasta (Ten Speed Press, 2015) also dedicates an entire chapter to flavored pasta (including a recipe for squid ink pasta). Thomas McNaughton’s Flour + Water Pasta (Ten Speed Press, 2014) contains recipes for Cocoa Tajarin, Tomato Farfalle and Red Wine Rigatoni. Even a modern classicist like Paul Bertolli includes a recipe for herb pasta in his masterwork Cooking by Hand (Potter, 2003).

Most vegetable or herb dough recipes recommend either hand chopping or puréeing the flavoring and then working it into the flour during kneading. In some cases, such as Bugialli’s artichoke-flavored pasta, the recipe calls for braising the artichokes, then using a food mill to purée the artichokes, and finally reducing the purée into a thick paste before incorporating the flavoring into the flour. Reducing a purée eliminates extra liquid and concentrates flavor.

Using a dried powdered ingredient delivers the essence of a flavor without any liquid. Nicolaus Balla and Cortney Burns in their Bar Tartine cookbook (Chronicle Books, 2014) write: “[d]ehydration is more than just a method for preserving food. Extracting the bulk of the water from fruits, vegetables, meats, and fish concentrates flavors and changes textures. It’s one of our most important tools for building flavor.”

Although the exception rather than the rule, pasta dough recipes using dehydrated ingredients exist. In the cookbooks referenced above, Bugialli shares a flavored pasta recipe that calls for paprika. McNaughton’s Tomato Farfalle recipe uses tomato powder.

If you own a dehydrator, you can make a flavoring powder in less than a day. Fresh, stemmed leafy herbs, such as basil, oregano, mint and parsley turn brittle yet bright after 6 to 8 hours in a dehydrator set at 95°F/35°C. Flowers such as fennel, elderflower and cilantro only take 2 to 6 hours to dehydrate. If you don’t own or have access to a dehydrator, you can dry ingredients in a low oven, outside in the sun, or even indoors if you have the time and patience. Another option: experiment with store bought dried ingredients, such as wild mushrooms.

It being spring and owning a dehydrator, I decided to make a pasta dough using powdered wild stinging nettles. After foraging and washing the nettles to remove dirt and bugs, I cut the leaves off their stems and blotted the leaves dry. Following the advice of Balla and Burns, I set my dehydrator to run at 95°F for 8 hours.

Stinging nettles smell extraordinarily wonderful while drying. After 8 hours I put the brittle leaves, which no longer deliver a painful sting but remain prickly, into an electric spice grinder. My five dehydrator trays of nettle leaves produced enough dark green nettle powder to fill a small vial. 

I made two batches of pasta dough with my nettle powder. For the first batch I added 2 grams of nettle powder to 70 grams of Central Milling Organic Type 00 Flour and 43 grams of Central Milling Extra Fancy Durum flour. I made my dough in a standing mixer fit with a paddle using just enough of a whole egg and another egg yolk mixture—about 70 grams—to form a clumpy green dough. Wrapped in plastic film, this dough hydrated for 30 minutes at room temperature. I then placed it into the chamber of my torchio fitted with a lumache bronze pasta die. In minutes I had a trove of dark green snail shells. After making some egg pasta snails, I added the cooked straw and hay lumache into a light sauce of thinly sliced asparagus braised in rice koji stock and finished with a bit of cream, freshly chopped parsley and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. The nettle pasta had a slight vegetative and nutty flavor.

For my second batch of dough I reduced the amount of nettle powder to 1 gram and used a ziti bronze die. The finished ziti pasta remained green, but less intensely so. I’ll stick with the 2-gram version in the future.

It’s easy to get excited about—and perhaps even carried away with—all the possibilities afforded by using flavored powders to make pasta dough. Circling back to Marcella Hazan’s note that opened this post, I believe one’s own personal taste should govern what one wishes to make and to eat and to share at one’s table. If the idea of making pasta verde appeals to you, give nettle powder a try.

Home-Milled Flour for Pasta

Since buying a KoMo Fidibus Classic grain mill last summer, I have purchased bags of different types of wheat berries and milled quite a bit of flour to make fresh pasta. In Cooking by Hand (2003), Paul Bertolli discusses the importance of making pasta with quality flour. He writes: “Pasta in its simplest form is grain moistened with water. Water, added directly or contributed by eggs, has little effect on the flavor of flour other than to help convey it, and eggs, which are themselves composed of water, play an understated if noticeable role in the taste of pasta made from them. Flour is the essence of pasta, all the more reason to consider its selection seriously.” (Emphasis added.) Bertolli continues and, to my mind, puts forth the best reason why a pasta maker should consider purchasing a grain mill to make flour: “Flour used very soon after milling produces the best, most fragrant pasta.”

Marc Vetri puts “very soon” into context in his 2015 cookbook entitled Mastering Pasta: “As soon as you crack a wheat berry, its flavor and aroma begin to dissipate. Within two days of grinding wheat berries into flour, nearly half of the flavorful oils—as well as many of the healthful nutrients—will oxidize. Within three days, 90 percent of the volatile flavor compounds in the flour will have been simply lost to the air.” Grinding grain at home assures fragrant, fresh flour. Home milling also opens up a world of possibilities by allowing the pasta maker to completely control a noodle’s flavor and texture.

