Lynn Stott: Living Savory

Best meal of the trip so far ... Fatback is back!

Montepulciano, Italia
29 settembre

Advanced apologies to my vegetarian friends

Montepulciano is a Tuscan Hill Town.  For many, it is the quintessential hill town - medieval walls, cathedral with an unfinished facade, lovely winding streets, unexpected vistas, lots of knick knack shops.

For us, it was the closest hill town to our agriturismo, and our hosts also run the Tabacchi shop on the cathedral square.  They suggested we give the town a whirl, so we did.

We started with lunch - and oh, what a lunch.

Just behind the cathedral is Osteria del Conte - a smallish place with about 8 outdoor tables (in addition to the 12-table indoor dining room).  There was no "regular" menu - only a sheet of "today's specials."  This is usually a VERY good sign - meaning they're cooking fresh, from what is in season.

It was a warm day - but a breeze had mounted the hilltop and made us glad we'd worn our sweaters. Perfect outdoor dining weather.

It didn't take long to make our choices from the short menu. We ordered secondi (meat dishes) and contorni (veggie sides), to be accompanied by the famous Vino Nobile de Montepulciano.

The wine came first - a modest drink - a decent table wine, but not what we were expecting from all the pomp.

Then came the food.

Mary had grilled steak cooked with rosemary and garlic.

I ordered grilled pork shoulder with lardo.

We shared garbanzos with onions and olive oil, and grilled mixed veggies.

see?

Sounds simple - was delectable.

Everything was perfectly cooked. 

The steak was medium rare and tender.  The rosemary and garlic infused the meat with flavor and the grilled edges had just a slight reminiscence of crispness from the char.

The garbanzos were tender and had good texture, with no taste of having been canned. The olive oil was almost buttery against the onion.

The grilled veggies were tender and tasty (cooked on a grill! - with olive oil! - You know what I mean - best way to cook most veggies).

And -- the pork was absolutely amazing.  Tender meat, cooked just short of well, lightly crunchy edges from the grill, wrapped in lardo, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with green peppercorns.

I kept the pork til last - because, well -  I just need to take a moment. 

Now, before I go on, did you get a good look at it?

I grew up in rural North Carolina - and the pig was a central part of our eating.  We were doing whole pig eating long before it was fashionable -- when it was just what you did because you lived in the country and had relatives who killed hogs in October, and none of us were rich enough to think we could waste anything - plus it was good! (well, some parts are an acquired taste - I still can't eat brains and eggs.)

Anyway ...

Now I live in Northern California - a place whose people like to consider themselves on the front line of eating well, eating naturally, and eating sustainably.  In the last couple of years, there has been all kinds of talk in California foodie circles about "lardo" (as part of the whole pig eating craze).  It's described in the recipes and newspaper articles as rendered pig fat (we called that "lard" when I was growing up) that has been allowed to cure further. 

Quite frankly, I never could picture it. Lard makes sense as the fat for biscuits (the BEST!), but I couldn't imagine eating lard for its own sake - and I hadn't been served it -- until now.

The lardo that was wrapped around my pieces of grilled pork was not rendered fat, by any means.  To the best of my discernment, it was paper thin slices of what we, in Johnston and Wilson counties, called "fatback." The fatback on my pork in Montepulciano  didn't seem to have been cooked on its own, but draped around the pork and just melted / melded to the hot meat. It still had a good bit of body and texture of its own.  I needed to cut through it, just like the meat.

It was absolutely delicious. 

I didn't like fatback as a kid (except when it was fried up into crunchy strips - yes, fried fat), and it wasn't a part of my heritage I've carried with me. 

Now, I'm reconsidering.

[ I've done a google search on lardo - and several say that the fatback for lardo is cured - with herbs and spices, by drilling holes into the fat and stuffing the herbs in - point being to make the fat last longer.  I'm guessing there might be a lot of variation on what gets interpreted as lardo. There were no holes or herbed bits in mine - so I'm just sticking with my fatback association - to be scientifically tested later.]

Listen to me, people - this is good stuff!  I was blown away by how much it added to the grilled pork (which, you've got to admit, is pretty much at the top of the field of cooked meat products anyway). 

Of course, there may have been some environmental help --  I was in Italy, on top of a small mountain in a medieval old town, eating outdoors on a warm, sunny day, sharing the meal with the love of my heart.  I'll admit all that likely had some bearing.  And the fresh olive oil, rosemary, and lovely green peppercorns didn't hurt a bit.

But I also felt an unexpected sense of homecoming.  Pork wrapped in its own fat. Fatback is back! 

