Da Lucia, davvero!

http://www.theamericanmag.com/article.php?article=1894

Grotto Morchino: Article and photos by Brette A. Jackson (Grazie mille Gianna e Michele Kestenholz!)

It’s a busy Saturday night at Grotto Morchino, located in the sylvan hills of Pazzallo in Ticino, Switzerland’s southernmost canton that borders Italy (Italian is the official language), and owner Pierluigi Olgiati is making the rounds, exchanging greetings, shaking hands and sometimes taking orders. A group of boisterous women get his attention; on a long table set before them flowers and gifts have been spread out in celebration of someone’s birthday. Pierluigi, who just happens to resemble George Clooney, proceeds to join them and a round of successive kisses on their cheeks ensue (that’s three kisses each in Switzerland). Plates of assorted salamis and cheeses arrive, and the gregarious restaurateur offers them a buon appetito before moving on to another table. Olgiati was practically reared in this forty-seat (plus forty-five seats outside, used during the summer months) grotto that’s been run by his family for decades (a grotto is a small, rustic eatery with outdoor, communal seating that serves artisan-produced cured meats, cheeses and classic Ticinese dishes). Initially Olgiati had no desire to take over the family business, and instead ended up working in marketing. When his mother died in 1980 he inherited the restaurant, but held onto his day job treating the business like a hobby, which he rented out for private parties and used for dinners with family and friends. In 2000 fate intervened. During a torrential rainstorm a tree was severed by lightening and crashed through the roof causing serious damage. The restoration required a good deal of money and sweat equity, but in the process he transformed the humble grotto of his childhood into an elegant dinning room with a wood-beam ceiling (hidden for decades by a suspended ceiling), a large fireplace, sunny yellow walls, walnut tables and soft lighting. He saw the potential to once again use the space as a public restaurant, where he’d serve classic grotti dishes, but in a more upscale setting. He quit his job, and has been running this successful venture ever since.

I joined two friends who live in the area for dinner there in October, and the usual menu had been augmented with la selvaggina, wild game that’s prized during the fall months (Pierluigi makes it a point to showcase monthly, seasonal delicacies such as wild asparagus in April, porcini mushrooms in September, etc.). The evening started off with the quintessential grotto antipasto, affettati misti and formaggi (slices of excellent, local cured meats, made mostly from pork, and fresh cow and goat’s milk cheeses). The meat portion consisted of prosciutto, lardo (thin slices of salt-cured pig's fat that’s seasoned with herbs and spices) and one of my favorites, mortadella (not the soft, larded version made in Bologna, but a crumbly sausage-like variety that includes the pig’s liver). To this we added a plate of salametti di cervo e cinghiale from the game menu (thin, crimson-colored, fresh salami made from deer and wild boar, respectively). Cured meats are always accompanied with pickled onions and gherkins, and the sour, crunchy vegetables add a nice contrast to the savory, sometimes salty, affettati. A plate of cheeses followed: a fresh, tart little round variety made from a mix of cow and goat’s milk called formaggino (that you eat with a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil, salt and coarse black-pepper corns that are soaked in grappa) and formaggio delle Alpi (a firm, buttery cow’s milk cheese similar to raclette).

