Pastiera, a tutorial

A deep dive on making this ultimate Italian Easter dessert

Somehow Easter has crept up — is it just me, traveling and currently outside of Italy that feels this? Usually I’d have already started baking, I’d be planning Easter lunch with my mother in law (who will secretly be adding 5 more dishes to the table than what was discussed) and noticing the colombe piled high in shop windows. I will have already sampled several versions of pandiramerino, Florence’s rosemary and raisin buns, which remind me of hot cross buns with their sticky, criss crossed tops, except with rosemary instead of cinnamon (a swap out that I encourage you to try), and even though they are found year round now I remember to eat them more often than not around Easter.

So now I find myself searching for grano cotto, cooked wheat berries, while I’m at home visiting my family in Canberra, Australia (p.s. I got it from Tutto Delicatessen), because I’m not sure I’ll have time to cook them from scratch for a neapolitan pastiera — my favourite of all of Italy’s Easter treats. I know, that is a big call, but the pastiera, when done well (important to note, as I find it can easily be too sweet or too heavy), is a real beauty and a very special thing, a pastry made by the gods, if you follow the original legend of the origin of pastiera.

I feel like it embodies so many of the things I connect to Italian Easter, which for me is about the new season and delicious ingredients like plentiful eggs (so many Italian Easter recipes are all about using eggs) and rich and creamy spring ricotta, scented with orange blossoms and citrus zest. If you’ve never had it before I can only describe it as a perfumed cheesecake crossed with rice pudding in a shortcrust pastry. It’s absolutely delightful and can be surprisingly delicate.

I used to make pastiera every Easter and I have let it slide the last few years but having the excuse of my whole extended family coming to Canberra, I thought it would be a good opportunity to pull out something memorable. The components are relatively simple, but putting them together takes some coordination — in other words, this is a labour of love, especially if you can’t get grano cotto, which is a jarred product of creamy, pre-cooked wheat berries bought and used in Italy exclusively for making pastiera! Without it, you will need to soak and cook the grains yourself, which for wheat can take some time — some use barley, farro or even rice instead if grano isn’t available or you want something quicker.

Let me run you through it.

You have a shortcrust pastry. I use my very favourite recipe, from Pellegrino Artusi’s 1891 cookbook, Scienza in Cucina e l’Arte di Mangiar Bene, the one I use for any time I need a good pastry crust. You’ll need most of it for the base and some set aside for a lattice top.

Then you have the filling, which at first might look like a random jumble of ingredients but what you actually have here is a list of symbolic things from this pie’s pagan past — symbols of the new life and abundance brought about by spring. The legend of this ancient dessert says that the siren Partenope, the founder of Naples, sang such captivating melodies at the arrival of spring that the citizens brought her offerings of grains, eggs, ricotta and orange blossoms and the siren brought them to the gods who mixed them together to create the first pastiera.

Grains and eggs, in particular, symbolise rebirth and fertility, while orange blossom represents the arrival of spring. The new season ricotta (typically sheep’s milk ricotta) is as symbolic as the lamb itself, for spring and rebirth.

Pre-bought cooked grains are very soft and whole but rather creamy, and these cooked grains are boiled with some milk and a touch of butter until it’s like a thick porridge (see the image below, which shows ricotta, then clockwise, candied citrus, eggs from my mum’s chickens and the grains cooked in milk). If you are making them yourself with another grain like farro or pearl barely, some like to cook the raw, soaked grains in milk to get an extra creamy consistency. Either way this needs to be entirely cooled before using it in the next part of the recipe.

There is a sort of rhythm and ritual to making pastiera. There’s no need to rush through it, but if you start it about three days before you want to serve it then you are already on the right path and if not, at least try to get this next part done the night before. This component of the filling is ricotta, sugar and egg. It is to be rested overnight so that there are no longer any air bubbles in it from the whisking — air creates an unwanted souffle effect but the ideal pastiera has a perfectly flat lattice top. The additional resting also gives the mixture of ricotta, eggs, extra yolks, and a heady combination of vanilla, cinnamon and orange blossom water, a chance to mingle and develop more flavour.

Finally, the ricotta and the grain mixture are folded together and candied fruit is added — I would go for citron or orange, and if it is homemade or artisan made even better though I know this is a huge luxury! Go with what you can get.

I like this in a rather deep dish rather than a flatter one. Pour the rather liquid mixture over the pastry, then carefully cut out the lattice strips and layer them over the top. It’s baked in a hot oven for almost an hour until a deep amber colour on top. Ideally, you want to serve it the day after you’ve baked it, letting it rest in its pan until then. And what I like about that of course is that you get the dessert centrepiece out of the way a whole day early, while also letting the pastiera settle and develop more flavour.

