They might be smaller than the point of a pin, but pollen grains are packed with information that endures. Pollen trapped in sediment, or fossilised within rocks, can be analysed by paleoclimatologists to chart changes in vegetation and climate going back hundreds of thousands of years. It was pollen that revealed hazel to be the first of the deciduous forest trees to migrate from what is now Asia Minor and send down roots all over the place in the postglacial period. And in the mid 1990s, archaeologists found evidence of Stone Age nut processing on the Isle of Colonsay, Scotland, in the form of a pit filled with hundreds of thousands of burnt hazelnut shells (similar sites have since been found in temperate climates all over the globe). All of which to say: humans have been enjoying toasted hazelnuts for a very long time.
The original wild species of hazel varied from place to place; their subsequent cultivation resulted in many varieties, from low hedgerow shrubs to genuine trees. While the proportions and taste of the nuts vary, too, the form is the same: a fibrous husk containing a small shell with an edible seed (nut) inside.
Processing hazelnuts nuts is simple, but laborious if done carefully: nuts that have fallen from the tree are collected either by hand or small machine, dried so the husk falls away, then dried again to ensure preservation before being sold in their shells, or shelled, which means further sorting. Toasting is an extra step, which some say improves the flavour, though others insist that it compromises it. Although far from an expert, I am part of the first group. My local dealer is a shop called Emporio delle Spezie, which sells particularly buttery and crisp hazelnuts, grown in Lazio, by weight. If they haven’t sold out, that is – which makes them only more appealing. Toasted hazelnuts don’t last long in our house. In fact, it’s miraculous that enough remained to make this week’s recipe for a Piemontese baci di dama, or little hazelnut biscuits sandwiched together with chocolate.
While the name baci di dama means “lady kisses”, their history is slightly less affectionate, involving what the newspaper La Stampa describes as an “eternal diatribe” (since 1903) between the Piemontese cities of Novi Ligure and Tortona as to where (and by whom) they were invented. I would like to propose that they share, taking credit for one half of the kiss each, with the chocolate sealing the agreement. Crumbly orbs of nuts and butter, baci di dama are satisfying to make and exquisite to eat (and, like toasted hazelnuts, they don’t last long, either).
Baci di dama
Prep 15 min
Cook 15 min
Makes 20
150g toasted hazelnuts
150g caster sugar
A pinch of salt
250g plain flour
150g unsalted butter
150g dark chocolate
Working with a food processor (or, if you are energetic, a mortar and pestle), pulse (or crush) the hazelnuts, sugar and salt until they form a fine flour. Add the flour and butter, and pulse (or work) into a firm dough. Wrap and chill the dough for about 30 minutes.
Line two baking trays lined with greaseproof paper, bearing in mind that they’ll be going in the freezer.
Working with cold hands, break off small pieces of the chilled dough and roll into little, roughly 1cm balls. Arrange these on the lined trays, then put in the freezer for an hour.
Meanwhile, heat the oven to 150C (130C fan)/300F/gas 2. Bake the biscuits for 10 minutes, then turn down the heat to 120C (110C fan)/250F/gas low for another five minutes – the balls should cook through but remain pale in colour. Carefully (they are extremely delicate until they cool) lift the balls on to another tray and leave to cool.
In a bain-marie, melt the chocolate, then pour it into a piping bag (or a plastic bag that you can cut one corner end off). Wait a minute or so, until the chocolate has firmed a little (but not set), then use it to sandwich together pairs of biscuits. Put the baci on the cooling tray until the chocolate has set.
