Cannolis, anyone?

Ladies and gentlemen, I have now made my very first, inaugural batch of cannolis from scratch.

Not bad, for a first try. Especially for someone who really doesn't like pastry-making and abhors deep frying stuff.

I used a pretty basic recipe, a standard butter pastry, for the shells. The only past experience I have had with deep-frying a pastry kind of thing was Swedish rosettes, which really isn't the same thing at all, except for the hot fat part. To my total surprise, after frying in 360° F oil for 60 seconds, the shells were flaky, golden-brown and not the least greasy. Success! Woohoo!

The filling? Well, ricotta goes in lasagna, manicotti and shells but not dessert shells. Isn't that right? Naaaaaah. It also goes into desserts. So does mascarpone. No need to raise an eyebrow like that, really. It works nicely.

How does a cook turn cheese into a filling for dessert? First, by draining that ricotta really, really well. Hanging it in a muslin bag over a bowl for 12 hours or so works very well. Dump the cheese into a large bowl, discarding the drained liquid. Get your mixer out and beat that stuff until it's smooth, then add 8 ounces of room temperature mascarpone. Continue beating as you want the two cheeses incorporated together as much as possible. After all is mixed together nicely, add 1 1/2 cups of powdered or confectioner's sugar in small amounts, beating well after each addition. Add whatever flavoring you want at this point, whether a small amount of liquor or extracts, whatever. (Citrus zest is traditional, most likely because it would cut the astounding sweetness of the filling.)

I made another change, one suggested by a lovely Italian friend: whipping 1 cup of heavy cream and folding it into the filling as the last step. The plain cheese mixture is too heavy for our tastes and the whipped cream lightens the texture and gives it a better mouth-feel.

So we have successfully fried pastry and made the filling. Now, to fill the shells in what always turns out to be a life-and-death struggle with the pastry tube. Go ahead and laugh, it's fine. Everyone around here thinks my struggles with the tube and tips is a bit on the far side of hilarious and makes for many titters, giggles and outright guffaws. This particular outing was no different.

Dutifully stuffing the white bit down the tube, sticking the tip on it and screwing the locking ring wasn't too difficult. Dropping the filling, 1/4 cup at a time, into the tube was a snap. Twisting the top of the tube to press the filling down was done in a trice. Pick up shell, insert tip into shell. Squeeze. Now, wait a minute. What's that tiny, thin stream of filling? Is the tip clogged? Well, no. Carried away by the success of the frying, I had put the piping tip on rather than the large filling tip. This led to a somewhat protracted struggle to remove the lock ring, pull the tip off, replace it and put the ring back on. All the while leaking copious amount of white stuff all over the counter and my apron. For all you accomplished bakers, cake decorators and pastry makers this probably sounds too stupid to believe. Believe it. The lock ring wouldn't go back on the tube straight, being slippery from the filling. The bottom of the tube had gotten rucked up and the tip wouldn't fit over the fabric. Coordinating tip, ring and filling was truly beyond the ability of someone with a very high in-born level of klutziness, not withstanding the fact that even with filling leakage the tube was half full. By the time the ring was back on, albeit not straight, yours truly had filling all over hands, arms, apron front, counter and unfilled shells. My imagination gathered generations of Italian nonnas around, clucking disapprovingly.

After surmounting the obstacle of the Deadly Pastry Tube, the actual filling process went smoothly. I had used the large star tip and beating the cheeses thoroughly had created a very smooth, velvety filling that held it's shape at the end of the shells. They came out very nicely, if I may say so myself.

The mixing process for the cheeses involved periodic taste-testing so I already knew the stuff was incredibly sweet*. Not being a lover of anything sweet, I volunteered DS2 for the final vetting of the cannolis. He took one bite, gulped and rushed to the refrigerator for a glass of milk. Sweet, indeed. DS3 appeared some time later and tried another cannoli. He thought they were very good and not at all too sweet. Just shows you can't tell what people will like.

The end of this particular saga has turned out thus:

Himself doesn't want any cannolis, although he is the reason I tried them in the first place.
DS2 won't eat any more because he says he doesn't want to go into sugar-shock.
DS3 thinks they are fine but would rather snack on cheddar cheese.

What did we do with the remaining 11 cannolis? Giuseppe the Body Man turned up late in the afternoon, tried one and took the rest of the bunch home with the expectation of eating the whole mess before bed.**

All in all, it was a successful experiment. Those lovely stainless steel shell forms will be used again, but not to make cannolis. Once is enough.

* In fact, after the final addition of whipped cream and subsequent taste tests, I ate 4 dill pickles and drank several glasses of water to forestall the eventual overload from the sweetness.
** Our cannoli lover isn't anywhere to be found today. I suspect that may be because he's been admitted to the hospital. Too much sweetness isn't good for anyone, even a true-green/white/red Italian gent.