Socca—from Algiers to the Côte d’Azur: The Other Mediterranean Flat Bread
The Wood-Oven Cook in the Mediterranean Garden
An always engaging and lively, but mysterious British actress, was dropping by for lunch between attending 4 funerals and catching a flight back to London. She used to be a member of our group of Ex-Pat refugees living more often small than large in the tiny mountain hamlet of Manzanares El Real. I was introduced to her by a Scot. One morning she called and asked if she could come by and have me look at the text of a theater project she was writing. I had no idea what was to come. Her text was short, yet, like a poem, radiated emotion, space, and time. We made a diagram, some kind of chart of the flow. This could be on Broadway, or the West End. She was timid, or appeared so, but her few words went so far, they filled your head, the room, the stage. The secrets just below the waterline…
Today, it was going to be Tortillitas de Camarones, because I had a kilo of fresh chick pea flour in the cupboard, but even though they are fried in extra virgin olive oil, I wanted something lighter and fresher. After a quick browse through the index of Ottolenghi’s Plenty, a delicious Christmas present from Susanne that I’d recommend all year long, I decided on Socca for lunch.
Socca is a tradition from the south of France, of the Côte d’Azur, around Nice, to the hills of Pisa, and through-out the Mediterranean. From this photograph it appears that Socca is also made in a wood-fired oven. Although they are often eaten with out toppings in France, the Algerians will dust them with cumin and spread them with harissa. In Sássari, Corsega this dish is called fainé; when served with caramelized onions it’s called Cipolle; and with sausage, referred to as Salsicce. With Anchovies it is called acciughe. Taking root centuries ago in Gibraltar, it’s called calentita and has become their national dish.
Why not try this as a pizza base. Sour dough, wood-oven baked, chick pea pizza—with a charred, bubbled, and blistered crust? Could this be baked in a Spanish Paella pan?
Yotem Ottolenghi’s recipe for these chick pea pancakes called for caramelized onion and roasted cherry tomatoes with thyme. The batter is made with chick pea flour, salt, pepper, and olive oil with egg whites folded in. But because I ran out of olive oil, I dived into the fridge and came up with a jar that previously had smoked heirloom chilies from last summer’s garden, but now only lots of olive oil and a thick layer of unknown spices. I used that oil for the dough and for frying the onions that along with the long peppers in the pepper mix from Germany, Sieben Gewurzmischung, gave a distinct hot aftertaste that complimented the chick pea flour very well. On top is a healthy dollop of créme fraîche. These are surprisingly wonderful given their simplicity; but it’s more often that way than not.
Why? Why? Why? —Ferran Adria
Why NOT! Why not sourdough rye with spelt socca. With the animal spirits of Friday night awakening, even though they aren't ever very sleepy, I mixed up a big batch of sourdough rye and spelt starter with chick pea flour. and let it ferment. Belén Navarro Rousseau, a brilliant Spanish-French singer songwriter who sings in English and her painter boyfriend had just announced their pregnancy and were were going to be celebrating the news; and I was in no way thinking of surrendering to either Ottolenghi nor this Lebovitz fellow who abandoned Chez Panisse in Berkeley for a Parisian kitchen. No not me, not now, not for this Friday night’s Cyprian Supper; not for our Bakhtinian coena cypriani in the Alta Cuenca de Manzanares! I’m going all in and making a socca kinda acciughe cipolle fainé—calentita, calentita—with sourdough rye and spelt starter in my big, black cast iron skillet; served with roasted cherry tomatoes; carmalized onions with fresh thyme; créme fraîche; anchovies—and dusted with cumin! But you gotta keep my dirty little secret under your hat, I greased the skillet with the worlds best pork lard from a Spanish Iberian pig fed acorns.
