Tracie P, Georgia P, and I had a blast over the last two weeks in Italy.
But we sure are glad to be at home in Texas with all its comforts (and high speed internet).
Thanks for following along and buon weekend, yall! Lots more fun posts on what we ate and drank (and my notes from the wine fairs) to come…
Great lunch today at Gigetto in Miane (Proseccoland, province of Treviso), amazing wine cellar, and great conversation with sommelier Roberto Pieri.
The pappardelle sat atop a light “white” ragù and where garnished with asparagus.
Luciano Benetton was sitting at the table next to us.
She’s our little butternut squash…
Above: Georgia P was the star of the dining room last night at the Osteria al Cacciatore.
The Italian expression alla cacciatora is actually a relatively ancient one.
Many would have you believe that it denotes as per the hunter’s custom.
Above: 1/4 liter of gently sparkling white, most likely Verdiso; 1/4 liter of red, mostly likely Raboso, traditional table wines in the province of Treviso.
In fact, it means roughly or coarsely [dressed] (it begins to appear in Italian as an adverbial phrase by the mid-eighteenth century).
There’s no doubt that it comes from the word caccia meaning hunt (from the Latin capere, to seize), akin to the English chase.
Above: Housemade salumi, so rich in flavor (and fat) but not overbearing on the palate.
But when Artusi canonized the recipe pollo alla cacciatora (chicken stewed with red wine and tomatoes) toward the end of the nineteenth century, he surely perceived the meaning of its designation as roughly dressed (and not in the style of the hunter; like a hunter is a more apt translation).
Above: The pasticcio (layered pasta and ragù pie) was one of the dishes I most looked forward to. It didn’t disappoint.
When you make your way to the Osteria al Cacciatore in the village of Zuel di Qua (literally, the hill over here, as opposed to the Zuel di Là, the hill over there, in the township of Cison di Valmarino in the heart of Proseccoland), there’s just a small sign to alert you the presence of a restaurant in the house on the side of the wine country road. You’d think it were just a private home if not for the cars parked outside.
Above: Tracie P craved steak last night. Beef in the Veneto is excellent and the meat had a wonderful sweetness that balanced its savory char.
There’s no menu. And there’s no wine list.
Owner Maria Gusatto’s daughter simply comes over to the table and asks what would you like tonight?
Above: Spit-roasted rabbit and chicken. This was my splurge meal of the trip. The sage leaves were seared into the skin of the rabbit and the bones were so juicy you could crunch them between your teeth.
Georgia P put on quite a floor show: she’s just begun walking and insisted on marching around the restaurant like a drunken sailor.
When I apologized to one lovely older couple for the nuisance, the lady said, non sono i piccoli che danno fastidio… sono i grandi (it’s not the little ones that are bothersome… it’s the big ones).
Above: The white polenta was so tender and light but firm to the bite.
The chef added: when they’re little you wish you could eat them up… when they grow up, you regret not having eaten them.
Osteria al Cacciatore is the type of place where people speak in proverbs.
Above: The beans are cooked gently with white onions. We had to take them away from Georgia P… she couldn’t stop eating them and neither could we.
Our bill? €51.
I handed Mrs. Gusatto a 50-Euro bill and a 1-Euro coin. She said, “50 Euros are plenty. May I offer you a coffee or a digestif?”
Thanks, again, to Riccardo Zanotto, who first brought us here. I can’t recommend it highly enough…
Tracie P had a pregnancy craving for bacalà ala visentina and so my old friend Renato, manager and chef at the Villa Marcello Marinelli (Cison di Valmarino) where we’re staying, made some especially for us for our Easter lunch today.
He’d already been soaking some stockfish for himself and his family and so it was perfect. Man, was it good!
There was no room in the dining room (because the restaurant was already completely reserved for Easter). So we had “room service” in our apartment. He also made us some potatoes and artichokes saltati in padella (pan sautéed).
It couldn’t have been better. :)
After lunch we took Georgia P for a stroll through the village. That’s the Villa on the left.
