tupac17616

oh man

SG, Just curious what sorts of service issues you've noticed over the course of your visits. Could you elaborate a bit? While the service does lack stiff formality, I personally find this quite refreshing.

The pasta looks nice. Could you explain a little bit what you mean by "expecting a little more"? Was it the quality of the food that disappointed you? The simplicity of the technique and presentation? Or something else entirely? I simply ask because I think expectations play a HUGE role in one's enjoyment of either the Cafe or the Downstairs Restaurant. Did you go to the restaurant during this trip as well, by the way? Or if not, have you ever been? I'd just be curious to hear your thoughts on how the upstairs and downstairs compare for you.

Ah, if only life were so simple! I see many different influences in Chef Kinch's food. It's hard to know, of course, which of this are just perceived and which are actually there. But I see sparks of different places: France, Spain, Japan, Italy, and certainly California. It's hard for me to see a very close connection between Chez Panisse and Manresa, aside from the fact that there is clear respect for the ingredients at both places. What are your thoughts on that, Russell, having been to both not too long ago? I honestly know very little about Chef Passard, not having been to his restaurant just yet. It would be easy for me to sit back comfortably with this ignorance and declare that the only influence of Passard on Kinch is "L'Arpege egg", but clearly that's not the case. Certainly Chef Kinch's connection with the land through Love Apple Farm is reminiscent of Passard's kitchen garden. The exploration of vegetables as opposed to meat/fish is certainly another aspect of this. While this is not Kinch's sole focus at Manresa, it very well could be, as he can make vegetables sing like no other. The first restaurant recommendation I would make to a meat-eater? Manresa. The first restaurant recommendation I would make to a vegetarian? Manresa. The produce coming out of Love Apple, into Chef Kinch's kitchen, and onto our plates is really top notch. Your recent adventures in and around NYC have me envious right back at you! I'm looking forward to reading what you thought about Blue Hill @ Stone Barns, in particular. And I'm still looking forward to trying Tailor the next time I'm back in the city, now that it's up and running finally. But anyway, as for the ratatouille, let me see if I can't break that dish down a little better for you. The golden torpedo-shaped object is indeed a fried squash blossom. It is resting on chunky, almost crumbly sheep's milk ricotta that has been mixed with a pesto presumably made with herbes de Provence or maybe even just basil. Under that is the "sheep's milk as a sauce" mentioned in the menu description. In the bottom left corner you've got tiny zucchini, basil leaves, sweet roasted red peppers, onion and maybe a little garlic. There was one beautifully ripe, peeled small green tomato poking out there on the right. This all rested on a very refreshing tomato gelee, if I remember correctly. (Any others who were at this dinner, feel free to chime in and correct me on these details!) Grazie! They came out much better than expected, considering I was in a really dark spot of the table. Yep, Wednesday night. I would be curious to see the plating you got on Tuesday for those two dishes (don't worry if the pictures are a little blurry...it was pretty dark in there!). I read on your blog that you weren't exactly thrilled with the ratatouille, so I'm curious to see how they changed it for the second night. I absolutely loved the ice cream on the brioche, although I can understand your comment about the textures. It was just right for me, though, as my mind fleeted back to the time I spent in Sicily in June. Brioche "sandwiches" stuffed with gelato was one treat I enjoyed there again and again. I don't know whether the olive oil for poaching the tomato in that course and making the ice cream was the same one drizzled on the chunks of tomato with sea salt, but if it was, I sure need to figure out how to get my hands on some. It was fantastic.

just for you, u.e.

Wednesday night was my third visit to Manresa, and technically the shortest journey I've endured to get there yet (just a 1hr 45min drive this time! ). On my previous two visits, I had done the grand tasting menu, giving up all control to Chef David Kinch and his team behind the stoves (at that time, with Jeremy Fox as chef de cuisine). Each of those meals proved to be magical. There is a simple elegance, an understanding of contrast (of texture, flavor, temperature, aroma, color...), and an incredible depth permeating Chef Kinch's cuisine that I find nothing short of captivating. I also cannot fully express what a beautiful sense of place this restaurant possesses. You immediately feel that the restaurant is right where it should be -- a small town nested in the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains. The chef toiling away in the kitchen, instead of signing cookbooks or selling clogs. The distance between earth and plate blessedly short, thanks to Cynthia Sandberg and her crew at Love Apple Farm, who supply the restaurant with much of its bounty. And if you’ve just walked in the door, you realize that you, too, are right where you should be. Both of my prior meals (August of last year, March of this year) had been nearly 30-course, 5 1/2 hour affairs, so I knew very well that the kitchen could produce a compelling epic. With this Tomato Modernista dinner, I was interested to see what they would do in a much shorter meal format. It was still 10 courses, of course, but creating a harmonious progression of 10 dishes versus 30 dishes is a remarkably different thing. I am happy to report that Chef Kinch and his team write short stories as nuanced and inspiring as their novels. I’d rather not go into much dish-by-dish detail; frankly, it seems almost unnecessary accounting to describe another meal from a chef whose cuisine is startlingly consistent, and startlingly good. But I would be remiss not to mention the “seaweed-citrus granite and nori croustillant, corn and tomato vers.4.2.” It nearly brought me to tears. I’m not sure what all has been tweaked in the versions since the first time I had this dish last August, but it’s not every day your taste memory lets you re-live the greats. (The version last August remains the single best thing I have ever had the pleasure of eating.) To say I admire this kitchen’s work is a vast understatement. To say I am spellbound by what they put on the plate is much more accurate. When I describe to friends my experiences at this restaurant, I often liken it to going to a world-class opera performance. You are sitting on the edge of your seat, watching a master at work, waiting for the next pause in the action to applaud the brilliant spectacle. That is not to say that Chef Kinch’s cuisine is flashy. Far from it. But it speaks to me in a way I’m not even sure I fully understand. I feel like he is connected so intimately with his own food that you cannot help but to immediately join in that connection. You’re not getting a brand name chef and his/her “signature recipes”. You’re getting a chef’s passion and vision on a plate. You’re getting soul. He is, for example, so in tune with what is coming out of his gardens that he knows exactly when to just get out of the way and let nature sing on its own. Clearly indicative of this point is what turned out to be my favorite course the other night: two wedges of perfectly ripe tomato, coarse sea salt, and olive oil. You immediately see that the work a chef doesn’t do can be just as important as that which they do. His cooking, though, invites your attention, and your appreciation. Each dish is a small piece in a larger puzzle. Before you’ve even tasted the dish, you start to take it all in. The smell, the look, the texture, and ultimately the flavor all set this piece apart from the others. But the way this one piece fits in with everything else, that’s the real beauty. And it’s not until you’ve finished a meal there, until you take a step back and look at the big picture that start to realize... Damn this guy is good.

