[Subscribers, please click HERE to view the video form your e-mail. Grazie~]

In Italian, the word “gelato” means “frozen” more than it means “ice cream.” So, for as much as we have heard that gelato is the Italian equivalent of ice cream, this “gelato” is really a frozen mousse of a dessert. Quick and easy, with no ice cream maker needed, this dessert may be served as a chilled mousse or frozen completely as a “gelato.”

I learned this recipe from Nonna and I have made it my own by adding raspberries. I think the berries are perfect for summer and I don’t think Nonna (Angiola Maria Novella Bonomi) would disapprove.

Buon Appetito~

Mark

Frozen Mascarpone with Chocolate & Raspberries

Dolce Gelato al Mascarpone Gelato

3 large eggs (*)

1 cup powdered sugar

12 ounces mascarpone cheese

2 ounces dark chocolate (between 60% to 72% cacao), finely chopped

1 teaspoon instant espresso powder

Pinch of salt

1 pint fresh raspberries, divided (1/2 pint to stir into the gelato and the other 1/2 pint reserved to use as garnish)

Separate the egg yolks from the whites, placing the yolks in a large bowl and the whites in a medium bowl. Set the bowl of whites aside.

Add the powdered sugar to the egg yolks and beat until well blended. Next, add the mascarpone, in batches, mixing well between each addition. Add the chocolate and espresso, stirring until well combined. Set aside.

Add the salt to the egg whites and whip to firm, but not stiff, peaks.

Using a spatula, gently fold the whipped whites into the mascarpone mixture until incorporated. Gently fold in half of the raspberries until mixed in, being careful not to break the raspberries.

Pour into individual dessert cups, covering each with plastic wrap, and place in the freezer for 2 hours until firm like a mousse – or – pour mixture into a 2-quart plastic container with lid, place in the freezer for 8 hours and, using an ice cream scoop, place into serving dishes, garnish with the reserved raspberries and serve.

Serves 8 to 10.

(*)Please take note that the eggs used in this recipe, though they do get frozen, are not cooked. If you have concerns about using raw eggs, use pasteurized eggs, which may be found at most grocery stores or health-minded food stores.

Notice: The consumption of raw or undercooked eggs, meat, poultry, seafood or shellfish may increase your risk of food borne illness.

This recipe and others are available on Mark’s Beyond the Pasta app for iPad, iPhone and iPod on iTunes.

[Subscribers, please click HERE to view this view from your e-mail. Grazie~]

I love fresh berries ~ blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, strawberries ~ especially in the summer when they are at their season’s best. Big, juicy, sweet, slightly acidic, they burst with flavor that is hot weather perfect.

When Nonna (Angiola Maria Novella Bonomi, the Italian grandmother in my book) first showed me this recipe, she was so excited, thinking that I had never seen a cobbler before. When I told her I had, it seemed to deflate her “culinary teaching” bubble. But, always ready to learn something new, I told her that I definitely wanted to see how she prepared one.

I’m not sure that “cobbler” is particularly Italian, but this recipe is VERY Italian in the sense that it does not use a lot of sugar, even though it is a dessert. It relies on the natural sweetness of the fresh berries. But don’t let this recipe keep you locked into the idea that it is only good for berries. When summer fruits like peaches, plums, or figs come into season, swap any of those in for the strawberries in this recipe. I really enjoy fresh peaches with blackberries and blueberries, but let your palate be your guide. In fact, here is a link to my fall season version, which uses fresh pumpkin, apples and pears.

Buon Appetito~

Mark

Summer Berry Cobbler

For the berry filling:

1 pound strawberries, stem ends removed, cut into quarters

1 dry pint raspberries

1 dry pint blackberries

1/4 cup sugar

1 tablespoon flour

1/4 cup chiffonade fresh mint

For the topping:

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 cup sugar

1 cup whole milk

11 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and then cooled to room temperature

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Pinch Kosher or sea salt

Powdered sugar for garnish

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Generously butter a 2-quart baking dish, set aside.

In a large bowl, add the berries, sugar, flour and mint, gently stirring until well combined. Set aside and allow to soak for 30 minutes. [This may be done up to 8 hours ahead and placed in an air-tight container in the refrigerator to soak until ready to use.]

Pour the fruit filling and all of the juices into the baking dish, distributing the fruit evenly. In a medium bowl, sift together the flour and baking powder. Add the sugar, stirring to combine. Pour in the milk, melted butter, vanilla and salt. Mix until a smooth batter is formed. Pour the batter over the top of the fruit, making sure that it completely covers the fruit.

Place the baking dish on a baking sheet, in case it bubbles over, and bake for 50 minutes to an hour, until the top is nicely browned. Remove to a wire rack and let cool 15 minutes before serving. Spoon into individual bowls, dusting the top crust of each serving with powdered sugar.

Serves 6 to 8.

For this recipe and others, see Mark’s Beyond the Pasta app for iPad, iPhone and iPod on iTunes.

The bar at Pizzeria Locale, Boulder, CO

~ Buona Pasqua ~

I was having coffee today with a friend of mine who is going to Italy in April and staying in a convent. I have stayed in convents in Italy before and they are a nice way to economically stay in many of Italy’s larger cities. I have stayed in two separate ones in Rome and my friend is going to stay at one in Florence.

Think of the convents as an “adult” version of a hostel (envision a positive hostel, not one filled with unshowered 19yos with no money!), where the rooms are simply appointed (think 1950s dormitory) and very clean. Usually there is an en suite bathroom in every room (I would definitely make sure of this when booking a stay) and the sisters are more than gracious and helpful. If you are a night owl, the only drawback can be that they have a curfew which is usually 11:30p.

Here is a website that I recommend for information about monastery stays in Italy:  http://www.monasterystays.com/

While we were having coffee, I was reminded of a story from my first convent stay in Rome at the Convent Guest House of the Suore Mantellate Serve di Maria during the week of September 11, 2001. If you have heard me tell this story before, please forgive me, but I feel I must share it again from my Nov ’09 blog post —and somehow it seems appropriate on Easter weekend. I leave you to make whatever metaphorical and metaphysical connections you wish.

♦

Sister Ada was a cheerful, older nun, in her 70s, who always greeted us with a warm smile and a caring nod of her head. The convent was always bustling with nuns and other guests, but over the course of our three-day stay we bumped into her the most.

Staying at a convent can be a challenge. There is a nightly curfew and the doors are promptly closed and locked—and not with a simple key, but with a large Frankenstein castle bar that swings down and fits into large steel brackets on the interior side of the door. A large mob carrying torches and using a large tree truck for a battering ram would have an almost impossible feat ahead of them in trying to get in.

In actuality, when the clock struck 11:30 p.m. and the large 14-foot-tall doors were closed, the bar lowered and secured, and the large skeleton key inserted and turned in the lock with a metallic “thud” of a clank , it felt more like we were being locked in rather than being protected from any outside harm.

Here, the rules were strict: if you weren’t back inside by 11:30 p.m. you were locked out of the convent until the doors were opened at 6:00 a.m. the next morning. And when they shut the doors at curfew, they shut them for the night. Period. You miss your curfew, there is NO getting in. The sisters take their curfews very seriously!

Well, the dungeon-like security of the convent was comforting, but it did pose a problem. We had a 6:45 a.m. flight on the morning of our departure, which means that I scheduled a car service to pick us up at 3:30 a.m.—in front of the convent. Are you ahead of me yet? We were going to need to be sprung from the nunnery during “lock down” hours. I didn’t really think of this when we checked in on that Friday, but on that Saturday, I woke up in a panic trying to figure out how we were going to get out to meet the driver early Monday morning.

After breakfast, I approached the sister who was working the reception desk and explained to her our early morning need to get out and my concern about it how to make it work. She assured me that all we had to do was “…come downstairs early Monday morning and call for Sister Ada and BOOM she will appear.” We all jumped a little when this sister said, “BOOM!” She was rather forceful in her tone and she made a large sweeping gesture with the sleeve of her habit, as if Sister Ada would spring up from some trap door concealed in the floor.

“Really? All we have to do is say, ‘Sister A…’” I started to say, but before I could complete her name—

“BOOM!” this nun replied, again sweeping her hand up in the air—more like pulling a rabbit out of a hat than the trap door her gesture implied the first time. We all laughed, but she shook her finger at us in complete confidence.

“BOOM!” she proclaimed and walked away.

Over the next two days, whenever we passed this nun in the hallway I would say, “Sister Ada?”

“BOOM!” and a flourish of the arm would be her enthusiastic response. Again, we laughed and her finger wagged.

That weekend in Roma with our mothers was truly special, but in the back of our minds loomed the insecurity of being on one of the first regularly scheduled flights back to the states after 9/11—and the insecurity of being let out of the convent Monday morning.

On that Monday morning, the four of us only had three hours of sleep before we woke up, showered, dressed, and quietly hauled our suitcases down two flights of stairs and into the foyer, stopping at the reception desk. All the while feeling like prisoners trying to make a secret escape. A convent is a solemn and somewhat serious place during the course of the day, but at 3:15 a.m. it is an absolutely silent and desolate building. It was now time to conjure up Sister Ada.

We all looked at each other, blurry-eyed and laden with luggage, before I took a deep breath and rather sheepishly said, “Sister Ada?”

