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Marco_Polo

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  1. Marco_Polo

    Prime rib roast

    I haven't had prime rib in over 25 years, since I've been living in the UK in fact, but I used to adore it, like just about everyone else in the world (OK, OK, maybe there are vegetarians who aren't quite so enamoured, I'll concede). So this discussion has been mouthwatering. Now that the prime/choice matter has been clarified, I'm still left wondering exactly what cut I'd ask from from my excellent local butcher, who still has its own abbatoir (one of the few remaining small family run abbatoirs) and hangs beef for no less than 21 days. Indeed the beef we are lucky to be able to get, from traditional Devon breeds, is really top class so I'm sure that prime rib could be sensational. My guess, and Alan and Jack will no doubt confirm, is that I'd want to ask for a 3-5 bone fore rib. Is that right? But prime rib is not just the cut, nor the grade: it's also the way it's served, for it is most definitely not just roast rib of beef (which we always carve in thin slices to accompany all the traditional gubbins, Yorkshire pudding etc etc). Prime rib, by contrast, is always served in a single, thickish slice (would it be the whole slice including bone for a bone-in roast?), most usually with a sauce or jus, isn't it? I'd certainly appreciate any instructions on how to procure, prepare and serve it here in England for someone for whom prime rib is but a distant (but fond) memory. Marc
  2. Marco_Polo

    truffle abuse

    In which case they can enjoyed them shaved over spit-roasted flying pig.
  3. Here's a good recipe from Sue Style's web site for Christmas foie gras. Sue, who writes for the FT, lives in Alsace and her recipes always work. Provided I can get ahold of the foie, this is how I'll be cooking it (though I think I'd probably macerate first in Armagnac together with the salt and spices). However I'd certainly be interested to hear of other ways to cook and serve. Moby, what is your favourite fresh foie gras preparation.
  4. Thanks, Moby. Site looks interesting but I'd be seeking further information/reassurance if I stumbled on it unrecommended. Have you used them? They don't say who they are, where they are (no telephone number, no address that I can find), who their sources or suppliers are, very little info to entice one to buy. And as we all know, taking the plunge to buying on line is always something of a leap of faith. We need, we crave information, for what we're buying in good measure is Trust. Would be interested to know more, but that said, I think I'll definitely have a pop at the foie gras. Cheers, Marc
  5. You've both lost me when it comes to analysing the minutiae of the figures. For most of us what seems to be abundantly clear is that the consumption of bacalhau in Portugal remains significant. Indeed (correct me if I'm wrong, Miguel), Portuguese claim proudly to have a different way of preparing bacalhau for every day of the year. It's always surprised me, given the lengthy coastline and the apparent prevalence of fresh fish most everywhere, the continued immense popularity of bacalhau in Portugal, especially with the advent of modern transport and refrigeration. Perhaps this is in part Miguel's point - that in truth, bacalhau is no longer eaten anywhere near as much as it used to be historically. And as every schoolboy knows, dried cod continues to be widely enjoyed elsewhere, too, in Italy, France and Spain certainly. Dishes such as the exquisite brandade de morue or baccalà alla vicentina are enjoyed not as relics from the historic past but because they are still so damn delicious today. But my guess is that preparing them well might well be a dying art as a younger generation no longer wants to go through the lengthy processes of soaking, changing water, etc etc. In Italy both baccalà (salt cod) and stoccafisso (air-dried stockfish) are enjoyed (I think, just to be perverse, what Venetians call baccalà is actually stoccafisso). Stoccafisso is generally considered the finer, better in flavour, more delicate and less salty than baccalà and the best, I recall, comes from Norway and is called ragno. In Portugal is such a distinction made between salt cod and stockfish? Are certain cuts of the fish superior? If so, what are the names for each and what is the best gastronomically? Marc
  6. Anybody know a good mail order/web source that will despatch fresh foie to the provinces (Devon) efficiently and reliably?