I will be experimenting with lardo on my own.  I know the soul food butchers of Oakland can hook me up.

In the meantime - the last bite …

Eating Flat in Italia - and loving it

Everyone knows about pizza as an Italian food.  Whether you like thin crust and wood-fired, or Chicago-style deep dish, we've all eaten quite our share of pizza.

And yes, it is better in Italy (at least certain parts of Italy) - but that's not the point of this note (maybe another one later - let me know if you'd like to hear more).

What I didn't know is that Italy has several other delicious "flat" foods as well.  Foodie Alert!

Ravenna:  Piadina

flickr photo from AmUnivers

When we were in Ravenna, we discovered Piadina - a local flat bread - looks a little like a pita.  We weren't particularly impressed by the looks of it and figured we've both had pita so we'd skip this one. 

But - we were seeing it everywhere, with all kinds of fillings, eaten by all kinds of folks, and at different times of the day.   In the guide books, it was touted as a local "specialty."  AND since we've said that this trip is, in part, about FOOD, we decided to give it a try - despite the calorie threat.

Boy, are we glad we did.  It's not a gourmet thing, but it is definitely a comforting street food.  We can see why it's everywhere in this northeast corner of Italy. 

We had two different types, one with a veggie stuffing and one with a meat and cheese stuffing  -- and, no, we didn't take pics b/c we were hungry & just ate them, so these photos are from folks on flickr willing to share. ( I know I'll never have a career as a photo-journalist.  I just get too involved in things and forget to take the photos - even when I'm planning on sharing!)

flickr photo from avlxyz

In each type of piadina we tried, the texture of the bread was a little different, one more chewy, one more crumbly, but both were slightly crunchy on the outside. The taste was super familiar and took me a minute - but then I had it - piadina tastes like biscuits!  which, of course, took us both on a long nostalgic reverie...

Not just any biscuits - and those of you not reared in the South my never have had this taste -- but I mean the biscuits my grandmothers used to make - not with butter (as so many of the recipe books instruct these days), but with lard (self-rising flour, lard, buttermilk). Crunchy on the outside and tender-moist-crumbly on the inside.

Turns out Piadina is made with lard (hooray for taste-buds) - and is hugely popular in the Romagna region of Italy.  We saw it sold in restaurants as appetizer courses, in bakeries as sandwiches, and in street kiosks layered with cheese, ,honey or Nutella. (Piadina recipe here).

Tasty - homey - flat.


Lucca - Cecina

The old town of Lucca is a little specialized in terms of restaurants.  Most feature regional specialties and are geared toward tourists -- trying to represent "home cooking" in a gourmet vein so they can charge lots of money for it.  As you browse around, they all start looking the same.

We went seeking out a little dive - which was the only place we could find that served cecina - a chickpea flatbread particular to this part of Tuscany.  We had read about it - and we both love things made w/ garbanzo beans (hummus, falafel, laddu, etc.), so we wanted to try it.

Da Felice is a tiny hole-in-the wall shop on via Buia in Lucca.  It's been there for decades and is run by a family with a couple of extra staff.  From appearances, they make their money from takeaway pizza - in & out of the wood-fired oven throughout the evening.  Both times we visited (yes, twice), we were the only non-Italians in the place the whole time we were there (we ate in - to do some people watching and pizza-making watching).

The pizzas go in and out of the oven in a steady stream, cooking pretty quickly, but about every 30 minutes or so, they put in a new cecina & it takes 15 minutes to cook.  We watched many orders for pizza slices include cecina orders (2 slices, Marguerita pizza and 2 slices, cecina).  If you come in between one cecina being sold out and another getting out of the oven, you're given your drink and asked to wait.  You don't pay until your cecina is in your hand.

The cecina is a very different kind of food.  It's crispy, but has a tender, almost pudding-like center.  It gives you the impression that the batter must start out like a custard.  It is very tasty - but the chickpea flavor is hard to identify - mostly it's just a tasty, crispy, hearty mouthful. Best eaten hot. And it goes really fast.

We noticed that the cecina goes into the wood-fired oven on a metal disk (unlike the pizzas that just go in on the stone floor of the oven).  Since the batter is so liquid - it needs the edge of the disk to keep its shape - and I figure the disk helps assure that crispy outer crust.

The cecina was lovely -- another discovery in eating flat - and VERY local.

And the Nutella foccacia they served for a sweet finish was just a lucky
(and yet another FLAT) discovery …



If we discover more flat eating, I'll share.

Ciao!

Parma - Say Cheese!

