Category Archives: de cibo

Italy Day 1: Chianina and pisacan with old friends

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Above: the Castello di Zumelle rises above the historic town of Mel nestled at the foot of the Dolomite Alps. Zumelle is the ancient name of Mel (in the province of Belluno, about an hour and a half south of Cortina d’Ampezzo). It means “two twins” in Bellunese dialect. According to legend, the castle was built in the 700s by twin brothers whose sarcophagus still resides within the castle walls.

So here goes: Italy Day 1…

I arrived in Venice on April fool’s day, picked up my Fiat Idea, and headed toward the hills. My first destination was the Castello di Zumelle, lunch, dinner, and sleep over with some of my oldest Italian friends, the Dalpiva family. I first met Renato and Lucia (left with their son, Nicola) in 1989 when I was in my second year at the Università di Padova and was making a living by playing blues and covers with my good friend Elvis (more on him later) in the many pubs and beer gardens that line the Piave river. At the time, they ran the Casa Rossa, one of the most successful venues, and in 1991, they were asked to manage the famous Birreria di Pedavena, a beautiful 1930s beer garden and botanic garden, where I spent three summers playing six nights a week with a cover band comprised of friends from California (including Charlie George, John Krylow, Ted, and Shawn Amos).

Today, they live atop a hill in a castle… yes, a castle, just like in fairy tales. A few years back, after they had retired (at a very young age, I might add), Renato won the local competition to open a restaurant in the town’s medieval castle. Not only did he build a beautiful restaurant there, but he also refurbished the living quarters and the family moved in. The ever-industrious Renato also created a medieval re-enactment walking tour for children: three or four times a week, he dons his medieval garb (as in the photo above) and teaches school children how to make chainmaille and medieval dumplings, he lectures, accompanied by music, on life in the Middle Ages.

For dinner, Renato threw some fiorentine on the grill (Tuscan porterhouse steaks, butchered from Chianina cows). Note how he chars the top of the steaks before grilling them — a sine qua non.

After our steaks, Lucia served a salad made with tarassaco (Taraxacum), a local variety of dandelion green known in Veneto dialect as pisacane or dog pisser. The name is not very appetizing but the bitterness of these tasty greens was offset by a drop or two of balsamic vinegar.

The castle armory is a highlight of Renato’s tour. He’s like a kid in a candy store…

A diorama of the castle as it appeared in the Middle Ages.

Sunset in the valley as seen from the castle tower.

Next post: a visit with Maria Teresa Mascarello, Bartolo’s beret, and the mystery of his Che Guevara star…

Homeward Bound

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Above: winemaker Aleš Kristančič draws off a barrel sample of his 2005 Pinot Noir.

Sunday morning found me in Mira along the banks of the Brenta River, which leads from Venice to Padua. I was lucky enough to snag a room in what has now become my officially favorite hotel, the Villa Alberti, one of the many summer villas built by Venetian nobles built during the eighteenth century.

I leave today for New York and will begin blogging again once stateside. The trip to Europe was amazing and I have many posts in store, including a post on how biodynamic winemaker Aleš Kristančič of Slovenia (above) gave me new insights into the use of barrique… yes, barrique…

Stay tuned for more!

This week’s recommended wine pairing

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Overheard last night at dinner in Monforte d’Alba:

“Can I have an order of mozzarella di bufala with that glass of Brunello di Montalcino?”

Shouts-Out

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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

I got a couple of shouts-out in the blogosphere yesterday.

One was from top food and wine blogger McDuff, who wrote a no-holds-barred post on a recent De Grazia tasting he attended. I was really impressed with the candor of his post (and I am a regular reader and fan of his blog). (Another favorite blogger of mine, Brooklynguy, also wrote a powerfully honest and critical post on the Gambero Rosso Tre Bicchieri tasting in NYC. I’m planning to start a “Brooklynguy Amarone Fund” and will personally contribute a bottle of Le Ragose.)