Heheh. Not to worry, my friend. Some more stuff is on the way.

so good to be back...

indeed

The more I read this thread, the more nauseous I become. Please, please, PLEASE stop exalting yourselves for either (1) currently living in Italy or (2) having spent a substantial chunk of your life in Italy. I'm certain we can all engage in a much more mature debate on this topic. If not, I'm not even sure why would Fat Guy, for example, would bother to give his two cents if you all immediately disregard his argument as invalid simply because he lives in New York. Pride in one's country/region (or confidence in one's own opinion, for that matter) is one thing, but some posts in this thread have gone too far, I think. Please get off your high horse. With all this unnecessary self-righteousness, I think we're losing track of the basis on which hathor started this thread: Call me strange (or worse yet, American ), but I personally feel like traditional and contemporary can exist side by side. In harmony with one another, in fact. Without someone exploring, revising, disagreeing with rigid tradition, the very notion of what we're speaking about in the context of "contemporary" or "non-traditional" cuisine would not even exist. Does one often need to look backwards before they look forward? Absolutely. Without an understanding of tradition and history, innovation is futile. I would also argue, though, that tradition solely for the sake of tradition is just as much of a folly. I think that whichever of these two realms a given chef decides to pursue, he should not have his blinders on toward the other. In my view, tradition and innovation feed directly off one another. Chef A's resistance of tradition yields a new (which doesn't always mean better, or worse, for that matter) way of doing something. Out of tradition came an innovation. Likewise, Chefs B, C, and D see Chef's A's innovation, think "Hey, that's neat," and carry it back to their own kitchens. This happens enough times, and what was once innovation has become tradition. It's a continuous loop, and one that holds true regardless of the scope on which we make this observation. Is there an "Italian" cuisine? A trip throughout the country this summer answered that with a resounding NO. The country's cuisine, like any other country's, is not some kind of homogeneous amalgamation. Regardless of the size of the microscope you employ, one can observe the differences: from region to region, town to town, neighborhood to neighborhood, even house to house. And while this is a phenomenon not unique to Italy, I would argue that Italy would be one of the world's prime examples of it, given its fairly recent unification into a country. Yet in no way does that mean that it is a cuisine whose two parties, if you will, (traditional vs. contemporary) really pose a large threat to one another. Both can (and, I would argue, currently do) thrive at once. Slow Food isn't going anywhere. Neither is innovation that goes beyond re-visiting forgotten recipes. Too call the former archaic or the latter a fad is, to me, very short-sighted. And lastly, if a restaurant in Italy is frequented solely by Italians does that make it categorically better than one frequented by tourists? Much of the conversation in this thread would lead me to the assumption that several of you might say yes. A chef, at the most basic level, is like an artist. If he chooses to present his work in a manner that gets him noticed by the major art galleries, then so be it. If he goes a route that is less accepted (and therefore often also less expected) by the general public, but finds support among friends, family, and neighbors, that's fine, too. Maybe this fact is a tragedy in and of itself, but I would assert that many chefs considering what route they take with their own food are making a financial, and not an ethical, decision. They choose their market, and they cater to it. Who are we to judge them for it? I'm pretty sure the chefs of Osteria La Francescana and Hosteria Giusti get along just fine. Why can't we? We should consider ourselves lucky to have such choices. Italy is a truly phenomenal place to eat and drink. Both traditional and innovative chefs are doing their part to make to make sure it stays that way.

Brava, Ling! Sounds wonderful. Sounds to me like your comfort zone as a cook is larger than you might think it is! How old was your parmigiano-reggiano?

I'm pretty sure FG is saying that bread with no salt, like hathor's example of vegetables cooked to obliteration, is a defect in the cuisine. I tend to agree that there is plenty of room for improvement in both cases.

