Caponatina (Gaboladina in Sicilian) 

A Sicilian dish hearkening back to the age of the Saracens

Caponatina

If, as Waverly Root says in his authoritative The Food of Italy, Italian food draws its roots from the Etruscans (polenta), Greeks (the bounty from the sea and bouillabaisse) and Saracens (pastries and spice), then Sicilian cuisine is the result of the centuries-long and varied occupation by the Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans and Saracens; the French gave nothing to the Sicilian kitchen, they only took, and took. Although the Saracens did occupy the island for a few hundred years, they weren't willing to part with their culinary secrets on a terrain that was not meant to be theirs for very long. In stark contrast to Spain, which was part of the Arab conquest for more that 800 years, Sicily didn't really benefit from the Saracens until well after the Crusades when the Byzantines and the Venetians brought back the long hidden secrets of sugar and spice; and then Spanish rule over Naples and Sicily. Of course, there is much more that the Saracens brought to the dinner table than spices and pastries. They brought rice, tarragon, spinach, apricots, pomegranates, sweet oranges, lemons, as well as the art of making the precursor to ice cream: sherbet. They also brought al-cohol, in the form of a fig brandy, which in turn became what we know today as grappa. Oh yes, and I forgot, around 1500, something else surfaced in the West from the sands of Araby: the eggplant! Besides all this, of course, we all know Italian food is dominated by one ingredient which altered the very structure of Italian cuisine and that is the tomato. Indeed, the further south you go, the more one finds the tomato in dishes of every kind. And just like butter and cream are equated with northern Italian cuisine, so too are the tomato and olive oil equated with La Cucina del Sud.

Anyone who has eaten in Southern Italian restaurants, even Tuscan or other regional Italian restaurants can tell you that they have seen - and most assuredly eaten -  caponata served in one way, shape or form. I've seen it served on bread, without bread, with bread sticks (grissini), even the most unwelcome celery stick, while here in the United States, one too often experiences a mere facsimile, hardly la vera cosa! Caponatina is the endearing diminuitive of the word caponata and their names basically reflect the same dish. It is thought to have originated in Catania on the eastern shores of Sicily, but you will find various and different versions of it throughout Sicily. No matter what form you've tried, tart, hot, sweet (dolce), bittersweet, the real deal comes not only from the heat as well as the sweet but also the bitter or amaro or agro. It is probably one of the best examples in Italian cooking of what is called agrodolce (bittersweet). What results from the combination of vinegar and sweet meats reduced to a relish or paste is something only heaven allows. You'll note that I have invoked heaven before in some of the recipes I've brought to your attention. Here on earth, at this stage of life, we all need something to transport us out of ourselves and out of the real world and for me, food - and music, of course - does that in spades. What better way to while away the time before dinner than to nibble on eggplant and olives with tomatoes and raisins metamorphosed into a symphony of so many contrasting flavors and textures. 

Personally, I hold this dish in great esteem. It never fails to please. It brings a smile on the faces of all who eat it (at least mine does). You can find this in small quantities in precious cans imported from Sicily, but it won't be as good as the caponatina you make at home, fresh off the stove, or a day or two or three old after having been refrigerated and then brought to room temperature. Like most Sicilian dishes, it speaks to you down through the ages.

The recipe that follows is a variant of my Grandmother's and my Mother's recipe. It has been lovingly passed down from generation to generation. This recipe yields about 8-10 cups of gleaming relish and can hold its own on any plate of assorted antipasti. My own personal touch: I've also added preserved lemons as an ingredient, but only just a little. The real secret here, though, is that each ingredient must be cooked separately, where eggplant, peppers (sometimes),  onions, celery, each one assert and retains something of their own characteristics; the crunch of the celery, the fruit of the olives and the raisins (also optional), the pungency of the tomatoes and   the one thing that holds it all together, the chunky and caviar-like consistency of the eggplant.

