tupac17616

What kind of people take pictures of food? Weird...

amen to that

Having just been there, oh, about a week and a half ago, I can only hope he's not going until September, as tkerby said above. It is a friggin' ghost town (I'm talking, like, 90% of all restaurants are closed...). Depressing almost, unless shopping brings you as much joy as eating (for me, not so much). I did (and would recommend to) make a few meals out of trips to Peck (open August and closed only Sunday all day and Monday before 3:30pm), the gourmet food store. Their prices suck, I'll admit, but the quality is there. Their wine cellar is wonderful, their gelato fantastic, and even with a few trips, I was really only beginning to scratch the surface of their prepared foods, their meats, their cheeses, their baked goods, etc. The bakery Garbagnati, just a half block away from Peck, is also quite nice for breads and all kinds of sweets. I was able to find one restaurant in the city that was open and didn't have the dreaded "menu turistico" sign. La Libera, Via Palermo 21, was quite an enjoyable meal for my last night in Milan. I had fiori di zucca gratinati stuffed with nice fresh ricotta and diced zucchini, and served with a thyme-scented crisp flatbread. Then risotto al salto, the classic Milanese risotto enriched with chicken stock and saffron, then cooked in a large flat pan until it loses its moisture. The result is crispy, chewy and delicious, like the bits that have stuck to the pan in a tasty paella. Dessert was gloriously fresh figs baked and served with warm zabaglione and warm chocolate sauce. Nice meal food-wise, thought the service there is absolutely horrendous, I must say. I certainly wish your friend good luck. Definitely report back with his food finds!

I was there about two weeks ago...LINK And this is worth essentially nothing, but the place that I most wanted to try, but was unable to because of their summer vacation, was Trattoria Caminetto d'Oro. Their menu looked quite promising. Enjoy Bologna!

This will likely sound a bit insane (well, maybe it won't, as I suppose you all know me a little better now), but I'd originally thought I could actually do Madonnina del Pescatore and Uliassi in the same day. Yes, two tasting menus in one day, an exercise in gluttony even I haven't experienced. Thankfully, that day was not to be the day for it, either. I rolled out of Madonnina del Pescatore around 5pm, and I'm not gonna lie...I was drunk. Sitting down sounded really good right about then, so that's what I did. For, oh, about two hours, give or take, near the water, watching the waves crash and the beach activity breeze by. I called to move the reservation at Uliassi to the next day for lunch, and went for a little walk around the town. I found a bookstore where I checked out the various food guides to see what light dinner options there might be in town. One place, in particular, seemed to keep popping up, but first I had another stop in mind already, so I headed to Aniko, Piazza Saffi 10 (website), where I planned to have a light bite and make take a thing or two for the road. You see, the place hails itself as the first salumeria ittica, a fish salumeria. A cool concept, to be sure, but there were other reasons I was drawn here. Along with a susci bar in Baia di Portonovo on the other side of Ancona, this place is owned by Chef Moreno Cedroni of Madonnina del Pescatore. I'd seen what he could do in the context of a Michelin-guide sort of place. I wanted to see how his Gambero Rosso Low Cost mention might measure up. A pretty large menu made me question whether or not I should make an entire meal here, but the atmosphere wasn't really conducive to that, so I figured I'd try a few dishes and move on to the other place for more substantial fare. What I had here was delicious, though, and very well priced. I started with egg and bacon di tonno. Several thin slices of "san daniele" (a kind of prosciutto) of tuna, topped with a fried egg, drizzled with a reddish aioli-like condiment, and served with warm toasted bread. The egg had perhaps the most vibrant orange yolk I'd ever seen. This dish was simple, but delicious. The next dish didn't disappoint, either. "Tonno del Chianti" (Dario Cecchini). This "tuna" was actually pork meat from the most famous butcher in all of Tuscany, and therefore, all of Italy. The meat had been cooked in white wine (and I'm not sure what else), and had all the appearance, texture, and flavor of chunky drizzled with good extra virgin olive oil. Very tasty. Would ordering three dishes move this little trip out of snack realm and into a meal? Hell, what did I care? Dessert sounded delicious, and it was. Mousse di cioccolato con olio di clementine e fiore di sale, a phenomenal chocolate mousse drizzled with clementine oil and sprinkled with a few fat flakes of salt. So good. Price was only around €16 total for the three dishes. As the website hints at, in addition to the many types of fish salumi, they also sell Chef Cedroni's line of jams and various canned fish goods. I bought a jar of very tasty kiwi jam (€6) destined to accompany some fresh ricotta, and a can of trippa di coda di rospo in umido, stewed monfish tripe (€10), that would be wonderful atop polenta. Very, very cool place. I'll definitely go back sometime. The place all the guidebooks seemed to mention was Osteria del Teatro, Via Fratelli Bandiera 70, so that was where I headed next. This place is very well priced, not to mention pointed out as both a good place for cheese, and for the traditional cuisine of Le Marche. I started with spaghetti al pesto alla trapanese, a Sicilian pasta preparation that I'd never had before. Take your traditional Genovese basil pesto and add tomatoes, almond and celery, the waiter explained. Sounded good to me. The result was tasty, but unfortunately a bit undersalted. Definitely something I'll make at home sometime, though. I saw a warm piadina cruise by my table, and knew what I should be having next. I ordered a piadina, filled with whatever regional cheese and meat the waited recommended. He said he'd do one better, and bring a plate of three kinds of salumi and three types of cheese, along with a piping hot freshly-made piadina, the grilled unleavened flatbread. The cheeses, as the guidebooks promised, were very well chosen. The salumi, too, was delicious. And the piadina, wonderful. There was no room, and no need, for dessert. A very enjoyable meal, and for €20, a good value as well. Definitely a place I would recommend.

Madonnina del Pescatore Lungomare d'Italia 11, Loc. Marzocca di Senigallia, 071/698267 website A trusted friend in Rome had told been the first to tell me that Chef Moreno Cedroni was an artist, whose cuisine was well worth my time and my money. Many others had done nothing but confirm this assertion, praising his creativity in particular. I arrived for my 1pm reservation excited, and hungry to see what this chef could do. Given two menu degustazione choices, creativo and traditzione, I chose the former, priced at €120. (There was a la carte, too, of course, but it took about half a second to figure out that this was a chef whose vision would be best appreciated in a tasting menu format.) The list of dishes extended all the way down the page, and I was excited by the fact that I couldn't count them at first glance. It looked to be 15 or so, perhaps, but I closed up the menu and the feast began. I prefer to be surprised. Four types of bread are brought out: black bread made with squid ink; a very crusty baguette-like bread; fat grissini, whole wheat if I remember correctly; and thin, crisp crackers made with, I believe, caraway seeds. None are particularly amazing, thought the black bread looks cool, at least, and its subtly rich flavor seems to work pretty well with the slightly spicy olive oil from near Arezzo that they've chosen to serve along with the bread. The first course was Americano Solido (2002). The classic cocktail reinterpreted. Served in a Collins glass, with a long (maybe 6in), narrow spoon resting on the edge of the glass, like those honey spoons for tea. The campari came in the form of small cubes of gelee, while the vermouth was a cold foam of sorts. A splash of club soda, and this edible cocktail was complete. Just enough of the campari's bitterness was able to shine through in the gelee to make this pleasantly refreshing when couple with the chilled vermouth and club soda components of the "drink". Pretty nice start, if a little tough to eat with that funky spoon. Next up was Gelato al parmigiano di Ferran Adria. This one, of course, needs no translation. Inspired by the famously innovative Spanish chef, the parmigiano gelato was sandwiched between two paper-thin crackers, which were also flavored with parmigiano. Good flavor once you let it slowly melt on the tongue. The texture, to me, was more like semifreddo than the creamy goodness I associate with gelato, but that probably has to do with parmigiano's inherent crystalline texture. I almost wanted some sort of top note to the flavor of this dish, perhaps just a drop of stravecchio balsamic vinegar, but it never came. The taste, I suppose, was meant to be of pure parmigiano, and nothing else. The next thing listed on the menu was not a course at all, but rather the drink meant to accompany the following few courses, Metodo Classico Garofoli Brut Riserva (2002), a bubbly dance across the tongue to wake up the taste buds for the delicate seafood that was to follow. The drink's first companion was Caviale Calvisius e Burrata (2006). I'd had the combination of caviar and burrata cheese three or four times in New York before, and I knew the oceanic salinity of the fish eggs and unapologetic creaminess of the cheese were a nice match for one another. This white sturgeon caviar, a farmed product from Italy, was firm, relatively large in size, and a gorgeous full black color. Tasting it on its own was nice, and eaten in combination with the burrata, it added just the right amount of salt. Still, though, I felt like this dish was lacking something. I don't mean ingredient-wise, necessarily. Two complementary flavors is certainly enough to make a good dish. But if you are going to serve me just two ingredients, ideally I want them to be the best of each that I've ever tasted, and that just wasn't the case here. The flavors just didn't sing enough on their own, or lift one another the way I'd hoped they would. Next up was L'Insalata di Mari che si da le "Arie"...al Limone (2006). Literally, "the seafood salad to which one gives the 'airs'...of lemon". Strange name, I thought, but what a knockout dish. Perhaps the best of the meal. The seafood salad consisted of different varieties of crostaceans and mollusks -- raw shrimp and canocchie (mantis shrimp), calamari and seppie (cuttlefish), lightly cooked lobster. It rested on a soft bed of finely minced vegetables, some basil pesto, and a lovely shellfish lobster reduction probably made with more lobster shells than I can count. Resting atop the salad was lemon "air", a very light foam. So, so good. The buttery texture and clean, delicate flavor of raw shrimp is, for me, one of the biggest culinary pleasures one can experience. Everything about this dish was wonderful, really. The textures, the flavors, the way it all came together. Bravo. Moving along once again, a new wine arrived (I'll list these later), along with Cappesante brasate con pomodori gratinati, salsa ai finocchi (2007). Braised scallops with gratin tomatoes and a fennel emulsion. There is no getting around the fact that certain things just taste better in Italy. Fennel is one of them. The puree upon with the scallops rested was fantastic. The tomatoes, too, were quite tasty. I personally would've preferred simply seared scallops to the braised ones presented. The result with that cooking method for scallops always seems to be a bit too cooked for my taste. The flavor was quite good, to be sure, they just weren't as tender as they should have been, I think. Next up was Zuppa di cavolo con uova di seppie e gelato all'alice salata (2006). This was definitely a winner. A shallow bowl of cabbage soup, with a small scoop of salted anchovy gelato and a single cuttlefish egg in the center. Surrounding the gelato were a few pieces of incredibly buttery cauliflower, and three lightly breaded and grilled cuttlefish. The hot-cold, buttery-salty, creamy-crunchy contrast going on all over this dish was very nice. The texture of the gelato was wonderful, and the addition that really made the dish was the delicious grilled cuttlefish. Good show. Time for some pasta now, with Rigatoni all'arrabiata con alici fresche e melanzane (2007). The classic spicy tomato sauce, enriched with tiny bits of fresh anchovy. The four rigatoni were sauced and stacked like lincoln logs on a beautifully colored eggplant and basil puree. The pasta was just a touch undercooked, but not terribly so. The flavors worked nicely together, especially the eggplant and basil with the (not really so spicy) tomato sauce, but I thought the anchovy was kind of thrown in there for no reason, just to say, "Hey, we're a seafood-focused restaurant. You're eating on the Adriatic Coast, remember?". One of the few dishes with both feet planted firmly on land was the next one, Tortellini di parmigiano con carne cruda al basilico e salsa di pomodoro (2007). Three delicious tortellini with a liquid parmigiano filling. Only the slightest bit grainy, and don't ask me how he acheived that liquid filling in the first place. But the result was certainly tasty. And to pair it with a small mound of raw beef, an almost-foamy basil sauce, and an intense tomato reduction, worked wonderfully. Very tasty course. Moving steadily along, Bocconcini di rombo fritti con zucchini grigliate e salsa giardiniera (2003). Two good-sized chunks of cornmeal-breaded, fried turbot, piled atop grilled zucchini. At the base were two types of vegetable based sauces. If my memory is to be trusted, I think one was zucchini & basil, and the other was summer squash. Crowing it all was a crispy piece of fried turbot skin with the texture of pork rinds. The fish was moist, and the flavor pretty good. But overall I found the dish a little boring. Next up: Poll & Pol (pollo e polpo alla cacciatora) con purea ed alga kombu (2007). After the beautiful series of platings that had preceded it, I found this presentation to be, well, almost ugly. I'm not talking purely in terms of the dishes used; the food itself just was not visually appealing. A piece of skinless chicken breast, presumably either poached or cooked sous vide, as it had no color. Some piece of octopus were unfortunately a bit too chewy. Both were prepared "hunter style", with the tomato, vegetable and herb condiment for which every cook seems to have his or her own version. The algae kombu (a type of sea-weed) was a nice touch that made sure the dish overall was more firmly planted in the sea than on land. But overall, this dish didn't really do much for me. The "cheese" course, if one should call it such, was Sorbetto di toma con confettura di fragole e timo al limone (2007). Toma refers not to a particular cheese, but rather to the drum-like shape of a whole series of Italian cheeses. A sorbet made from this mild cheese rested atop a delicious strawberry confit scented with lemon thyme. This was a tasty, and refreshing, introduction to the sweeter end of the meal. Next was Bounty di seppia (2006). Again straddling the savory-sweet divide, this was a single chocolate, filled with a crispy cuttlefish-ink and cocoa mixture. Flavor was okay, but I thought he was trying a bit too hard with this one. Certainly not much more fully in the dessert realm was Sedano rapa croccante con gianduja e mozzarella, spuma di nutella e zenzero, gelato al pepe di szechuan (2006). A crisp thin slice of deep-fried celery root with chocolate-hazelnut mouse and mozzarella, nutella and ginger "foam" with the consistency of whipped cream, and szechuan pepper gelato, for a spicy-herbal top note for it all. I'll be the first to admit, this flavor combination sounds like a mess on paper, but the result was very good. The salty-sweet combination didn't lean too much in one direction or the other. The interplay between the different textures and temperatures, too, was quite nice. Served alongside this dish, but listed separately on the menu, was The' Marco Polo, a lovely warm cup of tea with wonderful aromas of vanilla and citrus. Very tasty. Winding down now, it was time for Zabaione ghiacciatissimo!!!!!!!!! (2005). "Very frozen" zabaglione. This was incredible. A thick mound of eggy zabaglione, dropped tableside into liquid nitrogen, then handed to me with the instruction to eat it quickly. Such a cool sensation on the tongue to eat this flash-frozen treat. Nice. Had I finally come to the end? Not before a few more little treats. The piccola pasticceria that both preceded and accompanied my caffe was pretty good. The first round was a small creme brulee, a chocolate truffle with liquid mint filling, and some type of mousse (hazelnut). Along with the caffe came a sort of chocolate-caramel custard and a shot glass full of (licorice?) granita. The mousse was my favorite among the bunch, and overall the first round was much better than the next. But at this point, really, did I need to be wowed? Not really. I was far too drunk to care much. Why drunk, might you ask? Well, in addition to the aforementioned spumante, I had the following wines: Pecorino Villa Angela 2006, Velenosi Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Class. Sup. Montesecco 2005, Montecappone Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Plenio Class. Riserva 2004, Umani Ronchi Montepulciano d'Abruzzo Cerasuolo Vigne Nuove 2005, Valle Reale Maximo Muffato, Umani Ronchi I found the pairings, for the most part, to be pretty good. You can't really go wrong with spumante and caviar or delicate fish. I enjoyed the pecorino. I wasn't such a fan of the first verdicchio, but enjoyed the second. The montepulciano d'abruzzo was nice. As was the muffato, though that one was not as wonderful as the one I'd tried at Osteria La Francescana in Modena. I don't know the first thing about these wines, to be honest, but I found the pricing very fair, €26 for the five glasses (the spumante was included as part of the degustation menu). So, all said and done, I was out of there for €155. Was it the greatest meal I'd ever had? No. I left unsure if it was even the greatest meal on the trip. But it was certainly fun, and I appreciated Chef Cedroni's playfulness and sense of creativity. It seemed like he must be having fun back there in the kitchen. Another word about the menu: I find that listing the year in which the chef conceptualized a given dish is absolutely ridiculous. But hey, we all have our idols, I suppose, and perhaps this is simply the chef's homage to the Ferran Adria. Not every dish was a knockout, but the highs reached high enough that I would certainly go back sometime. Maybe tradizione next time?