A classic first course is busecca, hearty minestrone with the addition of tripe that's right out of the canons of Ticinese “peasant food.” A few dishes from neighboring Lombardy have worked their way into the area’s diet. Various types of risotto, for instance, are offered and one that’s prepared with grappa and luganighetta (mild pork sausage that’s also served grilled) reveals the culinary symbiosis of the Southern Swiss and Northern Italians. No grotto meal would be complete, especially during the colder months, without Ticinese polenta, which is a combination of cornmeal and buckwheat that’s slow cooked in a paiolo di rame, a timbale shaped pot made from hand hammered copper (also a shared Italian staple that you find in Lombardy’s Valtellina). The polenta is served with a choice of braised meats, cheese, egg, or milk (the latter three hark back to the days when animal “by-products,” not the animals themselves, were the primary foods of this once indigent community). We ordered polenta with a typical autumnal dish featured on the game menu, salmi di camoscio (a dark, wine based stew of wild Alpine goat), which turned out to be a bit chewy, but very flavorful none the less—I can’t imagine how you could tenderize any animal that can scale the Alps with ease. Sticking with the game theme, we shared a plate of sautéed pheasant breast that was accompanied by a salad of bitter greens, and punctuated the meal with another specialty of the area, grilled filetto di puledro (horse, a creature that was once an essential part of survival in this mountainous area, since they provided transportation, aided in farming and were often the only source of animal protein). Puledro is always served rare, and the flavor is rich and oddly “beefy.”

Ticino’s premier grape varietal is Merlot (with Barbera coming in second). Swiss Merlots were once met with disdain, since they tended to be bland and syrupy, but due to recent improvements in vinification the Ticinese are producing Merlots of distinction. Pierluigi also likes to feature a regional wine monthly, so we ordered the October selection, Terra Matta Merlot 2007 that hails from nearby Locarno—on the northern tip of Lago Maggiore. Terra Matta is a big, round wine with current and blackberry notes; exactly what you want when you’re eating full-flavored salamis, cheeses and game.

Desserts are homey and delicious. Two standouts are the rotolo di castagne (a rich chestnut flour cake made with coco powder and ground almonds that’s served warm with a dollop of whipped cream) and a flaky, cinnamon-kissed apple tart. We didn’t think we could eat another bite, but we managed to finish both.

Eating at a grotto is taking part in an age-old tradition. It's a place where family and friends come together to enjoy the foods that are a part of this canton’s culinary heritage. Pierluigi Olgiati has made it his mission to keep this custom alive and with style, commitment, great food and hospitality he’s managed to do just that.

Grotto Morchino
Via Carona, 1
CH 6912 Pazzallo, Switzerland
(Canton Ticino )
Tel. +41 (0) 91 994 6044
www.morchino.ch

Fresco Painting in San Cresci

http://www.wantedinrome.com/articles/complete_articles.php?id_art=971

Our Daily Bread

http://www.wantedinrome.com/articles/complete_articles.php?id_art=943

To Market: South Bend Farmer’s Market. Article and photos by Brette A. Jackson

www.southbendfarmersmarket.net

Having been reared in urban Philadelphia, and later moving to New York where I attended culinary school, and subsequently “cut my teeth” as a professional cook, recipe tester and food-stylist assistant in Manhattan, life in Italy provided me with my first, true agricultural experiences. I worked at a friend's estate outside of Siena, where along with his family and numerous cronies, we bottled the wine produced from grapes that grow on a property that's belonged to his family for centuries. I worked in a small restaurant in Modena for a bit, and met a man who makes some of the area’s best balsamic vinegar. I visited the vineyard where he grows the trebbiano grapes used to make his magical elixir, and tasted my first grape fresh off the vine. I’ve picked tiny, wild strawberries, plucked caper buds from ancient walls, encountered a wild boar and walked among olive groves. I lived in Florence for three years, and discovered the beauty of the Sant’ Ambrogio farmer’s market; frequent excursions there helped me understand the interconnection between “town and country.” Seeing fruits, vegetables and meats in their raw, unadulterated state gave me a new respect for food and the people who produce it. The market also allowed me to participate in the bounty that each season provides. To anticipate the arrival of porcini mushrooms in the fall, savory fava beans in the spring, bitter greens in the winter, and luscious figs in the summer heightened my newfound connection with nature. Now wherever I go, a trip to the farmer’s market is high on my list of priorities.