Wheat varieties have different qualities that lend themselves to certain uses. The amount and quality of protein in a wheat berry determines if its flour better suits a soft biscuit or an extruded, dried pasta. When buying wheat, you will often find berry varieties described by color, hardness and season. You can select white or red; soft or hard; and spring or winter wheat. A pasta maker can create excellent fresh pasta with a broad range of modern and heritage wheat varieties. Ancient grains, such as spelt, farro and Khorasan wheat, also make excellent pasta flour. Buying a grain mill allows you to experiment with these berries and make different tasting pasta.

This post will briefly examine the how and why one might blend whole-grain flour (i.e., flour without any bran or germ removed) with refined flour (i.e. flour with its bran or germ removed). I discuss bolting (or sifting) whole-grain flour to remove different percentages of bran and germ when making fresh pasta (here).

Blending Flour

Paul Bertolli’s Cooking by Hand contains 14 different pasta dough recipes. In a number of these recipes, Bertolli recommends blending freshly milled whole-grain flour with a refined flour. He writes: “Because whole-grain flour contains bran, which ruptures the gluten fabric, it must be ‘cut’ with white flour to improve the integrity of the dough.” When describing the characteristics of hard red winter wheat, Bertolli explains that although “it makes a very fragrant, course flour…[it]…must be blended with at least an equal amount of white flour in order to make pasta that does not fracture when extended and then cooked.”

The careful reader recognizes that Bertolli states “whole-grain flour…must be “cut” with white flour to improve the integrity of the dough.” (Emphasis added.) One can certainly use whole-grain flour straight from the mill to make fresh pasta without adding white flour. However, depending on your grain selection and mill grind, the pasta made with whole-grain flour will likely lack elasticity and plasticity (i.e., the ability to take and hold a shape). These qualities may not matter if you want to create a rustic, flat noodle. If so, 100 percent whole-grain flour may suit your needs. However, if you want to make a less rough and/or shaped pasta, then you will need to consider how to mitigate the impact of the grain’s bran (and, to a lesser extent, its germ) in your milled whole-grain flour.

Bertolli’s recipe for Farro Flour Pasta evidences his approach of blending to maintain the taste and aroma of whole-grain pasta without suffering some of its structural drawbacks. When he wrote Cooking by Hand in 2003, the market for specialty grain flours differed from what consumers can purchase today in 2017. In his Farro Flour Pasta recipe, Bertolli writes: “If you own your own grain mill, you may wish to grind your own farro flour, which presently is available only in whole form.” Now one can buy milled-to-order organic farro flour online. Bluebird Grain Farm in Washington State currently sells two different varieties of farro flour: einkorn (also known as farro piccolo) and emmer (aka farro medio). However, if you own a grain mill, farro pasta benefits from the taste and aroma of just milled flour. Here’s Bertolli’s recipe for Farro Flour Pasta for 4.

5 ounces whole farro, freshly milled

5 ounces Extra Fancy semolina

4 ounces cool water

Place the farro and semolina flour in a bread bowl and make a well in the center. Add water to the well and stir with a fork to combine. When the dough begins to form a shaggy mass, reach into the bowl with your stronger hand and alternately squeeze and push down the dough with your palm. Press any loose bits of flour into the mass. When the dough feels tacky and fully incorporated, transfer it to a clean, lightly floured surface and knead it for 4 to 5 minutes, or until it loses its surface moisture, is a uniform color, and springs back when depressed. Wrap the dough in plastic and allow it to hydrate for at least 1 hour before rolling.

Bertolli writes that “farro makes pasta the color of caffè latte with a subtle wheat taste.” This pasta also boasts a pleasant chewiness. And, for the record, freshly milled farro flour smells intoxicating.

A few notes. I like to work with grams so I convert ounces to grams when I make this dough. Five ounces equals approximately 142 grams; four ounces equals about 114 grams.

Some experts recommend freezing grain before milling because they believe the resulting flour smells and tastes better, and further, provides health benefits. In Mastering Pasta, Marc Vetri quotes Glenn Roberts of Anson Mills on this subject: “Milling temperature determines how flavor develops in flour. If viable grain is milled cold, the resultant flour retains fresh milled flavors and is considered ‘live’ flour because the biostructure of the viable grain is retained in cold milling.” I have also read that freezing grain may cause the grain’s bran to shatter which, in turn, can further impact a dough’s gluten fabric. I remain reluctant to go too far down this particular rabbit hole because so many variables affect one’s analysis: Type of grain; grain temperature; mill-type/technology; mill speed; grain feed rate; impact upon bolted vs whole-grain flour; etc. If I come across milling information that materially informs my pasta making process, I will report back.  