The other came from masterful sage Messere Alfonso Cevola, who takes the art of wine and food blogging to a new level of style and substance. His humor is Pirandellian, his enologic insight Sciasciaesque, his writing style Lampedusian. And his hilarious post on the mishaps of would-be fine Italian dining brought some sunshine into my otherwise dreary and Woody-Allenesque Manhattan day.

Blog on, brothers, blog on….

Going to Carolina in My Mind

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From left, Susannah Smith of A Southern Season (Chapel Hill, NC), Sophie Barrett (a Chapel Hill native) of Astor (NYC), and John McCarthy of The Country Vintner (Chapel Hill). One of the cool thing about blogging is getting to meet people you wouldn’t connect with otherwise. Also in attendance were Scott Luetgenau and Jay Murrie.

Yesterday I took the afternoon off to connect with my friend and wine professional Scott Luetgenau from Chapel Hill, NC, whom I met after he started commenting on my blog some time back. One of the coolest things about blogging is that you meet people from all over the world through the “virtual conversation” of the blogosphere. Scott wrote me last week saying he’d be in NYC for a trade tasting and would I like to join him and his friends for lunch at ‘inoteca.

Charcuterie and bruschette at ‘inoteca on the Lower East Side, owned by my friend and fellow native-Californian, Joe Denton — one of the coolest dudes I’ve met in the NYC restaurant scene.

I was really impressed with their wine knowledge and their interest in natural wine. John, who works for a major wine distributor based in Chapel Hill, told me: “I feel like it’s my responsibility to get out there and turn people on to natural wine. If I don’t, who will?” I dug every bottle he ordered from owner Joe Denton’s excellent list. Sophie has just moved up to NYC where she landed a job at Astor Wine and Spirits. Susannah and Jay work at A Southern Season, a food and wine shop in Chapel Hill that specializes in natural wines. They’ve got a pretty good thing going down there in North Carolina.

I really liked the 2006 Pavese Blanc de Morgex et de La Salle that John ordered. It was fresh and light in the mouth, with bright acidity and nice fruit.

It was raining yesterday in NYC and it’s still overcast today. So many good things have been happening for me and I have lots to be thankful for these days. But I’ve also been going through some pretty dark stuff lately. It sure doesn’t feel like the first day of spring up here in the big city. You must forgive me if I’m up and goin’ to Carolina in my mind.

*****

In my mind I’m goin’ to Carolina
Can’t you see the sunshine
Can’t you just feel the moonshine
Ain’t it just like a friend of mine
To hit me from behind
Yes I’m goin’ to Carolina in my mind

Karen she’s a silver sun
You best walk her way and watch it shinin’
Watch her watch the mornin’ come
A silver tear appearing now I’m cryin’
Ain’t I goin’ to Carolina in my mind

There ain’t no doubt in no one’s mind
That love’s the finest thing around
Whisper something soft and kind
And hey babe the sky’s on fire, I’m dyin’
Ain’t I goin’ to Carolina in my mind

In my mind I’m goin’ to Carolina
Can’t you see the sunshine
Can’t you just feel the moonshine
Ain’t it just like a friend of mine
To hit me from behind
Yes I’m goin’ to Carolina in my mind

Dark and silent late last night
I think I might have heard the highway calling
Geese in flight and dogs that bite
Signs that might be omens say I’m going, going
I’m goin’ to Carolina in my mind

With a holy host of others standing ’round me
Still I’m on the dark side of the moon
And it seems like it goes on like this forever
You must forgive me
If I’m up and goin’ to Carolina in my mind

In my mind I’m goin’ to Carolina
Can’t you see the sunshine
Can’t you just feel the moonshine
Ain’t it just like a friend of mine
To hit me from behind
Yes I’m goin’ to Carolina in my mind

Goin’ to Carolina in my mind
And I’m goin’ to Carolina in my mind
Goin’ to Carolina in my mind

— James Taylor

Is Mascarello the new Che Guevara?