I'm with Sethro on this one. I'm kinda digging the new look.

That's my boy! BTW, if the pizza in the foreground is the margherita, to me that is way too much cheese. But it's too bad the cheese's excess salt didn't at least make up for the sauce's lack of it. Sounds like the crust was good, though. By far the most important part of pizza, in my book. (Take all these comments with a grain of salt. I thought the Piola in NYC was pretty mediocre, so maybe I'm a little biased. I still remember them cracking black pepper on my pizza. Black pepper...)

The frittura di pesce from Vecio Fritolin was the single best thing I had to eat during almost a week spent in Venice last month. At lunch it is also available to go for considerably cheaper. Very highly recommended. Don't know if you read my Eating the Boot thread (can't blame you if you found it too long! ), but La Zucca was a nice spot for lunch (and it's close to a vaporetto stop). Vini da Gigio would be nice, too (not too far from Ca' d'Oro stop).

I imagine I should do a wrap-up post of some sort pretty soon, but that's all the Italian food adventures I've got for now! To those who have kept up with this little journal of mine the whole way, grazie mille! It's been a blast!

Milano / Bellagio To anyone still reading this trip report, first I should first commend you on your perseverance. Second of all, though, I've got a very important bit of Italian travel advice to share: Do not, I repeat, do not visit Milan during the month of August if you want to eat well. I know what you're thinking...."But wait, aren't August closures a problem all over Italy?" It is, of course, the traditional period of ferie, or vacation for restaurant owners, shop owners, you name it. But nowhere did I feel the effects of that more strongly than in Milan. The city was an absolute ghost town. Depressing, even, unless one finds consolation in shopping, of which the city certainly has no shortage even in August. Even without taking into account all the closures, my first impressions of this city were not the best. Walking around the city, it feels industrial, commercial, and impersonal. The exact antithesis of all I had come to find beautiful about Italy. This is not to say the city doesn't have its merits. It's duomo, for example, is certainly among the finest gothic structures in the world. And I'm sure La Scala puts on a stunning rendition of your favorite opera. Maybe my timing was just off. Or maybe it is one city in Italy that just isn't for me (joining Pisa with that distinction, perhaps). Whatever the case may be, it's not a a city I will be rushing back to anytime soon. The city was chock full of the signs I came to fear like the plague: ferie, ferie, ferie. Phone calls to pretty much everyplace in my guidebook were answered by none other than the automated voicemail guy: "Gentili clienti...." I soon wondered if I would ever be able to find someplace without the dreaded menu turistico. But I suppose when there's a will (to eat well), there's a way (to eat well). Just a few minutes' walk from my hotel was my Peck, Via Spadari 9, arguably the most famous gourmet food market in the country. With nothing else decent open as far as I could tell, I decided to make this dinner the first night. I was not, for once, very hungry, so I had more of a snack than a proper meal. I had a piece of foccacia al rosmarino and some salame di Peck. The rosemary foccacia was nice and flavorful, maybe a tad dry, but that was to be expected, given that it was 7pm or so at this point. The pork salame was wonderful, if a bit pricey at €33/kg. Just the right amount ratio of meat and fat, and nice coarse black peppercorns here and there. From the fruit department, I bought a single fico d'india, as I'd never had it fresh before, only candied. This Indian fig, also known as prickly pear, was pretty terrible, I must say. Probably not something I'll be having again anytime soon, if I have anything to do with it. After this random snacking, it was gelato time. They were showcasing (by way of a different sign, at least) the fig gelato that day, so I went for a cup of two flavors: fichi and pistacchio. Both were outstanding, tbe best I'd had in quite a while, in fact. Nice creamy texture, served neither too warm nor too cold, and wonderful clarity of flavor. Closing my eyes, I was biting into a fig just plucked from the tree one minute, and tasting the pure essence of roasted pistachio the next. Very good. I browsed around the store a bit more. Their wine cellar is fantastic! Magnums of Chateau d'Yquem, example. Great selection of Italian and French wines, in particular, but stuff from all over. I decided I'd have to come back to this store. So I did. The very day I was to leave bella Italia. And it provided most of what was probably the best meal I've ever had on an airplane. But I will get to that later. In the mean time, there was more eating to do. You know the saying: when life closes every friggin' restaurant you can think of, sometimes it opens a supermarket. Something like that. Anyhoo, on Sunday August 12, undoubtedly the most boring day of the trip (This was Milan in August AND on Sunday), dinner came from an unexpected source, the Standa supermarket on Via Palla 2/A. I walked in, studied their selection for a bit, and decided on the feast I'd lay out for myself back at the hotel. Three kinds of salumi: Prosciutto Toscano Colle Senesi (prosciutto from the hills around Siena, Tuscany), Filetto Stagionato (lomo di suino, cured pork loin), and Spianata Piccante (spicy pork salame from Calabria). Three kinds of cheese: Val Lesina, Fiordimonte, and Pecorino Pastore Sardo. Three types of marinated vegetables: melanzane grigliate (grilled eggplant), carciofi (artichokes), and peperoni (red and yellow roasted peppers). The icing on the cake was a baguette fresh from the oven, literally so hot I could barely hold onto it. When like hands you warm bread, plans change. You stop what you're doing, and eat it. I walked quickly back to the hotel. Hell, let's be honest. I practically ran. I laid out the feast and devoured nearly every bit. So delicious. The warm baguette, of course, was what clinched it. Instantly melting the fat in the salumi, accentuating both the aroma and the taste. The