I live in South Bend, IN part of the year, as my husband teaches in the School of Architecture at the University of Notre Dame (he’s currently teaching with their program in Rome, which we essentially call home). When I’m here, particularly during the summer, I make a beeline to the bustling, community farmer’s market, where I always find some of the best local, seasonal (and often organic) meats, fresh fish (not local, but of excellent quality), cheeses, etc., in the state.

The South Bend Farmer’s Market was established in 1911 as an outdoor venue where local farmers, gardeners, home cooks and businessmen could sell their products to the public. This was the same year that the Studebaker company was incorporated, and their successful car and wagon manufacturing business turned the town into a vital metropolis that attracted hundreds of laborers (mostly Irish, German and Polish immigrants) looking for solid employment opportunities. As the town grew exponentially the market continued to thrive, so much so that it was moved to larger locations to accommodate the throngs of shoppers and vendors that made this one of the largest and active markets in the county. In 1972 the market was relocated to its current cavernous, barn-like space that houses over 100 vendors, and a cafe was added that transforms some of the market’s products into hearty fare such as biscuits and gravy (a mid-west delicacy!), meat-loaf, fried chicken, potpies and burgers (and for those who view “meat as murder” there’s vegetarian chow as well), various cakes and seasonal pies. If you prefer to eat while you shop, you can nosh on a warm pretzel from the Amish bakery, grab a fresh tamale from the Mexican food stand, a spring roll from the Thai food stand or a panino from the Italian deli. In a sense, a local Farmer's market is a self-sufficient town that reflects both the traditional and the diverse nature of its community. And more, it gives us the opportunity to nourish our bodies with wholesome, delicious foods that are the results of nature and human hands.
















































Bicolor Cherry Tomato Bruschetta
Serves 4

Everybody loves bruschetta. In Italy this humble dish is the hallmark of cucina povera (peasant food). The origin of this tasty snack hails from Tuscany. During la raccolta (the olive harvest that takes place throughout October), olive farmers prepare grilled bread that they use to sample the flavor of their oil. Bruschetta is derived from the verb bruciare, to burn, which refers to the method of toasting the bread over a hot charcoal grill. Once you toast your bread, any number of toppings can be added such as white beans, sautéed greens, prosciutto and the classic tomato and fresh basil. Since it’s August, and the market was literally bursting with a kaleidoscopic color of cherry tomatoes, I decided to make a mix consisting of orange and red varieties and lots of garlic.

2 pints of clean cherry tomatoes of diverse colors (or go nuts and use three or more)
1 round loaf of crusty Italian bread
3/4 cup of extra-virgin olive oil
3 cloves of garlic
coarse sea salt
freshly ground black pepper

Cut tomatoes in half and add to a mixing bowl. Using a knife, or a garlic press, mash garlic into a semi-smooth paste (it’s OK to have a bit of texture). Add to tomatoes and pour on the oil. Add salt and pepper to taste, and mix thoroughly. Let the tomato, garlic mixture rest so that the flavors marry. Heat an outdoor grill, or indoor cast iron grill pan, until searing hot. Slice the bread in half, and then make thin slices out of each half (not too thin; about less than an inch). Place the slices on the grill and cook until they are nicely toasted on each side. When all the slices are ready, arrange them on a platter and top with the tomato, garlic and olive oil mixture.

Note: I like to sprinkle on an additional amount of coarse sea salt—I like that crunchy burst of salt you get with each bite! I typically forgo the use of basil, or other herbs such as parsley, since I think they overpower the sweet, pure flavor of the tomato, but feel free to use either if you'd like. Buon appetito!

“The Bicycle Chief”

Collalti Bici: When in Rome bike as the Romans do.
Article by Brette A. Jackson
Photo by David T. Mayernik

I recently watched Vittorio De Sica’s masterpiece, Ladri di biciclette (The Bicycle Thieves), and for those of you who’ve never seen it, it’s the tragic tale of a working-class man in financially depressed, post-World War II Rome who, along with his young son, spends most of the film combing the streets in search of his stolen bicycle, which he needs for his job. Without completely ruining the plot, the protagonist and his wife and children live in abject poverty, and the loss of the bicycle has placed the family on the brink of total destitution. I’ve seen this film several times, but now that I live in Rome it struck a new cord; it’s difficult to imagine a period in the city’s modern history when the automobile, moped or scooter were not the primary forms of transportation, and how something so simple and low-tech as a bicycle could make or break the lives of an average, urban family.

