A Torch Taken

After making my first taganu, I told my family about it, discreetly, one person at a time. Taganu is an Easter "pie" traditionally made in my Dad's home village of Aragona, Sicily. Aragona is a tiny commune outside of Agrigento, a province in southwestern Sicily. My dad and his sisters are all from this little village. Every Eastertime families bake up this eggy, cheesy contraption and, I'm told, bring it to a town square where some resident experts judge them and choose a winner. As my family started to open up about the whole tradition (my first taganu earning me additional details), the most outstanding part of it is how small and exclusive the group of people who know about this thing really is.

Now that I think about it, maybe it's the whole competition thing that made getting the recipe and technique for taganu so difficult. I guess you're trained not to divulge your special touch if there's a contest every year. Anyway, two of my aunts have carried on the tradition here in the States, and I've been eating taganu every Easter since I've been little. They never share much more than the already obvious ingredients, however, and there are definitely some technique pointers that need review.

I turned to the Internet, I googled "dianoo" (that's the phonetic), "dianu", "dyanu", "dyanoo", etc. Nothing. It begins with a T. I finally found a recipe when I typed in "Aragona" and "Tuma" - the name of the mild, semi-soft, sheep's milk cheese used in the dish. There's an article about it on about.com. It gives a brief history and the recipe, and I followed it loosely.

I actually came pretty close to the taganu of my childhood with my first attempt (my aunts never mentioned whether or not any of my family's taganus (tagani?) ever won the competition). Here's a recipe and some thoughts on the process. As you'll see from the list of ingredients, the whole congenital-heart-problem thing sort of makes sense now!

Makes 1 Taganu*
1 ciabatta roll, sliced about 3/4 inch thick for 14 slices
1 lb. Tuma cheese (or substitute 1 lb. Toma Piemonte), finely sliced *
3 cups Pecorino Romano, grated
12 large eggs
1 lb. mezzi rigatoni
13 golfball-sized Italian meatballs, halved (see notes)
1 1/2 cups fresh Chicken broth
1 heaping tsp. cinnamon
pinch Saffron threads
1/2 cup Parseley, finely chopped
Anti-stick lipid of choice (lard, butter, PAM, oil)

Preparation
1. Make the meatballs, set aside to cool, half them.
2. Saute the sausage meat for about five minutes
3. Cook the rigatoni in boiling, salted water two minutes short of package instructions, drain, set aside.
4. Heat the broth and as it comes to a gentle boil add the saffron threads, set heat to lowest setting.
5. Beat the eggs, then add the grated cheese, parseley, cinnamon, salt and pepper.

Assembly
1. Coat the inside of the oven pot with anti-stick agent.
2. Dip both sides of 4 slices of bread in the egg mixture and line them up on the bottom of the pot. Repeat with 6 more slices of bread and line up around inside walls of the pot.
3. Take a handful of rigatoni, dip in the egg mixture, and spread out on top of the bread. It should be 1 rigatoni high.
4. Scatter a few halved meatballs in this first layer.
5. Pour a little egg mixture over the first layer.
6. Cover the first layer with Toma cheese slices and a little sausage meat.
7. Repeat at least once more, reserving a little more egg mixture for the last 4 slices of bread.
8. Gently poke three holes in the cheese-egg-meat mixture and pour the chicken broth over the top.
9. Dip the last 4 pieces of bread in the egg mixture to cover the taganu.
10. Layer more Toma slices on top of the bread, maybe drizzle some olive oil, and say a rosary for your arteries.

Cooking
1. Bake the taganu, uncovered, for three hours in a 350 degree oven.

Notes
- I used a metal "loaf pan" that I bought for $0.79 from the supermarket. It's about 12 x 6 x 6 inches if I had to guess. I'm going to continue making it in this shape, it works well with the bread slices.
- Don't drown the bread slices in the egg mixture or you won't have enough for the inside. Just gently cover both sides with a brisk dip.
- You don't need much additional salt for this or you'll ruin it...there's three cups of grated cheese, a POUND of another cheese, sausage meat, chicken broth, and salted pasta. Basta.
- The photos above and below don't show the sausage meat, I'm going to add this next year.
- The photos also don't show the rigatoni-egg mixture dip, I'm going to do this next year.
- And finally, about the cheese. I told my family I found tuma. I thought it was just another pronunciation miscommunication, but it was not. The correct cheese, for the Platonic taganu, is definitely tuma, a sheep's milk cheese from Sicily. I used toma piemonte, a cow's milk cheese from Piedmont, all the way up near France and Switzerland. I defrauded the taganu deities, and I will try to get my hands on tuma next year as penance.

Hopping Home with Ed and Jim

The afternoon was normal. I sat atop the metal ladder and chatted with Jim over the top of the aluminum shelving between aisles twenty-three and twenty-four. I turned away from Jim for a second to sneeze. I wiped my nose with the bottom of my Centre Megamart apron. I looked down at aisle twenty-three. I have been fronting premade pie crusts for an absurd amount of my life, I thought. "No, I'm working a double this weekend. I don't think I'll get out in time." Jim looked disappointed. "I guess I could try to switch with someone." Jim looked up. "I'll let you know." I had been a lousy gambler all my life. The carnival was in town, but that wasn't the point. The point was that I never asked anyone to switch, and I missed Jim's party.

After my double I went out to my lonely car in the lonely parking lot under the tall white lightpost. I sat on the hood of my red clunker, shoulders surrendering inward, neck stretched low. I looked down at my stupid shoes. What kind, what symptom of a, where should the...I straightened my back, trying to crack the tension out of it. I leaned back slowly and finally laid down completely, legs dangling off the side of the Dodge.

Bells rang and some old woman answered. She said, "won't it stop?" The next and last stop on this train is...warm and inviting, who could refuse? The bells were counting down the ties in a cord attached to a hulking steel orb cast in deep black. The ties slid down and down until eventually, a yellow-caped hero revealed himself. It was this kind of eventuality that slowed progress so. It was this anticipation that momentum consumed and languished therein. And I stirred and stirred this ingenious machine's tanktop - but it was weak and lethargic and refused the warm air.

It was this cartoon scenery that called us all back. It was this nursery tale that swatted and gashed us, our faces mangled and throats sore. Against an ancient brick wall the black orb pounded, weakly at first and more weakly thereafter. There are carpets of course and such traditions well-noticed. A fire on the crossties shimmered in the rain. We doubted so much and counted our chances, in a redrock hotel on the Utah frontier. A shadow moved up and shifted in the crackway, the door was less open than closed.

Anticipation personified as a blackboard under fire by an impotent brainstorm of timid white chalk. The blackness retreated as the scrawling lay siege, propped up by the classics, bold-face texts and maybe six or seven magazines. Its hand was shaky and it's sketches suffered, but more directly, the board grew unwieldy - and what remained, of course, was misdirected passion, aimed anywhere but the board — that's generous — aimed away from the board. Hope grew out of this meaningless fog, it was the hope for a cleaning, a fresh start, more daylight, shifted responsibilities, crafty excuses, all things hardly head-on.

When the board cleared up and the blackness returned, the walls eroded and deposits formed. It was a false sense of security, indeed, a trap. There will never be order when the clean slate is restored. May the texts be erased and bold-faces scorned, may the periodicals be shredded and foundation fall. I want to peel off this hood and build a new engine, I thought, but I got in my car and drove straight home.