perfect companion, too, for the cheeses and the marinated vegetables. I'd made a delicious meal of things bought at the supermarket. Go figure. Ah, dessert was from there, too. Huge globe grapes and one perfectly ripe peach. Not bad, not bad. After enduring a dead Saturday evening and even more dead Sunday in Milan, I decided to head for the sunny shores of Lake Como. I decided on the town of Bellagio, conveniently located where the three fingers of the lake meet. I started with leisurely lunch on the outdoor terrace of Ristorante Silvio, Via Carcano 12, Bellagio. A small bottle of prosecco to wake the taste buds. My antipasto was a selection of two types of fish pate, one lighter in flavor but more coarse in texture, and the other richer in flavor (made with fish liver, I was told) but smoother in texture. Also some small white fish roe (receipt says rottami (scraps), but maybe that refers to one of the pates?). And one missultino, an ancient preparation for the lake sardines called agoni. It involves salting, sun-drying, and then pressing the sardines. All were pretty tasty, with the tiny fish roe and the missultino being my favorites. My primo was ravioli di pesce. Overly thick, chewy pasta filled with a tasteless fish puree. This was pretty terrible. I could make better homemade pasta than this, and I'm horrible at it! My secondo was battuta di pesce, which I expected to be chunky (raw) fish tartare but turned out to be cooked fish that had been so finely chopped as to lose any sense of its texture. Three mounds of this mushy concoction was served, with pickled vegetables (onions, peppers, cucumber) alongside. I was not such a fan. Dessert, at least, was quite good. Semifreddo di grappa con uvette, grappa semifreddo served with tiny raisins and sauced with a grappa-enriched caramel. Very tasty finish. With the prosecco, and four courses of food, the total came to €38, which would have been quite reasonable, had the food not been so disappointing. The afternoon stroll through the beautiful gardens of the nearby Villa Melzi, with its breathtaking views of Lake Como, though, weren't a bad form of consolation, I'd say. Lake Como is certainly an area I could see myself visiting again sometime. Really beautiful. By the time I'd made it back to Milan, it was time for a late dinner. I dreaded the thought of trying to find a place. But then I saw a certain name in my guidebook and realized it was among those I'd actually not yet called, so I gave it a shot. Lo and behold, someone answered! So soon I arrived at La Librera, Via Palermo 21. Was it a coincidence that my last dinner in Italy would be on a street named for the city that had been my first stop? Who knows. But I do know I was relieved to find a place open, and the menu looked promising. I started with fiori di zucca gratinati, zucchini flowers stuffed with sauteed dices of zucchini, topped with a creamy cheese mixture, and baked until bubbly and brown. This was served with a thin, crisp, salty (in a good way) flatbread sprinkled with vibrant green-and-yellow minced zucchini flowers. This was a nice flavor and texture contrast to the baked zucchini flowers. Simple dish, but good. Next I had risotto al salto. This was a Milanese specialty I'd not seen before the trip. Basically the typical risotto milanese, enriched with chicken stock and saffron. The difference is that with this dish, a portion of risotto is transferred to a large warm skillet where it is cooked until it loses its moisture and gets that delicious crusty bottom that paella fans around the world so adore. I quite enjoyed this, and will certainly be replicating it in my kitchen at home. Dessert, too, was very good. Fichi gratinati con zabaione e cioccolato. Baked figs drowning in rich, eggy zabaglione and drizzled with a warm bittersweet chocolate sauce. I'm pretty sure that speaks for itself. It was delicious. The bill for the meal (I drank only water, as their wine didn't interest me, though they did have a large selection for the beer-drinkers out there, of which I'm not one) was a reasonable €28. I don't usually mention much about this, but I should add that the service here sucked. Ready to order? Need another beverage? Want to know where the bathroom is? God forbid you should ask the waiter, the busboy, or the owner making his rounds at many of the tables. They will give you a look of death for daring to go in their restaurant expecting service? Who do you think you are, anyway...a paying customer? Basically, what I'm trying to say is that while the food here was solid, the general attitude of the staff is best expressed as a question: Chi se ne frega?. Now back to that airplane meal I mentioned earlier. The feast for the voyage home, courtesy of Peck. I started with a sformato di parmigiano. A parmigiano-reggiano custard, or flan, with absolutely the perfect texture. Not the slightest bit grainy, nor too congealed and rubbery, as these sometimes are. The flavor was pure unadulterated parmigiano, and each bite literally melted away on the tongue. The roasted mushroom and thyme atop the sformato provided the crowning touch. At this point, the bread service began. And by that, I mean I opened up the bag of three different kinds of small rolls I'd bought: integrale (whole wheat), pane al latte (milk bread), and a small foccacia with olive oil and sea salt. All very tasty. For my primo, I had crespelle con robiola all'erbette. Delicate crepes filled with ultra-creamy robiola cheese and minced herbs. The thyme, especially, did nothing but heighten the flavor of the already delicious cheese. Very good. My secondo was a nice hunk of entrecote di manzo, a premium cut ribeye steak. This was cooked to a nice medium rare, and was incredibly tender, even at room temperature as I was eating it. My contorno, or side dish, with the steak was finocchio e aglio arrostito, braised fennel with topped with a puree of roasted garlic. Some things simply taste better in Italy. Fennel is one of those things. This was delicious. No meal would be complete without dessert, of course, and this was actually provided by Garbagnati, Via Victor Hugo 3, just up the block from Peck. Their torta di ricotta (ricotta cheese cake) was nothing short of fantastic. And that, as they say, was that.