During the 1950’s Italy rebounded economically, which opened a space for a burgeoning middle-class who welcomed the comfort and prestige that came with owning a car, while the now healthier “proletariat” sector whole-heartily adopted the affordable moped and scooter. Over the years both forms of transportation grew rapidly, and by the millennium the bicycle was all but extinct. But progress is often accompanied with sacrifice, and Rome (like other European cities) was forced to acknowledge that there was nothing “dolce” about a life plagued with gridlock traffic and elevated levels of air pollution that threatened the health of its citizenry, and had the potential to cause irreparable damage to many of the city’s soot encrusted monuments.

In 2005, Rome’s then Mayor Walter Veltroni set into action a dramatic plan to reduce traffic and pollution. For instance, each month driving was prohibited in the historical center on three different Sundays, car and motorini use were limited one day weekly, and each Thursday automobiles with odd and even numbered license plates alternated the use of major thoroughfares. Some deemed the course of action punitive. However, many agreed that things had gone too far, and learned to live with the restrictions by utilizing a simple and environmentally friendly means of transport: the bicycle. In June of 2008, local government collaborated with the Spanish company Cemusa in a program designed to allow residents to use bicycles (set up in major piazzas), as an alternative means of getting around Rome’s center. Cemusa and the city are currently working out the logistics for long-term service of the program, and advertising. Still, in spite of the tension that has ensued (Cemusa has twice threatened to pull the plug), the program has been hailed a huge success—and has been the catalyst for privately owned bicycle rental shops that have mushroomed across the city and spurred some tourist agencies to offer “See Rome by bicycle” tour packages.

Having recently returned to Rome, I was astounded by the number of bicyclist negotiating a path through crowded piazzas, and taking on cars and motorists in zones where there is still relatively high traffic—riding a bicycle in Rome is definitely not for the faint of heart! I was also struck by the elegance of many of these bicycles, particularly those with the trade name Collalti that seemed to be everywhere. I spied several with mod brushed aluminum, pastel colored or sleek black frames; some were fitted with leather seats, handle bar grips and saddlebags—leave it to the Italians to make something as perfunctory as a bicycle chic! Out of curiosity, I visited this little shop located in the heart of the city, and learned that the Collalti family have been making bicycles since 1899. Depending on how much you want to spend the current capo Danilo Collalti will set you up with a “bespoke” bicycle that could grace a catwalk in Milan; but there are many affordable, and more austere, models from which to choose—prices range from as little as 200 to 1,500 euros for a touring, city, mountain or hybrid bicycle.

Being an avid bicyclist myself, I decided to join the ranks of the intrepid urban “biker,” and with Danilo’s assistance I settled on a shiny, black cruiser that sold for 200 euros. We decided to increase the number of gears, and he agreed to attach a basket and a bell (and buying a good lock in critical!); the total package came to 280 euros—less than I spent, without the accoutrements, for a similar style, off-the-line bicycle that I own in the States. The bicycle was ready in less than a week, and once I saw my shiny new bike, my uncontrollable excitement had Danilo—who on first impression appeared stern and businesslike—smiling from ear to ear, and I caught a twinkle in his eye that you only find in people who truly love and take pride in what they do. Some Romans have commented that the recent popularity of the bicycle is merely a trend. When I mentioned this to Danilo he disagreed, and expressed that Romans are fascinated by novelty and quick to try new things. “But the bicycle isn’t really ‘new’ and in essence it allows people to better appreciate the city.” On Sundays, for instance, you can find families biking in parks, and in areas once dominated by motorized traffic; it’s a new way to enjoy la Passeggiata.

