The Tuscan alternative to panettone is a solid wedge of dried fruits and nuts, heavy with medieval spice and glued together with molten sugar
Hand on heart, have you ever been truly pleased to receive a panettone, the gargantuan gift that promises so much, with its impressive girth and deliciously elaborate packaging, yet delivers so little in the eating. No wonder most of them seem to get passed on almost immediately, or quietly recycled into bread and butter puddings.
So, if you’re buying, mine’s a panforte, the Tuscan treat that, as its name suggests, is far stronger meat: a solid wedge of dried fruit and nuts, heavy with medieval spice and glued together with molten sugar. Perfect fuel for cycling up those relentlessly picturesque hills, as I discovered this summer, and – as I’ve found more recently – even better for putting you into a pleasant sugar coma on the sofa, as the dog finishes the sherry.
Nigel Slater’s lovely new book, The Christmas Chronicles, may claim that it’s not worth making yourself, given that “the stuff in the shops, straight from Siena, is what the Italians eat. And if it’s good enough for them …”, but in my experience the ones that make it over here are a dental emergency waiting to happen (not ideal on a national holiday) whereas one of the joys of fresh panforte is its surprisingly yielding texture, as well as the fact that you can put whatever you like in there, from chocolate to cherries.
Unlike panettone, it’s easy to make at home, keeps well and, wrapped in approximately a tenth of the paper, might actually make that lucky someone happy. And if not – well, at least you’ll be pleased to get it back.
The fruit
Though it’s often described as the Tuscan equivalent of fruitcake, most panforte recipes contain none of the vine fruits familiar from our own Christmas baking, instead relying on candied citrus, melon and even pumpkin. Unfortunately, it proves impossible to find anything more exotic than candied orange, lemon and citron peel here; clearly I should have thought ahead and made my own, but if you too have failed to stock the pantry with such everyday delicacies, you might prefer to substitute dried figs for some of the weight, as Florentine food writer Emiko Davies recommends.
Even decent candied peel isn’t that easy to track down: the slightly greasy chopped mixed variety can’t compete with the crystallised half moons I find in an Italian grocers, or the gorgeous whole fruit I happened across at a market stall in Cambridge a few weeks ago, but good stuff is available online, too.
Gaitri Pagrach-Chandra’s delightfully maverick recipe in her book Sugar & Spice throws tradition to the wind and adds dried apricots and cranberries to the mix, which looks very pretty, but would probably bring together Siena’s rival contrade to chase her out of the city. Far be it from me to recommend such heresies, but, as I say, one of the joys of making your own anything is that you can put whatever the hell you like in there. It’s Christmas, normal rules don’t apply.
The nuts
Davies informs me that almonds are the traditional choice of nut for a panforte, and indeed, almost every recipe I try calls for them, with Nigella Lawson using both skin-on and blanched versions in the recipe in Nigella’s Christmas. Alvaro Maccioni, who, as a native of the area, feels he has the right to disclose “one of the most closely guarded secrets of Siena”, also adds walnuts and hazelnuts, blanched, peeled, toasted and ground (although, as the picture in his book, Mamma Toscana, seems to feature whole almonds, I don’t grind them too finely), and Pagrach-Chandra chucks in pistachios for good measure. My team of testers approve of the contrast in texture of the different nuts, and the slight bitterness that walnuts in particular add, although I’ll let almonds predominate because they give the most crunch, grinding some of them to soften the texture of the mixture itself and give the whole thing a nuttier flavour. Blanching feels an unnecessary faff, though; a bit of skin isn’t the thing that will kill you here.
The spice
One of the things that makes panforte more than just another “energy ball” of dried fruit and nuts is bold spicing, a nod to its medieval roots when a heavy hand with the imported pepper was a sign of seasonal largesse – much like our own willingness to pay £150 for an advent calendar full of tiny bottles of whisky, just because it’s Christmas. Everyone uses cinnamon, and cloves and nutmeg are also very common, but I’m more interested in the spices that have been largely dropped from British festive baking: Maccioni’s and Lawson’s white pepper, Tuscan blogger Alice del Re’s black pepper, Maccioni and del Re’s coriander and Pagrach-Chandra’s cardamom.