Senigallia, Le Marche After Emilia-Romagna, I wasn't sure at first what the next stop would be. The logical choice, perhaps, was to head up to Venice. But I could hardly count the number of Italians that had warned me: "Non si mangia bene in Venezia". One doesn't eat well in Venice. I'm sure it has the famous sights any self-respecting tourist could want. Not to mention the opera-singing, flat-brimmed-hat-and-striped-shirt-wearing gondola guys serenading the starry-eyed couples as they cruise through the city's canals. But whose vacation was this, anyway? I had come to Italy to eat, so where could I best do that next? All signs, it seemed, pointed toward a small town along the Adriatic coast of Le Marche. So many chefs I'd met along my journey had put in their suggestions for good places to eat during the rest of my time in Italy. Definitely among the top vote-getters were Madonnina del Pescatore and Uliassi, conveniently both located in the same town of Senigallia, just a stone's through from Ancona. Now, it is good to take all recommendations, whether they come from a famous chef, the Michelin man, or a red shrimp (Gambero Rosso), with a grain of salt. But even I know when to stop being stubborn and heed the suggestions. From Bologna, I packed my bags and hopped on the train, having already made a lunch reservation for...

Okay, so this doesn’t technically fit in to the chronological fabric of this thread, but to keep the geographical consistency intact, let’s have a little storytime… August 10th was undoubtedly the coolest evening of the trip. After commuting from Venezia to lunch in Padova two days prior, I met an Italian girl from Modena while visiting the Cappella degli Scrovegni. This was Wednesday, and she said she'd be back home on Friday, so I should come visit and we'd go for a coffee or go for another walk or something. Friday rolled around, and I wasn't able to get in touch with her for the longest time. Eventually, it was pushing 5pm, and I knew I was a good 2hr train ride away, so I finally just up and went to the train station and hopped on the next train, figured what do I have to lose really. Luckily, the cell phone gods connected us again once I’d arrived in Modena. She and several friends were headed to dinner “just outside of Modena” she said, and did I want to join them? Hmm…what is the Italian translation for “no-brainer”? Of course I wanted to come along. So our group of 13 hopped in a few cars and we were on our way. I asked how it was that they happened to choose the restaurant to which we were headed. “La Notte di San Lorenzo…stelle cadente” was the response. Oh, of course, the Night of San Lorenzo…falling stars, why didn’t you say so before? I had absolutely no idea what this was, but they explained that every year on August 10th, they drive somewhere into the mountains of southern Emilia-Romagna, closer to Tuscany, and watch the natural spectacle as stars streak across the night sky. The place we were headed that night, an agriturismo called Il Ginepro, was located in Castelnovo ne' Monti in southwestern Emilia-Romagna, about at hour and a half drive from Modena. We’re talking closer to Liguria or Lucca than to Modena. Siamo arrivati, they happily declared, and we stepped out into the pitch-black and dead-silent night. Walking up to an old stone farmhouse, we are greeted warmly at the door by the owner, and shown to a long table already prepped for our arrival. His wife, hard at work in the kitchen, steps out shortly to say hi as well. There is no menu, and the kind gentleman just asked what we felt like eating. We assured him that we were completely in his hands, that we trusted him to provide us a great feast in whichever way he saw fit. Well, how does this sound?, he asked, and proposed a menu that had me smiling with anticipation. And it began. Antipasti: Prosciutto, salami, and erbazzone, which is like a spinach and ricotta quiche, essentially. Primi: A tris (trio) of pastas: tortelli di erbette (pasta filled with ricotta and spinach in brown butter sauce), tortelli di patate (potato-puree filled pasta sauced with butter, sage, and wild mushrooms), and cappellacci al ragu (meat-filled pasta in the meat-based sauce typical of the region). For me, the first tortelli stole the show, but all three of the homemade pastas were incredibly tasty. Secondi: Some spalla di mailino al forno (baked pork shoulder), along with carne alle brace (grilled sausages, and chunks of pork wrapped in thin slices of crispy pancetta). The pork chunks wrapped in pancetta, in particular, were the stuff dreams are made of. The outside crispy, smoky, and chewy, the inside practically dripping out, it was so moist. So good. Served with a fresh green salad with a simple balsamic vinaigrette as a contorno. Dessert: Gelato alla crema con pan di spagna e mirtilli selvatici (cream-flavored gelato layered with ladyfingers, and topped with tiny wild blueberries). The blueberries, he pointed out, had been picked that day, so we were in for a treat. He was right. This tasted as summery and delicious as it sounds. Of course, throughout the meal, we’d been having wine, a fizzy Lambrusco Reggiano, and a smooth Sangiovese. After dinner, he brought over a bottle each of Limoncello, Grappa, and Amaro Montenegro with a tray full of empty cordial glasses, saying, simply, enjoy. To cap things off, he poured us all a round of caffé, and probably 3hrs after walking in, we paid our tab. A mere €20 each. I felt like I'd just robbed someone for that price, considering the quality. It was pushing 1am by this point, and we were feeling fat, drunk, and happy. Yet there was still the little matter of the falling stars to see, so we headed to the base of a large plateau maybe 5-10 minutes away. (the Pietra di Bismantova unless I am mistaken). After getting some strange looks from the staff of the bar at the base, we set out on the trail to get to the top. It’s still pitch-black, mind you, and not only that, but it’s far from a clear night, and even so far away from the city lights, the stars are veiled by clouds. I sure hope the sky clears up soon, I thought to myself. Our group of 13 had a whopping two flashlights among us, so the hike was, well, interesting. Passing one particularly narrow cliffside area, we finally come upon a sign. A sign facing the other way, that is. It reads, roughly: DO NOT GO THIS WAY. DANGER OF DEATH. We laugh, considering that is the way from which we’ve just come, and we take pleasure in our assumption that, in that case, the toughest part must be behind us. We trek on. And on. And on. We can’t see our way very well, the steep dirt-only path is slippery from the previous day’s rain, and people are beginning to get frustrated. Literally half the group decides they’ve had enough, and they turn back. Getting lost for what seems like an eternity, by some stroke of luck we had made our way to the top of the plateau by around 4am or so. So we watch the skies, now thankfully cleared of clouds. And nothing happens. Disappointed, one of the guys recommends turning back. My actual response probably is not fit for publication here, but let’s just say the gist of my response to him in Italian was “What are you thinking, man? Bad idea.” I was ready to stay there until sunrise if we had to. We’d earned a shooting star or two. Then, suddenly, they came. One. Another one. Another one. Soon the bright streaky lines were crossing the sky like God playing with his Etch-a-Sketch, and we were nothing short of captivated. I had seen falling stars before, probably, but not like this. The “Tears of San Lorenzo” were truly something to behold. Coming slowly back down the trail, the girl I’d met in Padova asked me if I would’ve ever thought that my visit back to Modena would mean climbing a dark trail in the middle of the night with a group of Italian friends to stare at the beautiful sky. No, I told her, but that is what made the experience that much more amazing.

