Antipasti is the plural form of antipasto, literally “before the meal” in Italian. It is the first course brought to the table immediately after bread and wine, and signifies the beginning of the meal. The tradition probably started in the Renaissance era, when guests gathered around a communal table where small morsels of both sweet and savory foods were offered to consume after the ritual hand washing and before being seated for a meal. Restaurants in Italy often have a display case of antipasti offerings at the front of the restaurant, and antipasti can include things like olives, cured meats, marinated vegetables and especially seafood in Venice. The intent is to excite the palate, rather than fill up the diner. The French equivalent of antipasto is the amuse bouche – “mouth amuser” – a small, bite-sized offering served as a treat before dining, as opposed to the larger hors d’ouvres more commonly served as appetizers and cocktail party foods.
In common usage nowadays, antipasto has come to mean appetizer. Though it’s still traditional in many Italian restaurants both in this country and abroad to offer a communal plate of salami, cheeses, olives and peppers and such to be eaten with bread while perusing the menu, the term is now somewhat incorrectly applied to individually plated starter courses and Italian-American inventions like fried mozzarella sticks. It’s quite customary for restaurants to serve antipasto portions large enough for a whole meal, and we gluttonous Americans love to eat that way, so the trend will probably continue.
In my family, antipasti made very rare appearances, and were served primarily at holiday meals. For summer birthday and anniversary celebrations, we often had chunks of cantaloupe wrapped in prosciutto – sweet/salty and very refreshing. Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve are the only winter holidays where I can remember antipasti being served. On Christmas Eve, it’s customary to eat fish in Italian households, and The Feast of the Seven Fishes is a beloved tradition. My grandfather always prepared a large platter of smoked fish that was passed when we were seated for dinner, and it usually included smoked baby clams, oysters, sardines, and often eel and baby octopus. All came from small cans and jars sold in the store, preserved in olive oil. Nonno completed the platter with tuna salad with capers, onions and mayonnaise, and it all disappeared rapidly, eaten with bread and crackers.
The New Year’s Eve appetizer also went quickly, though I never actually liked it at all. New Year’s Eve has always been a big holiday in my family, with an enormous dinner served just after midnight; it’s one of my most cherished childhood memories. The tradition started in an unusual way; as my grandfather told it, the first year he and my grandmother were married, they went out on New Year’s Eve. It was 1943, and they decided to have dinner at the Café Montmartre, a swanky restaurant (with the attached Jungle Club cocktail lounge) in the basement of the now defunct Missoula Hotel located at the corner of Main and Ryman. My grandmother grew up in Missoula, and she was – and still is – a beautiful woman; as a result, she was quite popular with the dozens of soldiers and sailors on leave and home for the holidays. After what must have seemed like hours chasing off advances, my grandfather got angry and stated that next year, they’d have dinner at home for New Year’s. From then on, family and friends would gather around 11:30 p.m., snack on the aforementioned appetizer while drinking champagne, and ring in the New Year by sitting down to a full prime rib dinner at midnight. My grandmother would make steak tartare – small toast rounds (made from Wonder bread, for some unknown reason!) served with chopped raw beef and onion, topped with a dollop of caviar. They sold caviar in the store, and how they afforded the rest of it in the lean years I’ll never know. Still, for me at least, it was the perfect appetizer; salty caviar, the metallic flavor of raw beef and the bite of onion certainly excited my palate to eat something else!
I asked my mother about other antipasti served when she was younger, and she could only come up with one, served to dinner guests when she was very young and the Broadway Market was in its infancy. My grandfather would top a Ritz cracker (very popular and hard to find in the early ‘50s) with a thin slice of hard boiled egg and a sprinkle of paprika. These would go on a platter with a mound of olives in the center and rolled up slices of Genoa and wine-cured salami around the edges. This most closely resembles the traditional Italian concept of antipasto, and I’d never heard of it before yesterday; my mother recalls it with great fondness, especially the crackers!
