Cucina Italiana
We haven't had a guest post in quite some time so we invited our friend Tom aka Tam aka Thomas Murray to write us a little blurb about his recent experience at a Cucina Italiana cooking class. We had no idea what we were in for. Tom's words (many of them) follow.
Hands-on Italian Lunch
Luciana Sampogna’s cooking will take you 10 grams closer to God. Just don’t forget your apron, and don’t be late.
Perhaps more than anyone, Italians embrace the social aspect of food. So it’s fitting that we find ourselves not in the stainless-steel bowels of some big restaurant, but here in Luciana Sampogna’s own Balmain kitchen (along with about 12 other wanna-be chefs) like one big happy ‘familia’. We’re here for our Hands on Italian Lunch, which promises a ‘full menu celebrating all that is important in Italian food’ ($99 a head with wine, but bring your own apron!).
What the website doesn’t mention is the bonus four-hour floorshow. Petite but passionate, Luciana holds centre stage. With much hand waving and an engaging Italian lilt, she draws on years of experience to keep the class bubbling along. And we’re straight into it making pasta from scratch. Luciana takes great delight in pointing out that “The cookbooks have it all wrong, wrong. Don’t believe them”. Apparently it’s one egg for every 110g of flour, not 100g. The extra ten grams is kept to one side while kneading the dough and is only added should the temperature and humidity deem it necessary. “This is God’s flour”, she explains simply. The class shares a smile.
We’re up to our elbows in dough when the front door creaks open. Two late-comers skulk in. Luciana accosts them with rolling eyes and exasperated Italian mutterings. Hmm, this is awkward. We all look at our shoes and hope our new classmates have at least remembered their aprons. But like all great teachers, Luciana dishes up criticism and praise in equal measure. Soon enough she’s bouncing around the big wooden table, taking time to show each of us the perfect kneading technique “No, don’t use fingers, just the balls of the hand. Perfect!”
The front door creaks open again, but this time it’s just Luciana’s husband, back from a late-morning jog. Phew.
With our pasta dough resting “it must rest!” we’re ushered upstairs to the lounge room where a huge communal table looks through glass doors onto a deck and the Harbour Bridge beyond. We drink in the surroundings (along with a complimentary Campari) while Luciana takes over the cooking. First up it’s Crostini Toscano. As simple as any bruschetta but far tastier, it’s gobbled up by the hungry horde. And before you can say ‘Borlotti Beans’ Luciana has whipped up a Semifreddo al Caffe, which she stashes in the fridge to set.
In the meantime, it’s back down stairs and back to work. We’re introduced to the pasta machine and soon enough we’re twisting, folding and stuffing like Italian mamas. Among others, we’re shown how to shape Tortellini, Orecchiette and Strozzapreti. But Ravioli seems to be the favourite and before long we have mounds of the stuff, all filled with a pumpkin and ricotta mix.
With the ‘hands-on’ portion of the class over, we head upstairs again and relax with a glass of wine or two. Luciana makes a simple sauce of butter and sage for our freshly boiled pasta and passes out equal portions. Which much oohhhing and aahhhing we all agree that we’ve missed our true calling. But the feast isn’t over. Luciana dishes up some Chicken Scaloppine for the whole crowd. It’s a little sweet for my liking but apparently that’s the way it should be “Don’t believe those cookbooks”, we’re reminded.
After a delicious slice of Semifreddo the class draws to a close. As a parting gift we’re each given full written recipes for all the dishes we’ve experienced and an invitation to phone Luciana whenever we need help. So with full bellies above our belts and a few new skills under them, we waddle back home and deem the day a unanimous success. Perfecto!