Okay, I give up. I must have accidentally thrown away the notes from this dinner, and I stupidly forgot to ask for a menu to take home, so this will have to rely on memory, but here goes... Osteria La Francescana Via Stella 22, Modena, 059/210118 I first ran across a recommendation for this place in Frank Bruni's NYT article from sometime last year, I think, comparing Emilia-Romagna and Piemonte to see which region is the bigger culinary gem of Italy. The chef, Marco Bottura, is certainly well-known not only in his own region, but seemingly all across Italy, as other chefs throughout my journey have had good things to say about him. Walking around in Bologna one day, I decided to call and see if I might book a spot there several days later. I'm sorry, sir, but we're closing after tomorrow evening's dinner service for ferie (vacation). When presented with such a limited time frame in which to check out this restaurant, it became clear that the next evening, I'd better make my way to Modena, which I did, just in time for my 8:30 reservation. I arrived to a restaurant empty, save for one gentleman just finishing his last few courses. Had I immediately outed myself as American by eating at the early-bird hour of 8:30, or was this just a slow night? I may never know, but, hell, what did I care? I had come hungry, and with high expectations. I was ready to be impressed. The menu choice was, as usual, an easy one. Degustazione, please. In this case, "I Classici", the classics, priced with the always annoying specification of "da €100" (from €100). I've always hated this pricing scheme, so common in Japanese omakase, for example, but I suppose it does make for more flexibility in crafting the particular kind of meal you feel like eating that evening. They asked how hungry I was, and I jokingly replied something to the affect of, Trust me, you don't want to know. Heheh. Even in my crappy Italian, they got the point. I was hungry. Keeping in mind what I'd read about the chef, I asked them to weave in a little of his wonderful creativity here and there, while maintaining a focus on the traditional cuisine of the area, as this was my first time in Modena. Not a problem, they said, and we were off. Two types of warm bread were brought out. One white, one darker. The first taste of the evening would be their olive oil, from an estate the chef had selected himself in Tuscany, near Arezzo, if I remember right. Just the slightest bit of spice at the finish, it was just smooth enough to dab in liberally with the bread, while just spicy enough at the finish to let you know it could be a bit more aggressive, too. Nice. After tasting the oil, more warm bread was brought out, this time 5 or 6 different types of rolls -- ciabatta, rosmarino, sourdough, etc, along with some grissini, the crispy breadsticks. All pretty tasty, though some of the crustier ones verged on being too chewy. I think my favorites were still the larger slices of the first two breads they'd brought out. I figured I should conserve a bit, though, as who knew how many courses would be coming out. There would likely be plenty of sauces to sop up later on. The amuse-bouche was fantastic. Spuma di mortadella con gnocco salato farcito di ciccioli di maiale. Mortadella "foam", a light-as-air puree of the delicious local meat elsewhere bastardized as bologna, with the consistency of a savory whipped cream. Served alongside a fat cube of fried bread filled with a thin, crispy layer of fried pork rind. Ah, and a little dusting of pistachio pieces on the plate for a little more texture and flavor. This was as ridiculously good as it sounds. Such a nice start. First actual course was Caesar salad preparata a Modena in chiave aromatica. Wild greens and herbs, carefully piled alongside two long croutons stood on end, anchored to the plate by an anchovy aioli-like dressing. The finishing touch was a tableside shaving of vibrant orange embryonic eggs, only the second time I'd ever seen these (the first was a meal at Blue Hill Stone Barns in New York in the spring). This was a very well balanced dish, I thought, both texturally and flavor-wise. The greens were quite flavorful, and, for me, needed little to no adornment whatsoever, but the salty, crunchy, creamy accompaniments certainly didn't hurt. I've got to agree with a fellow reviewer who called this dish "the finest of expression of nature and its glorious fields – exceptional in its wild spirit". I'm not quite that much of a poet perhaps, but I, too, thought it was tasty. Next was the Tortino di porri, cipollotti e tartufi, a wonderfully aromatic mound of creamed leaks and onions with fresh black truffles shaved on top. I hate to use the cliche, but the leeks and onions just melted in your mouth. This dish was phenomenal, and I can only imagine it with the more potent winter truffles. Yet I think I might actually prefer it with the more gentle summer truffles, as their earthiness provided a wonderful backdrop for the creamy leeks and onions without overshadowing their natural sweetness. Just a really harmonious flavor pairing, with no single ingredient singing backup for the others. Then came a dish I remembered reading about in Frank Bruni's NYT piece that mentioned the place: Cinque stagionature di parmigiano reggiano in diverse consistenze e temperature. Five different ages of parmigiano-reggiano, presented together in five different consistencies and temperatures. At the base was a tepid creamy sauce of 18-month parmigiano. Resting in that was cool, airy whipped cream of 24-month parmigiano, beside a warm sformato of 30-month parmigiano that had, I think, the addition of some fresh ricotta for less grainy texture. On top of the cream was an "air", or foam, of 36-month parmigiano, and perched above everything was a crispy frico made with stravecchio 40-month parmigiano. A dish of both unity and contrast at the same time, I quite enjoyed this. You would think that the same ingredient repeated as such in the same dish could get repetitive, but the different textures, temperatures, and intensities of the cheese made this a fun dish to eat from start to finish, as every bite was a new sensation. This was exactly the kind of dish I was looking for from this restaurant, and by that I mean, a dish strictly loyal to local ingredients, but with a creative playfulness that makes it that much more fun to eat. After this came foie gras con spuma di Vov e pasta e fagioli in bicchiere, the classic bean-and-pasta soup totally reinterpreted, and presented in a shot glass. The base layer was ultra-creamy foie gras. On top of that was a layer of beans, and then a thick, dark brown puree of what I assumed to be pasta e fagioli soup. Topping it all off was a foam made from Vov, the Italian egg liquer not unlike drinkable zabaglione. This dish was as rich as it sounds, and quite tasty. Alhough, aside from a similar sort of earthiness, I didn't really like the match of the foie gras with the dark, almost somewhat grainy beans. The textures just didn't blend too well, in my opinion. Certainly not a weak dish by any means, just not among the better ones of the evening. Next up was a pasta dish, Pomodoro, mozzarella, e basilico in due ravioli, his take on the classic Caprese, Chef Bottura told me as he stopped by the table to chat. Nothing fancy in the preparation of this dish, he said, as 99% of the work had been in looking for the absolute best tomato, mozzarella, and basil he could find. I assured him later that his search had more than paid off. Each of the two ravioli were filled with a whole basil leaf, a piece of quite possibly the sweetest tomato I've ever tated, and a fresh mozzarella so milky and creamy I could have sworn it was actually burrata. Dabbed uselessly in a few spots around the plate were basil puree, tomato puree, and a creamy mozzarella sauce of some sort. These teardrop shapes were a nice touch visually, but were so miniscule that they had little to no affect as a condimento of any kind to the pasta that was sauced only very lightly with melted butter. A nice refreshing touch at the end was a shot glass of tomato water (and perhaps a bit of gelatin) with tiny pea-sized balls of fresh mozzarella suspended in it. Good dish. After this, and recalling the Caesar salad earlier, I certainly now trusted Massimo Bottura the food shopper as much as I trusted Massimo Bottura the chef. He clearly doesn't mess around in his search for the best ingredients. More pasta was next, one of the most common recipes in the regional repertoire, Tagliatelle al ragù di Bianca Modenese. Okay, so perhaps the last little bit, about a certain breed of white cows raised in the Modena area, is not so common, but still. Maybe it was the cows, or maybe it was the cook, but this was quite tasty, certainly among the best renditions I had on the trip. He was relieved to hear that I liked it, he told me, as if he can't do that recipe proper justice, he has no place as a chef in Emilia-Romagna. È molto importante, he said. Time for more meat, this time with the Maialino da latte laccato con anice stellato, arancia e aceto stravecchio di mele. Suckling pig varnished with a delicious glaze consisting of star anise, orange, and extra-aged (120yr-old) apple vinegar. After a pass under the broiler, the glaze had rendered the skin a sweet, salty, crackly, and unctuously fatty experience, all at the same time. So good. The underlying meat, presumably from the shouler, was moist, and oh-so-tender. There were two small beds of lentils on the plate, along with more of sauce that had been the pig's glaze, and another kind of lighter sauce I don't quite remember. This dish was a knockout. I found the flavor combination to be very harmonious, and the cooking spot-on. Good show. Time for a "cheese course" of sorts, with the Crema di parmigiano-reggiano all'aceto balsamico brulee. A standing spoon is brought out, with a single, fat cube of a parmigiano custard (think the consistency of a firmer flan), topped with a thin, crackly sweet and acidic layer of bruleed balsamic vinegar. There were but two singers on this stage, but they sang well together. Delicious. As a little pre-dessert, a little shot glass of palate-cleansing chilled cherry soup topped with a white foam made, I think, from a liquer I can't recall the name of. Tasty, but nothing amazing. Dessert, though, what can I say? Nothing short of fantastic. It was his take on zuppa inglese, Italy's answer to the trifle, and a dessert quite common in many places I visited. For those curious cooks at home, I actually found the recipe online here. At the base, there was a square-pyramid shaped chocolate gift from the gods. I don't typically like chocolate so much, but this was stunningly good. As you see mentioned in the recipe, the top square was a thin crackly layer, giving way to the dark chocolate interior of your dreams. Was that texture mousse-like? Cake-like? Brownie-like? Yes, yes, and yes. All of the above. I'm pretty sure this would be a real chocolate-lover to tears, as I was just about there myself. Flanking the pyramid were spongy, tasty savoiardi, a.k.a. ladyfingers, and a quenelle of creamy vanilla gelato. Laid atop all of this were several beatiful scarlet-colored thin sheets of gelatin made from the Italian liquer called Alchermes. With notes of cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla, the liquer yielded quite a flavorful gelee. Also scattered here and there on the plate were strands of fresh lemon zest that served to lift the other flavors that much more. Did I mention I really, really like this dish? In a meal with many highlights, this stole the show for me. With my after-dinner caffe came a small tray of piccola pasticceria goodies, which included two types of chocolates, and two types of cookies topped with, of all things, candied tomato. Tasty, if just a touch too savory to close things out. Still, by this point, I was more than satisfied. For those curious to know, with the meal, I drank the following: Ca' del Bosco, Anna Maria Clementi 1999 Ribolla Gialla, Damijan Podversic 2003 Muffa Nobile di (Picont???), (Marco Sara????) 2004 **Oh, how I wish I could read the sommelier's writing on this one. Anybody know it? This was perhaps my favorite sweet wine on the trip.** The food: €110. The wine: €40. The verdict: Very, very good meal. I would (no, scratch that, I will) go back at some point.

