Category Archives: de cibo

Circa 1913: Grand Central’s Oyster Bar

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Winnie and I met the other day for a snack at the storied Oyster Bar (above) in Grand Central Terminal. I used to eat there a lot when I first came to New York and was broke, back in 1997: a friend had hipped me to the fact that its clam chowder ($5.75) is one of the best lunch deals in town.

Above: potager Komor Rudin mans the soup station at the original counter.

Many of the milk-based “stews” are created using a pair of steam-powered double-boilers (bains-marie) bolted into the original counter circa 1913. The potager assembles the soups by tossing seafood, milk, and/or tomato sauce in the two vessels. It’s very entertaining to watch.

Above: Panroast Oyster stew ($9.95) is a new favorite at the Oyster Bar but classic Oyster Stew (also $9.95) is still a winner.

Above: there’s not a lot worth drinking on the list at the Oyster Bar (mostly Californian) but the naturally made Domaine de la Pepière 2006 Muscadet is fantastic, the only Muscadet — the traditionally pairing for oysters — on the list! At $7 a glass and $28 a bottle, it’s also one of most reasonably priced lots (go for the bottle).

Above: the arm chair (hand chair?) in the bathroom lounge looks like it came straight from Woody Allen’s 1973 Sleeper.

Veronelli “subversive” activist and editor

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Click here to read the original interview in Italian at Veronelli.com.

Above: the jacket for one of the few extant exemplars of Pino Bava’s Italian translation of De Sade’s Historiettes, contes, et fabliaux with illustrations by Italian artist Alberto Manfredi, published by Veronelli in 1957. Veronelli was sentenced to prison for obscenity that same year but never served time. The book was one of the last burned publically in Italy (image courtesy of Veronelli Editore, Bergamo).

Some may remember my October post on Luigi Veronelli (1926 – 2004) and his 1982 trip to California. My translation of Veronelli’s preface to Catalogo dei vini d’Italia (1983) inspired a few other bloggers, notably Eric and Alan.

Later in the year, when I met my dissertation adviser and sometimes collaborator professor Luigi Ballerini for a holiday drink, he reminded me that he was working at Rizzoli Editor in Milan in 1964 when Rizzoli published Veronelli’s now required-reading Cocktails. Luigi (Ballerini) has many fond memories of the congenial Veronelli, including a dinner hosted by Veronelli at his home in San Siro (Milan) to thank his editorial staff. “It was the first time I tasted Château d’Yquem,” said Luigi (Ballerini), who was 24 years-old at the time of their meeting, “Veronelli held it up to the light and showed us how it turned emerald in color.”

After Veronelli’s passing in 2004, many apocryphal anecdotes regarding his life have been published on the internet. Curious to find out more about his activism and his controversial publishing career, I recently contacted Gian Arturo Rota, president of Veronelli Editore in Bergamo, and submitted the following questions (in italics). I have translated Rota’s answers below.

Beyond being the architect of the Italian food and wine renaissance, Veronelli was also an editor who published poetry and literary works. What were his principle literary interests?

He began in the 1950s publishing works by De Sade, Anatole France, philosophical works (like Giovanni Emanuele Bariè’s concept of neo-trascendentalism) and political works (like Pierre-Joseph Proudhon), and books on gastronomy (like Le ghiottornie di Gabriele d’Annunzio* and Apicius). He also published books on sports.

He published magazines as well: I problemi del socialismo (Problems of Socialism and Il gastronomo (The Gastronome).

Veronelli closed the doors of Veronelli Editore [his publishing company] in the 1960s because he wanted to devote himself exclusively to his work as a journalist and writer. His literary interests? A bit of everything, I would say, with a predilection for classical authors and for eighteenth-century France. He was a highly erudite man.

Veronelli was also politically engaged: what were the defining moments of his political life?

Inasmuch as he actively worked for a political party, his interest in politics didn’t last long. He worked for the Italian Socialist Party when – as he liked to say after the Tangentopoli scandal** – socialists were still serious. Keep in mind that he was a friend of Lelio Basso, one of the party’s founders and one of its most illustrious theoreticians, and a contributer to his magazine I problemi del socialismo.

Veronelli’s “occupation” of the train station at Santo Stefano Belbo and the translation of De Sade: on the internet, there are contradictory, apocryphal accounts. What were the facts?

September 19, 1980: Veronelli attended a rally in Asti (and not in Santo Stefano Belbo) where grape-growers and winemakers had gathered to discuss the then serious problems faced by Asti’s viticultural community. He had promised that he would speak on behalf of grape-growers only if those politicians responsible – in his view – for the situation would also attend. The politicians did attend and gave their patent answers without assuming any responsibility. The thousands of grape-growers who had gathered in the square begged him to speak. He did. In his harsh speech, he emphasized the fact that the grape-growers needed help and that their rights needed to be defended. Spurred by the crowd’s enthusiasm, the grape-growers took the stage and asked their colleagues to block the streets and occupy the Asti train station. Veronelli encouraged them to do so and he was later accused and convicted for aggravated obstruction of a public thoroughfare. He was granted amnesty four years later [and did not serve time in prison].