Parma, Italia
23 settembre 2011

Today has been a Foodapalooza extravaganza.  Max, our dear host, arranged for us to tour small facilities that produce 3 of the major exports (and most famous foods) of the region.

Marco was our driver.  He grew up in Parma from age 5 (though he can't claim to be a native since his father came from Sicily and his mother from Umbria).  He's an Italian/Spanish translator who lives part of the year in Parma, part in Spain, part in Columbia.   He's a well-read and interesting man with terrific spoken English. Needless to say, the conversations along the ride were varied and fun.

We started our day at a small farm that makes Parmigiano Reggiano cheese.  Our guide was Chiara - the daughter-in-law of the proprietor and the 4th member of this intimate family cheese-making team.

I'm sure you can find info on the web about the whole process, so I won't try to re-create our lesson here.  Suffice it to say that it is a hands-on, artisan process that is very labor intensive -- requiring an optimal mix of artistry, science, and dogged attention to detail.

Days start at 4am with the milk delivery (but don't be impressed with us.  We didn't have to be there until 9).

Milk from last night and this morning are mixed and heated in deep, conical, steam-heated caldrons. 

As curds start to form, the mixture is whisked and tested (by hand "feel") to make sure the curds are the right size and texture (smaller curds for harder cheeses).

After the curds settle and heat an hour or so longer, the plug of curds is wedged up from the bottom of the cauldron to start to drain and shape it.

It is a lot of hard work -- lifting and hauling and requires absolute syncronization between the master cheesemakers. (In this case, Chiara's husband, Atilla, and his father Bruno).

 Each cauldron makes the start for 2 wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano.  They make between 8 & 12 a day, depending on how much milk the cows are producing (less in the fall when they're nursing calves).

After draining, the balls of parmesean are wrapped in a cheese cloth and put into plastic molds -- the first step along the way to taking on their "wheel" shape.  The wheels are turned and cloths changed every two hours for the first day.

The next morning, the wheels (with no cloths) are put into metal molds that create the convex side shape characteristic of Parmigiano Reggiano.

On the inner side of the metal mold is a plastic mold that imprints the wheel with the identifying markers of Parmigiano Reggiano, the dairy producing it, the date it was produced, and a space for the inspector's approval stamp later -- to guarantee that it is quality worthy of the claim to Parmigiano Reggiano.

After a couple of days in the metal molds, the wheels have dried enough to hold their shape and are floated in a salt bath for several weeks (eek! I forgot exactly how long -- and they're SUPER exact about these things....)

At a certain point, it leaves the salt bath and is stacked in a temperature-controlled room for the 18-24 months of aging. The cheeses are individually hand-washed (with water and cloths) every 15 days to make sure no mold grows on the wheel.

When the cheeses reach 15 months of aging, the inspector from the cheese collective comes to determine whether they're worthy of the label Parmigiano Reggiano.  The inspector tests the cheeses, not by tasting (b/c breaking the thickened cheese "rind" would stop the enzymatic processes), but by tapping the wheel with a special hammer.  The cheese's quality, at this point is judged by sound, not by taste.

If the cheese sounds right, the inspector presses the emblem of the collective into the thickening rind of the cheese that is now officially Parmigiano Reggiano.  The cheese ages to its determined ripeness (usually 18-24 months) before being sold.

And of course -- they let us taste! 18-month Parm with honey; 24-month with aceto balsamico and dry local lambrusco (NOT that stuff from the 70's).

Italy - Food in Ravenna

Ravenna, Italia
19 settembre 2011

Ravenna is in the Romagna region of a political and agricultural department known as the Emilia-Romagna.  I'll try to limit my geeky didactic tendencies and cut quickly to the chase (It has been so hard learning that everyone doesn't have the same level of insatiable curiosity that I do!) 

Most of the major cities of the Emilia Romagna (Parma, Reggio Emilia, Modena, Bologna, Ravenna, Ferrara) lie along the ancient Roman road known as the Via Emilia (see, a little "ruin" already!).  This year, we're spending time in Ravenna and Parma.

First stop, after Venezia (never again in September!) is Ravenna.  We're visiting Ravenna primarily because it is home to a collection of 5th & 6th century mosaics - in Christian churches and burial spots -- mosaics unrivaled elsewhere in the world.

But we are also here for the food.

We arrived in the mid-afternoon, dropped our bags in our beautiful 18th century B & B, and took a stroll about town.  That's one of the great things about Ravenna - it's flat, fairly small, and super-walkable.

