By Angela Denstad
Time and again spring teases us along. It tempts tender green shoots out of the earth, brings back songbirds and waterfowl, coaxes us to forego our winter coats, if only for the day. But just as you soften into the fragile newness of rebirth, winter blankets us again. Such a fickle season!
A far cry from winter’s predictable celebrations, the Easter holiday seems outrageously capricious, requiring moon charts and calendars just to give it a date. In case you are unaware, Easter falls on the first Sunday after the first full moon, i.e. the Paschal Full Moon, occurring on or after the vernal equinox. My grandpa used to like to exploit this confusing scheduling quirk by casually remarking that Easter would fall on a Sunday that year. His goal: to hear how people would respond and see who was paying attention. He was also fond of repeating the folk wisdom that robins would be snowed on three times before spring could take hold. This was and still is good instruction in patience and in cultivating a healthy wariness of this changeable time of year – especially of a month that starts off trying to fool you.
Moreso than any other season, spring serves to remind me of my limited sphere of influence. Simply put, I’m not in charge. I cannot control the larger forces at play around me any more than the moon can command the stars. I have no say in whether or not it rains or snows, when Easter will fall, or if the house finches will choose to nest on my porch again. All I can do is be present, be prepared, and control how I respond.
Easter itself is an enigma. In the sacred realm, it’s an unsettling time of emotional extremes that invites me to wrestle with fundamental issues of faith. In the secular tradition, it’s a rabbit that inexplicably delivers candy and eggs.
But perhaps an even more important lesson hiding in the chaos of spring is that things can be both tender and tough. In fact, many things can be true at the same time. For instance, eggshells have astonishing compressive strength, end to end, similar to a Roman arch. Their weakness under tension, however, is what allows hatchlings to emerge. Vulnerabilities are often necessary, and what appears strong may not hold.
The earliest of spring flowers appear fragile, ineffectual, like one small voice calling out in the wilderness. But each bloom bravely bears freezing temperatures – even snow – and most survive to beautify and nurture their world. Tender blossoms break forth in chorus and, with the help of pollinators, eventually bear fruit, just like 8 million voices standing up to effect change, speaking a common truth.
What else sustains? A good meal, of course. This traditional Italian Easter pie is often served outdoors at room temperature as people venture out on Easter Monday picnics. The slightly sweet and tender dough bakes into a sturdy shell encasing a savory filling. This dish seems to defy strict categorization, being perfectly appropriate for any meal at any time. It maintains one universal truth, however: no matter how you define it, it’s delicious.
About the author: Angela works as a copywriter in the education sector and has dabbled in various culinary pursuits. She was the author of The Caledonia Argus’ long-standing weekly food column Thyme Out with Angela and is happy to now join the rotation of food writers with the Fillmore County Journal.
Italian Easter Pie (Pizza Rustica)
Dough (pasta frolla)
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup sugar
½ teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
1 stick (4 ounces) cold, unsalted butter cut into 8 pieces
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
Filling
1 pound ricotta
3 large eggs
¼ cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano or Parmigiano cheese
¼ pound mozzarella cheese, grated
¼ pound thinly sliced prosciutto or deli ham, shredded
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
For the dough, put the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in the work bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resembles fine cornmeal. With the machine running, add the eggs and process until the dough forms a ball on the blade, about a minute or so. Remove the dough from the processor and knead it until smooth, 1-2 minutes. Divide the dough into two pieces, one twice as big as the other. Roll the larger section out into a 12-inch round and fit it into a 9-inch glass pie plate. Wrap the rest of the dough in plastic until needed. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
For the filling, scoop the ricotta into a large bowl and whip with a rubber spatula until smooth. Add the rest of the filling ingredients, one at a time, stirring until each addition is incorporated. Scrape the filling into the pie shell and smooth the top.
Roll the remaining dough out into a 9-inch square and cut into 12 equal strips. Place six strips across the pie at even intervals, then weave the other strips diagonally among the others. Trim the ends and press to seal.
Bake the pie for 40 minutes or until the crust is golden and the filling is firm and slightly puffed. Cool completely before serving.
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