1-2 firm eggplants (no wrinkled skin or soft spots please!) - Roasting is optional (see below)
1 large yellow onion finely chopped
3-4 stalk celery coarsely chopped on the bias
6 cloves garlic smashed and chopped (this is a conservative amount. I have been know to use an entire head)
1 pound pitted assorted olives coarsely chopped or left whole (your choice)
1 cup golden raisins
1 cup currants (or a variant of another sort of dried berry such as cranberry)
3 tablespoons capers (optional)
1 large can of peeled whole San Marzano tomatoes (crush tomatoes with your hands plus the juice)
1 small can tomato paste (if you want more tomato)
4-6 anchovy filets in oil (they will completely disappear during cooking but will add much depth to the flavor of the caponatina)
1/2-1 cup (or more) Extra Virgin Olive Oil (EVOO)
Kosher Salt to taste
Black Pepper
Red Pepper flakes
3-4 wedges preserved lemons finely chopped (optional)
1/4 cup chopped fresh thyme
1 whole bunch of fresh basil washed completely free of sand (from this take 1 cup fresh basil leaves, stems removed and then piled one on top of the other, rolled and then sliced into chiffonade, the rest can be added whole at the end of cooking before storing in jars)
1 cup chopped parsley
3 tsp. chopped fresh rosemary
3 tsp. chopped fresh sage
1-2 tsp. fennel seed
1 tsp. anise seed
3 tbls. unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup red wine or Balsamic vinegar

To begin: line a large baking sheet or two with paper towels. Place sliced eggplant on the paper towels and generously salt each slice and allow to sweat for about 45 minutes, turning occasionally (salt the other side after first turn). When the eggplant is softened somewhat, you can either proceed to the next paragraph OR, place the slices on an well-greased baking sheet and brush with olive oil mixed with some kosher salt and thyme. Roast in a 475º oven for about 45 minutes, turning occasionally. The eggplant will be quite soft and somewhat charred at the edges. This can be made ahead of time, even the day before you intend to make your caponatina. If you do make it ahead, store the slices in a plastic container and pour some olive oil over the slices and refrigerate until you need them.

It's advisable to have everything ready to go (mis en place) so you don't find yourself in the lurch during the cooking because once you start, you'll be surprised at how quickly everything comes together.

Dice the eggplant into medium sized cubes. In a large and deep frying pan, heat enough oil under moderately high heat and start cooking the eggplant (you may have to add more oil as you go). Saute until lightly browned and the eggplant has begun to render its juices. Remove the eggplant, add the onions, garlic, celery and herbs (except the whole basil leaves) and saute until the vegetables take on a transparent color. Add the olives, capers, preserved lemons (optional), anchovies and dried seasonings to the mix and continue to cook. Return the eggplant to the pan.

In a separate bowl, take the peeled tomatoes out of the can and place in a large bowl and crush them with your hands. Add the cocoa powder to the tomatoes and add this mixture along with any juice from the can of tomatoes into the pan. Turn the heat up to high and bring to the boil.  Let the mixture boil for about 2-3 minutes and then turn the heat down to low, cover the pot and cook for 20-30 minutes. You need to pay a great deal of attention here. Like risotto, the caponatina must be stirred every so often to ensure that it doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan, but if you adjust the heat correctly, it will cook and you can leave it undisturbed for the alloted time so it sweats. When you uncover the pot, there will be a great deal of liquid. Turn the heat up and bring to the boil and then turn down to the simmer and stir occasionally, letting the liquid reduce. The caponata will take on a thick texture after it cooks down after about 20-30 minutes. You will know it's done when oil starts to appear at the sides of the pan and a wooden spoon makes a path at the bottom when dragged across the pan. You want a dense mass of relish where everything glistens. Add the vinegar and mix thoroughly, then and add all of the basil leaves and  turn off heat. Taste for seasoning.

As you can imagine, there are many variants to this recipe and many ways to go about preparing it. I've laid out a few options herein which are different than my recipe:

you can omit or adjust the amount of the red pepper flakes if you don't want it too hot or hotter; you can omit the raisins and the vinegar if you don't want it agrodolce; you may keep the raisins but omit the vinegar and vice versa. As you will see below, even cocoa is a welcome addition (thanks to the New World!). Any of these omissions or combinations are perfectly acceptable. Caponatina is made all over Sicily, in every province and region, as well as on mainland Italy, and they all have their own way of making it. It is a Sicilian dish gone universal; as they say in viniculture, it has many terroirs.

You can serve it immediately or let it cool completely before you refrigerate. It's always more delicious the day after it's been made. It will keep in the fridge for several weeks and in the freezer for up to a year. If storing in jars, I always top it off with a layer of EVOO so there is a good seal. A good olive oil seeps into the caponata and adds flavor to the mix.

Buon appetito!