Above: the frontespiece of De Sade’s Storie, storielle, e raccontini.

Regarding De Sade’s Storie, storielle, e raccontini),*** I know that it was one of the last – if not the last – books burned in a public square in Italy. The court of Varese [a town north of Milan] ordered it burned because the book contained texts and images that had been deemed obscene. Veronelli attended the bonfire and to protest his sentence, he applauded and laughed the entire time. He sentence to jail-time was however commuted and he was never imprisoned.

Notes:

* Gabriele d’Annunzio (1863 – 1938) was one of Italy’s greatest poets, dramatists, and novelists. Known for his insatiable appetites (for food, women, and adventure), he often wrote about his culinary exploits and feats. Ghiottornie (from the Italian ghiotto or “insatiably hungry for”) can be loosely translated as “the oversized appetites” of Gabriele d’Annunzio.

** Tangentopoli or “bribesville,” the widespread political corruption scandal, unraveled by the Italian authorities’ Mani pulite or “clean hands” campaign in 1992.

*** Historiettes, contes, et fabliaux or “Stories, Tales, and Fables,” published in Paris as early as 1800 in Les crimes de l’amour or “Crimes of Love.”

Addendum:

See this informative obituary published in The Independent.

Barely any Italian (wine) spoken, some French, but Californian is extreme in San Diego

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Above: Jon Erickson and Jayne Battle, owners of Jaynes Gastropub in University Hts., San Diego.

The old timers will tell you that before WWII, there wasn’t much in San Diego. In those days, it was the last stop before your Tijuana divorce, a border town, a place to seek refuge from Los Angeles oil fields and Hollywood tinsel. The city has come a long way and even though there’s not a lot of great wine to be found here, a number of new and interesting places have sprung up in recent years.

Jaynes Gastropub
4677 30th St (at Adams)
University Hts. (San Diego), CA 92116
(619) 563-1011

The atmosphere at Jaynes Gastropub is that of a chic London… well, gastropub. I went on a Saturday night with my friend Patrick Ballow (who runs the wine shop at Jonathan’s in La Jolla, one of San Diego’s best, and the only place I’ve been able to find any natural wine). The restaurant was packed and patrons seemed to relish the haute-pub-food menu. The gambas al ajillo were excellent and the crispy calamari were melt-in-your-mouth tender. “We fry them very quickly at a really high temperature,” said Jayne. “That’s the secret.” At my waiter’s recommendation, I also had a Jayne Burger, topped with red onions that are brined in clove- and star-anise-infused cider vinegar with a touch of cinnamon. I ordered it rare and it arrived perfectly cooked.

Above: the gambas al ajillo at Jaynes were tender and the grilled bread was drizzled oh-so-lightly with extra-virgin olive oil.

The beer selection at Jaynes is fantastic, the mostly new world wine list small but with some real gems, like an Olivier Leflaive St. Aubin en Remilly 1er Cru 2004, which Jon serves by the glass, a traditional mineral-driven classic Burgundian white. Patrick and I also really dug the Vignobles Brisebarre Vouvray Demi-Sec 1989 that he poured with dessert.

Above: the secret ingredient in the Jayne Burger? Brined red onion rings.

Corkage is only $15: we drank a Lòpez de Heredia Viña Tondonia Rosado 1997 (mine) and a Château Branaire (Duluc-Ducru) St. Julien 1995 (Patrick’s… I know, I know… what am I doing drinking Bordeaux? But this judiciously made thirteen-year-old wine — lip-smacking without being too fruit-forward — was showing beautifully, with great goudron notes and it was a great match for my tasty burger).

Above: Tastes wine bar and shop is shaped like a porter house steak. The space was built out as a steakhouse in the 1940s.

Tastes
641 S Highway 101
(just south of West E)
Encinitas, CA 92024
(760) 942-9549

My friend Robin Starck, who runs a successful wine appraisal and brokerage firm, took me to Tastes in Encinitas (in North County, San Diego).

Even though it has nearly no Italian to speak of, the list at Tastes was probably the best French I’ve seen in San Diego. I really liked the Jean-Luc Côtes du Rhône Blanc 2006, unctuous with gorgeous fruit. Tastes is also a wine shop and serves 50 wine-by-the-glass. Chef/owner Sean Fisher’s food is very elegant (although a bit precious for my tastes), the space warm, and the wine service top-notch.

The outgoing Robin also leads wine-cycling trips through Italy.

Above: owner Mike Kallay loops the movie Mondovino in his off-the-beaten-track downtown wine bar, The Cask Room.