Even as the country seems to be teetering on the edge of economic crisis, his bicycle sales have remained steady. 2008 was a record year when he sold over 800 bicycles; that may seem like a small figure, but remember this is Italy, where family owned businesses are only opened five days a week, are closed for most major holidays and shutdown for up to two weeks in the summer. The reality is, automotive transportation isn’t going away. But as in De Sica’s era the bicycle has proven to be a necessary, and even vital means of transit.

Collalti Bici
Via del Pellegrino, 82
06 68801084
They also sell bicycle paraphernalia, and offer bicycle repairs and rentals.

Danilo Collalti and my bicycle.

Da Michele Pizza Alla Pala – Kosher
Pizza even Moses would love
Article by Brette A. Jackson
http://www.michelepizza.it

Recently two friends and I met up for lunch, and decided on a slice of pizza. One of them is a diocesan priest, and fellow ex-pat, who's studying to be a papal nuncio; the other was visiting from Texas. As we positioned ourselves in line and discussed our selections enthusiastically, we were interrupted by a wide-eyed, American tourist standing behind us who chuckled, “Now I’ve seen everything: A Roman Catholic priest, an African American woman and a blond hanging out in a kosher pizzeria, in Rome!” I must admit that my two companions and I are not the trio you’d expect to encounter in a kosher establishment (more likely at the opening of a not-so-PC joke!). However, the pizza at Da Michele (formerly Zi Fenizia, named after the owner's grandmother) is so delicious, it transcends both religious and ethnic lines.

Cinzia and Michele Sonnino, Sephardic Jews born and raised in Rome, opened their strictly kosher pizzeria in the heart of the old Jewish ghetto, but moved to the busy area near the Fontana di Trevi in 2006. They still serve some of the city’s best pizza al taglio, rectangular shaped pizza (or more traditionally elliptical-shaped, which you’ll find here), served in portable slices and topped with a dizzying selection of seasonal toppings. Over thirty varieties are offered daily such as: sweet and sour eggplant, broccoli and beef sausage, candy-sweet cherry tomatoes, fresh anchovies and arugula, zucchini blossoms and mushrooms, fresh baby artichokes and tuna, or my favorite, insalata puntarelle (a bitter type of endive dressed with a vinaigrette of anchovies, garlic, vinegar and olive oil) all served on a fantastic, chewy crust. For me eating pizza that’s been made in adherence to millennia old customs—Moses, commanded by God, instructed the Jews as to what, how and when to eat—makes this pizza not only delicious, but intriguing and reminds me just how multicultural this humble food really is.

Long before the Neapolitans gave the world pizza Margherita, other Mediterranean civilizations created flattened, baked breads (both with or with out leavening) topped with meat, fish, vegetables, etc. While discussing the evolution of Pizza Napoletana in Treasures of the Italian Table, Burton Anderson sites examples of flat breads made in ancient Greece called plakous, and the late author Alan Davidson in his tome The Oxford Companion to Food, discusses pizza’s Middle Eastern history, stating its connection with pitta (the Israeli name for this flat bread of Arab origin) and lahma bi ajeen (flatbread topped with meat, onions and spices). Nice’s famed pissaladière is another example of a pizza-like dish, and if you’ve ever been fortunate enough to sample the genuine article, fresh baked and served in boulangeries across the city, you’ll know how something so seemingly simple, like most Mediterranean foods, can be so wonderfully memorable and satisfying.

My sacerdotal buddy has departed to work in Ethiopia, while my blond chum is back at home in Houston. I, however, still live here, so if you're savvy enough to wander into this little jewel and you see a tall, African-American woman devouring pizza, come in, order a slice and don’t ask!

Da Michele Pizza Alla Pala - Kosher
Via dell'Umiltà, 31
00187 Rome
39 3492525347