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Above: waiter Lindsay Smith was wearing the Bartolo Mascarello t-shirt at Terroir Thursday.

During my junior year of college at the Università di Padova in 1987, dorm life (at Casa dello Studente Monte Cengio) required: 1) drinking sangria from a trash can; 2) knowing the words to Bob Marley’s “Stir It Up”; and owning at least one Che Guevara t-shirt (there were also certain skills that proved useful but we won’t go into those now).

I was blown away when I spotted a camouflage-green Bartolo Mascarello t-shirt reminiscent of the Che t’s we used to wear way back when (and still favored by college students across the world) at Terroir — a new, radical, and vehemently anti-Parkerization wine bar in the East Village (click through the website to read the owners’ manifesto).

One of Italy’s greatest winemakers, Bartolo Mascarello remained a steadfast defender of traditional winemaking and the concept of terroir as others in Barolo and Barbaresco moved toward a more modern style. He was a colorful character, beloved on both sides of the Atlantic, and he never shied from blending traditionalist winemaking, leftist ideology, and charged political views. One of his most famous labels read “No Berlusconi, no barrique” — an apt, poignant, and pungent analogy between the use of barrique aging (and those who favored it) and Italy’s richest man and then prime minister, Silvio Berlusconi (who once famously told journalist Enzo Biagi, “If I don’t enter politics, I will go to jail and become bankrupt.”). Check out Eric’s obituary of the great Bartolo.

My childhood friend and electronic performer extraordinaire Irwin (left) was in New York last week for a recording session and so we connected last Thursday at Terroir.

I asked chef and co-owner Marco Canora to talk to us about the restaurant’s concept and he launched into a zealous diatribe against Robert Parker balanced by a passionate elegiac on Mascarello. One thing that struck me about his harangue was that we, the lovers and defenders of terroir-driven and natural wines, are quick to rail against Parker, but we often neglect to champion and lionize our heroes.

The Che Guevara t-shirt phenomenon may be wrinkle free but it’s not free of irony: the ideals for which Guevara fought and died aren’t exactly embodied by the Andy Wahrolian reproduction of his likeness on t-shirts mass-marketed to naïve college students. But if a locally printed Mascarello t-shirt campaign can help to spread awareness of one of natural wine’s champions, then I’m all for it.

The wine list at neonate Terroir is short and young (Mark and waiter Lindsay Smith told me that it will soon be growing). I ordered the oldest bottle on the list, the 2001 Olek-Mery Chinon Cuvée Des Tireaux. It was fantastic: light in the mouth with earthly Chinon flavors. I also enjoyed a glass of Cicala’s 2005 Asprinio, a citrusy grape from Campania that you don’t see a lot in America.

Irwin and I were both really hungry and we ordered a bunch of stuff: the baccalà (above) had just the right amount of garlic in it and the meatballs were among the best I’ve ever had (Marco’s mother’s recipe) although its tomato coulis was too watery.

Now, if they could just get some older vintages of Mascarello on that list, I’d be sold.

Sustainable Gram Parsons at Back Forty

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Above: owner Peter Hoffman loves the Charlie Churchill oil painting that hangs on the backsplash of the bar at his East Village restaurant Back 40. The bird is a bittern.

I first met NYC chef and restaurateur Peter Hoffman in 2001 when I attended a Basque-themed dinner at his SoHo restaurant Savoy celebrating the publication of Mark Kurlansky’s book The Basque History of the World.

When I ran into him the other night at his relatively new East Village restaurant Back Forty, he explained to me that back 40 is a reference to the Homestead Act of 1862, whereby 40-acre parcels of land were allocated to settlers. The expression front 40 denoted the more prized parcels, while the back 40 were less desirable.

“We wanted to remind people where their food comes from,” said Peter. To the great extent possible, he explained, he sources all the ingredients from local farmers and farms, favoring sustainable foodstuffs over the commercial and industrial.