Silence.

There was no BOOM! Not even a boom.

“Sister Ada?” I said, louder this time but still not at full voice.

Silence.

“Well, damn…where’s the ‘BOOM?’” Richard’s mother said in her Southern accent. Of course, that made us all burst out laughing, and immediately we hushed each other, covered our mouths, and tried to regain composure.

“Sistah Ada,” Richard’s mother said, full voiced, using a firm, Julia Sugarbaker Southern tone.

Silence.

Nothing.

No turn of a knob, not even the chirp of a cloistered cricket.

Panic now set in. It was almost 3:30 a.m., the Frankenstein bar was down, and there was no Sister Ada. We each started looking for doors and began tapping on them and saying, “Sister Ada?”

“Okay, seriously, where’s the BOOM?!” my mom said with Yankee, Chicago determination.

Sister Ada was not behind the door to the hallway linen closest, nor in the chapel, or behind the several other doors that opened onto the foyer. We started branching out farther down the hallways and “Sister Ada?” was no longer a polite question whispered into the sleeping convent air. We were desperate and needed out.

“SISTER ADA!” I yelled, with the last syllable of her name “DA-DA-Da-Da-da-da-a-a-a” reverberating as it sonically rolled and disappeared down the marbled hallways and secluded niches.

“Sì, sì, sì. Un momento,” and from behind a door down a long dark hallway appeared our Sister Ada—wearing her habit on her head and a floor-length dressing robe. She greeted us with her usual smile, turned the key, raised the bar, and swung wide the large front door, revealing our waiting car running at the base of the convent’s front steps.

“Arrivederci. Buon viaggio!” And with that, Sister Ada waved us off and closed the door…with the sound of the heavy bar clanging closed and the skeleton key turning the lock’s tumblers—”thud,” still very audible from outside the door.

♦

As you journey in the darkness, may your calling out be heard … and answered with a “BOOM!”—or, at least, with sweet, if not somewhat drowsy, “Sì, sì, sì, un momento…”

Buona Pasqua e Buon Appetito~

Mark

An Italian Adventurer’s Journal

~ Ciao, ciao, ciao DaVinci ~

The “2012 DaVinci Wine Storyteller” experience was truly remarkable. Not only was I given the opportunity to travel to Italy, but I was also given the opportunity to learn, to grow and to expand my life. It was a beautiful gift to have been given and one that I am grateful to still carry with me.

Traveling with me were three talented artists: Jade Sheldon-Burnsed, Cathi Ianonne, and Michelle Kondrich. Visit their blogs to see what they are creatively doing.

Un grande mille grazie to DaVinci Wine’s staff, both in America and in Italy. Hospitality and graciousness were shown and extended to us at every turn without hesitation or a second thought. Bravi, tutti!

And my thanks extends to everyone at the Casale di Valle (pictured above) plus our guide Carolina and driver Filippo.

It was everyone’s support that gave me the idea to do the “Good People” video, #3 in my series for DaVinci. If you missed it, here it is:

  (Subscribers, please click here to view the “Good People” video from your e-mail.)

Buon Appetito~

Mark

[2012 DaVinci Wine Storyteller for Language Arts]

SEE my complete “Italian Adventurer’s Journal”

♦ ♦ ♦

And announcing ~ DaVinci Wine is now excepting applications to become a part of their 2013 Storyteller Experience! You could be a part of the next group of creative people to visit Vinci ~ I highly recommend it!

Minestra di Primavera

Lettuce, Pea and Pasta Soup

[As featured on WTSU radio's Community Focus with host Carolyn Hutcheson and WSFA-TV 12's Alabama Live! with hosts Judd Davis and Tonya Terry.]

Things burst green and fresh in the garden when Spring arrives. Lettuces are often the first to peek through the dirt with tender leaves that can tolerate warming days and nights that still hold a bit of nip in the air. This soup, also known by its Italian name Minestra di Primavera (Spring Soup), is a quick and simple dish, full of green lettuces and sweet peas—perfect for lunch or a light supper!

Buon Appetito~

Mark

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, more for drizzling

1 medium onion, finely minced

1/2 to 3/4 pound baby Romaine or Romaine hearts, chopped into medium dice

1/2 to 3/4 pound curly endive, chopped into medium dice (chicory, escarole, or arugula may be substituted)

1/4 cup chopped fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley

1 teaspoon salt, or more to taste

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, or more to taste

8 cups low-sodium canned chicken stock (make vegetarian by substituting vegetable stock)

1 cup tubettini or ditalini (or your favorite small tube pasta)

1 cup frozen green peas (*substitute 1/2 pound fresh sugar snap peas when in season)

1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, for garnish

In a large pot, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring, until it starts to turn golden, 5 to 6 minutes. Add the lettuces, parsley, salt and pepper, stir until well combined and sauté for 3 to 4 minutes, until the lettuces are wilted and start to lightly brown. Add the stock, cover the pot, and bring to a boil.

Once boiling, add the pasta [*if substituting sugar snap peas, add now with the pasta], stirring occasionally, cooking until the pasta is al dente—tender but firm to the bite, about 10 to 12 minutes. Add the frozen peas, stirring until well combined. Turn off the heat, cover the pot and let the soup rest briefly for 2 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve with a tablespoon of grated Parmigiano and a drizzle of olive oil over the top of each serving.

This makes 8 one-cup servings. 

[*Note: When in season, sugar snap peas are fresh burst of flavor in this recipe. To use: remove the stem end and trim the “string” away by pulling from the stem end to the tip. Cut each pod crosswise in half or, depending on size, into equal thirds. Add to the mixture with the ditalini pasta.]

In case you don't think this is truly Italian, here is a bowl of this very soup, made with endive, that I ate at "Trattoria Settimio"~ a family-style restaurant in Rome.

]]> http://www.beyondthepasta.com/2013/03/26/spring-soup/feed/ 0 http://www.beyondthepasta.com/2013/03/20/davinci-brother-brunello-video/ http://www.beyondthepasta.com/2013/03/20/davinci-brother-brunello-video/#comments Wed, 20 Mar 2013 06:18:44 +0000 Mark Leslie http://www.beyondthepasta.com/?p=8934

An Italian Adventurer’s Journal

Welcome!

[Subscribers, please click HERE to view the "Brother Brunello" video from your email.]

While I was in Vinci, Italy, I shot a lot of video. Besides using the written word, I also wanted to share Vinci with you via moving images and sound.

“Brother Brunello” is the second of a 3-part video series and here you get a look at DaVinci Wine’s Cantine di Montalcino, where they produce their “Brunello di Montalcino” wine. This robust, full-bodied red wine made from 100% Sangiovese grapes is grown in the vineyards surrounding the Tuscan town of Montalcino, a town with wine-making roots dating back centuries.

Video 1 in the series, “Welcome,” may be seen HERE. And video 3 “Good People” may be viewed HERE. ”

Enjoy this “An Italian Adventurer’s Journal” video entry!

Buon Appetito~Mark

*Missed my other DaVinci Wine “Italian Adventurer’s Journal” entries? No worries! Check out my past journal entries HERE for all of my DaVinci Wine “2012 Storyteller” experiences’ posts.

An Italian Adventurer’s Journal

“It begins and ends with Florence.”

Waiting on the table for breakfast was a yogurt cake—except Anna had added apple and pear to it, just like the yogurt cake that Nonna first made for me in Viterbo when I lived with her family. Anna and I spoke about this cake my very first day here and now on my last day at the Casale she made her version of yogurt cake with apple and pear.

Anna’s act of making this yogurt cake is exactly what “food” means to me—it is a priceless gift. A gift of time, of thought, of imagination and of creation—one soul giving to another soul is nothing short of something sacred.

And this morning’s frittata?

A tomato frittata made with her garden tomatoes. Buonissima! –really delicious!

View from Piazzale Michelangelo

We traveled to Firenze –Florence– today and I am always ambivalent about Firenze. I was there on 9/11—my first trip to Italy. It was the catalyst for me falling in love with this country, its food and its people. That day in Florence began a roller coaster ride of food, cooking and life that is still going on 11 years later.

This was my third day trip to Florence, but in order to truly fall in love with this city as so many people have done, I think I may have to stay here for longer than just 6 hours at a time to truly experience its energy. So far, Firenze hasn’t made a deep impression on me—but I am not about to give up traveling here. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try, try again, right?

Of course, Rome is my town, so maybe this is like a “New York vs. Chicago” thing. I am from Chicago, so I never really feel the need to go to New York. Since I really like Rome, maybe I will never bond with Firenze.

[Subscribers, please click HERE to view the "View of Florence" video.]

Carolina had Filippo take us to a belvedere—the Piazzale Muchelangelo, which overlooks the city. From here, from anywhere around the city, the Duomo is an imposing presence. Besides the tower on City Hall, there is nothing that breaks the cityscape like the Duomo and its bell tower. You can go to the top of the Duomo and the bell tower and I highly recommend that you do—when in Italy, never miss an opportunity to go up!

At the Ponte Vecchio, Cathi, one of the other 2012 Storytellers, participated in the long tradition of the Lovers’ Lock. Legend has it that if you and your lover place a lock on the gate that surrounds the statue of goldsmith Benvenuto Cellini and then say a little prayer, before pitching the lock’s keys off of the bridge into the River Arno, then your love will be sealed forever.