We visited a couple of the mosaic sites (pics tomorrow) and walked ourselves back around to the Osteria La Gardela - where we were set to taste some of the regions pride: stuffed egg pastas.  We were not disappointed.

Our eyes glazed over slightly as we moved into a bliss moment after our first bites of handmade tortelli stuffed with fresh ricotta & spinach and topped with a rough grating of Parmigiano Reggiano. We fought the urge to slurp it up and managed to eat slowly - interspersing bites with sips of a local sparkling white wine - delivered to our table in a small glass pitcher.  We followed the pasta w/ a plate of grilled vegetables, and finished it all with a tiny cafe.

Then in a haze of sated satisfaction, we strolled back to the B & B.

 

Italy - Beauty, Food, and Ruin

Ravenna, Italia
19 settembre 2011

When we travel in Europe, we like to have a "theme" to help give focus to our sightseeing and choice of activities.  This helps, particularly in Europe, because it's easy to become quickly overwhelmed by the richness of culture, cuisine, history, art, natural beauty, architecture, archaeological sites, shopping, etc.  Because we're both curious about so many things, we can end up with choice paralysis -- not knowing what to choose to do tomorrow - b/c the field of choices is so rich.

So - we pick a theme. Nerdy, I know, but it helps.

By and large, the primary theme for us is generally ancient Roman sites, w/ "auxiliary themes" of historic art or architecture sites and museums associated w/ all of these.

We've been to Italy on 2 long trips before.  This year, we've got a little bit of time.  We're revisiting some sites we know (along with new ones).  We want to dig a little deeper.

So our themes are: Beauty, Food, & Ruin
All are a little ambiguous, and intentionally so -- we wouldn't want to box ourselves in too much ;-) -- but they capture the essence of our quests while we're here.

Our next stop, Ravenna, gives us touch points for all 3.

So glad you're along for the ride!

Postcards from Italy - 4

Venice - Spritz - gondoliers

We kept drinking those spritz's, rather than taking pics of them -- so I've borrowed one from Astrid Berglund on Flickr:

 

And another one of ours - of gondoliers prepping for the evening trade.

Trenette al pesto e fave (from 24 July)

My friend Letizia posted a lovely recipe of tagliolini al pesto e fave several weeks ago.

I have to admit it’s been on my mind. It looks delicious and embodies so much about Italian summer. And, I’ve an herb garden overflowing with basil, so a pesto dish sounds grand. 

I do confess to being a bit daunted by the fava beans.  The idea of peeling them each (after shelling them from the hulls) sounded very time-consuming -- more than I felt I could tackle after long days in the office. So I’ve been procrastinating.

Luckily, the season for fava beans in California is not so brief as in Umbria, so the beans were still at the Berkeley Bowl Market this week.  With the help of my trusty assistant (still a little gun-shy after her duty peeling so many cherry tomatoes for the July 5 feast) we took the plunge. What fun!

It did take a while to peel the individual fava beans, in part because the skins didn’t pop open the way they were supposed to,  but I can see why doing so makes quite a difference.  The skins of the beans are much tougher than those of lima beans - and the meat of the bean inside is sweet and flavorful.

I followed Letizia’s recipe as carefully as I could. 

I substituted trenette for the tagliolini, because that’s what I had on hand.  Though trenette is thicker than tagliolini, I found it was a lovely substitution and preparing it al dente gave a nice texture to the dish.

I’ll admit I found it a bit challenging to prepare such a small amount of pesto with a stick blender.  Some of the pine nuts wanted to  just nestle up out of the way of the blades & I lost some of the bright green color to oxidation as I tried again and again to shake them out and make it work.  I finally abandoned my efforts and opted to allow for some chunky bits of basil and whole pine nuts in the mix.  I’m chalking it up to lack of practice with the immersion blender & wasn’t sorry at all to have a “pesto alla rustica.”

If you’re lucky enough to find fava beans in a market near you, I’d encourage you to try the dish.  It made a lovely dinner with a glass of dry rosé wine.

Reading Julie & Julia

I just finished reading Julie & Julia by Julie Powell - just in time to see the movie. I didn’t read the book when it first came out (due to that whole thing about a full-time job and too many curiosities and projects in life), but all the press leading up to the movie release peaked my interest.

I’ll honestly say that there were a couple of times that I thought of putting the book aside.  I think it is a generational thing - I found Julie a bit whiney and overly dramatic and found myself much more interested in the sections specifically about Julia Child.

But each time, something would pull me back in. There were enough glimpses of the familiar to keep me hooked.  I remember struggling in crappy apartments to start creating a life.  I remember moments of trying to define who I am in relation to the chaos around me (heck, I’m still doing that). At a certain level, Julie’s story is appealing in its rawness (semi-fictionalized though it may be).

