Timbale

One of my favourite childhood foods was timbale; actually, it continues to be one of my favourite foods, and I recently made one, and while discussing it with someone, I realized that timbale is one of those foods which is actually quite difficult to define. It’s not like “a hamburger,” which everyone understands. Some people don’t know the meaning of “timbale” at all, and others have their own versions of what it means.

Literally, a timbale is a baking dish which is used to bake molded foods, often in layers. Foods baked in a timbale are often known as timbale, and they come in savory and sweet varieties, native to a wide range of cultures. When I did a search for “timbale,” I ended up with all sorts of interesting and creative variations; basically, if you can fit it into a large baking dish…

But in our house, timbale meant only one thing, and the closest I can come to describing it is “frittata.” We made it by sauteeing onions and spinach together, and mixing them with beaten eggs, milk, bread crumbs, cheese, and spices. Then we poured it into a mold and baked it, in a water bath, and then carefully unmolded it and ate it.

Maybe this isn’t “timbale” to you, but it’s timbale to me. I’m not quite sure where my father picked up the recipe, and when, but the process of making timbale was always tremendously exciting for me, because it was a food you had to battle with. You had to outwit the timbale.

This sounds odd, given the description above, but the problem with timbale is that, well, eggs like to stick to things. So the unmolding was always a moment of truth. Would the timbale unmold smoothly and perfectly, in one neat piece? Or would the eggs stick to the pan, creating an unholy mess of broken eggs and crumbled spinach? And could you set things up carefully enough at the start that the timbale wouldn’t stick?

There are two great things about timbale. One is a slice fresh out of the oven; I can gobble down half a timbale almost without thinking about it because it’s so light and flavorful and delicious. The other great thing is a slice fried up in a little butter the next day, with a little lemon juice. The edges are crisp and almost caramelized, but the inside stays creamy and smooth (that’s because of the water bath, incidentally).

This is one of those evocative foods for me; just eating a slice of timbale takes me on a trip in a time machine.

To make timbale yourself, you’re going to need:

  • One package frozen spinach or one bunch fresh spinach
  • One yellow onion
  • One cup (240 ml) milk
  • 2/3 cup (~80 grams) bread crumbs
  • Four eggs
  • 1/2 cup (~60 grams) grated cheese; I like to use Swiss cheese, but pretty much any mild cheese will work, I believe
  • Salt, pepper, and nutmeg

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (177 Celsius). (I actually grew up cooking this on a woodstove, which adds an additional element of complexity to this dish!)

Take a timbale (or pie plate, or bundt pan, any sort of baking pan which is suitable for molding), and cut a piece of parchment paper to fit the bottom. Butter the sides of the pan and press the parchment paper into the pan.

Start by mincing your onion and sauteeing it with a little oil and butter in a heavy pan until it starts to soften and turn golden. When the onion is almost done, throw in either thawed and squeezed frozen spinach, or chopped and washed fresh spinach, toss so that the spinach softens, and then set aside.

While this is going on, start boiling some water so that you will have very hot water when you need it, which will be shortly.

Beat the eggs together with the milk, bread crumbs, and cheese. Add salt, pepper, and nutmeg; I would say “to taste” but I don’t really expect you to taste the mixture, I just don’t have hard measurements because I don’t really measure stuff. Just, er, use your sense of much there ought to be? Sorry I can’t be more helpful with specific measurements.

Add the sauteed onion mixture, and then pour the whole mixture into the baking pan.

Now, for the water bath. Find a heavy pan which your timbale will fit in.

There are two schools of thought about the next step:

  1. Pour your boiling water into the pan, and lower the timbale in (or put the timbale in and pour the water around it, but be careful not to splash water into the timbale). Then, slide the whole deal into the oven. Very carefully.
  2. Put the pan in the oven, and pull the rack out slightly. Nestle the timbale inside, add boiling water. (Or, add water, then lower the timbale in, but this is trickier when the pan is in the oven.) I prefer this method because I am clumsy and it’s less prone to disaster. Incidentally, I use a cast iron pan for the water bath, in part because it has a little lip which creates some space to pour boiling water in.

Close the oven up,and bake for around…40 minutes to an hour, until a knife or cake tester or toothpick inserted into the middle comes out cleanly. Pull the timbale out of the oven, and let it rest for a couple of minutes. If your house is cold, rest the timbale in the oven.

The moment of truth:

Run a knife around the edges of the pan. Position a plate upside down over the pan.

And…invert. Shake it a little bit to get it to loosen. If the fates are smiling upon you, the timbale will drop neatly out onto the plate, and you can peel the parchment paper off, and you’re ready to roll.

If the fates are not smiling upon you…well, sometimes you can carefully replace the pieces that pull off.