Because antipasti weren’t really traditional when I was growing up, I’ve come to think of them primarily as party offerings – things to be eaten while sitting around chatting (and drinking) as the meal is being prepared. Most of my favorite antipasti hardly require recipes at all – the aforementioned prosciutto and melon being one example of this. In Italy, prosciutto is often served with fresh green figs, and they’re in season right now, making this an excellent time to try them if you haven’t before. Cut fresh ripe figs into quarters along their axis (from stem to end), cutting just short of all the way through. Spread them open a bit to expose the lush, pink flesh and plate with a twist of prosciutto nestled inside.
Bresaola – thinly sliced air cured salted beef, spiced with garlic, cinnamon and black pepper – is essentially the beef equivalent of prosciutto, and it’s an excellent alternative if you can find it. Costo carried it at one point, though I haven’t seen it there recently. Bresaola is best served laid out on a large platter, drizzled with extra virgin olive oil, a squeeze of lemon and fresh cracked black pepper; you can also add parmesan shavings and a mound of peppery arugula dressed with olive oil and lemon. Spear a slice of bresaola and a little arugula and eat it on a slice of crusty bread – YUM!
Insalata Caprese – sliced fresh mozzarella, tomatoes and basil dressed with olive oil, salt and pepper – is another excellent antipasto. A communal platter is quite pretty; alternate slices of fresh mozzarella, very ripe tomatoes and basil leaves on a plate, drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and season to taste. This can be passed around a table before a meal, or even served as a salad course. I recently made it finger-food friendly by taking ciliegine (cherry sized balls of fresh mozzarella, purchased in tubs of water and available in most supermarkets), wrapping each ball with a basil leaf and then skewering it on a toothpick with a grape tomato. When I had a whole platter of these, I dressed them with a quick drizzle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar – the result: salad you eat with your hands!
Bruschetta and crostini are somewhat interchangeable terms used to describe slices of toasted bread served with something on top. Bruschetta generally refers to bread topped with tomatoes, garlic and basil, and is quite simple – small slices of crusty bread are toasted in the oven, then rubbed with a cut raw garlic clove, topped with fresh tomatoes and basil and then drizzled with extra virgin olive oil. Crostini actually refers to the toasted bread itself, and can be served with nearly anything, from a smear of tapanade or a soft cheese like Brie, slices of salami and proscuitto, or my favorite, a salad of tuna and cannellini beans. Take one 15 oz. can of cannellini beans, drained and rinsed well, and toss them with one can of tuna packed in oil – the Italian Tonno brand is readily available (it’s owned by Chicken of the Sea, I think). Add a rib of celery, finely diced, and finish with chopped green onions or chives, fresh-squeezed lemon juice, finely minced Italian parsley and salt and pepper to taste. Mound up on the crostini and enjoy!
I also make a dip with cannellini beans which we often serve during gallery openings. In a food processor, mix one can of beans, drained and rinsed well, 2-4 cloves of garlic (depending on how much you like strong garlic flavor) the zest and juice of one lemon and a handful of fresh Italian parsley. Pulse several times to mix well, then turn the processor on and drizzle in about 1/4 cup of good extra-virgin olive oil until a creamy consistency is reached. Season with salt and pepper – it can take quite a bit of salt – and serve with just about anything – crostini, raw vegetables, pita chips, even tortilla chips.
Vegetables also make great antipasto. Giardiniera – pickled vegetables packed in oil and vinegar – is probably more Italian-American than Italian, but I still love it. Giardiniera usually contains carrots, onions, cauliflower, celery and green or red peppers, and it’s available in both hot and mild versions in nearly every supermarket. I’m sure you can make your own, though I’ve never actually bothered. Giardiniera is great eaten with salami and crusty bread, and it’s used as a condiment in Chicago on Italian beef sandwiches. Think of it as the Italian pickle! I’ve also served the egg-battered cauliflower I described in an earlier Nonna’s Kitchen article; it’s great cold, especially when accompanied by a garlicky mayonnaise. Roasted vegetables like chunks of zucchini and green beans make great starters, too – roast in the oven or on the barbecue with olive oil, salt and pepper and serve at room temperature. Asparagus are great this way as well, and are particularly nice wrapped with a slice of prosciutto.
I hope this gives you a good starting point for creating antipasti to call your own!
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