Category Archives: de cibo

Remembering Italy’s (almost) “first” McDonald’s.

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The passing of Slow Food founder Carlo Petrini last month opened a torrent of memories for me. I started following Petrini’s writings in the late 1980s and even met him on a few occasions during the seven years I taught at Slow Food U., also founded by him.

But the news of his death also triggered a powerful memory from my early years in Italy: McDonald’s in Rome.

According to legend, Petrini was inspired to create the Slow Food movement after he protested the opening of the “first” McDonald’s in Rome. It was actually the second. The first was launched, quietly, in Bolzano that same year. But the one in Rome became the arch nemesis of terroirists and anti-globalists because the American behemoth had planted its first highly visible outpost at the foot of one of Italy’s most iconic landmarks — the Spanish Steps.

When I first got to Italy to study in 1987, my American classmates and I craved American fast food, partly to assuage the homesickness. After all, the world was way less connected back then. Email was just beginning to emerge. International calls were prohibitively expensive, especially for students. You felt entirely disconnected from your home.

America fast food was a way to “feel” like home for a fleeting moment.

Italian students liked fast food too. At the time, the only option was Burghy, a McDonald’s like restaurant. The only one we could access was the location in the Florence train station. Trips to Rome always included a visit to the Spanish Steps franchise.

Three decades later, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I arrived at the Milan train station to see the above ad for Joe Bastianich’s line of sandwiches.

A genuine peripeteia! A restaurateur who made his name by serving rich Manhattanites authentic Italian cuisine had now gone to the “dark side” of food. Incredible.

It all seems laughable, especially today. But it does make me sad to remember what a 13-year-old told me some years ago. She was the daughter of a friend from university days. They live in downtown Milan and summer in the alps. When I asked her what her favorite food was, she told me it was the new sandwich from KFC.

A more lighthearted political taco kerfuffle in Texas.

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Just when I thought that the nation’s taco culture wars were subsiding, yet another political taco kerfuffle took shape after James Talarico and Barack Obama shared breakfast tacos in Austin earlier this week.

“Talarico’s Taco Order Turns Into a Texas-Sized Debate” was the headline reported by the Times: “What started as a taco stop with former President Barack Obama quickly turned into a very Texas debate over the proper breakfast taco order.”

At one point in the story, Governor Greg Abbott, the mini Texas Trump, insinuates that Talarico is a closeted vegetarian. Yes, you read that right. Vegetarianism is now a political liability, at the least in the minds of some Republicans. Oh my!

All this talk of breakfast tacos inspired me to head to my favorite Houston breakfast taco place and enjoy a couple.

Those are the “egg/potato/cheese tacos on corn [tortillas]” at Tamales Don Pepe not far from where Tracie and I live.

I first got hooked on breakfast tacos when we lived in Austin (where the girls were born). Those who have never visited the state capital might be surprised to learn that “breakfast taco” is a synecdoche for an entire culture there.

There are breakfast tacos everywhere: at modest taquerias, at bougie breakfast restaurants, fancy restaurants for rich folk, at gas stations…

In my view and experience, the whole point of the breakfast taco is that you customize it to suit your tastes. It’s a personalized expression of individual liberty

This morning, I got the classic egg/potato/cheese but I ordered mine “on corn” tortillas. Flour tortillas are arguably the default vessels.

Some people criticized Talarico, a native of central Texas (where Austin is located), for ordering a breakfast taco at 2 p.m.

Anyone who’s ever lived in Austin — “the live music capital of the world” — knows that musicians often don’t have breakfast until the early afternoon. (I used to be a musician in Austin, myself.)

There’s another best-kept-secret about breakfast tacos that only musicians and late-night revelers know: they’re a great hangover cure.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Enjoy some breakfast tacos with someone you love and share a laugh at the superciliousness of our political class.

When a taco isn’t just a taco… Signs of the absurdist times we live in.

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Ceci n’est pas un taco.

One of the most ridiculous things I’ve read this week: a political kerfuffle in California over the meaning of “street taco.”

“Steve Hilton,” the Republican front-runner candidate for California governor, “called a Crunchy Del Taco a ‘street taco’ in California. The backlash was instant,” reported the Times.

Hilton “posted a video of his Del Taco order. Social media users accused him of misunderstanding the state’s Mexican food culture.” (Evidently, “Crunch Del Taco” is a menu item at the southwest fast food chain restaurants.)

Hilton has a point when he notes that journalists should focus on the issues and not the taco.