Obviously every household has their own version of this recipe, this isn’t the definitive pastiera recipe but it is one that I’ve adapted over the years starting from comparing some classic Neapolitan recipes and what I (and my in laws who are the main recipients of this pastiera) have found I love. The main thing I have adjusted over the years is the sugar. I used to use about 350 grams (which was already reduced from 500) but now go for 250 grams, which is still a lot more than I generally use for similar sized cakes and tarts, for example. I’m also using more grano this round because, simply, I don’t want to waste the rest of the grano in the 500 gram jar I bought. Some recipes I’ve seen use even double so you could go for more if you are so inclined.

Out of curiosity I had a look at the back of the jar of grano cotto for the recipe it gives and I was a tiny bit shocked to see it calls for 750 grams of sugar. Mind you, it’s for a pastiera practically double in size to mine and also asks for 11 eggs and 800 grams of ricotta and double the amount of pastry too. But otherwise similar.

I’ve put a suggested time line in the recipe below if you would like to give this a go without too much of a rush to enjoy this on Easter Sunday.

Pastiera Napoletana

For the grains:

• 500 grams (2 cups) of grano cotto, cooked wheatberries (or barley, rice or farro)

• 250 ml (1 cup) milk

• 1-2 tablespoons butter

• zest of 1 lemon

For the batter:

• 250 grams (1 1/2 cups) sugar

• 2 whole eggs

• 2 egg yolks

• 350 grams (12 ounces) ricotta, sheep’s milk preferably

• 1 vanilla bean pod (or 1 teaspoon of real vanilla extract)

• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

• 1 tablespoon of orange blossom water

• 100 grams (3.5 ounces) of mixed candied citrus (such as citron or orange), finely chopped

For the pastry:

• 125 grams (about 1 stick, plus 1 teaspoon) unsalted cold butter, cubed

• 250 grams (about 1 3/4 cups) plain flour, or as necessary

• 1 whole egg, plus one yolk (I use small eggs)

• zest of 1 lemon

• 65 grams (1/2 cup) powdered sugar

For the grains:

If you can’t find grano cotto, the way to usually handle uncooked wheatberries or ancient grains is to first soak them overnight (some soak them up to 3 days before using, changing the water twice a day), before boiling them until soft, about 90 minutes — they may still have a bit of bite to them, which is fine. If using pearl barley or farro, no need to soak but boil for about 40 minutes or until very soft. Rice can be used too and cooks in less time, about 20 minutes. Place the cooked grains in a pot with the milk, butter and lemon zest and simmer for about 10-15 minutes, until thick like a porridge. Set aside and let cool completely. You can keep this in the fridge for several days or until needed.

For the batter:

Beat the sugar, eggs and yolks until creamy, then add the ricotta, vanilla, cinnamon and orange blossom water in a bowl and continue beating until well combined. Let this mixture rest in the fridge overnight (or a few hours at least). Then stir through the candied fruit and the cooled grain mixture.

For the shortcrust pastry:

Mix the dry ingredients together in a bowl. Add the cold butter and rub into the dry ingredients (if you have a food processor, you can pulse this all together). When you get a mixture that resembles wet sand, add the egg, yolk and lemon zest and mix until the dough comes together. Don’t over do it. Make this ahead if you like and place in freezer or fridge until needed. Otherwise, it only needs a 30 minute rest in the fridge to chill a little before using.

To assemble:

Heat the oven to 200C (390F).

Roll out the chilled pastry dough to 3-4 mm thick and line a springform pan or deep pie dish (about 23cm/9 inch diameter is ideal).

Pour the batter right over the pastry. Trim the overhang to almost level with the batter — the trimmings will become the lattice top, gently roll together into a ball then roll out into a thin rectangle a little longer than the pie dish and cut into thin, long strips (use a fluted pastry wheel if you want the crinkled edges). Layer the strips over the top — try to do them at a slight angle so that you have diamonds rather than squares in between the strips. Press down the strips on the edge of the pie dish to seal. (Tip: if you’re working in a warm kitchen, the dough might be very soft and harder to handle, you can refrigerate the rolled out dough/strips for 20-30 minutes, they should be easier to handle).

Bake the pastiera for about 1 hour. The pastry should look deep golden brown, the ricotta top should be browned to a deep amber, it should be firm in the middle and your kitchen will smell incredible. Cool completely then you can refrigerate it until needed (remove it from fridge about 30 minutes before serving to take off some of the chill).

Suggested timeline:

3 days before: Cook the grains if you need to (if using wheatberries you will need to start soaking them 3 days before this!). You could also make the pastry today if you wanted to get it out of the way.

2 days before: Make the ricotta batter and place in the fridge for an overnight rest. You could make the grain ‘porridge’ and keep in fridge.

1 day before: Make the grain ‘porridge’ and let cool completely; make the pastry and chill for 30 minutes; assemble the pastiera and bake it. Let it rest overnight.

On the day: If it has been in the fridge, remember to take it out 30 minutes before you would like to serve it.

Have you tried making this? Do you have any family recipes or tips to add in the comments below for others?