I seem to has misplaced my notes from Osteria La Francescana, so that one will have to wait. In the meantime, though... Bologna In a city lovingly deemed "Il Grasso" ("The Fat"), how can one not eat well, right? That was my hope, at least. In a region whose gastronomic claim to fame is immense, I figured its largest city would also be one of its loudest cheerleaders. Home to a university that is almost 1,000 years old, it was not surprising to find that the city was full of people around my age. I stayed in an area very near the university, and was glad to find another place alive at all hours of the night. The porticos that are everywhere in the city were quite enchanting. It really adds an air of elegance to a city that probably would not be otherwise referred to as such. So what did I find on the culinary side of things? Well, without further ado, let me get to that. Dinner the first night was with the couple I met in Rome (CLICKETY), as our paths had crossed once again. We walked over to Godot Wine Bar, Via Cartoleria 12, which was mentioned in my Fodor's guidebook as well as Gambero Rosso, and sounded quite good. Their wine list seemed to be quite diverse, with selections not only from Italy, but from Australia, the United States, and several other countries one doesn't often find wines from here. We ended up sharing three bottles over the course of the evening (hey, that's just one each! ), two whites and a red, the only one of which I seem to remember was a Gewürztraminer from Austria. Perhaps it was bad choices on my part, but my food was absolutely terrible. Probably the worst meal of the trip (only food-wise, of course, the company was fantastic). I started with fiori di zucca ripieni con formaggio di capra affumicata. Smoked goat cheese, this was not. I know gorgonzola when I taste it, and this was undoubtedly as blue as the sky. It absolutely killed whatever subtlety the squash blossoms should have had. Sauced with a simple passito di pomodoro, tomato sauce, this was a disaster. I cut my losses about halfway. Next was lasagne croccante al ragu bolognese. This "lasagne" was no pasta, but rather thin, greenish, crackery sheets of some type. Was I eating cooked paper? I might as well have been, as this had all the taste of a package of college-ruled looseleaf. The ragu bolognese was decent, but incredibly oversalted, and this criticism is coming from a guy who likes his food salty. No way was I opting for dessert after that meal, so we paid the tab (€46) and hit the road. Lunch the following day was at Tamburini, Via Caprarie 1, a deli-cum-self-service-buffet that offers antipasti, primi, and secondi that change each day. I had a tasty insalata caprese and a plate of tortellini al ragu for €9.30. Not a bad deal at all. The prices for the salumi, cheese, and prepared foods in the regular deli area were sky-high. On another afternoon, I nonetheless figured I should try some squacquerone, a soft, rindless cheese typical of the region, often eaten with piadina, the unleaved flatbread of the area. Unfortunately, it tasted a bit too strongly of acidulous milk. Too tangy for my tastes. Ah, and I also had a couple of slices of their porchetta on another visit. I can't believe the words "terrible" and "porchetta" are together in a sentence that I've written, but that is the only way to describe it. Two bites, and the rest was thrown out. The weakest attempt at porchetta that I've had. A trip to another salumeria, though, certainly redeemed squacquerone in my eyes. The cheese from Salumeria Simoni, Via Drapperie 5, was quite good. And their fiochetto di prosciutto (can anyone explain to me what part of the prosciutto this is?), sliced paper thin, made a wonderful accompaniement for some fresh figs I'd bought from a nearby fruit vendor. From the bakery Atti, Via Drapperie 6, I had a horrible piece of brioche-like bread one day, only to be followed by a very tasty torta di riso the next. This sweet rice cake, typical to the region, was moist and delicious. That gave me enough reason to return another day for a wedge of "pietanza veloce" ("quick dish"), a quiche-like pie with ham, cheese, eggs, and onion. This was also quite tasty, and made a nice breakfast. And another trip, I had an ofella, basically a cookie in a half-moon form filled with pastry cream and raisins. As usual I had to make a few stops for gelato and gelato-related products. From "La Sorbetteria" Castiglione, Via Castiglione 44, I had a cestino ("basket"-shaped cone) with three flavors: crema di ricotta e fichi caramellati, crema di mandorla e mandorla pralinata, and crema di mascarpone e pinoli caramellati. All were quite good, with the creamy almond with crisphy almond praline the favorite. The ricotta/fig and mascarpone/pine nute certainly weren't far behind, though. Very good stuff. From Grom, Via M. D'Azeglio 13, I had some granita di limone, as I watched Roberto Benigni's Piccolo Diavolo in Piazza Maggiore's free outdoor cinema one night. It was good, but I think their almond granita is still my favorite. Hmm, where else was there? Ah, yes. Stefino, Via Galleria 49/b, where I had granita al pistacchio the first day. This was a mess. The texture was terrible. Thick, and more like very icey gelato than the granita I was used to. Flavor was very pure pistachio, but that wasn't enough to make up for the strange texture. Returning the following day for some of their gelato, which people seemed to be lining up for, I had a cone cestino of yucatan (spicy chocolate-and-peperoncino), zabaglione, and fior di panna (basic cream flavor). This was by far the spiciest chocolate and peperoncino gelato I'd had on the trip, but I appreciated that bolder flavor. The other flavors were tasty, but the favorite among the three was certainly that one. After dinner another evening, I tried Gelateria Mauritius, whose newest of several locations in the city is on Via Riva di Reno near, I think, Via Marconi. A cone of pistacchio, cassata siciliana, and noci con fichi (walnut with figs) was very creamy and quite flavorful. Nice. Ah, and I also tried Gelateria Gianni on Via Monte Grappa, where I had fichi, fior di latte, and a third kind with nutella and little crispy chocolate-coated rice puffs (think Nestle Crunch) throughout. Tasty, no doubt, but perhaps not on the same level as La Sorbetteria and Mauritius in terms of clarity of flavor. With several branches in the city, though, clearly it is quite popular with the Bolognesi. My restaurant meals in Bologna were mostly at simpler trattorie. The one exception to this, though, was Marco Fadiga Bistrot, Via Rialto 23c, a Michelin Bib Gourmand and a member of the Jeunes Restaurateurs d'Europe association that was recommended by Cristina Parizzi. Clearly the name seems a bit French, the music here was French, and the vibe, too, was French. This would all seem to add up to a place that I wouldn't want to visit on this trip, perhaps, but the menu was very appealing, and very well-priced. When one has this much trouble choosing from among the menu options, it is usually a good thing, I think. I started with zuppetta fredda di pomodoro con baccalà, chilled tomato soup with creamy salt-cod, a crisp ciabatta crouton, and fried basil. The fried herbs appear to be one of chef Fadiga's things, as they prepared in all three courses. This soup was very flavorful, and very summery, I thought. Next I had gnocchi con finferli e canocchie (chantarelle mushrooms and mantis shrimp). This dish had great potential, but was, unfortunately, undersalted and therefore bland. This was my first time on the trip to try canocchie, but thankfully would not be my last. I find them incredibly delicious. Can one even find these bug-eyed creatures in the United States? I don't think I've ever seen them before. My secondo was outstanding. Calamaro farcito, finferli, pomodori was the simple menu description. Two fat stuffed calamari, filled with some kind of creamy mixture. I couldn't tell whether it was potato-based, or perhaps even a calamari puree of some sort, but it definitely had tiny chunks of pata negra ham from Spain in it. It was served with squares of yellowish polenta, grilled tomatoes, and balsamic vinegar. Very, very good. With food, a glass of wine, and tip, total was €39 for this meal. Ristorante Victoria, Via A. Righi 9, a trattoria/pizzeria was recommended in my guidebook, and seemed to be quite popular, so I gave it a shot one evening. My salad of gamberi, mais, e rucola (shrimp, corn, and arugula) was very flavorful, and very plentiful for that matter. That dish alone with a chunk of bread would make a nice lunch. Next I had tortelli alla panna, delicious tortelli in a simple cream sauce with grated parmigiano. This was also quite tasty. Dessert was mousse di ricotta e fragole, a light, layered concoction of ricotta cheese and strawberries on a sweet crust. Nice meal, and at €24, not a pricey one, either. Trattoria del Rosso, Via Righi 30, certainly was reasonably priced as well. A place consistently recommended each year in Slow Food's Osterie d'Italia guidebook, I went for lunch one afternoon before heading to Maranello for the day. For €10, a had a set meal of zuppa di verdure (vegetable soup), insalata caprese, and ricotti e amaretti. All were mildly disappointing, but I guess this is to be expected when one is getting three courses and water for that price. I'm sure the a la carte, options, all very reasonably priced, have more potential, but that wasn't the day to find out, as I had a long meal ahead that evening, so the vegetables sounded appealing that day. After befriending one of the guys working the desk at my hotel, one night he suggested Trattoria delle Belle Arti, Via delle Belle Arti 6/F, and walked me over (the entire 10ft or so) to introduce me to his friend, the owner, and make sure I'd be well-fed. The cuisine here is billed as mediterranean, which in this case basically meant a more southern-Italian focus. In a very nice change of pace, I had a plate of cavatelli alla marinara, pasta with clams, mussels, and calamari in tomato sauce. A little bigger pinch of peperoncino certainly wouldn't have hurt, but when I asked for ground peperoncino, they brought me chili powder. Not the same, and I didn't want my pasta smelling like enchiladas, so I left it off. For a secondo, I had guazzetto di calamari e seppie, a tasty tomato-based calamari-and-cuttlefish stew. With an accompanying glass of the house white wine, the total for this meal came to €27, though they wrote €26, and ended up charging only €25. Works for me. I guess when you're friendly with the owner, little "mistakes" like that will happen from time to time. And one more trattoria meal. Da Bertino & Figli, Via delle Lame 55, was in my guidebook, and a little restaurant reconnaissance one afternoon revealed some potential, so I tried it one evening. For a mere €14, the bollito misto is certainly enough for a meal, and easily the best rendition of that dish I've ever had. Meaning simply "mixed boil", it is various boiled meats, in this case zampone (pig's trotter stuffed with minced meat), cotechino (a sausge made from the same filling), manzo (beef), lingua (tongue), and what sounded like "cestino", which means basket, and I assume refers to the netting in which this particular meat (whatever it was) was kept. Alongside this platter (and I do mean platter) of meat were various contorni, onions stewed with tomato, potato puree, beans, and slightly pickled onions. The meats were accompanied, traditionally, by salsa verde, much like Argentinian chimichurri sauce, to cut through all the rich flavors. All the meats were quite flavorful, with my favorite probably being the zampone. One of the meats, the cestino, I believe, still seemed to still have some hair on it, so God only knows what parts of what animals I was actually eating. But hey, it was all tasty, and that's all that matters, right?... Right? Seriously, though, this simple trattoria seemed like a good place, and it is one I would certainly return to sometime.