The Cask Room
550 Park Boulevard
(btwn Market and Island)
Downtown San Diego, CA 92101
(619) 822-1606

“Big and obnoxious or feminine and delicate” are the extreme degrees of Mike Kallay’s palate at the The Cask Room in downtown San Diego, where he serves roughly twenty-five wines, nearly all of them Californian. The wine bar is also a wine shop and the prices for his mostly-under-$25 bottles are retail, with $10 added across the board if you consume the bottle on premise. I can’t say there was much for an old-world palate like mine to drink but I admire Mike for his vehement anti-Parker and “no points” stance (he looped the movie Mondovino on a flat-screen throughout the evening I was there). I did enjoy a Domaine Paul Autard Côtes du Rhône 2006 that he poured, made from vineyards that lie just outside of Châteauneuf-de-Pape. Mike is a musician and his wine bar features live music on the weekends (mostly blues, from what I could gather). The outspoken Mike also writes a wine column for The San Diego Downtown News (a monthly rag). You gotta hand it to a guy who can describe wine as “obnoxious.”

The weather’s beautiful in San Diego (and I’m headed back to NYC unfortunately), the burritos are cheap but the ingredients fresh, and there’s a cozy wine bar downtown where they play blues on the weekend. Too bad most of the wine tastes like “chocolate.” Maybe I’ll come back to stay anyway…

I know a pretty little place in Southern California down San Diego way
There’s a little cafe where they play guitars all night and day

*****

Rosalita

Spread out now Rosie doctor come cut loose her mama’s reins
You know playin’ blind man’s bluff is a little baby’s game
You pick up Little Dynamite I’m gonna pick up Little Gun
And together we’re gonna go out tonight and make that highway run
You don’t have to call me lieutenant Rosie and I don’t want to be your son
The only lover I’m ever gonna need’s your soft sweet little girl’s tongue and Rosie you’re the one
Dynamite’s in the belfry playin’ with the bats
Little Gun’s downtown in front of Woolworth’s tryin’ out his attitude on all the cats
Papa’s on the corner waitin’ for the bus
Mama she’s home in the window waitin’ up for us
She’ll be there in that chair when they wrestle her upstairs ’cause you know we ain’t gonna come
I ain’t here on business
I’m only here for fun

Rosalita jump a little lighter
Senorita come sit by my fire
I just want to be your lover ain’t no liar
Rosalita you’re my stone desire

Jack the Rabbit and Weak Knees Willie you know they’re gonna be there
Ah Sloppy Sue and Big Bones Billy they’ll be comin’ up for air
We’re gonna play some pool skip some school act real cool
Stay out all night it’s gonna feel all right
Rosie come out tonight Rosie come out tonight
Windows are for cheaters chimneys for the poor
Closets are for hangers winners use the door

Rosalita jump a little lighter
Senorita come sit by my fire
I just want to be your lover ain’t no liar
Rosalita you’re my stone desire

Now I know your mama she don’t like me ’cause I play in a rock and roll band
And I know your daddy he don’t dig me but he never did understand
Papa lowered the boom he locked you in your room
I’m comin’ to lend a hand
I’m comin’ to liberate you confiscate you I want to be your man
Someday we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny
But now you’re sad your mama’s mad
And your papa says he knows that I don’t have any money
Tell him this is his last chance to get his daughter in a fine romance
Because a record company Rosie just gave me big bucks

My tires were slashed and I almost crashed but the Lord had mercy
My machine she’s a dud out stuck in the mud somewhere in the swamps of Jersey
Hold on tight stay up all night ’cause Rosie I’m comin’ on strong
By the time we meet the morning light I will hold you in my arms
I know a pretty little place in Southern California down San Diego way
There’s a little cafe where they play guitars all night and day
You can hear them in the back room strummin’
So hold tight baby ’cause don’t you know daddy’s comin’

Rosalita jump a little lighter
Senorita come sit by my fire
I just want to be your lover ain’t no liar
Rosalita you’re my stone desire

— Bruce Springsteen

Ugly Beauty: more Mexican from the road

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Above: It wasn’t pretty but this ugly beauty* sure tasted good… Huevos Rancheros with chile verde sauce and beef at Vallejo’s in Sacramento.

No better cure for the after-effects of an epic wine dinner than a piping-hot plate of huevos rancheros, ranch-style eggs. I had never seen the dish prepared with a chile verde or green chili sauce (typically, it is drowned in red chili sauce), nor had I seen it topped with chicken or beef (the latter option above). Vallejo’s also offers “vegetarian” huevos rancheros (I guess the qualifier vegetarian reflects an attitude that eggs do not belong to the realm of carnivory).

Above: a carnitas (roast pork) burrito from Don Carlos in La Jolla.

Whoever parked the domain name “eataburrito.com” is a genius.

A surfboard painted like a Mexican flag at Don Carlos. The restaurant lost its license to sell beer (which is too bad) but it’s still a So Cal classic burrito joint.

