Here in Gozo, many people keep sheep and make the traditional cheese called gbejna (pronounced roughly juh-bayn-a, plural gbejniet). The villages on this small Maltese island in the middle of the Mediterranean are tight-knit. So are the houses, which are built side by side with high walls hiding most of the small gardens and courtyards. There are still a number of larger herds of sheep and goats that are led around the wild, grassy valleys by shepherds. Some keep just a few sheep for milk, and we frequently hear the bleating of sheep in the village itself.

The picture above is a fresh gbejna, which at its best is a barely-set, creamy, mellow, mild sheep’s cheese. This is a treat when eaten with crusty bread, olive oil, capers, and chopped onions and tomatoes, and the fresh cheese is also used in traditional Gozitan ravioli and cheese pastries.

When milk is plentiful, the cheeses are commonly air dried, either plain or coated with cracked black pepper. These delicious dry, aged unpasteurized cheeses can be purchased in any grocery store and from the mobile fruit and vegetable truck “hawkers.”

Photo: Gbejna friska ta’ l-ilma by jamiedecesare via Flickr.

At the Simply Brilliant Solutions office, we’re all pretty opinionated about food (here we are above, left to right, Federico, Paul, Pierre, Martin, and me, Catherine).

Federico, who is a genius programmer by day, is also an avid cook. He is Maltese-Italian and was born and raised in Rome; his mother, I have heard, cooks outstanding Italian and Maltese cuisine. We were talking the other day about Christmas plans and Federico said that he intends to make tiramisu to share with his girlfriend for their Christmas dinner. Federico told me that he got his favorite recipe from a woman in Germany, of all places, but that it makes a tiramisu that is very much like his mother’s. Since I had never tried to make the dessert before, I asked Federico for his recipe.

Tiramisu is ubiquitous here in Malta (where Italian food is very popular) but in my experience no two are alike. It also seems to be universally loved. I asked the guys here in the office if any of them knew anybody, a single soul, who does not like tiramisu, and we came up empty handed. Even my son, who cannot stand cheese or dairy products in general, will enjoy an occasional serving of tiramisu.

As Federico dictated the recipe to me — simultaneously translating it from German to English on the fly — he had to correct my pronunciation of mascarpone. Like many English speakers, I was pronouncing it “marscapone.” “Mascarpone,” he corrected several times. I tried a joke: “Oh, like NASCAR? Rhymes with NASCAR?” This fell flat with Federico but did provoke a chuckle from American-Maltese Pierre. Remember NASCAR and you will never mispronounce mascarpone again.

Tiramisu (makes about 8 servings)

5 egg yolks

1 pound mascarpone

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1.5 ounces amaretto

espresso (about a cup is all you’ll need)

milk (1/2 cup)

cocoa powder (to sprinkle)

ladyfingers (Pavesini brand)

Cream together the egg yolks and the sugar. Then stir in the mascarpone. Mix in the amaretto.

Prepare the espresso, cool it, and mix in the milk. Dip each ladyfinger quickly into the espresso — don’t soak. Make a single layer of ladyfingers in your serving dish, cover with a layer of mascarpone mixture, another layer of ladyfingers, and mascarpone again. Then sprinkle the top with cocoa.

Chill for several hours or overnight.

I couldn’t wait to try the recipe, and so I bought the ingredients and prepared the recipe last night. I made sure to find Pavesini brand ladyfingers so it would be the real deal the first time, and I remembered Federico’s exhortation to dip, not soak, the ladyfingers to avoid a watery tiramisu. “But don’t worry,” Federico said, “because even if it’s watery it will still taste good.” He was right, and the tiramisu was delicious. We stopped work early and enjoyed it today during our celebratory lunch on the last day of work before Christmas.

We have just returned from Tuscany, where the new olive oil harvest is being celebrated. Bread and olive oil is a popular snack throughout the Mediterranean; however, I have heard it said that the Tuscans are so passionate about Autumn’s freshly-pressed olive oil that they barely bother with this snack the rest of the year.

In Toscana, the unsalted Tuscan bread is fire toasted, rubbed lightly with garlic, and sprinkled with salt and freshly-ground pepper. Then the toast is anointed with thick, green, fresh olive oil — and we are talking bathed, not drizzled: the Tuscan name for this crostini, fettunta, literally means “greasy slice.”

We sampled the new oil many times during our week in Florence and Siena but the most memorable tasting was at Poggio Amorelli, Marco Mazzarini’s gorgeous winery near Castellina in Chianti (we were part of a wonderful small-group tour by Cor Magis Travel). First, we had the pleasure of touring the winemaking facilities with Marco. Then we gathered around the large wooden table in his tasting room, right next to a crackling fire. Mario talked to us about wine while he finished preparing a delicious simple lunch featuring locally-made pecorino cheese, cinta sinese salami, and the highlight for us, fettunta drenched in this year’s olive oil from Mario’s own olive trees. The oil tasted thick, peppery, and green — absolutely delicious.

As we shared lunch, we enjoyed Poggio Amorelli’s fine Chiantis, Super Tuscan, and finally a shot of smooth, fiery grappa. Mario told us that his childhood afternoons in Chianti were spent watching TV with a snack, always either toasted bread with olive oil and salt and pepper or toasted bread with wine and sugar, one day one and the next day the other.

In Siena, signs of the importance of the new olive oil harvest were everywhere. We just missed the Festa dell’Olio, Siena’s annual olive oil harvest festival. A cafe was marketing 5-liter metal cans of new olive oil to the locals — a little bottle of the oil and cubes of bread were on offer so one could test the quality before buying.

The next time we are in Tuscany, we will be bringing a nearly empty checked suitcase to fill with oil, wine, cheese, and meats to bring back home to Malta with us — this time, due to hand luggage security issues, I managed to return with only one 100 ml bottle of organic new olive oil. Martin and I made two meals of fettunta from this precious bottle and the oil was just as delicious as we had hoped!

Photo: Castellina in Chianti by FaP via Flickr.