Cathi had a lock with her initials and her boyfriend’s initials painted on it—it looked like nail polish to me. I guess that will do in a pinch! I followed her to the gate and captured it all. Click HERE to watch the video.

Walking from the Ponte Vecchio to the Mercato Centrale, Florence’s large central market, we passed a shop with the most vibrant looking produce I had ever seen. I wanted to buy it all, cook with it, and eat it immediately. Maybe if produce looked like this at the local grocery store we’d all be eating a lot more fruit and veggies.

This photo of tomatoes makes me think—“This whole photo would make some killer sauce!” And to think that tomatoes are not indigenous to Italy. They came back to Italy from the “New World” (“South America”) with the explorers. “Grazie, Cristoforo Colombo!” At first they were considered poisonous, then an aphrodisiac, and now I can’t see a tomato without thinking of Italy.

Since we were out shopping, I found myself inside a department store purchasing soap. Yes, I have thing for a particular brand of Italian soap that comes in a wide variety of particularly Italian scents. I decided that I wanted to leave some “parting gifts,” if you will, for everyone who has been so wonderful to us during our stay. I know soap may seem a little weird, but, like everything I have experienced this week, I want my gifts to be very particular—very particular in coming from me. I’ll have no way of knowing if people will appreciate them or not, but that isn’t the point—it is the thought that counts.

Going inside the Mercato Centrale was a sensory overload for me. Depending on where you live, you might be used to going to a local farmer’s market that has everything from meat to cheese, seafood to vegetables, and a couple of delis to order food. I don’t have that kind of thing where I live, so when I go into one, I want to taste and purchase everything.

[Subscribers, please click HERE to view the "Dried Fruit" video.]

The first vendor I came upon was selling dried fruit and they were as vibrant, if not more so, than the real ones I had passed a couple of blocks ago. The above video clip shows just how beautiful they were and, remember, we eat with our eyes before we eat with our mouths. I ended up buying some of the Pomelo (an Asian fruit), Pomodori (dried tomatoes but NOT sun-dried) and Ciliegie (Cherries).

The Pomodori were sweet almost like a cherry. Sun-dried tomatoes for me are so sweet that they are almost bitter, but these pomodori were not that instense. And, i ciliegie were sweet and just a little tart. I bought enough to eat on the plane home—I might as well try to extend my time here in Italy as long as possible and if that involves eating something Italian on the flight home, well, so be it.

Meats and cheeses are a staple at every Italian market and here is just a small sample of what was available.

[Subscribers, please click HERE to view the "Salumi" video.]

I was about four vendors from the porcini mushrooms when I started smelling them and, like the Sirens calling me upon the rocks, I was crashing right ashore after them! Sadly, it is impossible to find fresh porcini mushrooms in America. You can find them dried, so to reconstitute them: place the dried mushrooms in a bowl, cover with almost-boiling water. Place a small plate on the porcini to keep them submerged in the bowl. Let them soak for about 20 minutes. Remove the plate, strain off the liquid through a fine sieve or paper coffee filter, reserving the liquid for use in the recipe. Use them as you would any other mushroom and add the reserved, strained liquid to really enhance the porcini flavor.

Lunch was practically right next door to market, at a funky ristorante called Za-Za. I say it was funky because the interior was an eclectic mix of furniture pieces and accessories and then the murals on the walls, mamma mia! The Muses danced on the ceiling above our table.

[Subscribers, please click HERE to view the "Za Za" video.]

After lunch, we headed back to the Casale, but we made one last detour to the favorite gelatoria that we had visited on Tuesday. When I walked in, the woman behind the counter recognized me, grabbed the same size cup that I had ordered back on Tuesday and then asked, “Lamponi e Menta, anche?” –“Raspberry and Mint, again?”  How did she remember me and my order from 3 days ago?

“Certo!” I said, and before I knew it I had my gelato before everyone else had entered the gelatoria.

I was stunned, even Filippo, our fantastic driver this past week, ordered gelato. This entire week, while I have been eating everything in sight like Godzilla destroying a fishing village, Filippo has been the example of control. I understand and appreciate his not drinking at any of the meals this past week—he was driving us everywhere—but he also didn’t eat as often or nearly as much as any of us. I have been giving him a hard time about not making me look good, since he and I have been the only men on most of the excursions, and he has not been indulging like I have.

“Oddio! No lo credo. Mangi gelato oggi. Sei male?” –“Goodness! I don’t believe it. You are eating gelato today. Are you sick?” I said, giving Filippo a hard time.

He just smiled and chuckled. Yes, he will have the last laugh while I am trying to back my fat fanny into the seat for my flight home!

Actually, if I lived in Italy I would not eat like I do while I am there on vacation. On vacation I feel like I don’t want to miss out on anything—not one smell, sight or taste. This means that I eat every course at every meal, always trying something new. I want to approach Italy running—and like a starving Godzilla.

When we arrived back at the house, Franco had done a table arrangement for our farewell group dinner tonight. He picked all of the flowers from around the property and that goes for the greenery and the lavender, too. I was quite impressed at his attention to the finer details.

Anna—and I have no doubt that Celia, Franco and Rossella helped out, too—prepared the feast tonight. I call it a feast because, even though it was classic Italian antipasti buffet food, she really pulled out the stops.

Here is a video of what Anna prepared. Forgive my Italian, I tried as best I could in a kitchen full of non-English speaking Italians.

[Subscribers, please click HERE to view the "Final Meal" video.]

We all had a glorious time. Anna’s food was buonissimi and the wine was buonissimi also. In fact, we started with DaVinci Prosecco, then on to the Pinot Grigio, then through the reds (I had the Brunello di Montalcino) and then after dinner we broke out the DaVinci Vin Santo and Grappa. It was a perfect evening of conversation, food, wine, laughter—and new friends!

Here is the 3rd and last video in my series of three for my 2012 DaVinci Wine Storyteller Experience, entitled “Good People”:

[Subscribers, please click HERE to view the "Good People" video]

Buon Appetito~

Mark

*Here is my favorite fall and winter wine recipe that I learned in Italy from Angiola Maria Novello Bonomi (Nonna). I like it so much that I put it in my book. You can use either white or red wine in the recipe, but you should definitely drink a hearty red, like the Brunello di Montalcino with it:

 Spezzatino della Nonna con Polenta

Veal Tips with Polenta

Veal Tips:

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1 small onion, finely minced

1 large garlic clove, finely minced

1 ½ pounds veal top round, cut into 1-inch cubes (beef tips or stew meat may be substituted)

1 cup dry white wine (red is preferred if using beef tips)

1 teaspoon salt, or more to taste

½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, or more to taste

6 whole, peeled canned Italian plum tomatoes, (if using fresh plum tomatoes, run them through a food mill to remove the skins)

1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh rosemary, stems removed

In a large pan over medium heat, heat the oil and butter until the butter has melted and is bubbling. Add the onion and veal tips, and cook until browned, 8 to 10 minutes. Add the garlic, stirring until combined, and cook for 1 minute. Add the wine, scraping the browned pieces from the bottom of the pan, and cook until the wine as almost evaporated, 3 to 4 minutes. Add the salt and pepper. Place the tomatoes into a small bowl, and using your hand, crush them into small pieces. Add the rosemary and crushed tomatoes (and their juices) to the pan, mixing until well combined. Lower the heat, cover the pan, and simmer for 35 to 40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the meat is tender. If the sauce starts to thicken or dry out too much, add a tablespoon of hot water at a time while stirring.

Polenta:

10 cups water

1 tablespoons salt

3 cups yellow polenta, medium-grind

1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano or Pecorino Romano cheese, or more to taste

In a large pot, bring the water to a boil over medium heat. Stir in the salt and as the water starts to come up to a boil again, lower the heat slightly and, using a whisk, slowly pour in the polenta in a thin stream, whisking it into the water, always whisking in the same direction to help prevent lumps. When the cornmeal is completely incorporated into the water, switch to using a wooden spoon and stir the polenta, crushing any lumps against the side of the pan to remove them. If the polenta is boiling or spitting too much, lower the heat a little at a time, until it sputters without coming out of the pot. As the polenta cooks it will thicken. Cook the polenta, stirring frequently, for 25 to 30 minutes until it is thick and starts to pull away easily from the sides of the pan. Turn off the heat and stir in the cheese.

Spoon the hot polenta into serving dishes and top with the veal tips and some of their sauce. Makes 6 servings.

Wondering what to do with the leftover polenta?

Pour the extra polenta onto a 9-inch x 13-inch baking sheet and spread until it is level. Let the polenta cool for 10 to 15 minutes and cover with plastic wrap to keep a skin from developing. When the polenta has cooled, using a knife dipped in water, cut the polenta into 3-inch squares and place in layers, separated by parchment paper, in an airtight container in the fridge. Leftover polenta slices can be grilled, pan-fried in some olive oil, or layered with sugo and mozzarella, and baked in a casserole.

An Italian Adventurer’s Journal ~ Extra Post

“Eating Souvenirs”

My favorite type of souvenir to bring home is an edible one!

