Cappellacci di Zucca
When autumn rolls around and winter squashes start appearing in the markets, it’s time for cappellacci di zucca. These delicious slightly-sweet-but-still-savory stuffed pockets of heaven can be traced back to the Renaissance. They are documented in writing as early as 1584, in a recipe book of food made for members of the House of Este.
Originally hailing from the Ferrara area in Emilia-Romagna, the name cappellacci (or in local dialect, caplaz) is said to refer to a type of hat that was worn by local peasants. This wasn’t how the pasta was first called back in the 16th century, but as time went on and the shape and ingredients evolved and differentiated from other types of tortelli, cappellacci/caplaz became the standard.
Before getting into the technique, I want to make a quick note about the Italian word zucca. I often see this translated as ‘pumpkin,’ which is only correct in some cases, and can be misleading in others.
Zucca is used as a general term, the same way we use ‘squash’ in American English. When you go to a market in Italy, you will see all types of winter squash labeled as variations of zucca. This was a bit confusing for me at first, since I knew zucca to mean pumpkin, but in the U.S., a pumpkin is a specific subset of squash.
In the case of cappellacci di zucca, zucca is short for the type of zucca that is used - zucca violina, or in (American) English, butternut squash. So, in short, these are not a pumpkin-filled pasta, but rather butternut squash! I suppose you could substitute other squash (or even pumpkin!) varieties if in a pinch, but it would definitely change the flavor and texture of the filling.
Now, back to the method. I have made cappellacci di zucca probably a half dozen times in the last several months, as the exact folding technique kept evading me. Some of my first few efforts are (shamefully) shown below. As you can see, I had some issues deciding on size, shape, and even the best thickness to roll out my dough.
This is partially because learning a new shape takes practice. In my defense, however, perfecting these cappellacci was a particularly difficult feat in part because all the resources on how to make them contradicted each other.
I watched countless videos, read recipes in English and Italian, consulted my beloved Encyclopedia of Pasta, and went all around town (and surrounding towns in Emilia-Romagna) to look at the cappellacci for sale in supermarkets and specialty pasta shops. I even watched videos and read articles produced by the official tourism boards of Ferrara and Emilia-Romagna! But, the more research I did, the more confused I became. Below are just some of the cappellacci di zucca I saw on this quest.
These may all look similar (and they are!), but all I could see at first were the differences. Some have tips that seem to purposely point up, others lay flat. Some are closed and leave the tails hanging free, others are folded and looped like a tortellino. Some have been rolled with a fluted cutter, others have straight edges. These variations are small, but oftentimes the difference between one regional shape or technique from another are just that - barely noticeable, except to someone who is looking.
I took my questions to the farmer’s market. I had been buying zucca violina over and over from the same stand, and I had a friendly relationship with the farmers themselves. They were tickled that a foreigner was trying to make a local specialty, and I showed them the photos of my first attempts. This led to a lively debate between the two of them - how many centimeters across should each piece of pasta be cut? Can you make them out of circles, or only squares? Which way to close is correct? Do cappelletti romagnoli have meat, or just cheese? Whose mother made them best?
Even though they were from the same region, and grew up not an hour apart from each other, they could barely agree on any point other than: they should be at least 7cm across; they are delicious; and they are NOT to be confused with tortelloni. And somehow, this lack of answer was the answer itself. There is no one correct way. This dish has been made for hundreds of years. Every family has its own preferences, which are reproduced and changed with each generation. Yes, there are some finite characteristics of this shape, but there are probably as many versions as there are grandmothers who make them. So, with this sense of relief and the pressure of getting them right off my shoulders, I bought one more zucca and went home to try one more time.
The recipe explained below is the result of all this experimentation. To make it you will need:
200g 00 flour
175g semola di grano duro rimacinata*
4 eggs
*not all recipes call for semola, I just tried one from Pasta Grannies that I particularly liked after a few modifications. You could certainly use only 00 flour, in which case the usual ratio of 100g per egg would apply.
1kg butternut squash
nutmeg
100g grated Parmigiano Reggiano
sage
butter
Begin by making your egg dough using both flours, following the usual method (found here if needed).
While your dough is resting, bake your squash (which has been cut into wedges and cleaned) at 160C/325F for around 30 minutes, or until the flesh is soft.
Once it is cool, remove the flesh from the peel and mash until smooth. I also pass the squash through a sieve to make sure there are no lumps. Stir in the cheese, a healthy pinch of nutmeg, and salt and pepper to taste, then set aside.
Roll out your dough to a thickness of about 2mm, then cut into 7cm squares.
Take each square, add a spoonful of filling, and fold diagonally into a triangle, sealing the edges. It takes a few tries to perfect the amount of filling needed - aim to fill the cappellacci as much as possible while still being able to close them neatly.
Next, pull the two opposite corners together and firmly seal. Do not make a crease as you would with tortellini; simply join the two sides and press them together.
Here, you can see that when flipped upside down the cappellacci slightly resemble tortelloni - however:
The sides are not folded down from the triangle’s point before joining the ends together.
As a result, the point of the triangle does not stick up into the air.
Even if you do twist the cappellacci around your finger as you close them, there is less of an emphasis on keeping a pronounced ring - you can close the tails and let them rest against the filled body of the cappellaccio.
After cooking your cappellacci in boiling salted water until the dough is tender (this should only take a few minutes), strain them and transfer to a pan with melted butter and lightly fried sage. Toss the cappellacci in this sauce and let them cook in the pan for around a minute more. Serve immedietaly.
You could alternatively choose to dress your cooked cappellacci in ragù.