Congratulations to you both. Sounds like you enjoyed a wonderful meal. And the foie gras torchon, in particular, is beautiful.

I've checked out the thread you started about your upcoming trip, and it sounds like you've got some great eating ahead of you. I almost made the trip to Dal Pescatore, but it ended up being a bit off the path I'd carved for myself, so it will be saved for a future visit. To answer you question, I did check out all of the menus before choosing In.gredienti. This is all a matter of personal preference, of course, but much of the items included in I Grandi Classici delle Calandre did not appeal to me. Certain combinations (saffron risotto with licorice, and suckling pig with mustard and coffee come to mind) just didn't sound good on paper. The Adesso menu looked very nice as well, and I almost went for that, but too many things on the In.gredienti menu were calling out to me. In the end, that made it an easy choice. Certainly you will be more than sated by meal's end with either option. I would just make a meal-time decision, base it on what sounds good to you on that particular day. Your stomach will be all the guide you need at that point. Looking forward to hearing about your trip. I hope you have a great one!

I'll see what I can do. Agreed.

Ah, yes. Cutting your losses. Never fun to have to do that.

MaxH certainly laid out all the details you need to know above, but I'll add my two cents. Having been to both, I'd say over time my preference between the two has become the Cafe. To me, the level of sophistication of the food (and I know people will scoff at this, as these are NOT places one goes for fussy or complicated dishes) is essentially the same in both places. It is unfortunate to be so pragmatic about it, perhaps, but sometime you just have to let your budget do the thinking for you. You certainly aren't paying extra for the technical competence of the cooks with your $65 (or $85 of $55 depending on the night) for the fixed menu in the restaurant downstairs. You are paying partially, as with all famous restaurants, for a name. For a philosophy. For something that was revolutionary back before you or I had even heard of the place. And, beneath it all, you're paying someone to shop for you. The ingredients in both the Cafe and the Dining Room are fabulous. No question about it. They have relationships with purveyors and farmers that you or I could only dream of. You will eat well at either one. Sorry to be so long-winded in my answer, but I suppose my summary would be: First time, the restaurant. Second visit, the Cafe (and lunch is so much more relaxed there than dinner). After that, frequent either (or neither) to your heart's content!

I'll gladly jump on that one. I'd agree with you that Humm's cuisine does have a bit of that "west coast" feel to it. Makes sense, considering that he earned a good share of praise for his cooking at Campton Place in San Francisco before Danny Meyer lured him over to NYC. I only managed to eat at EMP once after Humm had arrived, but the meal (in late April) was flat-out fantastic. The Vermont Farm Suckling Pig. The Scottish Salmon "Mi-Cuit". I could go on... He is undoubtedly one of the best, if not the single best, young chefs operating in NYC right now. He has singlehandedly transformed EMP into quite frankly one of the best restaurants in the city, and I say that with the perspective of one who's been to essentially all of that upper tier with which EMP keeps company. I've also been lucky enough to go to Manresa twice. Each time I had the "Grand Tasting Menu" (priced at $130, and then $140), comprising around 30 courses. I can sum up my thoughts thusly: It is my favorite restaurant in the world. Period. No question about it. Chef David Kinch is nothing short of brilliant. He's got a wonderful biodynamic farm from which much of his produce comes. I feel like his restaurant also has just such a beautiful sense of place. I'll be going back in a few weeks myself, and I must say, once you go, you'll understand how I am already looking forward to a meal that is more than 2 weeks away... Go. Enjoy. Get the Grand Tasting Menu. And report back!