* I believe that “Ugly Beauty” was Thelonious Monk’s only waltz.

Calls in California for Balance and Nature (and dinner with a “national treasure”)

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Above: dinner with “national treasure” Darrell Corti (right) and Josh Greene, editor-in-chief, Wine & Spirits Magazine at Sacramento’s Waterboy.*

Tuesday morning I headed up from La Jolla to Sacramento to attend the opening sessions of the Unified Wine & Grape Symposium. The convention represents California’s largest gathering of winemakers and wine-grape growers and I was lucky enough to receive an invitation to the 34th annual meet of CAWG (the California Association of Winegrape Growers) where Darrell Corti — one of the nation’s foremost authorities on American and European wine — was guest speaker.

Earlier in the day I ran into Napa Valley public relations legend Pamela Hunter, who had just come from Corti Brothers, Darrell’s grocery and wine shop. We were introduced by another wine professional and when we made the connection that he was our mutual friend, she pointed out rightly that Darrell ought to be considered a “national treasure”: his worldly erudition, encyclopedic wine and food knowledge, and unwavering graciousness are matched only by the cornucopia of foods and wines he has introduced to the U.S. through his taste-making however modest store. Ruth Reichl and Colman Andrews have called him the man “who knows more about food and wine than anyone else in the world.”

Above: Unified Wine & Grape Symposium participants.

In his address, Darrell asked the CAWG members to reflect on the “tradition” of California winemaking, warning them not to become complacent. In California, he said, “we can make whatever we want wherever we want”: he urged them to consider replacing ubiquitous Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon plantings with other international grape varieties that will show better in the warm Californian climate. Aglianico, he suggested, might represent an alternative to Cabernet.

He reminded the group of wine-grape growers and winemakers of the “concept of 10.5 – 13.5% alcohol table wines” and the era before “overripeness and terroir became confused” (in an episode now dubbed “Zingate,” Darrell made headlines last year when he announced that he would no longer sell wines with an alcohol content over 14.5%).

“Have we abrogated the quality of wine to the wine press?” he asked, urging growers to reel in brix levels (the brix scale is used to measure the sugar content of grapes; simply put, the more sugar in the fruit, the higher the potential alcohol content of the wine). “You have to grow good grapes to make good wine,” he told them. And “as they say in Italian, buon vino fa buon sangue,” literally, “good wine makes good blood,” in other words, good grapes and good wine make us healthy.

Above: our unforgettable repast began with a Webb and Farinas 1970-1998 Sherry, “Blended Fino and Baked Fino Solera,” one of the last bottles ever made by the University of California at Davis, Darrell told us.

Before I caught a plane back to San Diego the next morning, I managed to find a seat among the 800+ audience at Wine & Spirits ed-in-chief Josh Greene’s “State of the Industry” talk. Josh spoke of the new trend of younger sommeliers who are “hand-selling” once exotic international grape varieties to the Cabernet-Merlot-and-Chardonnay set. The Loire Valley, he said, represents the most alluring wine-producing region for this new generation of restaurant professionals. Naturally made, food-friendly wine from Italy and France, he told the group, is becoming more and more popular among America’s wine directors and he urged producers to consider natural winemaking.

“It’s a risky way to make wine,” he noted. “You can’t always make wine commercially like this, but there’s a growing market for it. The question is how to make a wine that’s balanced, has concentrated flavors, and a distinct expression of its place… and then figure out how to make money doing it,” he added, drawing a chuckle from the packed house.

Gauging from the positive reception of Josh’s excellent talk, there might be hope for Californian wine after all.

Click here to read Josh’s notes from his address.

Above: this 1986 Mount Pleasant Semillon from Darrell’s cellar blew me away. It was full of life, brilliant acidity, and vibrant minerality. But the show-stopper was a magnum of 1983 Cepparello by Isole e Olena, a great bottling of (pre-barrique) Sangiovese from a vintage overshadowed unjustly by 1985.

I loved the session title ““How to Have a Mostly Worry-Free Interaction with TTB Resources” (the TTB or Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau regulates wine sales in the U.S.).

Grass-roots organizers were also in attendance.

I can’t reveal whose car this is (but I bet you can guess). I really dig the old-school blue California plates.

* On my way out, one of the waiters told me that the restaurant was named after the band The Waterboys, but I’m not sure I believe her.

The best pizza in New York? I think I’ve found it…

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The best pizza in New York? I think I found it on Sunday night at Lucali Brick Oven in Carroll Gardens.