The prices were right at Back 40, the wine list solid, the beer well-draughted, the pork chop perfectly rare in the middle. But my favorite thing about my evening at Back 40 was the sustainable Gram Parsons: country music is the favorite genre there and they kept the Gram playing all night that night.

Fried whole shrimp with cilantro.

The best pork chop I’ve had in a long time.

Gram Parsons, one of my heroes.

Some nice Swedish guy, an intern at the U.N.

*****

And Lord knows that New York City’s got a lot to do with it…

— Gram Parsons

Big Mouth Blues

Oh, well, I was born in a little bitty tar hut
And they called me a man ’cause I couldn’t keep my big, big mouth shut
So what’s the sense of me sitting here leaving
When any ole day I might be even
And Lord knows that New York City’s got a lot to do with it
I wish someday I could find the way to get it out of my grain
This dirty old town’s gonna sink right down and I don’t want to go with it
Well I wish there was a way that
I knew to get even
A way to get a lick in
A-bobbin’ and a-weavin’
Any ole thing besides goin’ and a-leavin’
You can do on a train

Well, I once knew a man who sailed around the world twice
He would have made it three but he took a lot of bad advice
So you just tell me what’s the sense of mesittin’ here leavin’
When any ole day I might get even
And Lord knows New York City’s got a lot to do with it
I wish someday I could find a way to get it out of my brain
This dirty old town’s gonna sink right down and I don’t want to go with it
I wish there was a way that I knew to get even, way to get a lick in
A-bobbin’ and a-weavin’
Any ole thing besides goin’ and a-leavin’
You can do on a train
Oh, yes!

Well, I once knew a man who sailed around the world twice
But his motor cooled down and now he’s deliverin’ ice
Tell me what’s the sense of him sittin’ here leavin’
When any ole day he might get even
And Lord knows New York City’s got a lot to do with it
I wish someday he could find a way to get it out of his brain
This dirty old town’s gonna sink right down and I don’t want to go with it
I wish there was a way that I knew to get even
Way to get a lick in
A-bobbin’ and a-weavin’
Any ole thing besides goin’ and a-leavin’
You can do on a train
Oh, yeah

Wondrous Cabinets (or My Dinner With Darrell)

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“…as a smell while it passes and evaporates into air affects the sense of smell,” wrote Augustine of Hippo (354 – 430) in the tenth book of The Confessions, “whence it conveys into the memory an image of itself, which remembering, we renew, or as meat, which verily in the belly hath now no taste, and yet in the memory still in a manner tasteth; or as any thing which the body by touch perceiveth, and which when removed from us, the memory still conceives. For those things are not transmitted into the memory, but their images only are with an admirable swiftness caught up, and stored as it were in wondrous cabinets, and thence wonderfully by the act of remembering, brought forth.”

If there ever were an Augustine of the contemporary food and wine world, it is Darrell Corti. And there are no cabinets more wondrous than the shelves of his store Corti Brothers in Sacramento and the memories he generously imparted on a traveling amanuensis who happened to be passing through the California state capital last week.

The night I had dinner with Darrell at his home in Sacramento, he was reluctant to speak of his induction into the Vintners Hall of Fame by the Culinary Institute of America. The night before, he had been honored at a gala event in Napa as a “Highly respected and often controversial, wine and food expert… at the forefront of the development and growth of the California wine industry since joining his family’s grocery business, Corti Brothers in Sacramento, in 1964… a catalyst in the re-evaluation and Renaissance of Zinfandel…” and mentor “to a generation of seiminal food and wine professionals…”

It’s not every day that you drink 1972 Louis Martini Zinfandel with a man who was a “catalyst… in the renaissance of Zinfandel.” The wine was light and vibrant, with subtle fruit and gentle acidity, a gorgeous complement to the béchamel and ragù prepared for the lasagne.

“It’s the acidity and the lightness of style that make this wine age so well,” said Darrell. There was no need to mention Darrell’s widely known opposition to the current hegemony of highly concentrated, high-alcohol-content wines.