  7. Hi William, Thanks for the great update on Exeter and surrounds. The Puffing Billy has been a restaurant for certainly a good few years now, though I think it is under new ownership. It's always, in my opinion, tended to price itself above its station (hah - it's in the old station house, I think?). But I've heard good recent reports and also that the wines are interesting and fairly priced. As for Dart's Farm, it's truly a phenomenon. When parts of the rest of the country are succumbing to the lure of the supermarket, Dart's offers a real homegrown alternative - at a price. All those wonderful Taste of the West products are absolutely stunning, delicious, artisan, local. But they are also damned expensive! And much of what is on offer is what I'd call gift foods, jars, bars, packets of foods that you don't really eat. Gerald David, the butchers, however is truly sensational, both for really special, top end stuff, as well as equally for special offers such as top rib. And they are very accomodating: they will even now cut and prepare for me American shortribs, a cut that is hellishly difficult to find in this country. I've mentioned before the wet fish stall/fish and chips Fish Shed. Everything is straight off the boats at Exmouth. And the new deli counter is very good, too, though I agree, Country Cheeses in Topsham offers a better, almost wholly local range, always in perfect condition. We really are spoiled for choice here. Funny you should mention the South Devon Chilli Farm. I was at the Exeter Farmer's market just today and stopped for a chat. I too went away with bags of their own dried and smoked chipotles, as well as those yellow Peruvian chilies that smell of lemon when fresh, but when dried (not smoked) have an intriguing aroma of bananas. I'm going to braise them this evening with some pork sausages I picked up from the Happy Hogs stall, serve with polenta. Where is the Old Fire Station? I've never heard of it but it sounds good. We must arrange our Exeter/Topsham get together one of these days. Slacker? Marc
  8. Marco_Polo

    Shillawon

    Great descriptions, great pics, Sun-ki. I really enjoyed sharing this with you vicariously from halfway around the world. Marc
  9. I agree with Dana and chefdg. Since risotto needs to be cooked to order, why not make it into something of an occasion and rope your guests into the kitchen to help you stir the pot. I've made risotto ai funghi for about 100 in a single pot, cooked outdoors over a big paella gas burner to feed hungry cyclists after my annual charity century ride. Took a damn long time to cook, and as everyone was starving I enlisted help with the stirring, which with such a large amount of rice is very heavy work. But the risotto turned out well, al dente but cooked through. Cooking for 14 should not be too much of a problem - remember, you need less rice per person than you might think (a rice such as Vialone Nano, my favourite for risotti, will absorb more than twice its volume in liquid). MP
  10. And I say thanks to Silly for encouraging Miguel's deliciously amusing, deceptively perceptive and always on-the-mark ramblings. Miguel, you've surpassed yourself once again with your facility both to amuse and to inform at the same time. Muito obrigado, now you've kindly and precisely instructed us all how to read between the lines when you offer your recommendations... You've certainly made an important and significant point and knocked that old chestnut for six (if I may be permitted to mix my metaphors): that the locals always know what's best. Hah! The times I've been directed to places that are total crap by locals is nobody's business. And by the most *local* looking locals of them all - for example in Southwest France, it's easy to spot them, I always go by the biggest beret (remember, SIZE MATTERS)... There is a myth (in France more so than anywhere else) that everyone single French man, woman, and child knows about food, loves food, worships the best, is knowledgeable and eager to share, indeed has a divine birthright to pronounce authoritatively on these most important subjects in the world. But dammit, it's just not true! These days you have no more chance of getting a good random recommendation in France than you do getting one in London or anywhere else in England. Probably less! Just look at how the local, the artisan is losing out to the hypermarché (but that's another story). So I definitely agree with Miguel, reading between the lines when asking for advice is essential. For what it's worth, in this particular lifetime of sniffing out the local, the authentic, the genuine, the non-tourist-ripoff (and as you know by now, I'm not really a natural 3-star-dining-out sort of guy - hell, it's easy to find 3-star restaurants, you just look in the guides or read eG), I've depended on local recommendations to find my way through the morass and darkness more than I've had 'ot dinners (as the saying goes). And what I've found is this: you must first choose your locals very carefully, certainly not randomly. You must be constantly alert to the possibility of encountering someone who truly knows and loves intimately their locality, their region, their country. Miguel gives very precise instructions (in Portuguese for the subtleties, the nuances of language is everything) on