Pizzaiolo Mark Iacono, owner of Lucali Brick Oven, is a natural. A marble mason by day, he built a beautiful wood-fired oven and open kitchen in an old candy store on Henry St. in Carroll Gardens. The previous owner’s name was Lou and he and his wife Valerie’s daughter is named Kalista, so they called their pizzeria “Lucali.” To watch Mark make pizza is like going to the ballet: his methodical movements are graceful and steady and his timing impeccable. He makes only pizze and calzoni: his crusts are perfectly salted, the thickness consistently ideal, and the toppings are pure and simple (pepperoni, onion, mushroom, basil, and sometimes sausage from the local pork store). For my table, he recommended a pizza with tomato sauce, cheese, and basil: he uses mozzarella di bufala, domestic mozzarella, and then a pinch or two of freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano. Also on Mark’s recomendation, I tried the “five-cheese” calzone: stuffed with ham (he rips the slices by hand into small strips), ricotta, mozzarella di bufala, domestic mozzarella, Parmigiano Reggiano, and a fifth cheese that he wouldn’t reveal. It was insanely good…

I asked Mark, a Carroll Gardens native, how he learned to make pizza: “I just remembered the way they used to make it in the old days,” he told me.

“Mark just wanted a place,” said his lovely wife Valerie, “where everybody liked the pizza.” He has certainly succeeded.

There are no menus at Lucali, it’s strictly BYOB, and the waits are long (up to three hours on some nights, Mark said). Seems that most patrons are locals who leave their number and wait to be called when their tables are ready.

Above: I paired the pizza and “five-cheese” calzone with a gorgeous Joseph Roty 2003 Marsannay. The combination — the excellent pizza, the earthly wine, and the setting — was purely transcendental.

I rarely drink espresso after dinner these days but had to try Mark’s (he is the only one “allowed” to touch the machine, his wife told me). It wasn’t good… it was divine.

Lucali Brick Oven
575 Henry St (and Carroll)
Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, NY 11231
(718) 858-4086

I’ve been eating pizza all week and below I’ve compiled a list of some of my favorite places.

BENSONHURST

Above: Si parla italiano (Italian is spoken) at Da Vinci in Bensonhurst (one of NYC’s vibrant Little Italys).

Da Vinci
6514 18th Ave (and 65th St)
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, NY 11204
(718) 232-5855

Da Vinci is my all-time favorite NYC-style pizzeria. The crust is always perfect, not too thin and not too thick. The pizzaioli are always super nice and it’s great to see the families and kids there and hear Italian spoken. Be sure to order a slice with “fresh” mozzarella.

CARROLL GARDENS

Lucali Brick Oven
575 Henry St (and Carroll)
Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, NY 11231
(718) 858-4086

See above

EAST VILLAGE

Cacio e Vino
80 2nd Ave (and 5th)
New York, NY 10003
(212) 228-3269

Truly top-knotch sommelier Eleonora Tirapelle (left) at Cacio e Vino (“Cheese and Wine”). She used to work at the famous Bottega del Vino in Verona. Note how she’s bound the cork to the bottle using the foil of the capsule. The night I was there I had an excellent Origanata, a Sicilian-style pizza with anchovies and oregano (hence the name). My friends and pizza experts Charles and Michele Scicolone (check out this profile) like the pizza there but they go for Salvatore Fraterrigo’s Sicilian specialities. “Salvatore is from Trapani,” says Charles, and he makes some of the best Sicilian food outside of Sicily. His pasta con le sarde, ‘pasta with sardines,’ a traditional Sicilian dish, is incredible. He uses dill in the place of the wild fennel they use in Sicily, but it’s better than most restaurants in Sicily.”

GRAMERCY

La Pizza Fresca
31 East 20th Street
(btwn B-way and Park)
New York, NY 10003
(212) 598-0141

“La Pizza Fresca is the best pizzeria in the city for Neapolitan-style pizza,” says Charles, a devotee of the restaurant. “The test for Neapolitan pizza is that you can take it and fold it again and fold again without crust breaking. The pizza at La Pizza Fresca never fails the test. La Pizza Fresca also has one of the best wine lists in Manhattan.”

Check out Charles’ recent post on where to eat pizza in Naples.

LOWER EAST SIDE

Above: Rosario’s is perhaps the last Italian-owned pizzeria on the Lower East Side. It stays open late and, man, I speak from personal experience: a late-night Rosario’s slice after a gig or show in a LES club is awesome.

Rosario’s
173 Orchard St (and Stanton)
New York, NY 10002
(212) 777-9813

Owner Salvatore Bartolomeo (left) came to NYC from Palermo, Sicily in 1960 and has run the classic downtown pizzeria Rosario’s since 1963 (note the archetypical LES would-be hipster with wanna-be Strokes haircut waiting for a slice). If you’re looking for the best NYC-style pepperoni pizza this is the place to go (he actually bakes the sliced pepperoni on each pie, unlike many pizza-by-the-slice joints where the pizzaiolo adds the pepperoni to a regular slice and then reheats it). For large parties, I highly recommend asking the pizzaiolo to bake a whole pie for you. It’s well worth the wait…

Rosario’s doesn’t have a website but it does have a fan site created by one of its die-hard patrons.