Allora, the two restaurant meals in Modena I alluded to before... L'Erba del Re Via Castel Maraldo 45, 059/218188 I heard about this place through Cristina Parizzi in Parma, who pointed it out to me in the Jeunes Restaurateurs d'Europe book as a place I might consider trying in nearby Modena. After my experience at the other places (I hit one in Bologna in between Parizzi and here), I was definitely willing to check it out. I was curious to see what this young chef (38, if I remember right) would have up his sleeve. I had an idea of what I was getting into, as seemingly all of the chefs in that restaurant association seem to find comfort in straddling the line between traditional and innovative regional cuisine. This was most certainly not a traditional meal, but chef Marchini's food has a playfulness to it that I appreciated, as you will see. I opted, not suprisingly for the Menu Degustazione "Grande" Luca Marchini, eight courses and piccola pasticceria for €55. (I should add, as an aside, that I was the only patron in the restaurant throughout the entirety of my meal) Several types of bread were brought out, along with a tiny glass full of crema di peperoni e pomodoro, a thick, creamy shot of sweet-pepper and tomato puree. I think a bit of tarragon on top as well, if I remember right. This was okay, but certainly not a stunning opener. The first proper course was sogliola con borragina in padella e vinaigrette di aceto balsamico e senape. Two grilled pieces of sole, with sauteed borrage and a very tasty vinaigrette with balsamic and a grainy mustard. The fish itself was a bit bland, but I thought the choice of condiment was a good one, as the acidity of the vinaigrette really lifted the flavors of both the sole and the borrage. Next was baccalà marinato e fritto con cippoline in agrodolce. The marinated and fried salt cod was tender, flaky, and piping hot. The sweet and sour onions, though, stole the show. They were fantastic. A pasta course was up next, pasta integrale con triglie, pomodori essiccati ed uvetta, spumosità di mandorla, olive nere. Whole wheat pasta that I don't remember the name of, but I would call francobolli, as they were shaped like large postage stamps. Red mullet, semi-dried tomatoes, tiny sweet golden raisins, almond foam, and black olives. My, my, my. Far and away the best meal of the evening. This was an aboslute knockout. The combination seemed almost a bit Sicilian to me, though the chef claimed the inspiration for it came from no specific place. The salty-sweet counterplay that was everywhere in this dish was really great. I thought it to be perfectly balanced when it came to both texture and flavor. I will have to make this sometime at home. The best course was unfortunately followed by the weakest. "Arancino" al parmigiano, salsa allo yogurt greco e bottarga, nero di seppie, panna acidulata, caviale italiano. The chef came out to explain this dish, saying it was a marriage of land and sea on a plate. It was also waaay too busy, and way too tangy. The "land" in this case was, I suppose, the parmigiano-filled risotto fritter, which by itself was tasty. The greek yogurt and bottarga (tuna roe) sauce, combined with the creme fraiche, absolutely assaulted the flavors of everything else. I would describe the taste as bacterial, as the yogurt cultures provided by this dish alone were probably sufficient for a year's time. Even the small dollop of Italian caviar was not enough to re-establish balance. This dish, I would say, was a disaster. But hey, it happens. Things took a turn back in the right direction after this. Tagliatelle con ragout modenese (5 tipologie di carne) came next. At first glace, it seems to be a plate of the tagliatelle al ragu that one finds all across this region, with a meaty condiment more focused on the mixture of beef, pork, and veal than on the few tomatoes (and a bit of milk) that bind it. That, of course, would be too boring for this guy, so he came out again to explain what his twist on it was. The pasta was made with embryonic eggs, making it extremely difficult to roll out by hand, he said. The resulting texture, though, was super-porous to soak up the sauce, and he promised a clean plate by the time that I reached the bottom. The five types of meat were just different cuts of beef and pork, with guancia di manzo (beef cheek) definitely among the cow parts, and guanciale and pancetta among the pork parts. They were cooked sous-vide for something like 24 hours, I think he said, and then chopped by hand. The added courseness this produced was very nice. The flavors of both the pasta and the condimento were very good, and the plate was clean, as promised, by the time I was done. One last savory dish, now, with the Mailino da latte in porchetta (Az. Cura Natura) cotta a bassa temperatura, scalogno glassato. I felt like I was in the US again, with the listing of the farm from with the suckling pig came. This was not cooked sous-vide, the chef said, but rather at very low (don't remember how low) temperature overnight. The skin was wonderfully crisp, and the meaty-fatty layer on which is rested was fantastic. The meat was moist. Properly (read: aggresively) salted, always a very important detail in my book, and something that often separates great dishes from merely good. The scalogno glassato was a type of glazed onion. Really, really tasty. This guy seems to have a way with onions. Dessert was fantastic, and a dish I will undoubtedly be replicating in my own kitchen at home. Tagliatelle "alla carbonara"...dolci. A fun reinterpretation of possibly my favorite pasta preparation, the traditional Roman egg-and-bacon(/pancetta/guanciale) sauce. I couldn't understand when he told me what the pasta was made with, but I assumed it to be a normal egg-based pasta without the addition of any sugar, though I could be wrong. The egg portion of the carbonara came in the form of a foamy zabaglione, with a subtle hint of cinnamon. Crispy sheets of thin, candied pancetta (crisped in a saute pan, then cooked for a moment in simple syrup, he said) were oustanding -- salty and sweet at the same time. For a second, I thought there also might have been just hint of salt and pepper in the dish, but I could have been wrong. One thing is for sure, though, it was neither too sweet or not sweet enough; it was just right. He absolutely nailed this one. With the meal, I had three glasses of wine, among which was a muffato, which is becoming one of my favorite sweet wine varieties. And, of course, with my caffé came the piccola pasticceria, a plate of tiny cakes, cookies, and other sweets. Nothing too memorable, but at all but the very best restaurants, this usually seems to be the case. Fun meal, with the two pastas, one savory and one sweet, definitely the stars of the show. The suckling pig also was a favorite. Certainly not a bad option to explore if you find yourself in the Modena area.

So you're saying I should give it a second chance, eh? I'd love to hear what one might see and do (and eat!) to make a better experience of it.

Modena The land of balsamico. I didn't end up spending a very significant amount of time here, but rather made short trips there on a couple of evenings, one evening arriving from Bologna, where I made my home-base for the majority of my time in Emilia-Romagna, and another evening returing from Maranello, home of the greatest cars in the world. Just judging from first impressions, I didn't seem to find this town as appealing as Parma or Bologna. It just seemed kind of, well, dead. But of course I would not be deterred. I had come for saba and aceto balsamico, two condiments typical to the area. The former, a super-sweet reduced grape must, I bought from Specialita dell'Artigianato Alimentaro (La Dispensa di Giuditto), Corso Canalchiaro 136, along with a tortello dolce all'amarena, a cookie filled with a chocolate, amaretti, and liquer mixture. The aceto balsamico I ended up getting from Caffe della Fortuna, Via Emilia Centro 209, where I spent probably a good hour or so chatting with the very kind lady who owns it. She let me try several different types, and I ended up settling on 100ml of 30-year aged balsamico for €20. Why so cheap, you may ask. (I certainly did.) Basically, she told me it was "2nd-choice quality", the stuff not good enough to get the aceto balsamico tradizionale di Modena seal of approval or whatever. Fine by me. I liked the taste very much, and thought the quality to price ratio was just right. I had two restaurant meals in Modena as well, each of which was certainly long and involved enough to warrant its own post, which will follow forthwith.

Parizzi Strada Repubblica 71, 052/285952 This place, listed in my guidebook, sounded quite promising, and the unanimous verdict among the staff at Salumeria Garibaldi was that it is the best restaurant in Parma. One guy even had a good friend there, so he called and got a table for me that evening. Small towns, I tell ya, everyone knows everyone. Gotta love it. I arrived, took all of 2 seconds to look at the menu, and decided on the Menu degustazione di terra, the meat-based tasting menu priced at €55. Two types of grissini, the crispy thin breadsticks, were brought out, along with 4 or 5 types of bread and crackers. The amuse-bouche was zuppa di zucchine con crema di parmigiano. A creamy, vibrant green zucchini soup toppped with a dollop of parmigiano-flavored savory whipped cream. What a wonderful way to say hello. This was nothing less than outstanding, and a very good sign of things to come. The first proper course was Composizione di manzo crudo agli oli essenziali e piccolo hamburger (all. Paolo Parisi), composition of raw beef with essential oils and tiny hamburger. The raw beef came in two forms: three small cubes of raw beef, with sauces of basil, cenere (slow-cooked, large onions), and orange, respectively; and a small mound of tartare with the traditional condiments. The piccolo hamburger was, indeed, just that. A freakishly minature bun with cooked ground beef patty, lettuce, and tomato. To wash this burger down, they provided a shot glass full of birra Italiana. I don't think I need to translate that. All were tasty, if not quite memorable, aside maybe from the outstanding basil-sauced one. Next up was Fiori di zucca ripieni di zucchini e parmigiano cotti a vapore con salsa al tartufo nero, zucchini blossoms stuffed with finely minced zucchini and parmiano, and dressed with black truffle. This was wonderful, with the less assertive summer truffles providing just the right level of earthiness to boost the delicate flavor of the squash blossoms without overwhelming it. Well done. Now it was pasta time, and soon a plate of Cappellacci di anatra e borragine con salsa al vino rosso e porto al tartufo nero arrived. A stuffed pasta shape typical of the region, with a perhaps non-traditional, but incredibly flavorful filling of duck and borrage, in a port wine and truffle reduction. Man, oh man. So good. One of the best pasta dishes on the trip, undoubtedly. This was the point that I'd asked for the wine to arrive, as I thought the previous courses too delicate to compete with a glass of red wine. Refosco, from Friuli if I recall correctly, turned out to be one of my favorites that I've sampled on the trip. So smooth, and it went wonderfully with the pasta, and the remainder of the meal. Sure, it doesn't have the complexity of a Brunello or Barolo, but it doesn't need to. It's very, very drinkable, so it went wonderfully with this meal. Next up was Agnello rosolato al timo con tortino di melanzane al parmigiano e salsa alle spezie, a rosy-pink roasted lamb loin bathed in the fragrant perfume of fresh thyme and served alongside a little cylinder of grilled eggplant slices and creamy eggplant puree. Very nice. Then came the Assaggio di parmigiano di diversa stagionatura, tasting of three different ages of parmigiano-reggiano (Jan 2005/Apr 2005/Feb 2006) along with the tiniest dots of intense 25- and 35-year balsamic vinegars. "To be eaten strictly with the hands," I was instructed. All were quite tasty, but my favorite was the youngest cheese and the older vinegar. Pre-dessert (don't you just love that concept?) was fior di latte gelato con fragole e aceto balsamico, a very tasty and very simple combination of creamy gelato, summery-sweet strawberries, and complex sweet-tart balsamic vinegar. Dessert proper was Cuore di fragola e lamponi al frutto della passione, a passion-fruit mousse, whose liquid core was made of sweet strawberries and raspberries. Very, very good. I was not in the mood for caffé that evening, but they indulged me by bring out the piccola pasticceria, the tiny sweets that accompany the coffee, anyway. There were maybe 10 kinds of mini treats, cookies, cakes, meringue, pate de fruit, etc. A nice touch at the end of any meal, I'd say. This place was the first of several I would come to visit that carry the distinction of being part of the association of Jeunes Restaurateurs d'Europe (Young Restauranteurs of Europe). Marco Parizzi, the chef here, and his wife Cristina, who works the front of the house, were both very kind, and very helpful in recommending other places in Italy to try out, even going as far as photo-copying the Bologna pages from the Michelin guide for me, and giving me copies of Le Soste, Buon Ricordo, and Jeunes Restaurateurs d'Europe, various restaurant guide books. This meal struck a very good balance between tradition and innovation. It was very true to its roots in Parma, but at the same time trying to expand and define what that culinary identity means today. I enjoyed chatting with Marco, Cristina, and the entire staff. The service was great, as was the food, of course. Arguably the best meal of the vacation up to that point.