how to spot them. Sometimes it's just a chance comment overheard in a local pastry shop; sometimes you have one of those impromptu and serendiptous conversations with someone you chance to meet on the street, and immediately feel a common bond with. You gain, with experience and constant vigilance, a sort of sixth sense of those whom you can trust and those you immediately know are likely to be unreliable. And it's not always the nice ones - the sympa, the simpatico - either. Nice people, I've learned from bitter experience, often know next to nothing about food! So sometimes your best bet is that nasty old irascible bugger in the corner with a hacking cough that comes from a lifetime of smoking Gauloises and drinking marc or grappa or bagaçeira... You never know, you just never know, and you most certainly can't judge a book by its cover. Which in fact brings me back to the point of this post: Miguel, your comments don't just warrant a separate eG thread in itself, they should be the subject of a self-help book (which as you know are all the rage in publishing these days). I'm certain it will be a bestseller! So the reason I'm writing is to ask if you need an agent. My fee is very reasonable (15%, which is, I assure you, the going rate these days, plus extended alcoholic lunches of course, in London, New York or Lisboa - your choice - you see I'm very accommodating). MP
  11. Ciao Angelo, Very nice to meet you here and I'd just like to second Alberto's warm words of welcome. And I'd also add that Angelo, from his home in the Conero, knows the Southern Marche area about as well as anyone. a presto, Marc
  12. Mmmnn, this is a great idea, but I'm thinking savoury not sweet so no marshmallow fluff here. How about simply grating the sweet potatoes raw, mix with a couple of tablespoons of polenta flour, salt and pepper, a beaten egg or two, mix well, spoon into a hot skillet and fry like potato pancakes? I wonder if this would work? They could be fried in advance, then simply reheated in the oven while the turkey is resting? Perhap I'll try an experimental batch for lunch...
  13. Very cool. Thank you very much.
  14. Can you explain how to do this, please, Jack.
  15. My dear Miguel, I hardly dare venture on to another of your threads after our last encounter. But I'll stick my head above the parapet and offer a humble suggestion all the same in the hope that you have now forgiven me... Collioure is of course one of the most visited towns on the French Catalan coast. The no-longer-little fishing village was 'discovered' long, long ago by the likes of Matisse, Derain, Dufy and other artists and it's been pulling in the crowds and the wannabes ever since. Yet in spite of this, in spite of the unbelievably crummy, truly atrocious art on sale, it can be a delightful and charming place to visit nonetheless. And believe me, it's worth coming here simply to sample the humble anchois de Collioure, fresh or lightly cured, in any of the mainly indifferent but charming waterside restaurants. Best of all is to visit the Ste Roque atelier de fabrication to see the traditional production of anchois - I have great memories of cigar-smoking women in rubber boots, hand-packing salted anchois into jars and tubs, calling out to me in a good-natured, lusty way as we made our way across the slippery floors. You can't miss the place when you enter the town, and it's possible to tour the atelier and of course to purchase. Address: 40, rue de la Democratie, tel (hope this still works) 68 82 04 94. Afterwards strike out into the ancient, stone-terraced vineyards of Banyuls - there is a sign-posted 'Route du Vin'. These ancient, sunbaked vineyards are the source, as I'm sure you know, of the wholly out-of-fashion, old-style Banyuls rancio that I adore. The oldest grands crus (Banyuls Grand Cru AOC) are exquisite, caramelly, concentrated sweet aged fortified wines that you can just sip and sip, a sensational after-dinner drink, no need of company, no need of conversation, though the wines are conducive to both. And of course Collioure AOC itself can be a massively satisfying and powerful red. Marc
  16. Hi Robert, I just wonder if the abnormally hot summer of 2003 could somehow have contributed to this? Could it be that the truffle hunters this year are perhaps finding lots of dinky tartufi of 20g or less that somehow, for whatever reason, have not grown into the larger specimens that Jonathan rightly points are most prized for slicing/grating at the table? And that this preponderance of small tartufi has caused such a discrepancy in prices? I'm sure the Cerettos will be an impeccable source for you and will be able to answer some of these questions. When will you be in Alba? Don't miss visiting Gennaro's Bar beside the main Duomo church to sample his absolutely incredible gelato di tartufo as well as the equally stunning gelato di Barolo. Marc
