Perfect panettone makes for a real Italian Christmas [Hand Dryers]
Christmas lunch without panettone would not be the same for Italian Australians. You've had the turkey, the eggplant parmigiana and the home-made vino.
What's next? Coffee, and to finish, the panettone - a sweet bread with dried fruit, including orange peel, not too crumbly and not too moist.
Perhaps because it's notoriously fiddly to make, panettone is increasingly imported from Italy, laden with additives for a longer shelf life.
It sells in multicoloured boxes, and a dazzling array of flavours, including custard, tiramisu, lemon cream, hazelnut chocolate and pistachio.
At Monticello Pasticceria in High Street, Thornbury, pastry cook Johnny Laiosa and his wife Tina, are among a decreasing number of small shops who make fresh panettone, with no preservatives.
The fanciest elements are sultanas, peel and a mysterious syrup Mr Laiosa calls "panettone essence".
On Monday, they spent six hours making the season's first batch of panettone, starting at 5.45am. The flour, eggs, butter and yeast with a dash of honey are blended in their battered but reliable old industrial mixer then left to rise for 45 minutes. The process is repeated twice.
In the third mix, the sultanas are added, tossed with flour so they don't sink to the bottom of the loaf.
Then the Laiosas pour the dough on to a table, knead it, cut and weigh it into 800 gram puddings, and pour them into patty pans.
The loaves must then be steamed in the low temperature oven to "prove", or rise, for up to an hour, before they're cooked in the main oven for 45 minutes at 160 degrees.
It's tricky - if the flour is too old the panettone may not rise; if you leave it too long to prove, it can fall apart. If left in the hot oven too long it will burn; taken out too soon it will be too gooey. You must have patience. "It's a long process. You have to go slowly."
Mr Laiosa uses a timer, but mostly his senses, to gauge when the thing is ready - the crust a golden brown, the knife poked into the loaf and coming out dry, and the smell a syrupy, orangey tang.
The Laiosas, born in Sicily, have had the shop since 1967, and work seven days a week. Customers for their cakes and biscotti come from as far away as Griffith, New South Wales, and Shepparton.
Mr Laiosa will make two or three more batches of panettone before Christmas depending on demand; they sell at $8 each. They're fresh, but best of all, he says, have "no chemical stuff inside, no rubbish".
Customer of 40 years, Mary Pisano, grew up in West Preston but now lives in Chadstone and works in Malvern - both nowhere near Thornbury. But visiting her parents' house in West Preston and her partner's in Mill Park, often she'll "happen" to drive past Monticello, duck in and emerge with a stack of dolci.
What's next? Coffee, and to finish, the panettone - a sweet bread with dried fruit, including orange peel, not too crumbly and not too moist.
Perhaps because it's notoriously fiddly to make, panettone is increasingly imported from Italy, laden with additives for a longer shelf life.
It sells in multicoloured boxes, and a dazzling array of flavours, including custard, tiramisu, lemon cream, hazelnut chocolate and pistachio.
At Monticello Pasticceria in High Street, Thornbury, pastry cook Johnny Laiosa and his wife Tina, are among a decreasing number of small shops who make fresh panettone, with no preservatives.
The fanciest elements are sultanas, peel and a mysterious syrup Mr Laiosa calls "panettone essence".
On Monday, they spent six hours making the season's first batch of panettone, starting at 5.45am. The flour, eggs, butter and yeast with a dash of honey are blended in their battered but reliable old industrial mixer then left to rise for 45 minutes. The process is repeated twice.
In the third mix, the sultanas are added, tossed with flour so they don't sink to the bottom of the loaf.
Then the Laiosas pour the dough on to a table, knead it, cut and weigh it into 800 gram puddings, and pour them into patty pans.
The loaves must then be steamed in the low temperature oven to "prove", or rise, for up to an hour, before they're cooked in the main oven for 45 minutes at 160 degrees.
It's tricky - if the flour is too old the panettone may not rise; if you leave it too long to prove, it can fall apart. If left in the hot oven too long it will burn; taken out too soon it will be too gooey. You must have patience. "It's a long process. You have to go slowly."
Mr Laiosa uses a timer, but mostly his senses, to gauge when the thing is ready - the crust a golden brown, the knife poked into the loaf and coming out dry, and the smell a syrupy, orangey tang.
The Laiosas, born in Sicily, have had the shop since 1967, and work seven days a week. Customers for their cakes and biscotti come from as far away as Griffith, New South Wales, and Shepparton.
Mr Laiosa will make two or three more batches of panettone before Christmas depending on demand; they sell at $8 each. They're fresh, but best of all, he says, have "no chemical stuff inside, no rubbish".
Customer of 40 years, Mary Pisano, grew up in West Preston but now lives in Chadstone and works in Malvern - both nowhere near Thornbury. But visiting her parents' house in West Preston and her partner's in Mill Park, often she'll "happen" to drive past Monticello, duck in and emerge with a stack of dolci.
2013-12-12 17:35
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