Parma Stepping off the train here, I quickly realized this was no bustling city, as Bologna would prove to be. It was a mid-sized town, neither too big nor to small to lose its relaxed character that I grew to love. I spent maybe 2-3 days in Parma, but could have easily spent more. A nice, laid-back vacation here would be nice to do sometime. Unlike in the United States, where I am undoubtedly a city boy through and through, in Italy I find myself enjoying the mid-sized places, with enough things to see and do, yet few enough tourists to make things a bit more peaceful. I arrived, not coincidentally, at lunch time. Salumeria Garibaldi, Via Garibaldi 42, looked to be a promising first stop. Little did I know what I was getting into. In the window I spotted gnocchi fritti, the squares of fried bread typical of this region. My request was simple: two of these warm little pillows, filled with the robiola di Murazzano I'd brought from Torino, and a few slices of speck. "Speck? Sei sicuro?" ("Are you sure?") was the kind man's reply. Not a regional product, he was thinking of something more along the lines of prosciutto crudo di Parma would make more sense. I explained that I had so cheese from the Piemonte, and I wanted something from closer to that region (Speck is produced in the Val d'Aosta, not far northwest of Torino). He smiled, and applauded with a hearty "Bravo!". Apparently, he approved of my food-related eccentricities, shall we call them. I told him not to worry, as I'd be back the next day for some prosciutto and parmigiano. To me, a meal, no matter how insignificant, is a sad thing without dessert, so I also had a pesca ripiena, a fresh peach half stuffed with a mixture of chocolate, amaretti cookies, and some type of liquer. I struck up conversation with the staff as I told them of my adventures in Italy, and they listened, first with slight shock ("Nove settimane?!" ("9 weeks"), then with keen interest. From them, I learned which restaurants in town were the best, which ones were more catered to tourists, and all the essential stops for a buongustaio's (gourmand's) visit to Parma. Really good people, and the owner, Vincenzo is quite the character. Just as I was headed out the door, a couple standing nearby quietly tapped me on the shoulder and whispered "Do you speak English?". "Solo un pochino... Just kidding!" was my reply. They wanted to buy an entire wheel of parmigiano-reggiano. Uh...come again. You want that?, I asked them, as I pointed over to one of the 40-kg wheels in the window. Oh boy, I thought to myself, this is going to be fun. For the next hour, maybe two, I was translator for one of the most amusing purchases I've ever seen. I learned how Vincenzo chose his farm, which cows produce the milk for his cheese, produced once a day on the 4th of 5 vats at a small factory just outside of Parma. We learned how to properly cut a wheel open, myriad ideas for its use, and even a little Italian wedding tradition (use the hollowed out wheel to serve pasta to your guests). The couple, very nice people from Los Angelese, bought a wheel, allright. All €1200 of it. Wherever, you are right now, much respect, homies. That party you've got planned to give pieces to all your friends, you're going to need a looooot of invitations, and I hope I'm one of them! The next day, as promised, I returned. This time, I had a platter of prosciutto crudo di parma, culatello, and 27-month and 36-month parmigiano-reggiano. To tell you the truth, I don't actually know the difference between prosciutto and culatello, except that the latter is much more expensive and, I assume, more limited in production. You certainly don't find it often in the US, that's for sure. Surprisingly, I preferred the younger parmigiano. I enjoyed the fact that it was a bit more milky and less dry (and of course less intense) than the more aged one. If faced with the impossible task of choosing a favorite cheese, it would undoubtedly be parmigiano-reggiano, and I'd previously liked the more assertive stravecchio (extra-aged) varieties that I'd had in the US. I guess you always want what you don't have, though, as when I was here, in the land of (€11/kg!) parmigiano's production, I was enjoying the younger ones more. But I digress. I also had a bit of zuppa inglese, a layered trifle with boozed-up ladyfingers layered with creamy custard, and pesca, a custard-and-chocolate filled sandiwich cookie in the shape of a peach. On one return trip, I had gnocchi fritti con lardo. Sweet Jesus, what a combination. Hot fried bread, razon-thin slices of seasoned pork fat melting on top of them. So good. And on another visit one afternoon, an arancino con sugo di carne, the fried risotto balls stuffed with meat sauce, that had been so wonderful in Sicily. Alas, this one disappointed, as essentially all of the imitations after Palermo have. Guess I just have to go back. Too bad. I'm sure it may sound as though I've already described enough food to have been sufficient for three days, but there were restaurant meals, too, of course... Trattoria del Tribunale, Vicolo Politi 5, provided dinner the first night. A Michelin Bib Gourmand, and recommended by several locals I spoke to as well. Culaccia con fichi was my antipasto. Thin slices of a prosciutto-like cured meat, along with fresh figs. Then I made my own little bis of primi, asking for half portions of anolini in brodo, small filled pillows of pasta served in a wonderful meaty broth, and tortelli di erbette, a spinach-and-ricotta filled pasta in a simple butter sauce. The former was outstanding, but the latter, pretty bland. A little pinch of salt in the filling would have made an incredibly difference. Still, though, at a reasonable €27 for dinner, it's hard to complain. On another afternoon, lunch was at Sorelle Picchi, Via Farini 12, which I had read about in Bene magazine back in NY, and was also recommended by a woman at the tourist office. I was not very hungry that morning, as it was following a large meal the night before, so I opted for just one dish. Well, and dessert. Heheh. My plate of tortelli di zucca, filled with the pumpkin-like squash grown in the region, was wonderful. Simply dressed with butter and parmigiano, it was simplicity and deliciousness on a plate. Dessert was a small dish with warm zabaglione, cold zabaglione semifreddo, and drizzled with chocolate sauce. The contrast of temperatures was very nice, as was the flavor. This lunch, at €18, was one of the more enjoyable ones of the trip. I would definitely return here. Gelato at Dolce Vita, Via Farini 16, also proved to be pretty good. They had an interesting selection of flavors, from which I chose sorbetto di lampone e Campari (raspberry-campari sorbet), chantilly con zabaglione e amarena (cream-based flavor enriched with zabaglione and black cherries), and zabaglione con uve passite e nutella (rich concoction of zabaglione, raisins, and nutella). Best by far was the sorbetto, but all were pretty good. And the last day, though my allegiance lies with Salumeria Garibaldi, I also checked out the nearby Salumeria Verdi, Via Verdi 6. I bought some prosciutto crudo di parma, caciotta dolce (a mildly sweet cheese made, apparently, from the same milk as parmigiano-reggino), and a bit of fig jam, all of which was made into a tasty panino for the train ride later on. There's one restaurant meal, I've yet to explain, but it deserves a separate post...

Okay, time to get back at it... Emilia-Romagna Parmigiano-Reggiano. Prosciutto di Parma. Culatello di Zibello. Aceto Balsamico di Modena. Tagliatelle al Ragu Bolognese. Do I need to go on? Yep, didn't think so. In a food-focused trip to Italy, this region was a no-brainer. I was excited to be in arguably the gastronomic heart of a country whose various regional cuisines had already been treating me so well. Could things get better? It was time to find out.

Hungry minds think alike...

I've gotta admit, I'm not the one to ask about coffee. It's a rare occassion that I both drink and enjoy it. That said, I find the ubiquitous Italian caffé, espresso, to be easily preferable to American coffee. Thankfully, the only place where they actually seem to inform the clientele that they do, in fact, serve American coffee here is at the most touristy of restaurants. These are the same restaurants that ask if you'd like a cappuccino after dinner, which is a no-no here, for whatever reasons. I've also had several wonderful cappuccinos interspersed throughout my trip, the most memorable of which was probably at Sant'Eustachio in Rome. Often, though, I've found the smaller, less hectic caffé to serve a better product that some of the more famous, and inevitably more crowded, ones. When they take the time to do it right, it makes a difference, I think. Caffé may be more about the product, but cappuccino is more about the method, and the skillful barista. Starbucks, by the way, are also absolutely nowhere to be found here (though, there are, much to my chagrin, McDonald's in all the bigger cities). When a guy at a caffé in Rome asked the barista if there was a Starbucks anywhere in the city, his response was as follows, in Italian: "Buddy, I'm going to do you a favor and suggest that you never ask that again in this country. It's not safe. No, there are no watered-down P.O.S. Starbucks anywhere in beautiful Italia. Let's just leave it at that, eh?"

I cannot believe the size of this place. Does this make you miss whole foods back at home? How did the French pastries compare to others that you've had in Italy, and back in New York? The Eataly website made me very hungry. ← Eataly definitely brought to mind the best aspects of the Whole Foods and HEB Central Market stores (I don't think these exist outside of Texas), but it also seemed to have a very cool sense of place. That particular store wouldn't belong anywhere else but Torino. It is definitely a concept that could (and should) be adapted to other cities, countries, etc. Hell, maybe I should start one in the US. The pastries I sampled at Eataly, by the way, were sort of mediocre. The pistachio macaron was chewier than I'd like, and it didn't quite have that fragile egg-shell crunch when you bit into it. Flavor was good, though. The cannele had a nice rummy flavor, but the outside was a tad too chewy. I've not had the opportunity to sample many other French-style pastries in Italy, as I don't seem to find them anywhere. I was shocked to see pain au chocolat at Eataly, for example, as the only croissant imitations I'd seen time and time again were the almost eggy, brioche-like cornetti that are so common with one's caffé or cappuccino in the morning. A very different animal than a French croissant. Probably the most French-leaning pastry shop I've seen on the trip was Dolci & Dolcezze in Firenze, and what I sampled from there was very good. There are pastry and sweet shops on basically every corner here, to be sure, but French pastry, not so much. As an aside, though, I should add that I've not been to a single Italian pastry shop in New York City that even comes close to competing with some of the better ones I've visited during this trip.

There was one more place I visited in Torino, and I've definitely saved the best for last... Eataly Via Nizza 230, 011/19506811, WEBSITE I can say, without the slighest bit of hesitation, that this is the coolest food shop I have ever seen, and possibly my favorite single place the entire trip. If every city, or at least every region of every country had a place like this, the world would be a better place. Where to begin? A salumi shop, cheese shop, fish market, bakery, vegetable and fruit market, fresh pasta shop, grocery, wine bar, wine store, indoor beergarten, cookbook and restaurant guide store, cooking school, kitchenware store, gelateria, sit-down more formal restaurant, tapas bar-like casual restaurants, free internet point, prosciutto curing room, cheese cave, posters with detailed descriptions of local food and wines, a huge display of what is in season when, and on and on. I probably even left some things out. Suffice it to say, the place is ridiculous. One of the daughters who cooks at Gener Neuv in Asti had told me about it, torn out a little newspaper ad for me, and insisted that I go Sunday, when most everything else food-related would be closed. The first time (yes, of course there was a return visit) I think I spent about 5 hours there. I had a snack from the bakery, a pistachio macaron (yep, the Parisian kind) a cannele (yep, the French kind) that reminded me I was but a stone's throw from France there in Torino. Each department has its own restaurant: bakery, pizza, pasta, vegetables, cheese & salumi, fish, and meat. I had some pesce crudo from the fish counter. Raw slices of salmone, castagna and lampuga. I still don't know what the last two were in English, but they were all good. Man, oh, man, had I been craving some raw fish, something I'd had just twice the entire trip up to that point. With the raw fish, I had a perfect €2 glass of prosecco, which did a wonderful job of waking up my tastebuds to better appreciate the delicate raw fish. Did I mention the bread was phenomenal, and still warm, fresh from the oven, when they brought out the basket before the meal? So good. Then I moved on to the meat area, where I had battuta al coltello for the third night in a row. Just too good to pass up. The Piemontese veal is just so nice. It needs nothing but a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and a sprinkle of salt. Well, maybe a squeeze of lemon, too. So simple, but oh so good. With the battuta, I drank a glass of Nebius, a red wine from the Piemonte. The grand total for all of this was a very reasonable €25. The following night, before heading off to eat some horse (see above post), I had a bowl of crema di zucca con amaretti, the pumpkin-like squash soup with tiny chunks of amaretti cookies throughout. This made a tasty first course, for sure. Ah, and I also bought some saras del fen cheese (Piemontese ricotta made from mix of goat, ewe, and cow milk, and wrapped in hay) on my second visit as well. I'd never seen it, much less tried it. Unfortunately, I think my being without a refrigerator may have hurt the flavor a bit, in this case, as the next day, it was a bit.. strong. I wanted to buy a bit of prosciuttello as well that night, but I was a tad late, as they were closing up shop for the evening. No worries, though, as I will undoubtedly go back there at some point. Just such an awesome place. If you have the opportunity to check it out, I insist! Go, go, go!