  17. Hi Robert, I think the simple answer is that, as in all things, SIZE MATTERS (witness the $41,000 tartufo). I too am surprised to see such a discrepancy in prices based on size. What I would have expected would be a discrepancy in price per kilo based on the individual quality, size, shape, aroma, freshness of each and every tartufo. They are individual objects after all and each is unique and different and probably ought to be priced accordingly. As regards the 200g of tartufi we had earlier this week, 2 tartufi were around 70 g each, and they were real beauts, nicely shaped, not too knobbly, beautiful to hold in the hand and grate at the table. They were more valuable, more expensive than the other tartufi we had with them. The remaining 60 g consisted of, I can't remember, 3 or 4 marble to walnut sized tartufi, one a little worm eaten, not so pretty, but hard, dense, equally aromatic, equally delicious. We got these for a considerably cheaper price, explained my winemaker friend Mario who brought them out to us, and we used them in the kitchen, to infuse with a butter sauce before dressing the pasta, rather them for grating at the table. The results were nonetheless sensational. So there is definitely a difference between table and kitchen quality tartufi. The other crucial factor that a buyer must aware of, of course, is freshness. Freshness is all with white truffles. Really fresh-out-of-the-ground tartufi are hard and dense and display an aroma that is incredibly pungent and persistent; as they get older they may begin to get a little mushier, softer, and of course they will also lose some of that wondrous, almost drug-like intensity of aroma. One would expect the price to drop considerably in such circumstances, each day that a tartufo remains unsold. But I doubt that it ever does such is supply and demand. I expect it is simply a case of buyer beware, and the sellers will still try and get as high a price as they can. And of course as always there have been rumours in the past that not all the tartufi di Alba sold in Alba during the Fiera are in fact even from the hills of the Langhe - dark whispers of tartufi from the Marche or Tuscany or even Slovenia being passed off as the real, the local thing. So who knows? I've been tempted to buy off the http://www.albatartufi.com/ site, as 100 quid or so does not seem a ridiculous hit for 100 g of tartufi di Alba, if they are genuine, good quality and arrive in good condition. But so far I haven't yet tested the waters. Have you, Robert? I think I'd probably prefer my friend Mario to source them for me, and send them out by courier. Anyone else considered purchasing direct? Moby? I expect as we approach Christmas the prices will only increase. Marc
  18. Thank you very much, John, and of course thank you again for first sharing these first on EW. When you are next in touch with Charles, please let him know how much we've all enjoyed his superb writings. I'd like at some point to discuss bagna caôda with him (based on his further journal installment). I had a most wondrous initiation on my recent visit to the Langhe - not the first time I've had it, of course, in fact we make it occasionally ourselves, though not ever quite like this was, probably the simplest, purest preparation I've ever had, and definitely the most delicious and digestible. Marc
  19. Thanks, Alberto and Robert, for sharing here Charles' magnificent, finely observed and beautifully written reports of the Salone del Gusto and Terra Madre. They give a truly comprehensive impression of the majesty of these important events. Marc
  20. Without prejudice Dear Miguel Cardoso, I have been out of my office all day and only just this minute returned. I am shocked to receive the above message apparently addressed to me in response to some postings that have apparently appeared under my eG name. It would appear that some bounder with intimate knowledge of the invision eG software has infiltrated this board and apparently somehow managed to hack into my personal control panel and post under my name. This mysterious person has even adopted the usual chummy tone between us, in the process jeopardising our longstanding friendship, and ruining any chance of me ever getting a table at El Bulli for the rest of my life. Also generally compromised my reputation and street credibility as a regular guy. Needless to say, I have already consulted my lawyer and I will be making representations to the appropriate authorities. In the meantime, may I ask you please not to address any such replies as if to me in reponse to the spurious emails above. *** May I now please be allowed seriously to clarify my position (and I am being totally serious). I am delighted to learn that the booking system at El Bulli is indeed carried out with such scrupulous fairness and of course understand that for a restaurant in such an unusual and unique position, such unusual and unique measures need to be taken. I apologise to anyone if I caused offence by casting unfounded and ill-informed aspersions. I don't expect this feeble disclaimer to remove me from the 5th circle of Inferno in to which I've cast myself and I fully accept my El Bulli-less fate in perpetuity. But who knows? Perhaps I shall try, once the dust has settled, to email Luis Garcia myself. Miguel, would you mind terribly if I did so in your name? [anon]