PARK SLOPE (PROSPECT HTS)

Franny’s
295 Flatbush Ave
Park Slope, Brooklyn, NY 11217
(718) 230-0221

The pizza at Franny’s is done in the Neapolitan style and many of the toppings are sourced from artisanal, local cheese- and sausage-makers. The wine list is small but really great, with a good selection of natural wines. Francine has a great palate and she likes one of my favorite Lambruscos, Lini.

What’s your favorite NYC pizza?

Above: Anthony Mangieri, polarizing pizzaiolo at Una Pizza Napoletana (photos by Kelli).

Following my post on pizza in New York City, I received a number of recommendations. Here are some of the most passionate…

Una Pizza Napoletana
349 E 12th St (btwn 1st and 2nd)
New York, NY 10003
(212) 477-9950

New Yorkers love their pizza and they love to share their opinions. No NYC pizzeria seems to be as polarizing as Una Pizza Napoletana in the East Village: there are those who swear it is the most authentic Neapolitan pizza in the city and there are others who claim it is just a would-be hipster cult destination.

Pizzaiolo Anthony Mangieri makes only four pizzas: Margherita, Marinara (above, left), Bianca, and Filetti (topped with cherry tomatoes), all of them meatless. Anthony uses sawdust to “bump the oven temp up about 70 degrees for a few seconds to add a little crunch without drying the crust out,” writes Scott. “Worked like a charm on 2 of the 3 pies we had: Marinara was suitable for the Last Supper, Bianca was on its heels and the Margherita was a little soggy which texture-wise is to obvious effect but it also washed out the flavor a bit. The keys to the flavor (for me) are the explosions of different flavors from bite to bite: a hit of salt here, olive oil there and in the case of the Marinara the beautiful oregano.”

Bleeker Street Pizza
69 7th Ave S (at Bleeker St)
New York, NY 10014
(212) 924-4466

“This slice joint stands above. I challenge you to find a better stand-up slice in town than its Nonna Maria — marinara, mozzarella, basta. With just a few tables, I’m not sure how they’d respond to wine from the outside, but it would be worth trying to smuggle in a ’61 Cheval Blanc.”

— Jeff

Di Fara
1424 Avenue J (at 14th St)
Brooklyn, NY 11230
(718) 258-1367

“Di Fara Pizza should definitely be in the top tier. It is an awesome only in NY experience. It is totally chaotic with no order there are 5-6 people deep at a counter and every once in a while the owner looks up and takes and order so you have to be proactive/aggressive. We had a simple cheese pie – it was amazing fresh basil and cheese.”

— Robert

Luzzo’s
211 1st Ave (btwn 12th and 13th Sts)
New York, NY 10003
(212) 473-7447

“That’s amore… warm coals and crusty pizza.”

— Alfonso

Stromboli
83 Saint Marks Pl (at 1st)
New York, NY 10003
(212) 673-3691

“In the drunk pizza category there’s nothing finer than Stromboli on St. Marks and 1st Ave. It’s a block from the Tile Bar (which is my favorite bar in the East Village and possibly all of the city) which makes it perfect in every way.”

— Dana

Totonno’s Pizzeria Napolitano [sic]
1524 Neptune Ave (at West 15th St)
Brooklyn, NY 11224
(718) 372-8606

“Totonno’s out on Coney Island is my favorite. Every time I go there with friends, we order one, and then, after we eat it, we order another and eat that. Thin crust, and more sauce than cheese.”

— Dana (bis)

Carbonara (and Matelica)

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Yesterday was international Carbonara Day and New York hosted a number of carbonara celebrations organized by the GVCI (Virtual Group of Italian Chefs). The origin of Spaghetti alla carbonara is unknown but the GVCI has put together this relatively well-informed page citing all the theories as to its provenance (I was glad to see that the group referenced my edition of Ippolito Cavalcanti’s Cucina Teorico-Pratica).

I didn’t get to taste Cesare Casella’s Carbonara with Winnie but I did convince Roman chef Salvatore Corea to whip up a Carbonara just for me at his newest restaurant Bocca.

Above: Salvatore Corea’s Spaghetti alla Carbonara is not on the menu at Bocca but it was great.

I paired it with La Monacesca’s 2005 Verdicchio di Matelica: clean and fresh in the mouth, with nice fruit flavors. While Verdicchio dei Castelli di Iesi, which lies on the Adriatic coast of the Marches, is the more famous of the two appellations, Matelica, which lies in an inland valley, is known for its fruity notes (thanks to the temperature variation of the valley). It’s a wonderfully food-friendly wine and also went well with Salvatore’s grilled scamorza and culatello.

Above: Salvatore also had me taste his Spaghetti alla gricia, a similar dish, also made with guanciale (and black truffles) but no egg. It wasn’t as good as the carbonara but tasty nonetheless.