Torino This city was, for me, a pleasant surprise. I hadn't really intended to visit Torino on this trip, but ended up so close that I figured, hey, why not. I found the city to be among the most beautiful I've seen in Italy. It seemed everywhere you turned, there was a huge piazza, palace, church, or a serene park. I didn't really do much sight-seeing here (at this point in the trip, I'm doing less and less), but just walking around was fun. The first afternoon, having secured a hotel for the next few nights, I figured that called for some chocolate. Or, more specifically, a giandiuotto, the chocolate-hazelnut treat that Torino is famous for. I stopped in Stretta, Piazza San Carlo 191, for one of those, as well as a piece of cioccolato al peperoncino. The spicy truffle wasn't anything special, but I thought the gianduiotto was great. I think it took me about 3 minutes to eat that single piece, as letting it melt slowly is definitely the way to go. The girl working the counter said it was free, so I went happily on my way. On subsequent days, I also had giandiuotti from Cioccolato Peyrano, Corso Moncalieri 47, Avvignana, Piazza Carlo Felice 50, and A. Giordano, Piazza Carlo Felice 69 (I also had torrone from the last two: hazelnut from both, and Sicilian pistachio from Avvignana). The favorite, though, remained Stretta. It had the smoothest consistency, and the best flavor, I thought. I also had plenty of gelato, as I figured the ridiculous number of gelaterie in the city mentioned in the Gambero Rosso guide had to be a good sign. From Cremeria Ghigo, Via Po 52, I had a small cup of pistacchio, which was good. From Fiorio, Via Po 8, I had meringa allo zabaglione, basically zabaglione flavor with chunks of meringue throughout. This was also tasty, though head-to-head, I probably preferred Fiorio. Another afternoon, I had some very tasty anguria (watermelon) granita from Mondello, Piazza E. Filiberto 8, a Sicilian gelateria that also sells gelato in brioche, cassata siciliana, and fresh-filled cannoli. I would certainly go back there to try out their other Sicilian goodies. Ah, and almost forgot one. One night after dinner, I went to the outpost of Grom at Piazza Paleocapa 8, for some granita alla menta. I had hoped for spearmint, yet, alas, the flavor was peppermint. Not bad, just not what I was looking for. Gave me fresh breath, I suppose, so it wasn't a complete less. Another one of Torino's famous treats is bicerin, a hot drink consisting of coffe, chocolate, a splash of milk, and whipped cream. Admittedly, that combination doesn't exactly scream summertime, but I figured I'd try it anyway. I had it first at Neuv Caval 'd Brons, Piazza San Carlo 155, and later at Al Bicerin, Piazza della Consolata 5. I preferred the latter, though neither really blew me away. I'll stick with hot chocolate, thanks. Torino was also the place I tried some things for the first time. From Al Passatore di Quaglia Teresa, Via Barbaroux 10, I tried a piadina, a thin, thin almost tortilla-like flatbread. In this case, it was stuffed with some local toma cheese, and it made a very tasty snack. At Caffé Mulassano, Piazza Castello 15, I also tried tramezzini, the little triangular finger sandwiches so popular at bar all across Italy. Between the pieces of thin white bread with crusts trimmed, I had three kinds of fillings: robiola/sedano/noci, vitello tonnato, and mascarpone/tartufo. The first (celery & walnut with creamy robiola cheese) and last (truffle spread and mascarpone) were tasty, and the vitello tonnato, well, still not my thing. I'm not sure I'm such a fan of the tramezzini in general, but it was cool to try them at the place they were invented, at least. Ah, and another thing I tried for the first time: horse. At Macelleria Ristorante, Via Bava 2r, I had tartara di cavallo. Raw horse meat, with the traditional tartare accompaniements: raw egg yolk, chopped red onion, mustard, and cornichons. So how did the meat taste? I'm sure I could tell you, as it was so masked by the other crap on top of it that it was difficult to tell. A few bites of the meat by itself revealed what seemed like a slight hint of sweetness, which was interesting. Would I, or more accurately, will I try it again? Yes, just not at that restaurant. I found it in the Gambero Rosso guide, but the decor and feel of the place is incredibly lame, and the prices kinda suck. But hey, at least I tried a new food, as that is always fun. Another cool stop in the city was Formaggi Murazzano, Via A. Albertina 38a, where I bought a piece of Robiola di Murazzano, which comes from the same town as the Toma cheese I had enjoyed so much at Gener Neuv in Asti. The staff at this place was very nice and helpful, not to mention generous with the samples. Oh, and one more place. The lady whose husband ran my hotel recommended a Sicilian bakery nearby (she and her husband are both from Calabria, so they'd spent a lot of time in Sicily). Pasticceria Immordino, Via Ratazzi 5, had all several different kinds of Sicilian treats, but I was in search of only one, a cannolo. And it was friggin wonderful. Fresh-filled. Creamy ricotta sweetened just enough without overdoing it. Tiny pieces of candied fruit here and there. A quick sprinkle of powdered sugar. And that was it. Did I mention the shell was still warm. Yeah, it was that fresh. Very, very good. Brought me right back to Sicily.

Asti Less than half an hour from Alba, the trip here was a short one. I arrived, early afternoon, spotted a huge outdoor food market, and bought some fruit. The prices at this market, by the way, were undoubtedly the best I'd seen anywhere, especially for the fruit and vegetables. I walked around to literally about every hotel in the city, and was unable to find anything under €50/night. Thanks, but no thanks. So I figured I would try my luck in Torino. Took a quick train there, found a place easily, and relaxed for the afternoon. I'd reserved a few nights ahead for dinner in Asti, so I took a train back there early in the evening to visit... Gener Neuv Lungotanaro 4, 0141/557270 Another Fodor's Choice from my guidebook, this place sounded quite promising. Come to find out later, the place has one Michelin star, which I would say is just about right. Anyhoo, I had the tasting menu, the Menu Tradizionale: che, dal 1971 ha fatto la storia del Gener Neuv. Things started off some champagne, ahem, prosecco, along with four types of bread (salted!) and grissini. The stuzzichino di benvenuto, amuse-bouche, consisted of four tastes: a frico of parmigiano-reggiano and, I think, chives, topped with creamy robiola fresca; a piece of an herb frittata; peperoni ripieno, a yellow pepper stuffed with some sort of cheese; a cube of prosciutto layered with prosciutto gelee; and finally, what tasted like some kind of potato salad. The robiola was my favorite among the bunch, but all were pretty good. Then came the Quadro di antipasti, composto da: Vitello tonnato, Terrina di verdure, Galantina di coniglio e mandorle, e Anguilla marinata in aceto cotto di barolo. The vitello tonnato was the best version of that dish I've had, with essentially carpaccio-style thin slice of rosy pink veal, yet this dish is still, perhaps, not really my thing. The vegetable terrine was light and flavorful, a great summer dish. The gallantine of rabbit and almond was flavorful, and had a pleasantly chunky consistency that reminded you this was, at heart, rustic cooking. The eel, marinated in cooked barolo vinegar, was great, definitely the best of the four. It was also served with raisins that acted as a nice sweet counterpoint to the richness of the eel. As an alternative to any of these 4 dishes that might not be to one's liking, there was an option of Foglioline di vitello crudo, e battuta al coltello, olio, limone, e robiola di Roccaverano. I eat anything and everything, though, and once the very kind owner learned that I love raw meat, he sent this dish out to me as well. Thin slices of lean raw veal on one part of the plate, simply drizzled with olive oil, salt, and pepper. On the other side, more raw veal meat, "battered by a knife", literally, roughly ground. This was had the same simple adornments, along with a squeeze of lemon juice, and a little block of robiola cheese alongside it. Fantastic. Next up was agnolotti "ai tre stufati" (vitello, coniglio e maiale), light pasta pillows stuffed with a rich mixture of veal, rabbit, and pork. Quite tasty. For the secondo, I had finanziera all'astigiana (filoni, animelle, creste di galleto, funghi sott'olio, infarinati, saltati in olio d'olive e marsala). God only knows what animals, or more specifically what animal parts I was eating. I'll admit my food Italian isn't perfect, but from what I gather, I had veins, sweetbreads, coxcombs, and marinated mushrooms all stewed together with marsala wine. This was tasty, if perhaps, surprisingly, a bit too subtle. I was expecting more of a meaty flavor, but it just never came. I spied a cheese cart, and just about all of the cheeses were new to me, so I asked if I might have a sampling before we headed toward dessert. Sure, they said, no problem. The Degustazione di formaggi piemontesi d.o.p. was fantastic. Eight different types of cheeses, along with chestnut honey, a dark cherry compote, and a fiery cherry mostarda. My favorites were one of the two types of robiola they served (the fresh, unaged one), the bra duro, and the toma di murazzano. I'd finally made it to dessert, the Dolcezze di Asti: Semifreddo al torrone, Bonet, Panna cotta, Zabaione freddo al moscato d'Asti, e Sorbetto di Barolo Chinato. My, my. Everything was so good. It was my first time trying Bonet, the traditional chocolate pudding-like dessert of the region. The semifreddo was very good, as was the panna cotta. The stars, though, were the outstanding zabaglione, and the Barolo Chinato sorbet. Of course, I wasn't done yet, as there was still the Piccola pasticceria della casa on the way, a tray of lovely little chocolates, cookies, cakes, and confection. Good show. All this food, by the way, was accompanied by regional wines. Monferrato, Barbera d'Asti, and Moscato d'Asti with dessert. The tasting menu was €55 to begin with, the addition of the wine was nominal. The raw veal dish was gratis, and the outstanding cheese course, I'm almost ashamed to say, only tacked on an additional €11. All said and done, I was out the door for €88. Not cheap, of course, but very well worth it, I'd say. The best meal of the trip up to that point. The family, too, was very kind. The mother is the chef, along with her two daughters helping her in the kitchen while her husband runs the front of the house. Great group of people to have met after a meal. I thanked them profusely, vowed to return, and went on my way. Then, an unexpected and unwanted continuation of my time in Asti. You see, I'd arrived by train from Torino that night around 8pm or so. Little did I know what I train strike was going to begin at 9pm. They didn't tell me this in Torino, of course. Why would that information possibly be of use to travelers? After dinner, happy and full of food and wine, I wandered back to the train station to catch my 11something pm train back to Torino. The station, though, was a ghost town. Not a person or a train in sight. Finally, a guy comes out of the office there, gives me the throat-slitting motion that is, of course, universal code for "You're S.O.L., buddy". He explained that the strike was to last until 9pm the following night. Great, I thought, considering I'd already paid for my Torino hotel, and my bags were there. I went back to the restaurant to see if there was a hotel they might recommend. Sure, they said, Hotel Cavour, right next to the station. We'd offer you a room at one of our places, but I'm afraid we've got no extra beds. We'll drive you to the station, though. Like I said, very nice people. So I grudgingly handed over the nightly tariff at the hotel, and hit the sack. The next day was Sunday, so most places were closed. Not too far from the station, I found a place that looked pretty decent, though. Tartufo d'Oro, Via Cavour 95. They had a full regular menu, but I wasn't up for a full meal after what I'd eaten the night before, so I opted for one of their many pizza options. Pizza carbonara: uova, pancetta affumicata, e mozzarella. This was pretty outstanding, I must say. The thin sliced pancetta was wonderful, the egg still perfectly runny and vibrantly orange, the mozzarella fresh and milky. A little drizzle of olio piccante lifted the whole thing to new heights. Nice lunch for under €10. Wandering back toward the train station, I saw that Gelateria Ferrara, Piazza Marconi, had the Gambero Rosso Gelaterie d'Italia sticker, and I've noticed as the trip goes along that these places do not tend to disappoint. This was no exception. The gianduja (chocolate-hazelnut), torrone, and malaga al moscato (usually rum-raisin, but in this case moscato-raisin) were all very good. And the girl was quite amused when I told her I was trying to pick all flavors typical of that region. Yes, my friends, I am a food nerd.