  21. Dear Miguel, Thank you for slapping me on the wrist and pointing out my ignorance, as I fully expected you to. Luis Garcia does indeed sound from your description to be the maitre d' of every discerning diner's dreams. Though I have to say the comment that caused me to respond so ungraciously was the remark (obviously misinterpreted) that "Luis gets 'the ones with no possibilities' out of the way first." I'd still be interested to know how these poor sodding no-hopers are so immediately identified and damned into perpetuity to a lifetime without the chance to ever dine at El Bulli. Doubtless after my insensitive posting, I will forever be placed in that particular circle of Inferno, doomed forever more to forgo the pleasure of sea-urchin vapour that even you, my dear friend, are now denying me. Can I please take it all back. Can someone please delete all posts bearing my name, now and forever. Or perhaps Marco Polo should cease to exist and I will reinvent myself with a new identity and avatar entirely, one that not even you will be able to identify. What restaurant anywhere, however famous, however humble, would not want you, Miguel, as their ideal customer? Luis Garcia obviously quickly realised that. But what the chance the rest of us in an uncertain world where money and buffoonery often go hand in hand? I better shut up now before I get myself in more agua caliente. Signed, [anonymous]
  22. What a superb, well-argued and -written exposition and summing up of current trends and schools of thought in relation to dining in Italy today, Alberto. Francesco, thanks for your well-argued defence of creative restaurants as places that elevate as well as celebrate traditional foods, produce, ingredients and recipes. I've learned a lot from this thread. Grazie! Marc
  23. My dear Miguel, Oh dear, I am afraid I am about to expose myself as an ignoramus (and not for the first time, I hear you chuckle), but excuse me, am I understanding this thread correctly? Has it really reached the point where one has to 'apply' for the privilege of being able to dine at this hallowed temple of gastronomy. And that such applications are vetted by Luis Garcia, the maître d', presumably in consultation with the Adria's? And is it indeed common public knowledge that El Bulli works in this fashion? I can't help but wonder on what basis such decisions are made? Obviously by some particularly obvious basis or criteria if, as reported, "Luis gets 'the ones with no possibilities' out of the way first." How come these poor dumbs have 'no possibilities'? Do they have three heads or just one potato head? Are they too young or too old, or not clever enough? Do you have to provide proof of financial solvency when you apply (rather like filling in a mortgage application - surely it's not that expensive?)? Do you have to provide ocular proof, a photo perhaps, that one is decorative enough not to offend the sensibilities of other diners? Is it based on ability to prove gastronomic seriousness, whatever that is - perhaps by supplying photocopies of receipts from other of the world's greatest restaurants? Or perhaps (and maybe, just maybe this might make sense), could such a decision be made on the basis of writing skills, the ability to craft an engagingly compelling, not overly obsequious but respectful letter that will prove without a shadow of a doubt dining street cred and ensure that only the righteous, the true believers are allowed to enter into the shrine to worship? Oh dear, oh dear. I can feel you all throwing back your hands in horror that I care to question, and I do honestly and truly have the greatest respect for Ferran Adria and what he has achieved in pushing back the boundaries of food and how we experience and interact with it. But as I've already intimated (and furthermore now proved), I'm just a simpleton and I can't help but find the whole process, well, just not to my taste. Ferran Adria may be God, but I guess by nature I am essentially polytheistic. I can't help but feel that there are so many good meals to enjoy, so many GREAT meals to enjoy that if I were to have to jump through such tortured hoops (and in any case would never pass Luis' arcane and mysterious Masonic tests to gain entrance), well, I guess I just wouldn't bother. Which is just as well, after all, for the rest of you clambering to be let in, not to mention poor Luis, saved from having to choose from 300,001 for 8000 places rather than just from 300,000. That said, Miguel, as always, I admire your utter single-minded madness: two weeks of travel and eating in an ever narrowing Catalan gyre to focus and pinpoint yourself on that one anticipatory meal! That is true dedication and I will look forward to reading and sharing with you every single morsel and bite in due course. No doubt it's the closest I will ever get to the place. MP
  24. We enjoyed some wonderful tartufi di Alba on Monday night, brought out to us here in South West England by winemaker friends Mario and Luisa Fontana of Cascina Fontana for a 'Festa di San Martino' wine charity dinner I organised with Michael Caines in his signature restaurant here in Exeter. San Martino is essentially a country festival and we were reviving it in memory of a good Italian friend of ours, a chef and restaurateur with whom we used to enjoy great times together. For the occasion, Mario and Luisa brought out about 200g of tartufi di Alba, fresh out of the ground, very firm, very aromatic, beautiful well shaped tubers that when we held them in our hands connected us directly with Italy, with the Langhe from which they come. Michael and his chef Simon Dow served them beautifully and simply: with freshly