When I was a child, my vacation souvenir was usually a trinket that ended up collecting dust on a shelf or was thrown into an old cigar box filled with other memories of vacations past. Now as an adult, I’m not very big on memory trinkets; instead I go for culinary souvenirs—something that, through sight, smell and taste, will transport me back to a particular place and time. I realize that something edible is not as long lasting as a t-shirt, a key chain or some fancy sit-around, but, at this point in my life, do I really need more stuff sitting around? Nah—I’d rather eat and savor my vacation one more time from home.

Last July, when DaVinci Wine sent me to Vinci, Italy, (read the details of that fantastic journey) we were given a tour of the Antico Pastificio Morelli (the ancient Morelli Pasta Factory) located in San Romano near Pisa. The factory was founded in the 1860s and it is still a Morelli family-run business—5 generations later. Bravo, Morelli!

What makes this particular pasta so special is that it uses wheat germ processed in a traditional way that is now one of the family’s most guarded secrets. In fact, while we were being toured though the factory, we had to turn off our cameras in the room where the wheat germ was being ground into flour, so we wouldn’t give away any of the proprietary secrets.

The Morelli’s make a wide variety of pastas from Tartufo (Pasta with Truffle) to Limone e Pepe (Lemon and Black Pepper Pasta) to Banderie di Porcini (Porcini Flag Pasta) to Peperoncino Rosso (Red Pepper Fettuccine) and the list goes on [See a wide selection, but not all, of Morelli pasta on Amazon.].

While we were on the tour I was told that since these are flavored pastas, the best way to serve them would be with a simple sauce—nothing too heavy or sophisticated because it would cover up the pastas’ unique and delicate flavors. When I suggested that their Cacao Penne (Cocoa Penne ~ yes, chocolate pasta) must taste really good in a cream sauce, I was once again reminded that even that would be too heavy of a sauce. “Wow!” I thought, “This is serious pasta!”

I had made such a scene when I first walked into the factory about the profumo buonissimo —the great smell— of the Porcini mushroom pasta, that at the end of the tour, when we were graciously given 3 free packages of pasta, the owner’s wife, with a wink, slipped a fourth package (the Porcini Flag pasta) into my gift bag. Fantastico!

My gift bag included, besides the bonus fourth package of Porcini, a package of Limone e Pepe, Peperoncino Rosso, and Spaghetti alla Chitarra (Guitar Spaghetti). “Wait, ‘guitar’ spaghetti?” Yes Elvis, but don’t think a guitar-shaped pasta. Chitarra pasta is an old-fashioned style pasta that was originally shaped by placing a sheet of raw pasta dough over a series of wires strung over a board—shown HERE—and then pressed through the wires (or “guitar strings”), which cuts the pasta into strips. Hence, the pasta is named after the “guitar” that is used to cut it.

Below is my recipe for Pomodorini Arrosti con Spaghetti alla Chitarra —”Roasted Grape Tomatoes with Guitar Spaghetti.” In keeping with the Morelli’s suggestion that only simple sauces be used, even though this spaghetti is not made with an additional flavor beyond the wheat germ itself, I made this with roasted grape tomatoes. Roasting them releases some of their sweet juices, but the tomatoes do not break down enough to make a true red sauce.

If you can’t find Morelli Spaghetti alla Chitarra, I suggest you make this dish with Bucatini (a thick spaghetti with a hole running through it)—or just plan ole’ spaghetti.

Buon Appetito~

Mark

Pomodorini Arrosti con Spaghetti alla Chitarra

Roasted Grape Tomatoes with “Guitar” Spaghetti

2 dry pints grape tomatoes

Extra virgin olive oil

Kosher or Sea salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1 small yellow onion, minced

1 large clove garlic, sliced

1/2 cup white wine (I suggest DaVinci’s Pinot Grigio)

1 pound Morelli’s Spaghetti alla Chitarra (Bucatini or Spaghetti may be substituted)

1/4 cup chiffonade(*) fresh basil (*basil cut into thin ribbons)

1/2 cup shredded or grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

On a parchment-lined baking sheet, toss the tomatoes with 2 tablespoons olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast until the tomatoes pop and start to caramelize, about 15 to 20 minutes.

While the tomatoes roast~

In a large skillet over medium-high heat, add the oil and when hot, add the onion and saute until translucent, about 3 to 5 minutes. *NOTE: If the onions start to brown and cook too fast, add a little water to slow the cooking process.

Add the garlic and cook for a quick 30 seconds.

When the tomatoes are roasted, remove from oven and set aside to cool.

Letting the tomatoes brown and "caramelize" brings out their natural sugars—and a lot of flavor!

Add the roasted tomatoes, ALSO adding all of the juices and drippings on the baking sheet as a result of the roasting process.

Add the pasta to a large pot of boiling salted water. Make sure you add enough salt to make the water taste like sea water ~ this seasons the pasta as it cooks.

Drain, but do not rinse the pasta. Rinsing the pasta would remove the starch, which is important to leave on because it helps the "sauce" adhere to the cooked pasta.

Add the pasta to the sauce.

Toss the pasta with the tomatoes. If the sauce is too dry, add a couple of tablespoons of the pasta cooking water. Turn the heat off, add the basil, a 1/4 cup of the grated cheese, and toss to combine. Taste for seasoning and adjust with salt and pepper.

Plate the pasta, drizzle with a little extra olive oil and grated cheese.

Serve immediately ~ garnishing each serving with a little additional cheese.

Want to see more about Morelli Pasta or my DaVinci Wine experince in Vinci, Italy? Click HERE for my “Italian Adventurer’s Journal” posting about Morelli.

Click HERE for my complete DaVinci experience.

An Italian Adventurer’s Journal

“Start your day right”

This morning we have “off” and I am grateful—not because I feel like I have been run ragged, but because I know that I have the morning to relax and absorb the atmosphere of the Casale. I am a big fan of scheduling a day off in the middle of a trip. A day where nothing is planned and the only task that is allowed is to be spontaneous. It gives you the impression that you are a casa -“at home”- in the middle of a trip; it allows you to feel as if you live in Italy—or wherever you travel.

Today, the Casale di Valle is my home, my Italian home.

Most of my fellow storytellers decided to either sleep in late or do some work from their rooms—again spontaneity was this morning’s only master.

Every morning Anna and her crew outdo themselves in having the breakfast table set for us. In true Italian hospitality, there is always more food than we can possibly eat—and if we did eat it all, I have no doubt that the next morning we’d find the table doubly loaded with offerings.

It is true that Italians are not big on breakfast. It is also true that Americans are big on breakfast, so I often wonder what the Italians think of us vacationing Americans when they set a breakfast table for us.

The typical breakfast or colazione for Italians would be a simple croissant-like pastry –un cornetto– and to drink un cappuccino (an espresso with milk) if you are a woman or a child and un caffè –an espresso– if you are a man.

While I was in the kitchen this morning, there was a big discussion about whether or not a man should have un cappuccino per colazione. I said that I enjoyed cappuccino in the morning, but since I was in Italy I wouldn’t have one.

“Perchè, Mark?” –“Why, Mark?”– Anna and Celia asked in unison.

“Perchè, in Italia, uomini non bevano cappuccini. Bevano caffè solo,” I replied.

“Non, non, non è vero Mark,” they replied, in pointed disbelief that I thought men do not drink cappuccino but only coffee in Italy.

Anna’s husband, Masini, was in the kitchen so I turned to him and asked if a real man in Italy would ever drink a cappuccino for breakfast. They ladies looked at him sharply, waiting for his reply, as if to say, “Don’t be sexist about this. Of course a man can have one.”

Masini thought a moment, looked at the ladies and then looked back at me.

“La verità,” –“The truth,”– I said.

“No, uomini d’Italiani non bevano cappuccini,” –“No, Italian men do not drink cappuccino,”–  Masini said.

“Boh!” the women exclaimed, chiding Masini for being sexist, but really chiding him more for not taking their side.

I laughed and shook Masini’s hand, as if I had just been accepted into the Italian Brotherhood of Men.

Honestly, I do think Italian men drink cappuccino for breakfast—in the privacy of their own homes, but never in public. What is wonderful about a cappuccino is that you can dunk your cornetto into it, much like you would dunk a doughnut into a hot mug of Joe back home.

Without knowing, Anna always seems to prepare some of my favorite things to eat for breakfast, though some of them are popular Italian lunch items. Anna has been making some type of frittata (think a flat, non-folded omelet) and some type of sweet pastry—like the yogurt cake and a Crostata di Marmellata –Jam Tart.

This morning, Anna made what she called an omelet—two stacked frittate with prosciutto cotto –cooked ham– and cheese layered in the middle. This is the first time that I have seen this type of frittata or omelet (which is the French name) in Italy. I like learning something new.

[Subscribers, please click HERE to watch the crostata video from your e-mail.]

[At the bottom of this post is a recipe for Crostata di Marmellata. So simple to make because you use your favorite homemade preserves. And if you don’t make your own preserves, no worries, you can simply use your favorite store-bought brand!]

Jade, my fellow storyteller chosen by DaVinci for her photography, eats gluten-free so Anna has gone out of her way to make sure that everything she prepares … the pizza crust, pasta, crostata, bread, etc … also has as gluten-free version for Jade. For Anna, this has been a learning experience, too, and I would like for those people who are gluten intolerant to know that there is no reason why you couldn’t be eating Italian right along with the rest of us. Jade certainly hasn’t gone hungry here and neither would you!