But his detractors are also right to call him out for what he is: a carpetbagger, in the most literal sense of the term. (I mean, come on, he’s a Brit who identifies as a Republican. What could be less Californian than that? Tacos aside, of course.)

The reason why Hilton might become the leader of one the largest leftist states in the Union is because the democratic shoo-in fell by the wayside after revelations of his sexual predation.

These days, it feels like the whole world has been turned on its head.

In Maine, Democrats are making moral excuses for a Senate candidate whose previous Nazi-sympathies are on full display.

In Texas, a San Antonio Democratic candidate for Congress openly spews ugly antisemitic rhetoric.

And just this morning, I read about a candidate for Texas oil regulator who has brushed off claims of antisemitism despite countless racist outbursts.

He had posted a poll on social media asking his followers to weigh in: Jews or Muslims, the biggest threat? he asked them.

When challenged over the post, he “said that last year’s social media poll question, which he deleted, was meant to show Islam ‘is the bigger threat‘” (Times). Talmudic or Sharia law, it’s probably all the same to him.

Oh, how I pine for the days when a taco was just a taco!

Happy Mother’s Day, Judy. Memories and gravlax.

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Mom, my goodness, happy Mother’s Day!

How long has it been since you’ve been gone? Not even a year has passed since you left us.

I found this photo deep in the trove of papers I recovered from your apartment before it was cleaned out.

Wow! That was 1995 and I’m pretty sure, based on my memories, that the image was captured in Siena, just off the Piazza del Campo. It was 1995 (a date recorded on the verso), probably January, while I was still on winter break from my Fulbright year at the Scuola Normale and Vatican.

Look at your broad smile! Look at how eager you seem to meet the day!

We sure had some good times in Italy during my years there. I’ll never forget that first dinner at the Osteria del Leone in Bagno Vignoni (in Siena province).

But then again, we also had exquisite brunch at Las Mañanitas relais in Cuernavaca, an evening repast in the same dining room as Henry Kissinger at Ducasse (not long after it opened), lunch across from Kofi Annan at the U.N. mess, supper served by a sommelier with a tongue piercing at Alinea… A Thousand Cranes in LA, Petrossian (back in the day) in NYC, sweetbreads followed by famous flan at La Puerta del Sol in Tijuana…. man, those were the days!

If you were here with us today, I know you would remember each and every one of those meals and occasions. I know I remember them, and a million more, so gladly.

You weren’t so fond of taking pictures. And when you were coerced into posing for one, your smile appeared only reluctantly.

But buried deep, under a pile of photos from your trip to Israel, I discovered a secret stash of photos from that Sienese sojourn, many of them with your beaming smile.

Oh, to share some of your favorite gravlax at Barney Greengrass on this first Mother’s Day without you! I can hear the servers carrying on about the freshly fired latkes now…

What’s the difference between an osteria and a trattoria? The answer lies in the wine.

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A recent article in a high-profile food magazine got me thinking about how to define the difference between an “osteria” and a “trattoria.”

Most Italians will tell you that while a trattoria (pronounced traht-toh-REE-ah) focuses on food, with wine as an added element, the osteria (ohs-teh-REE-ah) gives equal weight to its menu and wine list and might also have an extended small plates offering.

While you visit the trattoria exclusively to dine, the osteria might offer proper dining but also a “wine bar” setting where you can snack and taste different wines by-the-glass.

The word trattoria comes from the Latin trahere meaning to drag or to pull.

Its kinship to the word trattore or tractor in English reveals its origin: the earliest trattorie were places where farmers “dragged” (“delivered”) their food to be prepared for consumption.

The lemma osteria comes from the Latin hospes meaning host (it would later denote also guest).

From personal experience, I would add that where trattorie are commonly found in cities and the countryside, osterie are located more typically in cities or in villages where there is some form of urban life. Historically, you visited the trattoria for an ante litteram “farm to table” experience. The osteria was geared for the traveler passing through town or the local reveler looking to socialize.

It’s important to remember that in today’s world, these terms have flexible meanings, often overlapping and often diverging from their historical and traditional usages.

So what’s the difference between the above and the ristorante? Blog post on deck!

The above photo is from Le Vitel Ettoné in Turin.

Thanks for being here. Happy eating!

My favorite restaurant in Naples? You’ll find it at the gates of hell! Yes, literally, the gates of hell.

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This let me crave, since near your grove the road
To hell lies open, and the dark abode
Which Acheron surrounds, th’ innavigable flood;
Conduct me thro’ the regions void of light,
And lead me longing to my father’s sight.
For him, a thousand dangers I have sought,
And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought,
Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought.

