Ciaffagnoni: Delicate Crepes from Tuscan Cowboy Country

Elizabeth Petrosian, co-owner of Portland's (tiny) palace of Florentine cuisine, Burrasca, is a fabulous writer, and when I asked if she'd share their Portland Dining Month recipe for ciaffagnoni—one of three courses for $33 during the month of March—she agreed, and then offered to write the whole post. I was thrilled! Get their full Dining Month menu here.

Italy isn't really a country; it's a patchwork of regions held together by a common respect for carbohydrates. But more than this, Italy is a tight, often rivalrous amalgamation of micro-regions. Take Tuscany, for example (my adopted home for 12 years). There's the postcard Tuscany you're all familiar with: the burnished gold, cypress-dotted mounds of the Val d'Orcia; the undulating hills of vineyard-strewn Chianti; the smug stones of Florence and the empty-headed starlet that is Cortona. With a land area of just under 9,000 square miles—about the same size as New Jersey—it's a remarkable solar system of mico-regional planets, each spinning in its own gastronomical orbit, all revolving around one Tuscan culinary sun.

There's the taciturn Mugello, peppered with ochre-colored Medici hunting villas, with its neighbor Emilia-Romagna sitting just over the spine of the Appenine mountains and casting its long glance over the local cuisine; the heavily forested, chestnut-loving Casentino; the rugged Lunigiana, playing mountain-bred, culinary Romeo to next-door Ligurian Juliet; there's the impossibly lovely Etruscan coast, with many of its gastronomic tradtions—as is to be expected—rooted in antiquity. Then there's the Maremma.

An appetizer, a simple folded crepe (top) or a hearty main course (left), ciaffagnoni are infinitly flexible.

The Maremma is Tuscany's Wild West: a no-nonsense-talking, game meat-loving region of rustic beauty known for longhorn cattle, butteri (Maremman cowboys), hunters, and winemakers who know how to wrangle grapes in iron-rich soil kissed by Tyrrhenian sea breezes. It's the place to eat cinghiale (wild boar), either stewed with mele cotogna (quince) or with small black local olives and red wine. With its rolling hillsides and pastureland, it's also the place where fresh, deeply flavored sheep's cheese is a common ingredient.

If you're lucky enough to find your way to the small hill town of Manciano in the Maremma, you can eat tortelli mancianesi and be much an improved person for having eaten them. Every part of Tuscany has its version of tortelli, but in Manciano they exalt the excellent local sheep's ricotta in a filling along with spinach and a touch of cinnamon, dressing the pasta with fine local Chianina beef ragù. Likewise, sheep's cheese stars in another specialty of tiny Manciano: ciaffagnoni. These are savory crepes traditionally adorned with ricotta or pecorino. Leafy greens or even a bit of fruit are often added, as in this version we're currently serving at Burrasca all March long as part of our Portland Dining Month menu: the crepes are filled with ricotta and diced pear, along with a whisper of nutmeg and cinnamon, then folded into fagottini and topped with a sauce of pecorino toscano, drizzled with honey and sprinkled with chili and black pepper.

Contrary to what you might believe, crepes, or crespelle—a gift from Catherine de' Medici to France—are as Italian as Vespas, four-hour lunches, and crippling bureaucracy. Legend has it that they were willed into being as pilgrim-fodder by Pope Gelasius I in the late 400s, an early example of peninsular ingenuity when it comes to paltry ingredients. Regardless of origins, Manciano has a way with crepes that is, well, celestial.

As mentioned, ciaffagnoni lend themselves to a variety of fillings; we've also served them filled with ricotta and Swiss chard, topped with a bit of béchamel and truffled pecorino toscano, and served over tropea onions in dolceforte and oven-dried tomato. They make lovely appetizers. Use your imagination!

Ciaffagnoni with Ricotta Filling and Pecorino Sauce

Ingredients to make about 2 dozen crepes.