And then we went for a drive through misty Valdobbiadene and along the left bank of the Piave (my old stomping grounds)… It was so beautiful and peaceful. And as we drove back, all the folks were in the villages enjoying ice cream and their post-holiday passeggiata (stroll).
I hope everyone had a great Easter Sunday!
Tracie P, Georgia P, and I landed early yesterday morning in Milan and made our way in our Alfa Romeo Giulietta to Erbusco (Franciacorta).
We had reserved a room for one night in Franciacorta because we wanted to eat at Vittorio Fusari’s amazing Dispensa Pani e Vini (more on that later).
The closest hotel I could find (that we could afford) was the Hotel Iris.
It’s a great place to stay: very clean, with all the amenities, and good internet, very affordable for the quality of the room and service.
We were a bit nonplussed by the fact that every room has its own private elevator from the parking garage. A nice security feature but a bit extravagant (see below).
We were even more surprised tickled by the sexy image that greeted us in our room (above).
The lobby hosts a poster featuring an image (top) from a 1980s photo shoot by Helmut Newton at the Ca’ del Bosco estate, which lies just up the road.
We’ve already eaten at the Dispensa twice and are about to head there again (it’s that good… stay tuned for my posts next week).
And the hotel worked out great (they had a very nice camping cradle for Georgia P). Highly recommended for the value… And hey, a little spice never hurt, right? ;)
Tracie P often shakes her head at the monotony of my diet: given the opportunity, I could eat pomodoro (our familial designation for pasta al pomodoro) eight days a week.
Savory and sweet, chewy and creamy… when it’s done right, it’s one of gastronomy’s greatest combinations.
Just think of how transcendentally iconic it is! From Gragnano (Campania) to Tokyo, from Rome to Moscow to Berlin to Mumbai… there is no culture or people on earth that has not embraced its virtues!
It combines techniques and foods — fruit and grain — from the new and old worlds, a marriage of intelligence and natural bounty. Can you think of a dish that more greatly represents humanity in one of its finest expressions?
Although they didn’t dress their noodles with tomato sauce, the (historic Italian) Futurists tried to abolish pasta. It made for weak character, they claimed.
That was a time before our understanding of metabolism and its role in good health had evolved fully. There are few wholesome victuals so easy for our bodies (at least mine) to digest. (If you’ve ever attended a Futurist banquet, as I have, you know that your morning after is reminiscent to recovery in the wake of an excuse for a meal at Alinea.)
Our friends at our favorite trattoria, Il Pozzo in Sant’Angelo in Colle, once boasted to me that Angelo Gaja dines there regularly.
What does he eat? I asked.
Pici (humble Tuscan noodles made with just flour and water) al pomodoro.
From the candelabraed tables of kings to the pauper’s cafeteria pew, its democratic nature is absolute.
Pasta al pomodoro, mon amour, I just may have to toss you once again tonight…
Just had to share this photo that I snapped earlier today at Tony’s.
My good friend and client Tony always makes classic Italian dishes that he reserves for friends who come into eat at his swank restaurant (the Houston oil moguls’ official commissary).
Today it was classic trippa alla napoletana, Neapolitan-style, slow-cooked tripe with potatoes and chili flakes.
Man, it was good…
“Why don’t you put this on the menu?” I asked Tony. “It’s delicious.”
“It just doesn’t sell,” he said.
Go figure!
When you visit Tony’s, be sure to ask him what he’s got going on in the kitchen that’s not on the menu.
Buon appetito, yall!
Above: Chef Bobby Matos‘ cooking has never been better and the seafood never fresher and more tasty at Tony’s Ciao Bello restaurant in Houston.
Thanks to our constipated wine distribution and impacted-bowel wine importing regulation here in Texas, it’s rare that we have the opportunity to (legally obtain and) enjoy European wines that are not available in other states (with more liberal regulation like California and New York).
Last night, when I spoke at a wine and seafood pairing dinner at my friend and client Tony’s Ciao Bello restaurant in Houston, I had the good fortune to taste the Trinchero skin-contact Malvasia, which, to my knowledge, is only available in my adoptive state.