Verona Believe it or not, I actually visited certain places in Italy for things other than the food. I know this comes as a shock to some, but it is true. Case in point: Verona. The draw to this city was not Shakespeare's star-crossed love tale; nor was it the horsemeat I'd read about as being a traditional part of the cuisine. It was instead for the opera. The outdoor opera in Verona's 2,000-year-old Roman arena, that is. While in Venice, I'd purchased a ticket to see La Traviata. An overcast, cloudy and somewhat rainy forecast had me hoping for the best. Luckily, it cleared up that evening, just in time for the nighttime spectacle. It was certainly not your average traditional presentation of the opera, but the musicians and the singers were all very good. I quite enjoyed the performance, and thought the arena provided a lovely venue for it. I also found some time to walk around the city, taking in its beautiful piazzas from which beautiful classical music played by street performers seems to naturally emanate. Also checked out all the would-be Juliets, looking down from the her house's balcony to see not Romeo, but hoards of tourists with cameras. How romantic. Overall, I found it to be a quiet town, but a nice one. Not much to do, perhaps, but in Italy one mustn't forget about il dolce far niente, the sweetness of doing nothing. I arrived too late for a restaurant lunch the first afternoon, so opted instead for a panino from Salumeria G. Albertini, Corso S. Anastasia 41. Nothing but a very fresh roll of bread, some pecorino cheese from Tuscany (sorry, don't remember which type), and spicy Calabrese salame laced with peperoncino. Very tasty. Dinner, then, would be at a sit-down place, I decided. Even if that meant an earlier dinner time in order to make it to the opera okay. My guidebook, and my cheapness (I mean, uh, frugality) brought me to Osteria Dal Duca, Via Arche Scaligere 2, which offered the Mena della Tradizione Veronese, including a primo and a secondo for €14. I was delighted to see both donkey and horse on the menu (who wouldn't be?), so it was a pretty easy choice for me. I started with Bigoli al torchio con ragu d'asino. A thicker, almost spaghetti-like pasta that is extruded rather than rolled, sauced with a donkey ragu. Simple, and tasty. My secondo was Pastisada de caval con polenta (spezzatino di cavallo). A horsemeat stew served atop delicious yellow polenta. Quite tasty. This meal, in proper Italian fashion, was enjoyed with a glass of Amarone, arguably the region's most famous wine. Dessert would be some beautiful fresh figs I'd bought at the fruit vendor down the street, so with my dinner and wine, 'twas a measly €20 for a nice meal.