For the crepes:

4 eggs

1 c. (150g) all-purpose flour

1 1/4 c. (300 ml) warm water

Pinch of salt

For the filling:

1 c. (250g) fresh ricotta

1 c. (250g) ricotta salata (or you can use all fresh ricotta if you prefer)

2 whole eggs, plus 2 yolks

1/2 c. (60g) grated parmigiano-reggiano

1 D'Anjou pear, diced small

1 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg 

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

A bit of salt and black pepper

For the sauce:

1/2 c. (100g) fresh young (not aged) pecorino, diced—Tuscan preferred but we won't hold it against you if you go rogue

3/4 c. (80g) grated parmigiano-reggiano

3 tsp. (10g) corn starch

1 3/4 c. (400 ml) whole milk

3 eggs

Additional ingredients: honey, red chili pepper, black pepper

The crepe batter has to rest for a half hour, so you can get the filling and sauce ready in that time. You'll need a 6" or 7" non-stick pan to make the crepes.

To make the crepes: Whisk the eggs, add warm water little by little, then add flour little by little. Add salt and whisk until smooth. There should be no lumps. Let batter rest for a half hour.

Preheat the oven to 350°.

Over medium heat, warm your pan and grease it lightly with olive oil or butter. Ladle in just enough batter to cover the pan surface—don't make it thick; the crepes should come out very thin. When it begins to bubble and detaches from the pan, flip it; it should have a light golden-brown color. Cook other side until lightly colored. Make sure to leave them moist, not crisp, otherwise they'll crack! Set aside.

Prepare the filling: Simply mix all the filling ingredients well.

Prepare the sauce: Put the sauce ingredients into a bowl and blend with an immersion blender. Then, in a small pot on the stove, bring to 170 degrees, stirring constantly, and remove immediately once the temperature is reached.

Assembly: Take a crepe and lay it flat. Place some of the filling (don't put too much or overstuff it) on 1/4 of the crepe and then fold the crepe over it into a half circle. Then fold it over again into a triangle (one-fourth of the original shape). Once you've folded all your crepes, place as many as you can onto an oven sheet pan and bake for 4 to 5 minutes. They'll crisp a bit at the edges.

Drizzle the finished crepes with the pecorino sauce, some honey, and a tiny bit of red chili pepper if you like a bit of a kick, and/or a bit of freshly cracked black pepper.

Portland Dining Month Wrapping Up

Dang! With just five nights left, it looks like I'm not going to be making it through my picks of restaurants to hit during Portland's annual Dining Month—in fact, I've only made it to two on the whole darn list so far.

But with an opportunity to sample three courses of some of PDX's finest grub—there are 90 places to choose from—for just $29, it almost makes it into the "I don't feel like cooking tonight" category, which, if I had my druthers, would be every other night around our house. To me, it's a chance to try out places that fit the "special occasion" description, a trial run for a later date night, anniversary or place to take out of town friends.

My first hit was Kelly Myer's Xico, which we'd visited earlier but wanted to return to, if only because I was seduced by the salmon in mole verde (top photo) on offer. Which points up the fact that though these menus are designed around the featured price, the offerings are obviously barely clearing break-even status. Added to that was the opportunity to get one of the restaurant's signature margaritas, which totally hit the spot.

Beverages aren't included in the price, of course, which no doubt gives the restaurants a chance to make up some of the revenue, but I've never felt pressured by up-selling on the part of staff or given the nose-in-the-air treatment because I'm ordering the "cheap" option. Remember that March can be a pretty slow time of the year for dining out, so most restaurateurs and wait staff are happy to see so many smiling faces at their tables.

The second trip was to Paley's Place on Northwest 21st, the anchor of Vitaly and Kimberly Paley's now three-restaurant empire (he also owns downtown's Imperial and Penny Diner). Dave and I were seated at a cozy table in the dining room behind the bar (above right) and were brought amuse bouches of shot glasses of cucumber gazpacho with our drink order. Again, there was no sniffing on display when I ordered the Dining Month menu, and no move was made to grab back the amuse as not included—same with the complimentary basket of bread and butter.

Portions at both places were generous, as well, with Paley's main course of grilled albacore (left) perfectly seared on a bed of frikeh salad with a drizzle of caper aioli. One caveat to be noted is that the offerings are set in stone, so check the menus listed on the website to make sure it will accomodate any of your party's dietary restrictions. For instance, while I can (and do) eat almost everything, Dave's lactose issue makes it virtually impossible to enjoy all three courses, so he orders from the regular menu. (Though you can always check with the restaurant when you call to make your reservation.)