So, to prepare for milling, I first weigh out my grain. I have made Bertolli’s Farro Flour Pasta with both whole-grain einkorn from Bluebird Grain Farm and with farro piccolo from Anson Mills. I adjust the grind on my KoMo Fidibus Classic grain mill to Fein (fine) with the round grind marker 4 clicks to the left of the unit’s top left miter joint. From my experience, 142 grams of farro grain produces 142 grams of whole-wheat farro flour.

Although Bertolli’s recipe calls for hand mixing the dough, I have also made this dough in a Kitchen Aid standing mixer using a paddle attachment. If you opt for this method—which I prefer because I can gradually add water and gauge how the dough develops—add the farro and semolina flour to the mixer’s bowl, turn the machine to stir and very slowly add the water to create the dough. When making this dough, I found that I need to add just a bit more water—maybe a gram or two—than Bertolli recommends. In general, freshly milled whole-grain flour absorbs more liquid than store-bought flour because of its bran. When adding additional water to finish a dough, I suggest using a spray bottle filled with water so as to spritz just enough liquid to bring the dough together. This farro dough softens considerably during its one hour hydration, so use a light hand when adding additional moisture.

Finally, note that Bertolli blends freshly milled farro flour with Extra Fancy semolina (aka Extra Fancy durum). Farro’s low gluten benefits from a partnership with a wheat flour that contains high gluten levels. (The same holds true for other low gluten grains such as rye or with buckwheat seed, which has no gluten.) The pasta maker quickly learns that she needs to consider the quality of gluten in the grain milled when making pasta dough. For example, if you want to use a whole-grain soft white wheat, your dough may benefit by adding Extra Fancy durum or some other high gluten wheat flour. However, if you decide to bolt your soft white flour, adding a high gluten flour may not be as critical (because the dough will become more workable after removing bran and germ from the milled flour).

In summary, one approach to making fresh pasta with freshly milled whole-grain flour is to blend the whole-grain flour with a refined flour. Consider using a high-gluten refined flour to blend when using whole-grain flour milled from a grain with low gluten levels, such as farro or rye. Start by experimenting with a 50/50 blend of whole-grain and refined flour. 

Cauliflower Soup

Algernon is particularly fond of muffins; I am more than equally fond of soup. Rarely does a weekend go by where I have not made enough soup for lunch and my following breakfast. In fact, I often wake up and make soup for breakfast. Why bother with oatmeal in the morning when you can eat soup?

Of the many excellent soup recipes I have collected, a number stand out. These share all the same qualities—a few simple ingredients that in a short amount of time transform into something delicious. These soups taste far better than such few humble ingredients have any right to taste. One example is the Potato and Leek Soup in Richard Olney’s Simple French Food [1974]. Another is the Cauliflower Soup in Paul Bertolli’s Cooking by Hand [2003].

Cooking by Hand is a personal, thoughtful and truly outstanding cookbook. It shares a number of qualities with Olney’s Simple French Food and Fergus Henderson’s Nose to Tail series. Bertolli is passionate about cooking. He seeks to honor yet advance food traditions. The first section of his book, entitled Cleaning the Fresco, speaks to this theme. The cooking that makes sense to Bertolli is “food grounded in a tradition, yet enlivened by the act of greeting the process and the ingredients anew.” The recipes in this chapter include Vitello Tonnato, a poached veal loin served in a rich tuna sauce; Artichokes Braised in Olive Oil; Potato Gnocchi with Butter and Parmigiano-Reggiano; and his recipe for Cauliflower Soup.

What struck me when I first read his Cauliflower Soup recipe were its simple ingredients. The soup’s base is water. The only vegetables are onions and cauliflower (which, I learned, is rich in pectin that creates a “refined smoothness” when puréed). The only other ingredients are salt, pepper and olive oil. Bertolli says: “this soup is a good example of the austere requirements of certain foods: that the clearest expression of their flavor suggests adding next to nothing. This soup is plain but plainly good.”

• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium onion, 6 ounces, sliced thin
• 1 pound 6 ounces very fresh cauliflower
• Salt
• 5½ cups hot water
• Extra-virgin olive oil
• Freshly ground black pepper

Warm the olive oil in a heavy-bottomed pan. Sweat the onion in the olive oil over low heat without letting it brown for 15 minutes. Add the cauliflower, salt to taste, and ½ cup water, raise the heat slightly, and cover the pot tightly. Stew the cauliflower for 15 to 18 minutes, or until tender. Then add another 4½ cups of hot water, bring to a low simmer, and cook an additional 20 minutes. Working in batches, purée the soup in a blender to a very smooth, creamy consistency. Let the soup stand for 20 minutes. In this time it will thicken slightly. Thin the soup with ½ cup water. Reheat the soup. Serve hot, drizzled with a thin stream of extra-virgin olive oil and freshly group pepper.

Some final thoughts. Do not succumb to a desire to enrich the soup by adding butter or cream. The soup is perfect as is. Its flavor is clean, deep and rich; the cauliflower almost tastes roasted. I have made this soup using an immersion mixer and the results are still fine. Use extreme caution when blending hot ingredients, especially if using an upright blender. Always work in small batches only filling one-quarter or less of the jar.