Virgil, Aeneid, Book 6

That’s Aeneas, the founder of Rome, speaking to the Sybil at the gates of the underworld along the banks of Lake Avernus in Pozzuoli (Naples), above.

Those familiar with the Western Canon will immediately recognize the scene: book six of Aeneas’ story is one of the most powerful works of ancient literature, emulated and imitated by generations of European writers, including Dante, who modeled his own journey through hell on that of the Roman hero.

Can you imagine my utter thrill when I realized my favorite restaurant in Naples is just a three-minute walk from the site of Aeneas’ descent? I practically fainted I was so excited!

Thanks to friends in the wine trade, I discovered the magical Akademia Cucina in the hamlet of Lucrino, a village in Pozzuoli.

This was, hands down, the best dining experience of my 2024. Man, this place has it all: location, vibe, ridiculously good seafood, great wine list, and the perfect tone for a hedonistic community that likes to dine on the late side. I LOVED this place.

Here are some photos of what I ate and where I swam.

And wow, the nearby hotel where my buddies suggested I stay, Albergo delle Rose, was just my speed in terms of pricing and convenience.

There’s an urban light rail train that stops in Lucrino: a 45-minute ride to Naples proper (perfect) and connections to all kinds of little towns and gorgeous sea views; wonderful beach access across the road; a ferry from nearby Pozzuoli takes you to Ischia. It was a dream for me.

But the oneiric quality of my sojourn was mostly shaped by this locus, this “place” where Aeneas first made landfall and the Greeks first colonized southern Italy. History and literature came to life before me. It was a wonderful experience that I highly recommend for your summer tour.

An Italian couple who serves great Japanese cuisine in Pescara. A Japanese man who makes superb Piedmontese cuisine in Barbaresco.

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When I first traveled to Italy in the late 1980s, there were no Japanese restaurants I was aware of beyond a famous and prohibitively pricy spot in Milan.

In the late 2000s, Japanese-style restaurants began popping up in urban centers. They seemed like the Japanese restaurants we used to go to in Southern California in the first half of the 80s — fun but commercial and not particularly exciting, especially by today’s standards.

Today, that’s all changed as a wave of high-concept Japanese-focused restaurants have opened across the country, mostly in urban centers but sometimes even in smaller towns.

Anyone who’s ever worked in high-end Italian-focused restaurants in California or in top-tier restaurants in Italy knows that there is an organic affinity between Japanese and Italian cuisines. It was only natural that the two schools would begin to blend. And with glorious results! Italy and Japan are both surrounded by waters rich with materia prima. The collision of cultures was bound to deliver something interesting.

During my visit to Pescara (Abruzzo) earlier this year, a good friend took me to dinner at Hiroshima Mon Amour (you had me at the name!).

The food was great, the presentation was brilliant, and I loved how the couple who owns the place, Susanna and Riccardo, shared their insights into the different grades of tuna that they butcher themselves at the restaurant. I loved this place. My photo above doesn’t do the restaurant justice.

As I enjoyed my last meal from the road, I couldn’t help but think about the excellent Piedmontese lunch I’d enjoyed in Barbaresco village — prepared by a Japanese chef.

I had never been to Koki Wine Bar but I had had the food. A good friend in the Barbaresco appellation likes to serve take-out from Koki at family dinners.

I was thrilled to finally meet Koki and taste his excellent cooking. Next time I go, I want to try some of his Japanese dishes and his more creative work. But this time I went full-on traditional. Another must-visit spot, with a fantastic wine list.

Great Japanese cuisine by Italians. Great Italian cuisine by a man from Japan. It’s a small and wonderful world and I’m glad I’m in it.

Parzen family LOVES Tiny Champions pizza in Houston. Angeleños: I’m presenting a wine dinner and a Christmas wine retail pop up at Rossoblu DTLA next Wednesday.

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My goodness! It’s hard to put into words how much gastronomic fun our family had at Tiny Champions in Houston’s EaDo (East Downtown) district last night.

We were celebrating Georgia’s 13th birthday (an official teenager!).

I didn’t get a shot of it (that’s how fast it went). But Tracie and I were literally spellbound by a dish of broad beans cooked in mushroom broth and then seasoned with dill and lemon.

Outside of Puglia (Le Zie in Lecce), I had never had a vegetarian dish so rich in flavor that you were surprised to discover its purely vegetal origins.

The wine list was fun, Italian-focused, and reasonably priced (we drank COS Ramì).