Above: to be avoided at all costs! The Spaghetti alla Carbonara at Il Mulino in the West Village was by far the worst I’ve ever tasted.

Late last year I tasted the Spaghetti alla carbonara at Il Mulino, in the West Village, where I had one of the worst meals of my life. It’s really unbelievable — inconceivable in fact — that this would-be landmark restaurant has not been exposed for what it truly is: a sham.

Above: another dish of equally dubious origins, Fettuccine Alfredo, also at Il Mulino, and equally bad as its carbonara.

The only bottle I could find worth drinking at Il Mulino was a 1988 Barolo by Marchesi di Barolo (the rest of the list is over-oaked and WAY over-priced). Thankfully (or sadly, depending on how you look at it), I was the guest of another wine professional. We were both shocked by the obscene prices. So, please, don’t ever go there!

Stick to the professionals (hopefully we can get Salvatore to make his carbonara a regular dish on his menu).

Guanciale and Barolo in The Times

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The Wednesday edition of the The New York Times and its Dining and Wine section is a weekly event for food and wine writers and culinary professionals (New Yorkers and the rest of them west of the Hudson river).

Today’s section caused many of us in the wine world to drool with envy: Eric Asimov published a great story about Barolo and a recent tasting he attended. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime affairs (unfortunately not yet in my life!). I really like how Eric puts Barolo — a wine so misunderstood by so many — into perspective. Check out his post on the tasting at his blog (essential reading for me). It will surely make your mouth water (and bring tears of envy to your eyes as it did to mine).

Florence Fabricant doesn’t have a blog but she did do a great piece on guanciale in today’s somewhat Italophile edition of the Dining and Wine section. She writes: “Guanciale, which means pillow, a description of its shape, has an especially rich, sweetly porky flavor and a buttery texture.” It’s true that guanciale means “pillow” but in another context — that of medieval and Renassiance-era armor — it denotes the cheek pieces that were often attached to helmets (see illustration above, upper left-hand corner). It’s derived from the Italian guancia, which means “cheek” (from the old German, wanga or wanka, akin to the old English wang).

The suffix -ale is very common in Italian (as in nazione, nazionale), hence, guanciale from guancia.

Guanciale — the cured pork — is made from cured pig jowl (the part that runs from the head to the shoulder). So, it’s more likely that guanciale, when used in a gastronomic context, is more akin to “cheek” than it is to “pillow.”

I was so green with envy after reading Eric’s blog that I just had to point that out…

In other news…

I was really glad to see that a Sex Workers Outreach Program linked to my post on Sugo alla puttanesca: “Prostitutes are not responsible for the naming of an Italian dish” (scroll down the page).

Pizza alla puttanesca and 95 Taurasi

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Above: Pizza alla puttanesca paired with 1995 Mastroberardino Taurasi at La Pizza Fresca in Manhattan.

In today’s Italy, pizza is generally paired with beer. Young Italians are drinking more and more wine these days but beer remains the beverage of choice for Italian pizzeria-goers. Although I prefer my pizza with beer, I always make an exception when I eat pizza with my good friends, Italian wine maven Charles Scicolone and his wife Michele, Italian food expert and author of countless Italian cookbooks, including Pizza Any Way You Slice It (which they co-authored). Charles loves to drink Barolo and Aglianico with his pizza and last night found us at his favorite New York pizzeria, La Pizza Fresca, where I couldn’t resist — in the light of my recent posts — ordering a pizza alla puttanesca.

After Naples and Rome, New York is one of the world’s most interesting pizza destinations and the pizza at La Pizza Fresca is very good. It’s done in the Italian (as opposed to NYC) style with Neapolitan (as opposed to Roman) leanings.

Charles had brought a bottle of 1995 Taurasi by Mastroberardino, which showed nicely. Mastroberardino began to oak their Taurasi a few years ago (“they went to the dark side,” as Charles likes to put it) but the 1995 was made in the traditional style. In the spring of 2006, Charles and I attended a vertical tasting of Mastroberardino (led by Piero Mastroberardino) going back to 1968 and we have enjoyed more than one bottle of 68 Taurasi at the Bottega del Vino in Verona. When aged in botti, Taurasi (100% Aglianico) has impressive aging-potential and many call it the “Nebbiolo of the south.”

By chance, Produttori del Barbaresco winemaker Aldo Vacca (pictured below) was also dining at La Pizza Fresca last night and Charles poured him a glass of the 95 Taurasi. “It shows qualities similar to Nebbiolo,” noted Aldo, who was in town for his importer’s 25th anniversary portfolio tasting.

Above: winemaker Aldo Vacca of Produttori del Barbaresco.

I had a chance to speak with Aldo at the tasting earlier in the day and I’ll be posting my interview with him later this month.

Above: two top bloggers in my book, Alfonso Cevola and Alice Feiring also attended Aldo’s importer’s portfolio tasting.