As I sat outside on the patio eating my breakfast—I did put some milk into my espresso, shhhh, don’t tell Masini—I couldn’t help notice the view off to the side of the pizza oven. It was so windy the evening we made pizzas that I couldn’t concentrate on anything besides keeping the pizza from blowing off of the plate. But this morning was glorious—a perfect temperature with only a little wisp of a breeze.

Beyond the Casale’s property, sighted between the terracotta pot and the Italian Cypress, is a sweet little house or outbuilding nestled in a bucolic setting on the adjacent rise.

Regardless of how I looked at it, either with my naked eye or through my camera’s lens, it looked like a 2-dimensional theatrical backdrop—painted by some really great scenic artist. It looked trompe l’oeil—a French term meaning to “fool the eye,” as if someone hung this drop between the cypress and the pizza oven wall to disguise a horrible view of a factory or trash dump; however, when I went over to see what was behind this imagined “drop,” the landscape just continued to go on and on, revealing that it was indeed real and 3-dimensional—but back in my chair at the table—2-D.

Italy tempts and teases my senses at every turn.

Here is a little footage of some butterflies in the lavender. It was such a peaceful morning that I think you should join me~

[Subscribers, please click HERE to watch the butterfly video from your e-mail.]

With such a relaxed morning I found myself gravitating back to the kitchen to see what Anna was cooking. She was making lunch for us today before we headed out to a pasta-making factory and then on to Livorno, a beach resort town on Italy’s western coast.

There is this myth that most Americans have bought into that it takes a whole day to make authentic sugo –red sauce– for pasta. I have no idea where this myth started, but I am here to tell you that I have yet to witness an “all-day sugo” being prepared in Italy. When I was with Nonna in Viterbo (the subject matter of my book), her basic sugo recipe took 30 minutes, tops. This morning I asked Anna how she prepared her basic sugo, not so much to learn her recipe but to see how long she cooked hers.

As I imagined, Anna’s sugo, though slightly different from Nonna’s, was just as quick and easy.

The ingredient list is the above photo plus one clove of garlic and a 1/3 cup finely chopped celery leaves. (Ignore the plum tomatoes; Anna added them to the still life photo because she thought it looked better. See, she is il cappo –the boss. Ha!)

The recipe:

-In a saucepan over medium heat, add 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil.

-When hot, add 1 minced red onion and sauté until translucent but not browned.

-Add the celery leaves and cook another 1 to 2 minutes.

-Add 1 clove of garlic, minced, and sauté for a quick 30 seconds.

-Stir in 32 ounces of canned whole, peeled tomatoes, crushed with your hand, and all of their juices. (Anna used tomatoes that she canned from her garden last year. Since you won’t be able to use hers, look for canned San Marzano tomatoes. San Marzano is not a brand but the name of the town where these particular tomatoes come from—and they are buonissimi!).

-Add salt and pepper, seasoned to taste.

-Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to low and simmer for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has thickened. (Anna does pass her sauce through a food mill. You can run yours through a food processor if you wish. I like my sauce a little chunky, so I would use as is.)

-Cook 1 pound of your favorite pasta in plenty of boiling salted water (the water should taste salty like the ocean). When al dente – firm but tender to the bite – drain the pasta (do not rinse!) and add it to the sauce.

-Add 1/4 cup freshly torn basil leaves to the sauce just before you add the cooked pasta to the sauce. Add more basil, depending on your taste. Serve immediately!

Filippo Volpi arrived at the house to join us for lunch. He is a foodie and enjoys cooking, too. Anna made La Pappa as a first course for lunch. This is a very traditional Tuscan dish derived from la cucina povera –the poor kitchen. Italian cooks waste nothing and this recipe uses stale bread as the main ingredient, mixed with a couple of other basic ingredients to make a bread stew/soup. When you are poor, you throw away nothing and, in Italy, you never discard stale bread. There are lots of recipes which call for stale bread from panzanella (a bread salad) to adding reconstituted stale bread into meat loaf and grating stale bread into bread crumbs.

Here is a video discussion between me and Filippo about La Pappa~

[Subscribers, please click HERE to watch the "la pappa" video from your e-mail.]

Filippo was traveling with us today and our first stop out of the house was at the Antico Pastificio Morelli –Morelli Pasta Factory in San Romano, a town in the Province of Lucca. It was founded in 1860 and is still owned and operated five generations later by the Morelli family.

Morelli pasta is made with wheat germ following a secret family recipe handed down through the generations. The wheat germ adds a very unique flavor to the pasta and it also gives the pasta a rougher surface for the sauce to adhere.

Though the pasta is machine mixed and formed, the Morellis dry their pasta at lower temperatures and handle the pasta by hand. The lower and slower drying process gives the pasta more strength in packaging and shipping than other pastas that are dried quickly.

When we walked into the factory, all I could smell were porcini mushrooms. Their pungent, musky, forest-floor scent was hypnotic. At that moment, they were making squid ink pasta –Nero di Seppia, so I couldn’t see where the porcini mushrooms were.

This was my first time seeing pasta being extruded and, since the Morellis put such a high value on their product being handled by hand, I really got to see pasta being made instead of the whole process being automated.

[Subscribers, please click HERE to watch the Morelli pasta video from your e-mail.]

It wasn’t until three rooms later that I found the Banderie di Porcini –Porcini Flags– pasta drying in a bin. Their smell was intoxicating.

Since I have been home, I have prepared the Morelli pastas we were given and paid attention when I was told, “because our pasta is flavored, you do not need to add a heavy sauce to this pasta. A little butter or oil and some cheese will be all that you will need.” When I asked if cream would be a good sauce, especially for the Limone e Pepe pasta, the answer was “No, even cream is too heavy and it will hide the flavor of the pasta.” I thought, “Wow, these people really think a lot of their pasta.”

To be honest, they were right! A heavy sauce would overpower the flavor of this pasta and I can see why they want to steer you in the direction of tasting the pasta. Italians are very big on the pasta being more important than the sauce. The sauce is a condiment to dress the pasta, not to smother it. When saucing your pasta at home, think of the pasta as lettuce and the sauce as a salad dressing. You really only need enough sauce to flavor the pasta—not to bury it under a sea of sauce.

Pisa was roughly between the Pastifico Morelli and Livorno, so Carolina thought we had just enough time to “poke” our heads around the main piazza to see the leaning tower and then move on. This was my first time to Pisa and the Piazza dei Miracoli –Piazza of Miracles– was swamped with people, which was no surprise given that it was the height of tourist season.

We didn’t have much time here, just long enough to walk through the piazza, go into the Duomo and the Baptistery. When you are in Italy I highly recommend you go into as many churches as possible, regardless of your religious views. The reason? Churches for the longest time were the ones hiring artists to paint, sculpt and build. Now the churches are like museums with some of the most important works by some of the most famous Italian artists.

Somehow I managed to take a photo of the tower leaning in the opposite direction of how it truly is leaning. We didn’t have time to go up the tower, but I would recommend that you should always go to the top of every structure you can in Italy. The views are always incredible and it’s fun—we don’t have very many towers to climb here in America.

Today could not have been more different. In the morning I was in the middle of a vineyard eating an omelet, by midday I had already been to a pasta factory and taken in the architecture of a famous piazza and now, late afternoon, I was on the coast having cocktails at a yacht club.

And what a spread it was! An assortment of spuntini –snacks, fresh fruit, wine and cocktails.

I’m not quite sure why we don’t eat more fruit in America. Eat at a restaurant in Italy and you will almost always be asked if you would like dolce o frutta –dessert or fruit– after a meal and here at the Molo Mediceo bar at the yacht club in the port of Livorno, a gorgeous platter of fruit was part of the afternoon spuntini.

I was all ready to have a glass of DaVinci’s Prosecco when the owner of Molo brought out a pitcher of Cavallo Pazzo –Crazy Horse, a cocktail of his own invention. Well, when someone makes something special for you, you shouldn’t turn it down, right? I mean, how rude if I had! So, I went in for the Cavallo Pazzo. What was in it? I have no clue, but I considered it an Italian version of a Long Island Iced Tea—a little of this and a little of that, and all of it alcohol.

They were really good and, while sitting at a bar overlooking the yachts, the Cavallo Pazzo was perfect. Of course, every time my glass was half empty, the owner was back topping me off. I’m not sure how many I had and I was in no way hammered, but I could see why the owner gave this concoction its name—you could quickly become unbridled if you weren’t careful.

Stopping along the coast for a quick view of the water below reminded me of a trip to Capri. There the water was so clear that you could see the rocks on the ocean floor and the same was true here. From high above water, you could actually see down through it to the rocks below. “Blue” is not an accurate description of the color of the water off the coast of Italy. It is deeper and clearer, more complex and particular, than the word “blue” could ever begin to describe. It is a liquid mosaic, subtly shifting in hue and saturation.

The day ended up being about the water. Our restaurant, La Lucciola –The Firefly– was right on the water and I knew our meal was going to be all about the sea. The sun was just starting to set and the light was enchanting. Jade, who is a photographer, was relishing in all of this fantastic light, taking photos here and there. I couldn’t resist in asking her if I could take her photo with her period Polaroid camera. She graciously agreed and above is my test shot with my camera to see which way she should stand—either with the light hitting her face or with the light behind and silhouetting her. We went for the glow of the light on her face.