And the vibe is super welcoming and richly Houstonian. What a wonderful place. We were tempted by dessert but Georgia had her heart set on Amy’s ice cream, a nod to her Austin origins.

She’s having a great birthday btw (she got the combat boots she wanted). She is hosting a small party for her friends this weekend. We love her so much and are so proud of her. This birthday of hers is so meaningful to me, especially when I think what my life was like and what my family was going through when I turned 13. I love her so, so much.

In other news…

I’m presenting a wine pairing dinner at Rossoblu in DTLA on Wednesday, December 18 where my old buddy Chef Steve is making BOLLITO MISTO! This is going to be AWESOME! Steve is Bolognese btw, so this is a hometown dish for him.

And if you need wine for the holidays, I’ll be doing a retail pop up that night AND the night before at chef’s westside place, Superfine. Come by and say hello!

It’s my very, very, very last wine dinner of the year.

Thanks to all for all the support and solidarity in 2024. Happy holidays!

Move over pizza, pinsa is here to stay. #pinsaenvy

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No one knows for certain where the word pinsa came from. It is believed that it is a inflection of pinza or pinzo meaning extremely full.

What is known for certain is that this Italian neologism first began to appear around 2008 in Rome. By the late 2010s, it was a well-established lemma in the Italian language.

I had seen pinserie in Italy’s capital (pinserie, pin-ze-REE-eh, plural of pinseria, pin-ze-REE-ah, a place where pinse are made). But I was surprised when I returned recently to my beloved Brescia in Lombardy in the north to discover that there is now a popular pinseria there.

It would seem the pinsa is here to stay!

By seemingly every definition, a pinsa is neither a pizza or a focaccia (even if those words are nearly seamlessly interchangeable in Italy depending on where you are and what you are eating).

But the concept is the same: high-quality flour pies fired in a convex oven, sometimes with toppings already added, other times with toppings added after the pie is churned out.

The etymon pinzo is suspected because the toppings of a pinsa or pizza or focaccia can be considered a “filling,” the way a pastry or a calzone is “stuffed.”

The pinse at the Pinseria in Brescia were excellent.

I also really loved their jalapeño poppers. Yes, you read that right. Italians are WAY into what they call “jalapeño poppers,” even though they don’t use jalapeños but rather a red Italian-grown pepper.

The concept is the same as for jalapeño poppers in the U.S., except here they use high-quality ingredients (instead of Sysco).

The jalapeño poppers at the Pinseria were great and so were all the Roman street food apps. The beer list was great, too.

Move over, pizza! I hope you’ll recover from your pinsa envy!

Terroir is “landscape, people, language, air, aromas, sounds.” Notes on why Italian wines taste differently on either side of the Atlantic.

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Above: Pecorino aging in the cellars of the Caseificio di Mario in Pienza, a stone’s throw from Montalcino, Tuscany.

Yesterday’s post on the differences in tasting Italian wines on either side of the Atlantic (“Is restrained sulfur the reason why Italian wines are easier on the body when consumed in Italy?”) elicited a tide of insightful comments where readers shared their experiences.

On the Facebook, the indomitable Silvana Biasutti, artist and mother to two of Montalcino’s most famous winemakers, wrote this (translation mine, although Silvana is fluently bilingual and literary):

    When I’m in Italy, in Tuscany, I go to the store to pick out an excellent Pecorino. Years ago, when I was still living in Milan, I would go to Tuscany and eat that Pecorino. It was so good that I would take a big piece of it back to Milan with me. Unfortunately, in Milan, it would lose a lot of its extraordinary flavor.
    When a food and wine are genuinely (and not just rhetorically) an expression of a land (of terroir), they lose something when they leave their natural environment. And they are always better when consumed with people from that place. Landscape, people, language, air, aromas, sounds — they are all part of a flavor. This isn’t just an impression of mine. It’s the way it is.

Truer words have never been uttered so eloquently.

Her notes were echoed by another keen observer of terroir, my wonderful friend and hero of the medical profession, Andy Pasternak, who wrote:

    So many variables contribute to this and you mentioned some of the main ones. I know it’s an old trope, but “if it grows together, it goes together” definitely holds true more in Italy. Another consideration that I’ve been thinking about is eating/drinking outside versus indoors and just some of the other aromas you get that interact with your food and wine. For example, the same white wine is likely going to taste different if I’m eating crudo outdoors on the coast of the Adriatic versus drinking it at a restaurant in a casino in Las Vegas.

Check out the thread and more comments here. And thanks to everyone who commented. It’s a reminder that our love and passion for great gastronomy continues to bring our vibrant community together.