Pizza and Taurasi? Pretty darn good… any way you slice it.

In other news…

A propos Naples, I recently discovered Wikipedia in Neapolitan dialect! I’m not such a fan of Wikipedia but this site is great…

The origins of Sugo alla puttanesca?

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puttanesca9bAbove: spaghetti alla puttanesca. There’s one thing we can all agree on: “sugo alla puttanesca” (literally “whoreish sauce”) is made with tomatoes, olives, capers, salt-cured anchovies, garlic, and chili flakes (give or take an ingredient or two). There’s no questioning that it tastes good.

In the wake of my post-new-year’s eve post “Taittinger alla puttanesca”, fellow bloger Marco wrote me, collegially questioning my belief that “sugo alla puttanesca” should not be attributed to prostitutes or their culinary preferences. I promised Marco that I would do some more research and another post. Here’s what I found:

1) the earliest text to reference pasta “alla puttanesca” cited by the Grande dizionario della lingua italiana (edited by Salvatore Battaglia) is Raffaele La Capria’s 1961 novel Ferito a morte (translated as The Mortal Wound, 1962).

2) according to a study commissioned by the Unione Industriali Pastai Italiani (Italian Pasta-Makers Union), pasta “alla puttanesca” first became popular in Italy during the 1960s.

3) a search in The New York Times electronic archive revealed that the first mention of “puttanesca” sauce in the paper was made on January 28, 1972 by restaurant reviewer Jean Hewitt in her review of Trattoria da Alfredo (then located at 90 Bank street): “spaghetti Puttanesca [sic], which has a tantalizing tomato, garlic, anchovy and black olive sauce.”

4) in her landmark tome on Neapoitan cuisine, La cucina napoletana (1977), Jeanne Carola Francesconi attributes the creation of sugo alla puttanesca to Ischian painter Eduardo Maria Colucci (1900-1975) who — according to Francesconi — concocted “vermicelli alla puttanesca” as an adaptation of alla marinara or “seaside-style” sauce.

But the definitive albeit anecdotal answer to this conundrum may lie in an article published by Annarita Cuomo in the Ischia daily, Il golfo, in February, 2005: “Il sugo ‘alla puttanesca’ nacque per caso ad Ischia, dall’estro culinario di Sandro Petti,” “Puttanesca sauce was born by accident in Ischia, the child of Sandro Petti’s culinary flair.”

According to Cuomo, sugo alla puttanesca was invented in the 1950s by Ischian jet-setter Sandro Petti, co-owner of Ischia’s famed restaurant and nightspot, the “Rancio Fellone.”* When asked by his friends to cook for them one evening, Petti found his pantry bare. When he told his friends that he had nothing to cook for them, they responded by saying “just make us a ‘puttanata qualsiasi,'” in other words, “just make us whatever crap” you have (see my original post for a definition of the Italian puttanata).

“All I had was four tomatoes, a couple of capers, and some olives,” Petti told Cuomo. “So I used them to make the sauce for the spaghetti.” Petti then decided to include the dish on the menu at the Rancio Fellone but “spaghetti alla puttanata didn’t sound right. So I called it [spaghetti] alla puttanesca.”**

Petti’s anecdote is probably tenable but is by no means exhaustive (from a philological point of view). To make matters worse, Colucci was Petti’s uncle and it’s unclear why Francesconi attributes the dish to the painter. But philology is an inexact science: the origin of sugo alla puttanesca probably lies some where between the isle of Ischia and the Amalfitan coast, where tomatoes, capers, olives, anchovies, and garlic are ingredients of choice. It’s clear that the dish emerged sometime after World War II when tomato-based sauces grew in popularity among the Italian middle class. My philological sensibility leads me to favor the “puttanata/puttanesca” theory over any other and there is no evidence — at least that I can find — that points to prostitution as the origin of the dish.***

There’s one thing we can all agree on: sugo alla puttanesca tastes good.

* A rancio fellone is a sea spider or spiny crab, a common ingredient in Mediterranean cuisine.

** Like the French à la, the Italian expression “alla” (the preposition a + the definite article la) denotes “in the style of” or “after the fashion of” and is always followed by an adjective (not a noun); alla puttanesca sounded better to Petti because puttanesca is an adjective (while puttanata is a noun).

*** In his Naples at Table (1998), the otherwise venerable but hardly philologically minded Arthur Schwartz reports a number of apocryphal etymologies whereby Neapolitan prostitutes are indicated — in one way or another — as the originators of this dish. He even goes as far as to write that a seemingly celebrated nineteenth-century courtesan, Yvette “La Francese” (Yvette the French [prostitute]), a native of Provence, may have created the dish to assuage her homesickness. The fact that the dish emerged during the 1950s would seem to dispel any romantic notions of pasta alla puttanesca in nineteenth-century Neapolitan bordellos. Brothels were outlawed in Italy in 1958.