A weapon is machined from materials selected to withstand explosive force. Its barrel gauged for a specific caliber, stock or handle to cushion the hammer blow of recoil, the value of any gun soars to three or four figures.
Ah, but even the keenest of criminal minds will shun a handgun in favor of a simple pastry of fried dough and sweetened cheese.
We know this from “The Godfather” and the one scene everybody remembers. “Leave the gun,” Clemenza famously says after his crew knock off Paulie Gatto, “take the cannoli.”
Why the reverence for a shell and some filling? Even those expert at the cannoli craft find it difficult to explain.
“I think part of it is the shell,” said Livia Kurtz, who creates the treat for Rosa d’Oro’s monthly Cannoli Friday events, which continue tomorrow at the Kelseyville tasting room.
Traditionally people would labor over the dough, rolling out dozens of ovals, forming them and dropping them carefully into bubbling fat. Yes, lard lent a rich flavor and resounding snap to the airy shell. Nowadays it’s possible to purchase ready-made pastry — not a perfect solution, perhaps, yet one that still brings that satisfying crunch.
But that still leaves the other part, the filling. Again, Kurtz insists the task requires little more than a reliable whisking hand.
“Fresh, simple ingredients,” she said, revealing the secret. “The daunting part is the trials and tasting.”
That is because the options are almost as endless as the base is simple. Cannoli fillings depends on ricotta and sugar or honey. Some — including Kurtz — mix in a little mascarpone. The goal is a dense yet creamy filling that floats in a blissful netherworld lighter than custard, thicker than whipped cream.
From there? “Whatever you want,” Kurtz said.
Her signature almond filling presents and intense nutty baseline with riffs that are alternately bittersweet, soothing vanilla and faintly biting — a reminder of the amaretto splashed into the fluffy mix. A blend of chocolate and freshly ground hazelnut allows a grounded, earthy calm to envelop the palate, soothed further by a trace of sweet malt.
In both examples, grains of almond or hazelnut add a rustic texture to the filling.
She has turned out a range of cannolis, from strawberry to Irish cream. For tomorrow’s Cannoli Friday at Rosa d’Oro she plans to introduce a more traditional pistachio filling, in addition to chocolate cups for the Irish cream.
Kurtz considers the latter a little too sprightly in weight to stand up to the shell.
“Overall I’ve tried a dozen or so,” she said. “I come in and say ‘Oh, I want to make …’ I get to experiment and introduce people to something truly Italian — and people love them.”
Cannolis have been readily claimed by Italians, with culinary scholars often linking them to festivals in Palermo. Indeed, one might suspect the cannoli of mafia ties even without the movie reference, for many origin stories point to Sicily.
There are indications, however, that Arabic settlers inspired the treat. And the basics of the cannoli date back to ancient times. Of course, it’s possible to find pale Americanized versions in grocery coolers, but these often rely upon a sodden custard and dull pastry.
The thrill of the cannoli is in the simplicity. Good ingredients and rich flavors in an almost ethereal shell. Prepared well, even the basic filling of ricotta and sugar rewards you with a moment of enchantment.
No wonder even the most hard-bitten henchmen will giddily take a cannoli. Hollywood definitely got that one right.
Dave Faries can be reached at 900-2016