The night of our repast, Darrell wanted to sample a new breed of beef, “HighMont,” a cross of Scottish Highland and Piedmontese (razza bovina piemontese) cattle. The lasagne were followed by a bollito of beef and salsa verde, paired with a 1999 Stoneleigh Marlborough (New Zealand) Rapaura Series Pinot Noir.

The coda to our meal was a bolo de mel, a Portuguese honey cake, which Darrell was also sampling as a potential offering at Corti Brothers.

Of the many memories that Darrell shared that evening, he revealed that he was among the first (if not the first) to sell Sassicaia in this country. “In 1972, we sold the first vintage of Sassicaia — 1968 — for $6.89,” he said.

After dinner, we retired to the living room where we drank port and perused Darrell’s collection of incunables (I was keen to see his editio princeps of Andrea Bacci’s Historia Vinorum).

Earlier in the day, I met Darrell at his office in the store and we chatted about a stack of tomes he recently received from the Libreria Editrice Vaticana, the Vatican’s publisher (I was particularly fascinated by America Pontificia, a collection documents pertaining to the New World issued by the Holy See; “There’s bound to be something interesting in there,” Darrell said). His phone rang and I eavesdropped as he patiently extolled the virtues of bergamot marmalade to the customer on the line. Twenty minutes later, a half dozen jars had been purchased.

O, what wondrous cabinets this man keeps…

You’ve come a long way, baby.

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“Americans have had a long-standing love affair with the cuisine of Italy,” write Nina and Tim Zagat in the preface to Zagat’s America’s 1,000 Top Italian Restaurants. “Americans say that they prefer Italian food to any other type of food — even American food — in survey after survey.”

Leafing through the new guide, I was impressed by the radical transformation of Americans’ perceptions of Italian food and how they have changed over the last ten years. When I finished my doctorate in Italian in 1997 in Los Angeles and moved to NYC, people still thought of Italian cuisine as “northern” or “southern” (the former being preferable at the time) and few Americans could tell you the difference between gnocchi and cavatelli.

The appearance of the Zagat’s national Italian restaurant directory comes ten years after The New York Times published two articles that — in my opinion — marked the dawn of a new era in Americans’ perceptions of Italian cuisine.

One was Ruth Reichl’s 3-star review of Babbo, “A Radical Departure With Sure Footing” (August 26, 1998), where she anointed Mario Batali as the new prince of Italian cuisine in the U.S. (Just two months earlier, on June 26, she had written of Mario’s previous effort: “I should probably start by telling you that I am not a big fan of Po. So when I heard that Mario Batali, its chef and owner, had taken over the old Coach House on Waverly Place in Greenwich Village…, I was not particularly impressed.”) At the time, 3 stars from The Times for an Italian restaurant were practically inconceivable.

The other was Amanda Hesser’s “A Southern Italian Renaissance; After red sauce, America is discovering the real thing” (October 21, 1998). Albeit not the first but certainly one of the earliest fans of genuine southern Italian food, Amanda wrote convincingly that southern Italian cuisine deserved the epicure’s attention. Her interest in Salvatore Anzalone’s Sicilian restaurant, Caffè Bondi, and Nicola Marzovilla’s Apulian, I Trulli, showed readers that serious food writers (and restaurateurs) were taking southern Italy seriously. Regional Italian cuisine had arrived.

“In the past,” write Nina and Tim, “Italian restaurants in America described themselves as either Northern or Southern, but in recent years more and more Italian chefs have proudly emphasized their regional roots. Thus, Americans are coming to understand the distinct tastes of the many regions of Italy.” [There are 20 regions of Italy, btw.]

The Zagats were among the pioneers of “user-generated content” and the success of their guides is testament to their vision. The downside is that the user-generated reviews are not always reliable. The 2008 Zagat NYC restaurant guide named Babbo — surprise, surprise — the city’s top Italian restaurant. Number 2 was Il Mulino, one of the city’s worst tourist traps and most disappointing landmark restaurants: last year, I had what was possibly the worst and most expensive (adding insult to injury) meals of my life there.

