A Corsican classic: fiadone

Corsica is, technically, French. It's been part of France since 1769, and today is counted as one of the 26 administrative regions of the country. Officially, then, its cuisine falls under the auspices of this blog.

But in reality, Corsica is a case apart. It's geographically isolated - floating in the middle of the Mediterranean, closer to Italy than to France - and it's an intimidating little island, with sharp, craggy mountains that plunge from dizzying heights directly into the sea. For centuries, the surrounding countries and peoples have been fighting for control of Corsica. It has been passed from the Greeks to Etruscans to Romans to Vandals to Visigoths to Saracens to Lombards to Genoese (multiple times) and to Ottomans, with only a brief but glorious period of independence under Pasquale Paoli from 1755 to 1769. To avoid the invaders, who rarely ventured beyond the coast, the native Corsicans took refuge in the mountains that cover the majority of the island.

Isolated in the mountains, the Corsican people have developed a very particular mentality. They are fiercely proud and would never call themselves "French" - only "Corsican." They speak their own language, Corsu, a Latin language heavily influenced by French and Italian. When rich French mainlanders build expensive vacation homes in Corsica, they take great pleasure in blowing them up each summer just before the vacationers arrive. They are known for being unwelcoming and impolite to tourists - which doesn't prevent anyone in France from taking advantage of the island's beauty.

But what is most notable about Corsica, in my opinion, is the food. Their cuisine is entirely unique, mainly due to certain aspects of the island itself. As I said, it's very mountainous, but also very dry and with a soil not at all conducive to agriculture. Wheat will not grow anywhere on the island, so none of their traditional dishes are made with wheat flour. Instead, they make flour from chestnuts, which grow on enormous, centennial chestnut trees in dense green forests in the central valleys. The island also cannot support large livestock like cows, so all of their dairy products are made from sheep's and goat's milk. And the island's vegetation gives a very particular taste to these sheep and goats. Corsica is well-known in France for its maquis, the wild underbrush that grows almost everywhere on the island. Full of fragrant plants and aromatics like myrtle, heather, filaria, rockrose, and wild strawberries, the maquis is the base of every animal's diet and perfumes every Corsican product. The cheeses and charcuteries that you find in Corsica can't be replicated anywhere else in the world.

Which brings me to the first of what will hopefully become a series of Corsican recipes: fiadone. This is a dense, not-too-sweet cake that is a favorite of Sébastien's and a standard on any Corsican restaurant's dessert menu. It has a hint of lemon, but the main ingredient in the cake is brocciu, a fresh Corsican whey cheese made from sheep's or goat's milk. If you happen to live near a specialty grocer, you may be able to find brocciu or brousse, its continental French equivalent; if not, you can substitute ricotta.

Corsican fiadone

Serves 6-8

About 4 1/2 cups (500 grams) ricotta, brocciu or brousse

5 eggs

3/4 cup sugar

zest of 1 lemon

optional: 1 Tbsp. brandy/cognac

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Spoon the cheese into a bowl and smash it with a fork, making it as smooth as possible. Add the eggs and stir them into the cheese. Add the sugar and the lemon zest, and if you'd like, the alcohol. Stir until smooth. Pour the batter into a greased, round or square baking dish (about the size of a pie pan). Bake for 30-45 minutes, or until the top of the cake is golden brown and a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.

Fiadone is traditionally served cold, but some restaurants will serve it warm. The cake should remain dense and should not rise.

You may have to adjust the quantity of sugar to your tastes - some recipes call for up to 1 1/2 cups - but I found 3/4 cup to be more than sufficient. Bon appetit!