Look at those eyes—clear, clear, clear! That is truly the best way to tell if a fish is fresh—look it in the eye. We were in for some very good seafood.

And with seafood comes Prosecco and Pinot Grigio. If there is one thing that I would ask DaVinci to do, is to consider introducing their prosecco into the American market. Now, I know that one interested writer in the South does not have the power to influence a company to go to the expense of adding to their American sale choices; however, I will say that I did enjoy the Leonardo Prosecco and, if offered to the American market, I would do my best to drink it into being a market success! I’m just saying—hint, hint, hint.

Of all the things we ordered, and they were all delicious, the one dish that intrigued me the most was the “Pappardelle with Clams and Broccoli.”  I think that it was a dish that I could easily recreate at home—and will at some point in time.

Here are photos of our other dishes~

Scampi with Curry Pasta

Monk Fish

Octopus Salad

Shrimp and Barley Salad

A final note about Italian seafood dishes. I hope you have noticed that in all of the seafood dishes that I have posted throughout this series, that not one of them had a creamy or heavy sauce nor did the dishes come topped with cheese. In Italy, cheese and seafood do not mix. Italians believe that cheese overpowers the subtle flavor of fish. Cream and heavy sauces do the same thing. Italian cooking, even at its most elaborate, is about simplicity.

“The freshest ingredients used to take a dish from the ground to the table in the fewest steps possible.” That is how I like to describe the philosophy of Italian cooking.

Buon Appetito~

Mark

Here is the Crostata di Marmellata recipe that was taught to me by Nonna (Angiola Maria Novella Bonomi) in Viterbo, Italy ~

Jam Tart

Crostata di Marmellata

To prepare the pan:

Unsalted butter

All-purpose flour

For the crust:

2 cups + 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

½ cup + 1 tablespoon sugar

⅛ teaspoon salt

9 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon grappa (lemon juice, milk or water may be substituted)

1 large egg, slightly beaten

For the filling:

¾ cup plum, apricot, peach or mixed berry preserves (homemade fruit preserves are preferred—use your favorite one)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Butter and flour a 9 ½-inch non-stick tart pan with removable bottom. Set aside.

In a large bowl combine the flour, sugar and salt, using a fork to mix. Add the butter in small pieces, lemon juice, grappa and egg to the dry mixture. Using a fork, stir the ingredients together, incorporating the butter until the dough just starts to come together as a whole. Using your hands, form the dough into a ball, and knead it slightly in the bowl until all the flour has been worked into the dough. Do not overwork the dough.

Put two-thirds of the dough into the prepared tart pan, and using your fingers, evenly distribute and form the dough to fit the pan, going up the fluted sides to form the crust. Place the tart pan into the refrigerator for 30 minutes to firm and chill the crust. Take the remaining one-third dough, form it into a ball, wrap in plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator to chill for 30 minutes, too. This dough will be used to form a lattice-patterned top crust.

After chilling, remove the tart pan from the refrigerator and spread the preserves evenly across the bottom of the crust. Set aside.

To form the lattice crust, remove the reserved ⅓ dough from the refrigerator and unwrap onto a rolling surface. Break off ¼ of the dough and form it into a cigar-shape between the palms of your hands. Place the cigar-shaped dough on the surface and, using your fingers, gently, but quickly, roll the dough back and forth, stretching it out from the middle, to create a “rope” that is roughly the size of your little finger. (Note: Because of the amount of butter, the heat of your hands will soften the dough. Do not become discouraged if the rope breaks or if it gets too sticky. Simply pinch the broken ends together and continue gently rolling. This is a rustic tart, so the ropes do not have to be perfect. They are supposed to look handmade.)

Evenly space 4 “ropes” along the top of the jam, pressing the ends to connect to the dough at the sides of the pan. Give the pan a quarter turn and repeat by placing another 4 “ropes” across the top of the first “ropes,” creating a lattice pattern. Secure the ends by pressing into the dough at the edge of the pan.

Bake for 37 to 40 minutes, until the edges and top crust are golden brown.*  Place the tart pan on a wire rack to cool. When cooled, remove the outer ring and gently slide the tart off the bottom pan onto a serving plate. Cut into wedges and serve warm or at room temperature.

This makes 8 standard servings.

*Note: The bottom crust will have a tendency to get an air “bubble” around 20 minutes into the baking process. Using a fork, puncture the bubble down through the bottom crust to release the trapped air. Repeat if any additional “bubbles” occur.

**This recipe is one of many featured in my book Beyond the Pasta: Recipes, Language & Life with an Italian Family and it is also featured in my iPad/iPhone Beyond the Pasta app.

An Italian Adventurer’s Journal

“Posso darle del tu?”

The Italian language, as it is with Spanish and French, uses a formal and an informal “You” verb tense. To be polite, you should always use the more respectful, formal tense of “You” when addressing someone important or a stranger. It shows that you have manners. In English, we don’t have a formal tense of “You” when speaking—everyone is on the same level and, though you may use “Ma’am” or “Sir” when addressing a stranger or someone important, it really isn’t that same thing.

For example, in English, you can ask someone, anyone, “How are you today?” Regardless of whether you are meeting the President or your best friend, the question remains the same, “How are you today?” In Italian, when asking someone you don’t know or someone of importance, you would ask, “Come sta oggi?” “Sta” is the formal “You” use of the verb; however, if you were asking your best friend, you would ask, “Come stai oggi?” “Stai” being the informal use of the verb.

My biggest dilemma in speaking Italian is knowing when to cross over from the formal “Lei” to the informal “tu.” I have been here three days and when I speak to Franco, Anna or any of the Italians that I have built a friendship with, may I use the informal “tu” or would that still be too rude and assuming of me?

Without asking, I have started using the informal with Anna, yet when she responds to me, she uses the formal—I fear I am being gruff and socially slapping her on the back as if I am some rude country bumpkin.

Carolina has started to tease Anna and me about our friendship—given the fact that Anna and I have bonded so quickly on a personal level. Carolina keeps teasing Branzino, Anna’s husband, that he needs to be careful because I might steal Anna away from him. Of course, Anna is my mother’s age and Carolina is just being cheeky, in her Scottish way. Branzino smiles and we all laugh about it. He is about 5-feet tall and weighs, at most, 100 pounds when wet, while I am close to 6-feet and have a good 100 pounds on him—though he could probably whip my behind if needed. Still, it speaks to the level of friendship that we have all developed amongst ourselves.

So … how long do I have to “Lei” you before I can “tu” you?

That, Hamlet, is the question.

I asked Carolina and Claudio how it works. I figured I needed to ask Claudia, too, since she is a native speaker and a “pure” Italian. Both of them gave me the same answer—“You need to ask her if you can use the informal ‘tu.’”

“Really, Claudia? Is this just something you do with someone who is older than you, out of respect, or do you do this with people your own age and younger, too?”

“Oh, yes, I ask everyone that I begin to have more social contact with if I may use ‘tu’ with them, regardless of age.”

I was thinking, “I can’t imagine being in America and having to ask someone if I can be informal with them.” It all seems so odd. I treat everyone I meet as if we have been lifelong friends. Hmm, now that I think about it, that may be why I too often put my foot in my mouth early on when getting to know someone.

“So how do you ask someone?”

Carolina and Claudia answered the same, “You ask, ‘Posso darle del tu?’ and then you wait for them to answer.” [“Posso darle del tu?” literally translates into “May I give you the you?” There is an even more informal way to ask the same question—“Posso darti del tu?” –“May I call you the you?” And, if you want to be down right teenage about it, you could ask, “Dammi del tu” – “Give me the you.”]

“Wow, it is like trying to figure out when you should cross over and make the leap of asking someone if you can be their Facebook friend,” I said, “I mean, you could ask for the ‘tu’ and not get your ‘friend request’ approved.”

Claudia and Carolina both laughed.

It is now my mission to get Anna to use the “tu” with me before I leave Vinci. Carolina says that it would be very hard for Anna to do that, since I am an “important” guest here and, as someone who works for DaVinci, she would think it more respectful to keep a more professional tone by using the formal “Lei.”

Well, I have already started using “tu” with Anna without asking, so I am already rude—I am not going to change midstream now; however I am going to try and charm Anna down to having no other choice but to use “tu” with me. In bocca al lupo, Mark—Good luck, Mark!

We were out of the house earlier than usual this morning. We are traveling south to Montalcino to visit the Cantina di Montalcino, DaVinci’s newest cantina where they produce Brunello di Montalcino—a wine made with 100% Sangiovese grapes. Brunello is really the big brother to Chianti and it truly is one of my favorite red wines to drink.

On our way south, we stopped for a late morning snack at a bar just below the walled town of  Monteriggioni. This was a typical bar that you would find everywhere in Italy. Inside, there is the bar where you may stand and order a caffè, a beer, a cocktail or have a little snack. If you stand at the bar you don’t have to pay the additional table fee to sit down, so standing at the bar to drink and eat is popular in Italy—it is perfect for a quick in and out. 

Over by the seating tables there was a sandwich counter where all kinds of delicious things were in the meat case and hanging from the ceiling, too!