So if you can't make it one of the next five nights, put it on your calendar for next year. I have a feeling this event is gonna be here to stay.

Dining Month Portland: Six Days and Counting…

We're nearing the end of Dining Month, those thirty or so days in early summer where Portlanders have an excuse to check out a new spot or haunt an old favorite with abandon, and where restaurants can fill up otherwise empty seats during a slow season. It's also where not feeling like cooking is an acceptable reason to go out rather than trying to sell the old "breakfast for dinner" approach.

Why? Because more than 80 of the city's best…and I'm not exaggerating…restos are offering three courses of dining deliciousness for just $29. Now of course this doesn't include your beverages or a gratuity, but considering some of these places charge $29 for the entrée alone makes it quite the deal.

So when I was offered a chance to check out one of the listed restaurants, Clyde Common, one night last week, I said, "Heck, yeah!" After all, I'd been there a couple of times since they'd opened and loved it. And I was curious to see what was proffered for the three courses…after all, they weren't going to be handing out filet mignon for that price.

What they did have on offer was: a starter of a spring green soup with crème fraîche and olive oil (see recipe, below), a big helping of braised pork shoulder with farro, mushrooms and pearl onions as the entrée (right) and, to cap it all off, an insanely luscious layered little glass (just the right amount, imho) of chocolate pot de creme, panna cotta and fresh strawberry preserves with a cashew cookie (below left).

As you can tell from the menu (above left), though, it specifically says "no substitutions," a common restriction for these menus. This meant that Dave, with his lactose intolerance, could have none of them and had to order off the regular, and thus much more expensive, menu. So if you're planning on taking advantage of this monthlong dining bonanza, and it is indeed a rare chance to sample the best of PDX for a song, I would strongly encourage you to check out your menu choices and any restrictions before arriving at the door.

Our evening? It was lovely, of course, from the drinks in the bar—my Americano served in a little soda bottle and Dave's stunning barrel-aged Negroni—to his choice of the pasta with lamb ragu. A fun chance to head downtown and hobknob with the denizens while not spending an arm and a leg to do it.

Spring green soup with herb crème fraîche

From Clyde Common

2 yellow onions, sliced

5 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

2 green bell peppers, seeds removed and thinly sliced

2 green zucchini, washed with ends removed and thinly sliced
1 green tomato (when in season), cored and chopped

1 serrano pepper

1 bunch of scallions, chopped

1 head fennel, thinly sliced

3 Tbsp. salt

1 Tbsp. sugar

1/2 c. Champagne vinegar

1/2 c. olive oil


1/2 c. blanched peas

1/2 c. blanched asparagus tips

1/2 c. blanched broccoli florets
1 bunch of parsley, picked and coarsely chopped

1 c. crème fraîche

1 Tbsp. minced chives

1 Tbsp. minced chervil


Salt, pepper and lemon juice to taste



A day ahead, combine the onion, garlic, pepper, squash, scallions and fennel in a non-reactive container. Add the salt, sugar, olive oil and vinegar. Mix well, cover and allow to sit overnight.



The next day, add in the cooked peas, asparagus, broccoli and chopped parsley. Mix well, and purée the vegetables in small batches in a blender until smooth. (The vegetables should have released quite a bit of liquid overnight. Add that liquid to the blender if the vegetables have trouble pureeing. If more liquid is needed, use vegetable stock or water.) After all the vegetables are pureed, re-season the mixture with salt, pepper, lemon juice and a 1/2 cup of the crème fraîche. Place in the refrigerator to chill.

 In a mixing bowl, take the remaining crème fraîche and combine with the minced chive and chervil. Set aside.



Divide the soup into four chilled bowls and serve with a heaping spoonful of the herb crème fraîche.

Photo at top courtesy Clyde Common.

Read my posts about previous visits to Clyde Common: Common Vocabulary, Our Night on the Town and Quick Hits: Clyde Common, Theory, Relish.