I think the thing that most appealed to me was her determination to stick the project through -- despite the havoc it wrecked in her life and the occasional & repeated dissuasion of friends and family. There’s a thoughtful lesson there for all of us.

As I reflect on that aspect of the project even further, I realize it’s not unlike the “quest” or “pilgrimage” motif in much of literature.  You have to stick to the course and complete the journey -- b/c in the journey itself there is much to learn.  It’s not always about the path or the destination, but about what happens to yourself along the way.

I remember the labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral - how it is a reminder of the same thing.  Choose the course - and stay on it - the journey is where you will find the lessons, no matter how humble the course may seem. 

Must admit, that’s not what I expected to find myself thinking about in reading Julie & Julia, but it’s not a bad place to end up.

Now, on to My Life in France.

Pranza alla Rustica

July 4 was nearing and la Spouse and I had discussed having a few friends for a meal one night on the weekend.  We’d been discussing it for a few weeks.  (We have a long list of friends we’d like to spend more time with).  However, we’ve both been a bit over-busy at work and, as the time came to issue invitations with reasonable notice, we weren’t sure we were up to the task.

So, we were looking forward to a long weekend with no obligations - a chance to catch up on gardening and some sleep.

Around Wednesday, however, the social bug bit again -- Wouldn’t it be lovely, I thought, to have a few friends over on Sunday the 5th for lunch.  The weather was predicted to be good and we could eat on the patio.  We could invite just a few friends over, have an easy, casual lunch outside, and escape some of the preparation & showmanship pressure that often accompanies a dinner.

“Whaddya think? Whaddya think?” I asked la Spouse. 

“Are you sure it won’t be too much work?” came the question back.

“No problemo” came my fateful answer.

The invitations went out via email on Wednesday - to a few more people than we planned for.  We were sure that most people would be away for the long weekend; we wanted to have enough people to make for a delightful day; and we figured 3 days notice was little enough - we didn’t want to issue invitations in two waves so close to the day.  It would be simple food, a casual day, outdoors with friends -- easy breezy.

All day Wednesday, the responses came .... Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, uh oh .... then Thursday, no thank you, yes, yes, yes.

Suddenly, our easy, rustic lunch for 8 or so had become a sit-down feast for SIXTEEN people.  (Sixteen!?  I don’t have that many chairs). We had some work to do.

I won’t drag you through all our efforts, but with a trip to Ikea for a few odds and ends and to several markets to fill out our food supplies, we had everything we needed.  We did a bit of weeding, pulled out extra table cloths, made the lemon shortbread and started peeling the tomatoes the day before -- and it looked like things would work.

And they did ... mostly.  Cooking at that scale requires a bit of experience - and I didn’t plan the timing for the preparation quite properly.  While we had hummus and olives for people to nibble beforehand (thank God!), we didn’t sit down to the meal proper until an hour later than initially planned - around 2:30.

The day was lovely, though, and friends from different parts of our lives mingled with ease. Many helping hands sliced bread and set the table and we all enjoyed a delightful afternoon.

On the menu:

appetizer course:
hummus and crostini, olives, almonds

beverages:
prosecco, white wine, and lemonade

Main course:
Casserole of chicken thighs, new potatoes & cherry tomatoes with onions, garlic, fresh oregano and olive oil.
Grilled zucchini and asparagus

dessert:
Fresh cherries
lemon shortbread

Ahhh.... Summer....

Insalata Caprese

The last time we were in Italy was in June 2008.  The markets and restaurants were full of dishes featuring strawberries and fresh tomatoes.

One dish that we found ourselves turning to again and again was the Insalata Caprese - an item we found on nearly every menu. 

The salad is simple - composed of 3 ingredients only:
Fresh Buffalo Mozzarella
Tomatoes
Olive oil

The only thing you need more is a crusty piece of bread to mop up the olive oil that remains on the plate.

As you might guess, the freshness & quality of the ingredients make or break the dish.

This year, I’ve got lots of healthy basil in the garden - and as the tomatoes are coming in at the market, we’re enjoying it again - and again - and again.

While I’ve not yet found a local source for buffalo mozzarella (hey, this is Berkeley, it won’t be long), the freshest cow’s milk mozzarella does the trick.  Add slices of fresh tomatoes, a chiffonade of basil, a grind or two of black peppercorns and a hearty drizzle of a robust olive oil and you’ve got yourself an easy lunch or supper.

Buon appetito!