I ordered a panino con prosciutto e formaggio –a sandwich with prosciutto and cheese. [A brief Italian lesson: Panini is plural for “sandwiches” and panino is singular for “sandwich.” Travel to Italy and order a panini and you’ll find yourself having to eat more than just one!]

I caused a little scene when Nadia, the woman behind the bar asked me, “Cosa vuole da bere?” –“What would you like to drink?”

“Un caffè,” – “A coffee,” I said, since it was about 11:00am.

“Un caffè con un panino?” Nadia asked, rather loudly.

At which point the gentleman behind the bar stepped around the corner to say, “Con un panino si dovrebbe avere un bicchiere di vino. Vino rosso o bianco?” –“With a sandwich you should have a glass of wine. Red wine or white?”

Well, I didn’t want to commit a faux pas and, since it is worse to have coffee with a sandwich than to drink before noon—“Vorrei rosso, signore. Chianti, per favore. Grazie.”

“Naturalmente Chianti. Grazie a Lei,” he said, and he was off to pour my glass of Chianti.

Nadia giggled a little behind the counter when I ordered the red. I think I said it with enough gusto that it translated into “Why naturally I’ll have the red, make it Chianti, I was crazy to have ordered coffee!” And with that giggle, I had a new friend.

Nadia let me take a couple of photos while she made my sandwich and I was able to “Italian” my way through some small talk.

I asked her about the bread, cheeses and various meats hanging above her and in the case.

“Che tipo di salume è questa? –“What kind of salami is this?” I asked, pointing to the large salami sitting on top of the rest.

“Finnocchina.” Which means that it was fennel –finnocchio– salami. I had to have a taste.

“Posso avere un gusto, per favore? I asked.

“Certo!” – “Sure!” Nadia replied, cutting off a large piece for me to taste and then winking at me as if to say, “Don’t worry, this one’s on me!”

The other delectable thing behind the counter was porchetta—roasted pig that is seasoned with rosemary, garlic, salt, pepper, extra virgin olive oil, and I don’t doubt some secrets ingredients, too. In a very odd way this is the Italian equivalent to American BBQ, though the moment I say that I am completely incorrect. With porchetta, the skin is crunchy, crunchy, crunchy and the meat is flavored by the herbs. Unlike BBQ, this is not spicy nor smoky, but it is oh so good!

On our way out, I had to have a photo with Nadia and when I asked, “Posso fare un foto con Lei?” –“May I take a photo with you?” She smiled wide, grabbed a stool and stood on it so she could be a foot taller than me, and said, “Certo!”

I laughed and there were many “buongiorno,” “arrivederci,””buona giornata,” between the bartender, Nadia and all of us in our group.

Less than a mile up the hill was Monteriggioni, a town made famous in Dante’s Inferno. Wonderfully preserved and ringed by a high stone wall with remnants of the wall’s towers (14 in all) that Dante referred to in his book, Monteriggioni is a must see stop if you are near and NW of Siena.

As we drove farther south, we passed field after field of sunflowers with all of their heads down—their growing season was over. Italy had been hot and dry this summer, so we have missed seeing Tuscany in all of its “sunny” glory. Sunflowers in Italy are used to make sunflower oil, which Italians use mostly for frying as we would use corn or vegetable oil. It gives a mild, nutty flavor to fried food—perfect for arancini, fiori di zucchine fritti, zeppole, and the list goes on. This was my first time in Tuscany in the summer. Previously I had been here in September and October, so I was really looking forward to seeing the rolling Tuscan hills covered in sunflowers. Oh well, a good excuse to come back again in late May or June!

On a whim, Carolina had our driver Filippo (not Filippo Volpi, from the Cantine, but a different Filippo) stop in the town of Buonconvento for a brief moment. It gave us a moment to stretch our legs and take some photos.

Rounding a corner, we came upon city hall, with its ancient crests embedded in the walls. You will see this type of thing all over Italy—municipal buildings with antique plaques displaying important, powerful and wealthy families’ crests.

I cannot resist. I have to imagine that this family was either named Porcini, for the mushrooms, or this family was full of “fun-guys!”

Around another corner was a metal-working shop that was overplanted with flowers. What is it about bright colored flowers in front of old brick and weathered window shutters? I don’t know, but they are bellissimi fiori! I thought I was going to have to give up hope at seeing a sunflower, but I shot a little bit of video that still makes me smile. Enjoy~

[Subscribers, please click HERE to watch the sunflower video from your email.]

Back in the car, it wasn’t long before we arrived at our destination—the Cantina di Montalcino, a very new and modern structure just outside of Montalcino. The design of the building has been controversial for some, but I think it is a beautiful structure that mirrors the rolling landscape that surrounds it. Also, the large circular, glass oculus becomes intriguingly reflective the closer you get to it. 

The almost haunting spirits of both inside and outside fool the eye—are the distilling tanks out in the field amongst the trees or has the winemaking process captured the very essence of nature inside?

Inside, Silvia and Agnese, our hosts, had prepared a Brunello di Montalcino wine tasting, which began with a tour of the facility, including the first taste of the Brunello 2008 down in the cellar. Drawn from the large oak barrels, we could taste a Brunello still in the making. It cannot be released into the market until 5 years after its harvest date (2013), so what we tasted was a young Brunello, with a more present wood or forest taste and still in need of some depth of flavor, complexity and balance. Those come with age and age comes with time in the barrel.

Barrels are key to the aging of wine and, over the centuries, as people succeeded and failed in making wine, the natural evolution of winemaking moved from lucky happenstance to perfected science. Again, you must always remember that wine is a live, interactive thing. There is variance in the flavor of the grapes and variance in the flavor of the barrel.

“Wait, a barrel has flavor?” you ask.

Yes! The inside of the barrels are toasted, slightly charred, if you will. The toasting of the wood is what produces the flavors of vanilla, smoke, caramel, tobacco, butterscotch, and a range of spices, to name a few. Also, there is variance in how much the inside of the barrels get toasted or charred, so the oak barrel is a key flavor component. How the fermenting grape interacts with the toasted oak inside the barrel or barrique (the name refers to the size of a specific barrel) adds an improvisational spin to the winemaking process.

Obviously over the centuries and millennium—people have been making wine for a LONG time—the parameters of variance have been reduced to as narrow a range as possible, but Mother Nature will always do her part in allowing natural products to live and interact as they will. She makes sure that there are enough natural variants to never allow winemaking to be an exact science. As Angese said, “We are making wine, not Coca Cola.”

Here is a video clip of Agnese in the cellar, talking about the barrels and the barrique (or “barrick”)~

[Subscribers, please click HERE to watch the wine barrel video.]

Upstairs we tasted vintages 2007, 2006, 2004 and re-tasted our 2008 last. My opinion: 2006 was exceptional; however, remember that we all have different palates and preferences. Of the nine of us at the table, about half preferred the 2004 over the 2006. And this does not mean that the 2007, which is going to be released soon, was shabby. It wasn’t, it was very good, but the great thing about attending a tasting is that you get a chance to taste several years or vintages.

A tasting provides you the opportunity to see how the wine—this living thing in the bottle—is reacting with you on a particular day—when you are being influenced by the food you are eating, the aromas of the room you are in, and even by the sociability of the people around you.

Would I hesitate to buy DaVinci’s 2007 Brunello di Montalcino? Not for a moment, but if it was next to the 2006, then the 2006 is going home with me first. And the 2004? I’d buy it in a heartbeat right along with the 2007. But my preference for the 2006 touches on why wine collectors purchase cases of a particular vintage. If I really enjoyed the 2006 when it was only six years old, think how much more I will enjoy it when it is 10 years old?!

Some Brunello di Montalcino facts I learned at the tasting:

1. It is the type of wine that, by law, cannot be sold before it is 5 years old (5 years after the harvest date, which is the vintage year listed on the bottle). It has to be made with Sangiovese grapes grown in the Montalcino area.

2. It is a wine that should be opened and allowed to breath for about an hour before you are going to drink it. If you don’t have a decanter, not to worry, let the wine breath in the uncorked bottle or, better yet, pour the wine into your glass and allow the wine to breath or “decant” in the glass.

3. You should look for a Brunello to be at its height of flavor around 10 years after the vintage date. Now, don’t get too hung up on this fact. We are talking degrees of flavor and of taste. Remember, I really enjoyed the 2006, it is only six years old at this point, so if I were to think “Oh, this isn’t 10 years old yet” I would be missing out on a great vintage for the next four years while I waited for its 10^th birthday. Think of each vintage year as one of your children. They each have a different personality, but do you love and enjoy them any less?

And the best part about going to a wine tasting, in addition to the wine, is the food. After our tasting, we ate lunch at the Cantina and, again, no one does a light lunch of cheeses, meats and appetizers better than the Italians.

One of favorites that will make some of you flinch at the idea, though if you were to taste it I think it could convert you, is lardo. Yes, lard. Thinly sliced, peppered, and placed on top of a piece of bread, think of it as butter. I have a friend who adores lardo and she calls it “meat butter.” Hmm, I am not sure if that sounds more appetizing or not, but lardo is glorious and no one prepares it better than the Italians.