made, fine egg tagliolini, a tiny portion each, dressed with a foamy butter sauce in which some of the grated tartufi had infused together with an infusion of rosmarino. On top, each plate had about 5 or 6 shavings of raw tartufi and Mario went around the room, adding a shaving or two more. The pungent aromas of white truffles on top of the hot pasta filled the entire dining room. It was an absolutely magnificent treat, and for most everybody who was there, the first time they had ever experienced the mythical white truffles from Alba. It seems to me that the tartufo di Alba is a wonderful paradox. It is discovered by country folk, the trifoli with generations-old knowledge of the land, and with the assistance of trained mongrels - cani bastardi. It is a humble product, literally down-to-earth and from the earth, unprepossessing in appearance, purchased still covered in mud and earth (for cleaning should only take place at the last moment before being used). And yet it is ethereal, it is overpowering, it is unlike anything else on earth. I like best of all to enjoy tartufi as the trifoli suggest, in the simplest fashion possible, shaved over a platter of fried eggs or over simple pasta, such as Michael prepared (though very elegantly!). It seems somewhat odd to me that something so very humble, so earthy, this strange and mysterious product simply found and dug from the earth, fetches prices so astronomically high that only the very rich can experience it, served sometimes with the most ostentatious ceremony, or weighed out parsimoniously, the electronic scales on the table. And the prices fetched at recent auctions in Alba ($41,000 for a kilo?!!) seem just ridiculous and out of all proportion. I urge anyone who has the chance to purchase a good quality fresh tartufo di Alba at reasonable cost to do so without a moment's hesitation and simply enjoy this wondrous marvel in the simplest way. The season is brief; life is brief: at some time everyone ought to experience tartufi di Alba! Marc
  25. Dear Faith, I love traditional foods and, and, like you, we have sought to travel all over Italy to find, research and record them. What I like best of all is the certainty, the sure-fire unquestioning belief that whoever you are, wherever you live in Italy, whatever you grew up eating and drinking was, is, and always will be quite simply the best. My friends who live in Tuscany would not, I doubt, ever consider cooking at home such dishes as bagna caoda or bollito misto any more than they would consider drinking Piemontese wines as a matter of course on a daily basis. Indeed, I have friends in Florence who would rarely go so far as to drink Chianti from the provincia di Siena, or indeed from outside the single locality, or even the single farm from where they have always bought their wines. When I visit my friends in the Barolo zone of the Langhe, I know what I will be eating — wonderful and outrageously ample arrays of traditional antipasti, homemade tajarin, brasato al Barolo, torta di nocciole, a delicious but unchanging diet of such classic dishes of the Langhe. In Tuscany certainly we’ll be enjoying crostini di fegatini, pinci al ragù (if in the provincia di Siena), carne alla griglia, cantuccini di Prato and Vin Santo to finish. In Puglia, I’ll look forward to nothing more eagerly than a primo piatto of orecchiette con cima di rape or with pomodori freschi in summer, seasoned with green and pungent olio extra vergine di olive di Puglia; in Calabria we know to expect a cucina spiked liberally with the piccante flavours of the peperoncino, in Campania I’ll enjoy nothing so much as a Limoncello as a digestivo after our meal. Oh, and those arancini di riso on the ferry across the Straits of Messina to Sicily... Just about wherever we are in Italy, we can be pretty sure we will encounter regional and local foods, expertly and precisely prepared, whether at home or in osterie and ristoranti alike. I love it! That’s what I travel to experience. And yet, and yet: while those of us from countries or areas with less well defined national, regional and local traditions may envy this unchanging certainty, on the other hand, it can’t be denied that we have a deliciously serendipitous freedom that can be lacking for many Italians, the freedom quite simply to eat, drink and explore the world. Britain is not a wine producing country, purtroppo, but it means that we can easily choose from a vast selection of wines from all over the world, far greater than would ever be found in even the most extensively stocked enoteca in Italy. Personally I come from a very mixed background, our tastes are eclectic and varied and we buy and cook foods that reflect this mix. I did find when we have lived in Italy from time to time, notably in Tuscany, that the local diet can become, how shall I say, rather monotonous after a while, this certainty, this unquestioning belief that the local, the regional is the best, no, not the best, the only food to eat. My god, I have a friend who takes Italian beer with him when he goes to Munich! As a longstanding resident of Italy with a cosmopolitan outlook and an outsider’s ability to stand back and see the bigger picture, I’d be most interested in your thoughts on this. Auguri, Marc
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