Food writer David Lebovitz writes intriguingly in his blog entry on the subject: “I’ve been told that Italians in some regions don’t use black pepper because it was imported, and they were upset with the people who oversaw the ports who long-ago heavily taxed imported goods. Hence folks started using red pepper, which could be grown right in their own yards and didn’t need to use the pricey black pepper.” A little extra cayenne does indeed make Maccioni’s version extra spicy, so if you want something to get the party started, a generous whack of red or black pepper will have everyone reaching for a drink, although I think the delicate flavour of white pepper offers a more harmonious heat. The still exotic flavour of coriander also proves popular, although if you would prefer a milder result, feel free to stick with the sweeter spices that may well appeal more to younger palates.
The chocolate
Traditionally, panforte seems to fall into one of two categories: the dark sort, coloured with black candied melon (which Davies can’t find even in Florence), pepper, and later, cocoa, and the paler, more delicate kind, named after the same Queen Margherita who inspired the pizza, made with citron, vanilla and icing sugar. Many modern versions seem to be a hybrid of both, with Maccioni using drinking chocolate, and Lawson, Davies and del Re cocoa powder, although the last two merely sprinkle it on top. Testers like the slight bitterness of the cocoa with the figs, as well as the rich colour it gives the cake itself, so I’ll be stirring it into the mixture.
Pagrach-Chandra gives a “quick and simple recipe … a cheat’s take on the original”, which needs no baking. Instead, the dried fruit and nuts are held together with melted chocolate, which makes it more like a very fancy fridge cake. Lovely, of course, but proudly inauthentic.
The sweetener
Everyone but Davies uses honey in their recipes – indeed, Pagrach-Chandra’s has no other sweetener – although most combine it with white or icing sugar as well. Not only does honey add flavour, but it seems to give the mixture a softer, less brittle consistency; for maximum gooey glueyness, the sugars should be heated until they reach “soft ball” stage at about 115C.
Flour and fat
The amount of flour used in recipes varies wildly: Maccioni only puts in a tablespoon, while Davies and del Re use 10 times that. The more you add, it seems, the firmer and more uniform the consistency, which fits with what I remember eating in the region, admittedly from the back of my jersey pocket and thus slightly warmed from the sun and my exertions.
Lawson is the only one to add fat to her recipe in the form of a couple of tablespoons of melted butter; not much admittedly, but it does help to give her panforte a squidgy texture that proves popular with some testers, although the more classic chewy variety wins the vote.
Baking
Panforte should be baked at a fairly gentle heat until just firm, rather than rock hard, in – I cannot stress this enough – a well-greased and lined tin: something with a removable base, I discover, makes the disgorging process much easier. It’s also worth seeking out edible rice paper, translated in some recipes rather wonderfully as “host” or communion wafer, but more often found in prosaic sheets in cookery shops, which not only offers maximum “authenticity” but also negates the need to fight with sticky greaseproof paper or foil.
Perfect panforte
(Makes 1 x 20cm cake)
Rice paper
250g almonds
100g walnuts
100g soft dried figs
150g candied lemon and orange peel
150g plain flour
1 tbsp cocoa powder
1 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp nutmeg
½ tsp ground white pepper
½ tsp coriander seeds, ground
½ tsp cloves, ground
150g white sugar
150g runny honey
Icing sugar, to serve
Heat the oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6. Generously grease a 20cm cake tin with a removable base and line the bottom with rice or greaseproof paper. Put the nuts on a baking tray and toast for five minutes, then allow to cool slightly, turning the oven down to 160C/320F/gas mark 3. Tip a third into a food processor and roughly grind into small pieces (or smash to a rubble in a pestle and mortar) and very coarsely chop the rest.
Roughly chop the figs and the peel (if necessary). Put the flour, cocoa and spices into a large heatproof mixing bowl, whisk to combine and stir in the fruit and both lots of nuts.
Put the white sugar and honey into a medium pan and gently heat until it reaches 115C, or until a little dropped into cold water forms a ball when squidged between finger and thumb. Immediately stir into the other ingredients until well combined, then scrape into the prepared tin and press down with wet hands. Bake for about 30 minutes until just firm, then allow to cool before turning out and sprinkling with icing sugar.
Panforte: panettone’s darker, and far more interesting cousin, or something that tastes infinitely better on holiday? Which other lesser-known festive sweets are worth seeking out, or indeed making at home? And … does anyone actually like panettone?
Read more: www.theguardian.com