Cheese is a great complement to wine and I am not sure that I know of one cheese that does not pair well with wine. I was excited to see one of my favorites on the table—chunks of Parmigiano-Reggiano. Made in Parma, it has just as many laws governing its creation as Brunello does and that is one of the reasons it is so particular and fantastic. A little pricy, but worth every dollar per salty, nutty ounce. Freshly grated over pasta, it will run rings around the “shaky” cheese that haunts a shelf in most American refrigerator doors and, when wrapped in plastic wrap or placed in a re-sealable plastic bag, this king of Italian cheese will last a very long time in your refrigerator’s lunch meat or produce bin.

It may not look like a filling lunch, but it was. Remember, in Italy, wine is a food, too, so I had a “helping” of the 2007, 2006 and 2004 on my “plate,” as well.

As we had done in Vinci after the Chianti tasting, we headed off to meet one of the growers. Filippo was taking us just south of Montalcino, right next to the famous Sant’Antimo Abbey. I have been to this glorious abbey twice before on previous trips to Italy, but what was really thrilling for me was to meet the gentlemen who grow grapes in the shadow of the abbey.

This is classic tour guide Italy, meaning I know of few Italian guidebooks that don’t feature an image of the abbey or of the surrounding countryside. It is breathtakingly beautiful –bellissima– and yet, so very rural. Maybe that what attracts people to this place—simple beauty, color and pattern, captured in its landscape.

Filippo parked near the abbey and from here we walked the gravel road that split a vineyard to make our way up the hillside to the grower’s home.

Here the land is rustic, though I hate the fact that “rustic” has been so overused that it no longer has the same affect on us. When I say “rustic” I mean that things are used here—the land is plowed, the gravel road is worn and dusty, time distresses the abbey’s marble to a warm and glowing patina. And the people are rustic, too. Their beauty lies in their weathered and worn hands, leathered and windswept faces that show of a life lived in the elements.

If you are looking for pristine, preserved, refined and elegant beauty, then you have come to the wrong place; however, if authentic life and natural beauty inspire you—here is your muse!

We met with Artibano and Allerno “Uncle” Menchini. Artibano could have been an American cowboy—lean, with a chiseled face, tanned by the sun. He looked like a farmer, but a farmer that should have been on horseback, rounding up cattle before branding them. Here within eyeshot of Sant’Antimo, Artibano wrestles vines and brands his “livestock” with a label on a bottle.

Allerno or “Zio,” his nickname, is a whole other story. A man who is his own master. A man, who, upon meeting him, will tell you “I’m ready to be in as many photos as you wish. Let me know.” Yes, Zio –Uncle– is always ready for his close-up and has graced the pages of many an international wine magazine. Leonardo may have had his Mona Lisa, but here, DaVinci has its Zio!

Once again, I am reminded of how much life goes into a bottle of wine. At every step along the the path from a new vine planted in the soil to the liquid that excites your taste buds when you drink it, wine is a living interaction between people and nature. 

[Subscribers, please click HERE to watch the Brunello di Montalcino video.]

I took my time walking back to the abbey. There are places that you visit in your life that make an impression on you, places where you want to savor the experience of being there and commit them to memory. Burn it into your psyche long and deep enough so when you feel the sun hit your face a particular way regardless of where you are at that moment, you will be instantly transported back to a very specific place and time in your life. I feel this way a lot about Italy in general, but Sant’Antimo, especially from this vantage, is now locked in my soul to savor again and again.

The town of Montalcino is a hub for wine in Italy. It is a little village with a rich history of wine. In a way, it seems to be the “Napa” of Tuscany. I know people with argue about other places in Tuscany that are as important as Montalcino, but there is definitely something very special and particular about this town when it comes to wine.

A climb to the top of the Montalcino’s fortress will afford you a 360-degree view of Tuscany. Walk along it’s fortified walls and you might imagine yourself on guard, looking out for an approaching army or maybe Hamlet’s father’s ghost.

I did take a moment to stray away from the others and take a walk with Filippo, our driver, to go get some gelato. Well, he stood at the bar and had un caffè, while I ordered some gelato. Off to the side of the bar there were two tables of Italian men playing cards. Go to any bar in Italy and you will always find a group of retired men sitting around and “shootin’ the bull” or playing cards—and “shootin’ the bull.”

This bar was no different. Between the two tables there must have been about 30 men hanging out. Only about eight were playing cards and the rest were just standing around or hanging about the tables, kibitzing and gossiping. And we men talk about the ladies having a “hen party?”

I paid for my gelato and as I approached an empty table nearby, both games stopped, mid-action, and everyone turned around to face me.

Silenzio.

Suddenly I was in a Wild West movie—the carpetbagger from out East, who just ordered a glass of milk at the bar.

Silenzio.

I stopped dead in my tracks when they all turned around in unison, the air full of tension.

“Ummm, buongiorno,” I said.

Silenzio.

I smiled.

Silenzio.

A couple of the guys nodded their heads and both tables turned back around and began playing again. I believe I heard a honky-tonk piano player start back up with “Camptown Races” as the bar’s Madam approached me to say, “You aren’t from around these parts, are ya, Mister?” But, now I may be imagining an episode of Gunsmoke.

Filippo had stepped out for a moment and returned just after my face off with the pensioners.

“Mark, I think it is time we should get back to the ladies and the car.”

“Filippo, I am right behind you, my friend!”

The ladies had gone into the wine shop inside the fortress and happened to meet the chef of the restaurant. They shared a glass of wine as the chef gave Cathi some of his favorite classic Tuscan recipes. I wished I had been there too, though I did get my own recipe—a recipe for disaster—back there at the bar.

[At the bottom of this post, you’ll find a very traditional and very Tuscan chicken recipe that I learned while living with Nonna (Angiola Maria Novella Bonomi) in Viterbo, Italy. This recipe is hearty enough to stand up to a bottle of DaVinci’s Brunello di Montalcino and it is one of the most popular recipes from my book. Yes, I know I am recommending you drink Brunello, a red wine, with chicken, but if you remember Filippo Volpi’s suggestion of “drink what you like” and the fact that lunch today was a very light offering paired with Brunello, I know you will enjoy this chicken dish with the Brunello.]

“Carolina, may we pull over?”

“Why mark?”

“We just passed a field of sunflowers still in bloom and I would enjoy getting some photos.”

“Yes, of course! Filippo let’s turn around and go see some sunflowers!”

Carolina is wonderful about being as excited to show off Italy to us as we were in having her do it. Filippo backtracked a little bit and we arrived at, what seemed to me, to be the last field of sunflowers in Tuscany with theirs heads still up.

Girasole (pronounced “gee-RRRAH-so-lay”) is the Italian word for “sunflower” and it is a wonderful word because it is a combination of two Italian words. Gira means “turns” or “rotates” and sole is the word for “sun.” Since sunflowers turn their heads to face the sun, it seems logical that girasole — turning sun — should be their quite literal and beautiful name. 

We spent a while out in that field. I have never been in Italy to see a field of sunflowers and, at the beginning of the day today, I didn’t think I was going to be able to see one either. Plus to see the bees working the sunflowers was wonderful, too. Maybe I feel so much life when I am in Italy because I am on vacation, although I will still quibble with you that this week is no vacation. We are working, but—how bad can that working be when you get to meet new people, learn new things, drink wonderful wine, eat fresh and delicious food, and play amongst the bees in a field of “rotating suns?” As a friend of mine is wont to say, “We are rich.” And in this moment of girasoli, I couldn’t agree more. “We ARE rich.”

Our day ended with a wonderful dinner at a hillside ristorante, where we watched the sun set, ate delicious food, drank more DaVinci wine, and definitely crossed over from the formal Lei to the informal tu.

Buon Appetito~

Mark

Here is the “Chicken with Tomato and Olives” recipe:

Chicken with Tomato and Olives

Pollo al Pomodoro e Olive

1 (4 pound) chicken, cut into 8 or 10 pieces (cut into 10 by dividing the breast into quarters)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to season the chicken.

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 cup white wine (or red) (DaVinci’s Pinot Grigio is perfect here as is their Chianti)

2 large cloves garlic, minced

¾ cup strained tomatoes (tomato puree may be substituted)

1½ cups (5 ounces) whole green olives, pitted

¼ teaspoon salt, or more to taste

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, or more to taste

Dry the chicken pieces with paper towels to remove any excess moisture and liberally season with salt and pepper on both sides. Heat the oil in a large skillet on medium heat, and when the oil is hot, add the chicken pieces, skin side down and fry until nicely browned, turning to brown both sides, 3 to 5 minutes on each side.

When the chicken has browned, transfer to a plate and set aside.  Add the white wine and garlic to the pan, scraping the brown bits off the bottom of the pan. After the wine has reduced by half, about 3 minutes, add the strained tomatoes, olives, salt and pepper. Stir until combined. Return the chicken to the skillet with its juices. Cover, turn the heat down to low and simmer for 20 minutes. Remove the cover and cook another 10 minutes, until the chicken is done and the sauce has thickened slightly.

Remove the chicken to a warmed platter. Adjust the seasoning of the sauce with salt and pepper, and pour the sauce and olives over the chicken. Serve hot.

Serves 6.

*Note: Strained tomatoes can be readily found in most supermarkets in either the canned tomato or pasta aisles. Sometimes the product may be referred to by its Italian name “passato” and can be found either bottled or cartoned.