Above: The bucatini had been tossed in a sauce made of stock from the crab shell, white wine, bay leaf, and a touch of cream. They were then topped with breaded and fried crab legs.
It’s brought in by maverick “against all odds” importer Doug Skopp, a colleague whose become a friend.
I’ve followed Trinchero — a Vini Veri producer in Asti — for nearly ten years and I am huge fan of their Barbera, especially the Vigna del Noce cru, arguably one of the best expressions of Barbera available commercially today.
(Polaner brings the wines into the rest of the U.S. but not the Malvasia.)
Above: Tracie P and I generally don’t eat seafood in Texas beyond Tony’s restaurants. It’s just never as good as in my home state California.
The skin-contact Malvasia was tannic and dense although more delicate on the palate than I expected. The scampi were delicious but slightly overpowered by the wine, however satisfying. (I might have done the Trinchero with the phallic prosciutto-wrapped monkfish and lentils above.)
Remarkably fresh, it really began to show its muscle and nuance as it opened up, with layers of nutty and dried stone fruit flavors.
Thank you, Doug, for bringing in this groovy wine! And thanks, Bobby for the fantastic dinner last night. Your cooking has never been better. Great dinner…
Above: Gamberoni in Castiglioncello, Tuscany, at Nonna Isola.
Few remember that the Gambero Rosso monthly magazine and publishing brand take its name from the “Osteria del Gambero Rosso” or the “Inn of the Red Lobster” in The Adventures of Pinocchio, which originally appeared in the Italian in the early 1880s.
Here’s a transcription of the scene in the book where the Cat and the Fox first take Pinocchio to eat there (from a 1904 English translation):
“Let us stop a little here,” said the Fox, “just long enough to get something to eat and rest ourselves. At midnight we can start again and to-morrow morning we shall arrive at the Field of Miracles.”
They entered the Inn and seated themselves at the table, but none of them were hungry. The poor Cat felt very much indisposed and could only thirty-five mullets with tomato sauce and four portions of tripe; and because the trip did not taste just right he called three times for butter and cheese to put on it.
The Fox would willingly have ordered something, but as the doctor had told him to diet, he had to be contented with a nice fresh rabbit dressed with the biglets of chicken. After the rabbit he ordered, as a finish to his meal, some partridges, some pheasants, some frogs, some lizards, and some bird of paradise eggs; and then he did not wish any more. He had such nausea for food, he said, that he could not eat another mouthful.
Pinocchio ate the least of all. He asked for a piece of meat and some bread, but he left everything on his plate. He could think of nothing but the Field of Miracles.
Some believe that the fictional osteria is based on the Trattoria da Burde near Florence where author Carlo Collodi (Lorenzini) dined regularly.
Above: An image from my first “crawfish boll,” which took place not long after I moved to Texas to be with Tracie P.
Gambero rosso is also a designation used by Italians for the common American crayfish, the “Gambero Rosso della Louisiana.” Its introduction to Italy in the mid-1800s led to a series of crayfish plagues in Europe.
Collodi was certainly aware of the crayfish calamity of his era and the very name — gambero rosso — surely instilled biblical fear in the minds of his readers.
In the light of this, the choice of gambero rosso for the title of a magazine devoted to Italian gastronomy may seem infelicitous to some.
Above: The Gambero Rosso brand has often been the center of controversy and its editors have often been accused (however informally) of conflict of interest. I’ve written about the brand on many occasions.
On Monday, when I posted my translation of an open letter by a confederation of Italian winemakers to the editors of the magazine, I didn’t imagine the heated reactions that the post would generate (just look at the comment thread and you will find the comments and links to other bloggers who posted view points often diametrically opposed to one another).
For my part, I was just trying to provide a public service by rendering the text of the letter into English.
O, and one last thing…
Down here in Texas, you know what they call the gambero rosso?
They call the little critters mud bugs.
Tomorrow, I’ll get back to the business of posting about the wines we’ve been tasting and some of the interesting wine professionals I’ve had the chance to interview recently. Thanks for reading…
Do Bianchi 