A thick, slow simmered salsa from the south of Italy, peperonata or red pepper sauce is a hero of a dish. A kinda cross between a chutney and a vegetable stew, it is fiery looking, and yet its flavour is surprisingly mellow and sweet. How’s that for a sensory trick?
As a dish, it is mega versatile. Perperonata is delicious served with salty breads and cheese as starter. As a side dish it rocks alongside meats, baked or grilled veggies. It works well piled on top of frittata, slipped into a sandwich or as a filling for a savoury tart. It is also wonderful stirred into pasta, especially with an added shaving of salted ricotta cheese (known affectionally as the “snow on Mt Etna” trimming).
Like so many Italian dishes there are thousands of versions, and opinions about how to get this simple sauce of onions, red peppers, and tomatoes right. This version of peperonata was given to me by Rocco, a regular, Friday customer at our food truck. From Calabria, Rocco is a great chatterer, and an enthusiastic sharer of recipes. Good, good. What’s not so great however, is that he routinely arrives at midday when the church across the road rings out Ave Maria.
As anyone would know, there are a lot of churches in Italy, and each has its own bell ringing playlist. Many churches, including the village where I live, play different sequences at different hours – a throwback to the agricultural past when folks would be called in for prayers, lunch, dinner etc by the sound of different sequences. Then, there are the bell ringing arrangements that follow different times in the church calendar, and others again that signify holy sacraments like baptisms, weddings, and funerals. And on it goes … but the big one of the day, is the midday Ave Maria
My response to Ave Maria is to stop and sit it out (often, involuntarily singing along – I can’t help my Irish Catholic upbringing) with the intention of picking up the convo where I left off. I have noticed however, that I am the only one who does stop. Everyone else just seems to step-up the volume and talk over Maria, leaving me waaaayyyyy behind.
I don’t know how they do it? Is it just years of training – them against the mighty, midday Maria? Can they lip read? Is it because they are a nation of talkers? Do the hand gestures just tell it all? I don’t know, but I marvel at their grit, resolution, and comprehension.
Anyway, this recipe came from Friday’s 12 o’clock Rocco. I don’t know if I got the recipe down right, but this is the version that I heard. Or at least the version I pieced together, and the one that I am happy with. Rocco’s recipe has a sprinkling of chilli flakes. I have had to tone it down from his Calabrian, industrial strength flakes to the supermarket variety – the milder chilli providing a hint of heat but leaving my tongue, mouth, throat, and chest still with feeling.
The method is astoundingly easy: sauté an onion, garlic, and chilli until soft, add the slices of red pepper and cook until they have released their striking red juices, add the tomatoes and leave the pot to simmer until the sauce is thick. The sweetness of the sauce can be sharpened by the addition of a splash of vinegar; however, I usually prefer to tamper it with some carbs, or provide some contrast by serving it alongside salty bits such as olives, anchovies, capers or a sharp cheese. See what you think…
Red Pepper Salsa ~ Peperonata
- 1 kg red peppers/capsicum
- 75ml olive oil
- 1 large or 2 small onions, peeled and finely slice
- 2-3 garlic cloves, peeled and minced
- Sprinkling of chilli flakes
- Salt and pepper
- 450g cherry tomatoes halved (*substitute a tin of toms if not in season)
Slice open the peppers, and discard the seeds, stalk, and any white parts. Cut into thin strips about 1cm wide and 5cm long.
In a heavy based frypan or saucepan with a lid, warm the olive oil over a medium heat and stir to combine. Add the onion, garlic and a pinch of chilli flakes and cook until the onion is translucent (about 10minutes).
Add the peppers and a good pinch of salt, then cover and simmer for 15 minutes until the vibrant juices have been released. Give the occasional stir to prevent the mixture from sticking, and to keep everything simmering along evenly.
Add the cherry tomatoes. Stir gently to combine. Simmer for a further 40 minutes uncovered. Stir every now and then, squashing the tomatoes a little if necessary, so that they break down. When the peppers are soft, and everything has married into a gorgeous thick, somewhat jammy salsa, the peperonata is ready. Taste, and season generously.