After Venice, I had less than a week left in bella Italia, but there was still an important stop to make before I headed west toward Milan. This stop was in a small town on the outskirts of Padova... Le Calandre Via Liguria 1, Sarmeola di Rubano (PD), 049/630303 website Arguably the most well-known restaurant in Italy among food-lovers worldwide. I had heard so much and read so much that I, in turn, expected so much from this meal. How could I not? Massimiliano Alajmo had earned two Michelin stars at the tender age of 22 back in 1996. The youngest chef ever to do so. Not one to be complacent, I suppose, he one-upped himself in 2002, earning three Michelin stars, the highest honor that organization can bestow on a restaurant. Again, at just 28, the youngest chef ever to attain that distinction. Now fast forward to 2007. What would the chef bring forth on my first visit to his restaurant? This was all I cared about, of course. For me, at the end of the day, all the ratings, rankings, and reviews in the world are secondary to what's on my plate. So without further ado, let me jump right into it... Hello. My name is tupac17616 and I have a problem. When presented with several different menu options, like an uncontrollable reflex, I inevitably opt for the longest, most involved (and therefore often the most expensive) of the bunch. It was no surprise, then, that I chose the In.gredienti degustation menu for my lunch that day. With more courses (and more appealing courses, for that matter) than the Grandi classici (Grand classics) delle Calandre or Adesso (Now) menus, it was an easy decision. Priced at €200 before wine had even been discussed, the price of admission here is clearly no joke. They whisked my menu away, only to be quickly replaced by a copy I could take home. I liked that, as I undoubtedly would have asked for it later. I'm sure they get that all the time, hence the take-home copy. Prety soon, we were off... While I sipped some prosecco (not to worry, oenophiles, I'll mention all the wine specifics later), pretty soon some nibbles arrived. Crema di melanzana croccante and rollatino di pesce. The former was very tasty, a little fritter with a totally liquid eggplant center. (My mind happily drifted to a meal I had at Manresa in Los Gatos, CA in August of 2006, with a sweet-corn version of the same thing). I didn't understand the waiter as he mentioned what type of fish was in the middle of the little roll-up, but the outside was fresh anchovy. This was also a tasty little bite, but the liquid eggplant fritter was the star of the plate. At this point, there is but one other diner in the restaurant besides myself, and she is on the complete opposite end of the room. Without any noise or commotion, and of course without flash, I proceeded to take a picture of the dish. Seconds later, one of the waiters came over to the table to say that Chef Alajmo asks that people not photograph his food. I know full well this is a crock of you-know-what. A guy in Venice I'd met three days prior had shown me the pictures still stored on his digital camera, and of course I'd seen tons of pictures published elsewhere online prior to the trip. Something about this really rubbed me the wrong way, for some reason. I'm paying dearly for this food, and as far as I'm concerned, if I'm not bothering anyone else, how I choose to remember the meal is up to me. But enough venting. I'll move on now. Another amuse-bouche arrived. Don't quote me on this, as I again had trouble understanding the description, but here's what I tasted: A slightly toasted cube of bread, parsley foam, watermelon, and almond-anchovy gelato. What's up with that combination?, you may ask. You tell me, as I certainly didn't get it. The textures of bread and watermelon don't exactly play nice together if you ask me, and while I enjoyed the salty-sweet, warm-cold contrast of the dish, I thought the flavors in the dish just didn't sing. Strange beginning to the meal. Many differnt kinds of housemade breads, breadsticks and crackers arrived, stacked like a sculpture on the plate. Frankly, they were all pretty bad. Certainly not what I would expect from a restaurant of this caliber. I left most of it untouched. The first official course then arrived. Al Aimo: pomodoro, olio, ricotta, fave, pane, fagiolini, basilico, peperoncino (dedicato ad Aimo Moroni). A tribute to one of Milan's most respected chefs, Aimo Moroni, this dish was one based about 99.9% on the quality of the ingredients and nothing else. The tomatoes were sweet and delcious. The ricotta, fresh and milky. The fava beans (pureed) and green beans (in small chunks) were vibrantly colored and flavorful. The olive oil was Sicilian, and quite good. The "bread" in this case was actually pane carasau, a thin crisp flatbread from Sardinia. Just enough peperoncino added to wake up the taste buds with a spicy top note. Very enjoyable dish overall. Next came Millefoglie di mare: sandwich croccante di pane con baccalà mantecato, insalata d'alghe e maionese di gamberi e scampi. A towering dish of phyllo dough layered with some different things: whipped salt cod; seaweed salad; a "mayonnaise" made with pureed shrimp and scampi (I'll let the wise fortadei translate that for us); and Italian caviar. The quality of the caviar wasn't particularly good; it acted only as a means to re-salt the dish, and unfortunately nothing more. The baccala and the seafood were both tasty, but the phyllo dough may as well not have been there at all, so overwhelmed by too much filling as it was. There was not enough textural contrast in the dish, and the monotonous creamy-salty taste just got boring by the end. Things took a better turn with the next course, Capelli d'angelo con crudo di triglie, oratine, alici, seppie e crostacei. Lightly chilled angel hair pasta, served with pieces of various raw fish: red mullet, sea bream, anchovy, shrimp and lobster. This was all sauced lightly with crema d'aragosta, a lobster reduction enriched with cream. It would seem that the sauce might cover up some of the delicacy of the fish, but that wasn't the case at all. It complimented everything well. Very refreshing and tasty dish. The fish and crustaceans were all impeccably fresh. Maybe the best course of the meal. Next up was Carne cruda sulla corteccia...versione estiva. Four small mounds of raw beef served on this ridiculous-looking wooden half-log ("corteccia"=bark). I can appreciate a playful presentation when I see one, but I found this one to be pretty stupid, frankly. Anyhoo, each mound of meat (the shoulder meat from mature Piemontese Fasson cattle, not veal as I had assumed) was sauced with a different fruit flavoring. Fruit?!, you may ask. Yes, I wondered why, too. Believe me. All of them were way too sweet. The first, mango; then passion fruit; apricot; and raspberry. If you took away the cloyingly sweet accompaniments, the meat was fine. But I, too, know how to chop meat. I don't really want or need to pay $300 for someone else to do it for me. I found all of the fruit accompaniments to be unnecessary and useless. But just in case there weren't enough sweetness on the plate already, there was a piece of watermelon meant to cleanse the palate. Of course. I can see how, after all that sweetness, one might need something sweet to, uh, get rid of the sweet taste. Oh wait. The fruit unfortunately continued. Next came a dish of Risotto con le conchiglie, rosmarino e frutto della passione. Risotto with "shells" (shellfish), including mussels, clams, and I can't quite remember what else. Why is it that I can't remember anything else? Well, the seafood was futile against the fruity, herbal onslaught form the passion fruit and rosemary. I must have missed some sort of memo, because I just had no idea where the chef was trying to go with this dish. I began to think about dessert, not because I necessarily wanted it yet, but because I felt like I'd already been eating it with the last two courses! Next up: Fegato grasso d'oca caramellata, salsa di albicocche e curry, polvere di grano tostato e menta. Okay, now he's just messing with