Cannoli

Follow the long, storied history of cannoli, and you will travel from Arabic harems to Roman Catholic convents, all within the island of Sicily, just off the “toe” of Italy’s “boot.” Since their creation sometime during the Middle Ages, cannoli have been hailed as symbols of fertility and used in religious festivals — sometimes simultaneously! 

Back in the 9^th and 10^th centuries, Sicily was ruled by the Saracens, an ancient Arabic people from North Africa. They introduced sugarcane, as well as almonds, pistachios, candied fruits, and cinnamon to the region. Legend has it that the women living in a harem in Caltanissetta (a name derived from an Arabic word meaning castle of women) would compete with each other by making elaborate sweets for their emir. The cannolo, with its cylindrical shape and creamy filling, was purported to be a tribute to his “manhood.”

Fast forward a millennium or so, and Arab rule ended on the island in 1086, giving rise to the Norman Empire and the spread of Catholicism. Many Arabs in Sicily converted to Christianity, and perhaps some of the emir’s concubines or their daughters took religious vows, bringing with them to the convent the recipe for cannoli. However it happened, nuns subsequently became the guardians of cannoli, handing down the recipe from one generation to the next. They made cannoli for religious festivals, specifically Carnevale (a.k.a. Mardi Gras), a pre-Lenten celebration marked by feasting and debauchery. 

In the Middle Ages, it seems, erogenous foods were often associated with fertility and considered to foster a connection with the divine. Cannoli aren’t the only suggestive pastries affiliated with convents and religious feasts. Minni di Sant’Agata are little cakes shaped like breasts typically served during the Festival of St. Agatha (Feb. 3-5), who was tortured for her faith by having her breasts cut off with pincers in 251 AD. Fedde del Cancelliere, or “chancellor’s bottoms,” were created, apparently, as an homage to Matteo d’Ajello, the grand chancellor of Sicily who founded a monastery there in 1171. Originally made in the shape of buttocks, these marzipan and pistachio cakes filled with blancmange cream and apricot jam were eventually “reformed” to take the shape of rounded shells.

Convents and monasteries of the time were known for their “dolceria,” or sweet shops, where desserts and pastries were sold as a source of income to keep the religious orders running and their buildings from crumbling. With rich endowments from noble families, convents could afford expensive ingredients that weren’t available to mere peasants. Pastry-making also gave the nuns something to do with their hands — when they weren’t praying, of course. In Palermo alone, 21 of these conventual confectioneries were registered in 1700. 

Unlike some of the pastries these dolceria were known for, like the now nearly-extinct Trionfo di Gola, or “triumph of gluttony,” cannoli have withstood the test of time and survived, nay thrived — traveling to Italian bakeries and restaurants all over the world. While traditionally cannoli were filled with sweetened sheep’s milk ricotta and garnished with candied fruit, pistachios or cinnamon, modern varieties may use mascarpone or whipped cream for a creamier texture. Fillings and flavorings can range from chocolate to coffee to caramel and even matcha — limited only by one’s imagination.

Cannoli are characterized by their crisp outer shell, which is achieved by rolling the dough very thin and deep frying to obtain a dark brown color and a bubbly outer texture. Paul Hollywood specifies that the shell must be a “beautiful golden brown, and it must have bubbles.” The bubbles are created by liquid in the dough evaporating when it hits the hot fat. To that end, recipes usually include a little vinegar and/or Marsala wine, which also lends a slight sweetness to the delicate pastry.

I borrowed Sophie’s recipe for my cannoli shells — she got high marks for her cannoli on this episode of Bake Off. She adds both Marsala wine and a teaspoon of vinegar. While lard is traditionally used in the dough, Sophie opts for vegetable shortening, which is more readily available and vegetarian-friendly.

While many recipes call for rolling the dough through a pasta machine, I was able to achieve a thin, crispy shell with just a rolling pin and some elbow grease. Stainless steel cannoli forms are required, though, to achieve the cannoli’s signature tubular shape. Fortunately, they are available fairly inexpensively online or in gourmet kitchen stores.

The tricky part about working with cannoli dough is that, while it’s very stretchy, it also bounces back after you’ve rolled it out and cut it. So keep those cannoli tubes handy, and as soon as you cut the dough into circles, wrap them around the tubes. I found I could even stretch the dough a bit more once it was on the tube. Also, seal it with a dab of egg white as soon as you roll it, but add a little more egg white right before you put the tube in the hot oil. The first few unfurled from the tube shortly after I put them in the fryer. Fortunately, the recipe makes enough dough for extra shells, so I still had enough for the requisite 18.

For my fillings, I chose limoncello, tiramisu, and chocolate-orange. Although Bake Off judges Paul and Prue Leith expressed doubt about Sophie’s use of mascarpone in her fillings, I discovered in the recipes of other contestants (Steven, Kate, Yan, and Stacey) posted on TheGreatBritishBakeOff.co.uk that they all used a mixture of ricotta and mascarpone. So I had no qualms about doing so myself.

The key to serving crisp cannoli with a creamy center is to fill them right before you serve them. The shells will keep in an airtight container for up to a week. The filling can be stored in the refrigerator for several days. Some people even say the fillings are better after being refrigerated overnight, giving the flavors time to meld and deepen.

My cannoli were a big hit with the neighbors, but especially with my mother, who had never had a cannolo before. I took the cream and shells with me when I went to visit her the week after making them. She ate two every night. Her favorite flavor was the limoncello, and she gave them her highest praise: “They’re better than ice cream!”