America’s 1,000 Top Italian Restaurants wisely omits a top-5 listing and it includes a useful (however poorly translated) primer to Italian food and wine and regional Italian cuisine.

Whatever your favorite Italian restaurant or regional cuisine, one thing’s for certain: North America’s taste for Italian food has come a long way.

Have you ever been? A glass (or two) in the West Village.

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A friend and I met for a few glasses of wine the other night at The 8th St Wine Cellar, in the heart of the West Village, right down the street from Electric Lady Studio, conceived and created in 1970 by Jimi Hendrix (left), perhaps the first major recording artist to own a studio in the modern era of rock ‘n’ roll. Every time I walk down 8th st., I can’t help but think of the countless classic recordings that were made on this historic block, now lined with head shops and tattoo and piercing parlors (check out the clients page on the studio’s website).

Even after all these years, the West Village has retained its free spirit and the sense of openness that began to form here in the late 1950s and early 60s. The easy-going bartenders at The 8th St. Wine Cellar were friendly and generous with their pours and when I ordered a glass of Antichi Vigneti di Cantalupo 2006 Agamium, our waiter said he didn’t mind at all opening a new bottle for me.

Above: bacon-wrapped figs with mascarpone with a glass of Agamium.

Antichi Vigneti di Cantalupo (Ancient Vines of Cantalupo) is one of my favorite producers of Nebbiolo and it makes a fairly wide range of traditional-style wines, from their single-vineyard Collis Carellae and Collis Breclemae to the Agamium, their entry-level label. One of the things I love about Cantalupo is the winery’s interest in local ancient history, which expresses itself in the names of their wines: Agamium is the Latin name of Ghemme (a township in the province of Novara) where the grapes are grown and the wines are produced. Ghemme is one of the great, to borrow a Manhattan-centric phrase, “outer-borough” expressions of Nebbiolo (i.e., Nebbiolo grown outside the more noted Barolo and Barbaresco appellations; look for an upcoming post on the historical role of “outer-borough” Nebbiolo).

The 2006 Agamium was fresh and light in style and I believe that the winery limits maceration time in order to rein in the grape’s tannin, thus making it more approachable at such a young age. Check out the winery’s website. Although the English translations are sometimes awkward, the otherwise excellent site is easy to navigate and highly informative.

Above: 1480 – 1819 were the start and end dates of the Inquisition, one of the waiters told me. I inferred that his t-shirt’s message was meant to remind us that the Inquisition is indeed over. (For the record, I’m not really sure what information those dates are based on because it’s generally accepted that the official dates of the Spanish Inquisition were 1478 – 1834. A quick Google search revealed that the t-shirts was created by Humanitarians Not Heroes.)

I really liked the vibe at The 8th St. Wine Cellar and I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to find a handful of wines that I liked on their relatively small list, including a half bottle of NV Taittinger La Française and Teodobaldo Cappellano Barolo. Honestly, I didn’t expect to find a cool little wine bar on 8th St. between Gray’s Papaya and the bong and tattoo shops. I guess it’s time for me to “cast all my hang-ups over the seaside,” as Jimi once sang (in a song he recorded right down the street).

The 8th St Wine Cellar
28 W 8th St
(btwn 5th and 6th ave)
New York, NY 10011
(212) 260-9463

*****

Have you ever been (have you ever been) to Electric Ladyland?
The magic carpet waits for you so don’t you be late
Oh, (I wanna show you) the different emotions
(I wanna run to) the sounds and motions
Electric woman waits for you and me
So it’s time we take a ride, we can cast all of your hang-ups over
the seaside
While we fly right over the love filled sea
Look up ahead, I see the loveland, soon you’ll understand.

Make love, make love, make love, make love.

The angels will spread their wings, spread their wings
Good and evil lay side by side while electric love penetrates the sky
Lord, Lord I wanna show you
Hmm, hmmm, hmmm
Show you

— Jimi Hendrix