Tessa Kiros's Mozzarella in Carozza

My Dad has about five books by Tessa Kiros. Even by the standards of today’s food publishing, they’re beautiful: this one has a black velvet ribbon pagemarker. They are books for home cooks, and she relies heavily on her heritage – Greek and Finnish – and her home – Tuscany – for inspiration. She writes about the feelings of food, and its connection to place, as much as the food itself. Remind you of anyone? Yup, I can’t help feeling that Tessa would be Nigella, if Nige wasn’t (even) better looking, and better connected. 

Which isn’t to say this book is as good as How to Eat.  Like her other books, it’s OK, and definitely in the tradition of genuinely readable cookbooks. But the ‘must make’ percentage is low, and they’re mainly easy family meals. They’re totally in my wheelhouse, just not that tempting. Venezia: Food & Dreams contains lots of charming wiffle-waffle about the city (see also: the ‘Venetian Feast’ section of Nigella’s Feast for more) and lots of recipes which, truly, crop up in every book about Venice. Bigoli with anchovy sauce, risi e bisi, beef carpaccio, Bellinis. The monkfish lasagne sounded a right faff, as did the many pasta with seafood dishes. I’d make pasta e vongole every week, if there was an accessible, sustainable, reliable source of clams near me. But there isn’t, so I really wish it didn’t feature in EVERY vaguely Italianate recipe book.

Anyway, Tessa leaves me feeling melancholic. Perhaps she doesn’t want to be a big name slebby TV cook? But her glossy books, and lifestyle-pimping, make me think she does. And so I feel sad for her. Still, if Nigella ever goes full recluse, we’ve got her replacement good to go.

So, I made Mozzarella in Carozza (another extremely familiar recipe, which I once made, disastrously, as part of an ‘Italian Feast’ in Home Economics, to be served to teachers. I mainly remember that a small part of the ice cream maker fell off and got frozen into the ice cream, and we couldn’t find it). Surprisingly, Tessa doesn’t point out that this translates as ‘mozzarella in a carriage’. The ‘carriage’ is a deep fried white bread sandwich, made even more Elvisian by béchamel sauce, and an egg dip. My husband and I had one each and were utterly stuffed by them – both exhausted and exhilarated by the hundreds (thousands?) of extra calories ricocheting around our bedtime bodies. I recommend these only if you’ve just rotivated a garden by hand, built a wall, or birthed a baby. Actually, it would be a nice thing to make an invalid you were trying to build up. But this isn’t the 1800s, and I don’t know any invalids. Eat it with a salad, but don’t go thinking it will help.

Makes 2

For the béchamel:

2 tbsp butter
4 tbsp plain flour
125ml milk
nutmeg

1 large egg, beaten in a shallow bowl.
large handful of dried breadcrumbs (I make these by ‘blending’ a few slices of bread, then spreading them on a tray and sticking them in the oven at around 150 degrees for half an hour)

4 slices of whitebread
1 ball of mozzarella (cheap is better), sliced finely
a few shreds of ham (optional)

lots of mild olive oil, or veg oil

Make the béchamel – you know how, or you can look it up. I’m not your mum. Helpfully, you can do this well in advance, and use it cold.

Pour the oil in a large frying pan – I am too wussy to really deep fry on the hob, but the more you dare use the better, I’m sure.

Spread béchamel on all four slices of bread, right to the crustless corners.

Make two mozzarella and ham sandwiches, and pinch the edges closed.

Dunk them in the beaten egg, and then in the breadcrumbs – coating as thoroughly as you can.

Fry them in the oil, turning when golden brown. If you're lucky the face of a beautiful woman will appear in the crispy carapace (see pic below, right). Eat immediately, and then do a thousand star jumps, cackling.