me. Seriously. Where's the hidden camera? Seared goose foie gras with a sweet apricot/curry sauce, a pile of toasted wheat powder, a tiny chiffonade of fresh meat, and paper-thin pane carasau on top of it all, for a little more textural contrast. The foie gras was cooked well. I will give him that much. The top had a nice sear, giving way to creamy deliciousness underneath. The accompaniments for the goose liver, though, didn't really do much for me. The foie-gras-and-fruit combination is certainly not a new one, but I thought this course, just like the previous two, veered too much in the sweet direction. I found myself pushing the sauce and accompaniments to the side and just eating the foie gras by itself. Shame. Following the foie gras was the Filetto impanato ma non cucinato: carpaccio spesso, rotolato nel pane su salsa speziata d'ouvo e succo di rape rosse. Breaded, but not cooked, beef filet. In this case, a very thin, carpaccio-style slice, rolled in coarse toasted bread crumbs similar to panko. This rested on a spiced sauce enriched with egg yolk, and beetjuice. Surprise, surprise. This course was sweet, too. But at least this time it was more under control, as the beet's sweetness, especially, has a bit more earthiness to it, and the egg yolk present in the other sauce helped make that more rich and savory as well. I liked the textural contrast of the tender raw meat and the coarse breadcrumbs. This was a dish I quite enjoyed. The last meat course came with the Piccione di Sante arrostito con il suo pate di fegatini, indivia alla amarene e gorgonzola. I like how the Italians just call a spade a spade. None of the usual "squab" nonsense when referring to pigeons we happen to be eating instead of feeding breadcrumbs in the park. This pigeon was stuffed with a pate made from its liver, and then roasted. Accompanying the bird was endive with slightly sour cherries and slightly strong gorgonzola. This was a pretty nice dish, with strong flavors abound. I found myself eating the bird and the endive separately, but in this case, at least each was quite tasty on its own. And with that, it looked like it was time to move toward the sweeter end of the meal. But not before a little bit of cheese. The carrello dei formaggi, or cheese cart, had not yet made its appearance at my table, so I was excited for it. After a great explanation of what they had to offer, most of which was new to me, I enjoyed a selection of seven different cheeses. Excuse any mistakes I'll inevitably make in recalling the names correctly, but my notes say: plin alla canella (cinnamon); tuma d'la paja (soft, creamy, matured under straw, Piemontese); fiorile (rolled in flowers, flavored with garlic); affinato alla grappa di mele (flavored with apple grappa); golden gel (cow's milk, flavored with the skins and seeds of wine grapes, spicy/sweet/bitter all at once); gran sardo (sharp, sheep's milk cheese from Sardinia); blu delle cozie (sheep's milk blue, from the Alps of Piemonte). These were served with a few accompaniments: a spicy onion mostarda, a sweeter prune & sumac jam, and honey. This was a nice selection overall, and I'm always happy to try cheeses that are new to me. My favorites that afternoon were the plin alla canella, golden gel, and gran sardo (the only one among the bunch that I'd had before). Dessert time. Or more specifically, pre-dessert. Sorbetto di sedano verde. Celery sorbet. By itself, no other flavors present. I understand this is supposed to cleanse the palate, but come on now. Chef Alajmo can do better than that. Really. The serving was enough for a few bites, but one was plenty. Moving on to the actual dessert, "Costrizioni" al cioccolato - gioccolato 2007. Chocolate "Constraints" -- chocolate "game" 2007. Essentially, this "game" was to explore how our consumption of chocolate changes from childhood through adulthood through our elderly years. Cool idea. Ridiculous presentation. Wheeled out on a big wooden toy car, stacked high with a child's building blocks. One of the components of the dish was even presented in a baby bottle, so that one must suck out the contents. Fine dining at its best, this dish. I assume that Chef Alajmo is trying to assert that there are too many contraints that we place on what can be done with chocolate, as some of these combinations were a bit strange. There was a lot going on in this dish, so I'll divide my description into two parts. Let's start with the things that tasted good: liquid-chocolate filled bonbon topped with gold leaf; nutella and cream wafer sandwich; chocolate with liquid mint filling; beet gelee and white chocolate cream; baby bottle filled with warm cinnamon-flavored chocolate; bittersweet chocolate "cigar"; cherry granita with just a bit of chocolate mixed in here and there. And then there were the things that were, well, pretty bad: tepid coffee served in a shot glass atop a hazelnut-chocolate cream; an airy chocolate and saffron meringue; lettuce leaf with white chocolate, salt, and pepper; curried chocolate mousse. Aside from the baby bottle and the cigar, god only knows which of these dishes are for the young or the old typically. There's no telling. At least 7 of 11 components were good, though. Success rate could be worse, I suppose. Winding down now, it was time for caffe and piccola pasticceria, the petit fours of the meal. With my espresso, there were several small treats brought out. Coconut-and-mint liquid-filled chocolate; liquid-mint-filled chocolate cup; a few pieces of 70% cacao bittersweet chocolates; and "sweet" grissini (only in quotes as I couldn't nail down the flavor. It was chocolate and somethng else that was a bit strange.) These were pretty good, but by this point, my only thought was "Enough with the chocolate already". But that, my friends, was that. I should comment a bit on the wine. It is no exaggeration to say that the recommended selection for this meal was the most enjoyable progression of wines I'd had on the trip. I chose to do it by the glass to avoid selling the clothes off my back to pay for the pairing. But even for a novice like me, I found the wine list and service both to be fantastic. For those who are curious, I had the following wines: Ca' del Bosco Franciacorta Saten 2002 (Lombardia) €12 Franciacorta Brut Cabochon Rosé 2001, Monte Rossa (Lombardia) €18 Capitel Croce 1999, Anselmi (Veneto) €8 Pathos 2004, Santa Barbara (Le Marche) €12 Moscato Fior d'Arancio Passito 2003, La Montecchia (Veneto) €9 I realized later that I was charged for a glass of Recioto Moron 2004 (€11), a red dessert wine, as well, even though by the time they'd finally offered it, I wasn't in the mood for anything else sweet so I politely declined. But they said they will gladly fix that minor flub after coming back from their August vacation. Anyway, I really, really enjoyed the wine selection here. As I said before, the best I had on the trip. So what about some overall thoughts on the meal? As I'm sure this long-winded review probably hints at throughout, I can sum up my take on the meal pretty easily: A few high points, interspersed with far too many low ones. Overall, very underwhelming. Does price factor into that? Of course. When I pay €268 for a meal, I'd like it to be exceptional. This one just wasn't. The savory courses tended to be too sweet. The sweet ones, perhaps too savory. The ingredients, as evidenced in the delicious Al Aimo and Capelli d'angelo con crudo di mare dishes, were well-sourced and top-notch. Clearly, the chef is a skilled shopper. And no doubt, a skilled cook, too. I don't think it was the execution I found issues with, but rather the combinations of ingredients. Many times, I felt he was just trying too hard to be different, to be new, to be exciting. Forgetting what should be the main point...to make it delicious. Will I be back? Maybe someday, but I'm certainly not in the slightest hurry. Chef Alajmo has earned so much praise for his work already and I have no doubts he will continue to earn more as the years pass. But my meal that afternoon was an indication that this restaurant, perhaps, is just not my coppetta di tè.