Alba Several people here on eGullet and elsewhere had asked me, how can you do a food-and-wine-focused trip to Italy, and not visit the Piemonte? How, indeed. I decided that with the area just a quick train ride away, and some friends arriving in Alba the following evening for dinner, it would be stupid not to go. The train from Genova to Alba was quick and uneventful. I played the normal search-for-a-hotel game once I arrived, and found what I'm certain was the cheapest spot in the city center. I settled in for a bit, showered, and headed out to explore the town. The centro storico in Alba is basically made up of smaller streets that feed off of Via Vittorio Emmanuele. Walking down this street, one starts to notice that perhaps half of the stores in this town seem to be food and/or wine shops. The city's claim to fame, of course, is the prized white truffle. Pity that it wasn't September, October, or November to take part in their Truffle Festival, but I guess I'll just have to return. Darn. I couldn't leave town without getting something truffle-related. So I stopped into Tartufi Ponzio, Via Vittorio Emmanuele 26, to buy some sale con tartufi bianchi, white truffle salt. Half of the contents of my suitcase now smell like glorious white truffles, but I suppose this is the price one must pay. On this trip, I'd brought along Frank Bruni's NYT article from, I believe, sometime last year pitting Emilia-Romagna vs. the Piemonte for the best food region in Italy. In the article, a place called Laboratorio di Resistenza Dolciaria, Via P. Ferrero 11, sounded very intriguing. It's only perhaps a 15-minute walk from the city center, and when I arrived, it looked like nothing. A small, nondescript candy-shop perhaps. The pastries mentioned in the article seemed to be non-existent. I stepped inside though, and started chatting with the woman working the counter, and eventually, with the owner himself. Federico Molinari knows his food, and knows his wine. He told me all about why the Barolo Chinato wine he uses in his very tasty crema di cioccolato al barolo chinato tastes the way it does. How the climate of the region affects the grapes, how the production process affects the flavor, and how the wine supposedly affects digestion (historically, the wine was used to cure stomach aches, apparently). He loves Sicilian desserts, he said, and always has. So he wanted to do something with marzipan, the almond paste so commonly found on that island. Almond don't grow as well in the Piemonte, he said, but hazelnuts, of course, do. He had me sample a wonderful tart he'd made with hazelnut paste and robiola cheese that is traditionally produced all over the region. "The cheese has a natural sweetness...nice, eh?", he said to me in Italian. Nice, indeed. I bought a good-sized wedge to share with the folks at dinner that evening, and it received praise all around. The owner, by the way, studied civil engineering in school, which I thought was very cool, considering I studied engineering as well. So maybe there are back doors into the food business, after all, eh. Let's see, where else did I go? Ah, gelato. But of course. The first day, I stopped at Golosi di Salute, Piazza Rossetti 6. The name should have been enough to scare me away. Hell, all the signs about low-fat this and sugarless that should have, too. But the stuff looked pretty good, so I had a small cone of nocciola gelato, a very traditional flavor in the Piemonte considering how well the hazelnuts grow there. The gelato, I won't lie, was quite good. Very creamy, and very clear hazelnut flavor. I also saw that they had latte di nocciola, hazelnut milk. In Sicily, I'd had latte di mandorla, almond milk, and loved it. So I figured, hey, this must be good, too. Hah! Think again. A chalky, bland, completely unsweetened mess. Just nasty. I left most of it in the glass, after I'd re-tested to make sure it was in fact as terrible as the first taste had suggested. The following day, I also tried some gelato from Sacchero Gelato e Cioccolato, Via Vittorio Emmanuele 32. Unfortunately, gianduja gelato, the region's famous chocolate-hazlenut combo, tasted like plain chocolate to me. Not very good. Things were looking up, though, as I wandered down toward Piazza Navona 10b, to Gelatissimo. A member of the Slow Food organization's Menodiciotto (-18°C) group of gelaterie, from what I gather this is one of many places around the country using only pistchios from Bronte in Sicily, lemons from the Amalfi coast, etc. Basically, carefully chosen natural ingredients without unnatural additives in the gelato. I only had small cup of pistacchio, but it was quite good. Definitely the best I had in Alba. Oh, and I almost forgot another meal. That first evening after I'd arrived in Alba, I met the couple I'd first met in Rome for dinner. They were in the midst of a 10-day food and wine tour with a group of about 10 or so. So I met them all at Vincafe, Via Vittorio Emanuele 12, for dinner. We had various crostini, prosciutto, and cheese as we sampled a few wines. Don't remember what the white wine was that we had, but I do remember Nebbiolo d'Asti and Nero d'Avola for the reds. Along with the wine and the snacks, I had a proper dinner, of battuta al coltello, a phenomenal and simple dish of raw veal with olive oil, salt, and lemon juice, served atop baby arugula. Then the regional fresh pasta tajarin, dialect for tagliarini, the thin, long, flat noodles, in this case served with asparagus and some other vegetables. After dinner, we had some wonderful mojitos, with, suprisingly and randomly, chunks of fresh peach in them, and we devoured the robiola and hazelnut paste tart I'd bought earlier that day. Pretty darn good meal, especially the wonderful battuta.

After Tuscany, I had planned to move on to Emilia-Romagna. But wait! There is no plan for this trip, and a little foray into Liguria sounded good that day, so off to Cinque Terre I went. This (for once!) was one place I didn't go for the food. So many people I had run into during the course of this trip had recommended it that I figured I should check it out, as I was relatively close in Lucca. A few hours on the train, and I was in Riomaggiore. I found a place to sleep for the night, and I started the hike. The five-hour hike all the way from Riomaggiore to Monterosso al Mare, that is. This was mid-afternoon, in late July, so it goes without saying that it was blazing hot. I had fueled up with some very tasty foccacia topped with pesto, some cheese, and some fruit, But by the time I'd reached Corniglia, the middle town, I was beginning to get tired, and by the time I'd reached Vernazza, I was dehydrated in a major way. I stopped and literally chugged two liters of water in a matter of about a minute. Did I mention it was hot that day? Heheh. But there was no way I was going to stop there, so I moved along, figuring there had to be another one of the free beaches I'd been seeing between there and Monterosso al Mare. Just before I'd reached the final town, there it was. A steep little cliffside stairway down to the water. This would be my home for the next few hours. A dip in the water had never felt so good. I'd certainly earned this one. I swam, and lounged on the rocks for a while, before continuing on the center of Monterosso to take the train back to Riomaggior for dinner. Our hostel, surprisingly, had a kitchen, so I really wanted to cook. Luckily, little shop just up the block was still open at around 9pm, so I bought some stuff to cook. I had some coppa to snack on as I cooked, and I prepared some pasta with potatoes, green beans, tomatoes, garlic, and salsa di noci. Not exactly tradtional to the region, of course, but pretty tasty and filling, not to mention cheap. Even with an orange for dessert, I think the total bill was about €5. Nice. The next day, I needed to get closer to the Piemonte region (I'll explain why later), so I headed up to Genova for a day. This city I found quite amusing. I thought no place could keep up with Naples in terms of dirtiness, but I seem to have found a worthy competitor. With its maze-like network of tiny vicolos, or alleys, this is not a city you necessarily want to be walking around in at night. During the day you see enough. On and around Via Dupré, for example, the streets were lined with prostitutes. And this was at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, so I can only imagine what it's like at night. I didn't have much energy for sightseeing, so I just checked out the Palazzo Reale, and walked around aimlessly the rest of the day. Before all this, though, as soon as I arrived, it was lunchtime. I'd read about Antica Osteria Vico Palla, Vico Palla 15r, in the Michelin guide, where it received a Bib Gourmand. I was pleased to see a menu so filled with fish after meat-heavy Tuscany. I started with the traditional Ligurian dish of pansoti con salsa di noci e pinoli. This was flat out fantastic. The best pasta dish of the trip up to that point. The velvety sauce, the handmade pasta, the tasty filling, everything was the perfect consistency and had wonderful flavor. Definitely a winner. Then I had the grigliata di scampi, gamberi S.M., e calamaretti. I'm not sure what was with the S.M. moniker for the shrimp, but they were wonderful. Juicy and cooked just right, as were the scampi and calamaretti. Unless they just look like chainsaws, 9 times out of 10, I eat the shells, and the shells of the jumbo shrimp, especially were very tasty. This meal cost €29, and was definitely worth it. A very nice lunch. So nice, in fact, that I actually returned that evening for a bowl of soup. The minestrone lucchese, had thick balls of pasta that were not unlike moghrabia (a.k.a. Israeli couscous), and was generously laced with a tasty pesto. Very tasty, I think this was about €8. Nice start to dinner. After finding a hotel, I started to walk around, and stumbled upon Gelateria Profumo, Via Superiore del Ferro 4r, which looked very promising. My cone of pistacchio e fichi (what can I say, I am a sucker for those two flavors) was wonderful. Really great flavor, and texture, too. I would certainly go back there. On their business card, I noticed there is a pastry shop by the same name, so the next day, I visited Pasticceria Profumo, Via del Portello 2, where I bought some tiny sweets. Bacio di dama, a small cookie "kiss" filled with chocolate. A very tasty lemon tart. A chocolate mousse tart. And a pinoli tart. All very good, and very fresh. They made a great snack on the train to my next stop. The second part of the dinner I mentioned earlier was at La Cantina di Colombo, Via di Porta Soprana 55r, which I'd found on the Gambero Rosso site. I had a plate of traditional Genovese pasta: trenette al pesto con fagiolini e patate. Long, thin, flat noodles served with dressed green beans, boiled potatoes, and pesto, Genova's main claim to culinary fame. The pasta was okay, but to me, the basil was a tad bitter and lacked the slight sweetness I tend to enjoy in fresh basil. But hey, for €8, I can deal with just "good". As I walked around the city both days, I also grabbed some snacks here and there. At Pietro Romanegro Fu Stefano, Via Soziglia 74r, I had a bit of canded orange peel dipped in chocolate, and a piece of marzipan. At Foccaceria Luccoli, Via Luccoli 55/57, I had a really wonderul piece of plain foccacia. Very flavorful, soft, slightly chewy, quite good. From Sapore di Pane, Via Luccoli 30, I had a bocconcino al basilico, a small basil-flavored roll of bread, as well as a wedge of torta pasqualina, the vegetable pies so common in the region of Liguria. Both were pretty good, and I was glad to have tried another regional specialty I'd not had before.

From Firenze, it was time to move north, albeit in a crooked and slow manner. My next two stops were just a quick ride away from Florence. The first was only for an afternoon, and the latter for a couple of days. Anyhoo, without further ado.. Pisa / Lucca Pisa, in my opinion, has no character whatsoever. There. I said it. I liken it to Disneyland, a veritable United Nations of tourists from all around the world, but a nebulous identity that could easily find a home anyplace on the globe. In other words, it didn't really feel like Italy to me, if that makes any sense. The tower was pretty cool, though ridiculously expensive to climb (€15). The immense piazza with the duomo, tower, and baptistery was vibrant and green. But for me, beautiful lawns like that are meant for picnics, for lounging in the sun, for relaxing. The only relaxation you can have here is knowing that the carabinieri eventually grow tired of blowing their shrill whistles to shoo people away from the grass. Eventually, they just come up and yell instead. Thank goodness I didn't stay for more than an afternoon, as a stroll around town revealed nothing but the dreaded "menu turistico" translated in five languages. A guy's gotta eat, though, so I stopped at a deli called Guarnieri Laura, Via Santa Maria 145, for a panino. The kind old man working the counter was quite amused by my request for foccacia stuffed with prosciutto toscano, pecorino fresco con pesto, melanzana grigliata, carciofi sott'olio, and pomodori secchi. Sure made a tasty sandwich, though. And with all the vegetables - eggplant, artichoke, tomato - so healthy, too. Although I also searched for a gelato spot, nothing really appealed to me. (I admit, I am a picky mofo. God forbid I just walk into any random place for ice cream.) I did pick up a small meringue stuffed with cream from Bagnani, Borgo Stretto 4, for a sweet snack. A bit too sweet, but probably was to be expected given the combo, I suppose. Lucca, by contrast, I quite liked (and I promise I wasn't swayed by the immediate sight of two porchetta trucks near the train station!). I'm finding as I go along that I seem to enjoy the medium-sized cities, neither too big or too small. Siena, minus the slightly excessive element of tourism, had this feel. Lucca did as well. Dinner the first night was at Locanda Buatino, a place outside the city walls, but less than a 10-min walk from my hostel. It was, I believe, a Bib Gourmand choice (though I've remained too cheap to actually buy the Michelin guide to be sure ). To say the prices here were fair is an understatement. Finally, a trattoria where you're not just paying less for less, if that makes any sense. The quality for the price was great, I thought. I had panzanella al sapore del mare, the traditional bread-and-tomato salad kicked up a bit by the addition of tiny calamari, mussels, and clams. Quite good. Then coniglio alla cacciatore con polenta e olive. I'm not normally an olive guy, but with this rabbit, prepared "hunter's style", they worked just right. And polenta is something I've had far too little of on this trip. (Too much time in the south, I suppose!). Very good, and a mere €15 for the meal. Lunch the next day was at Trattoria Da Leo, Via Tegrimi 1. This place had come highly recommended by the gentleman I'd spoken to at the hostel. Along with Buatino, he said, probably one of the better trattorie in the city, and very popular with the locals. I started with a bowl of minestra di farro lucchese, a red bean and farro soup that was as filling as it sounds. Pretty good, though the Texan in me was crying out inside for a side of cornbread. My secondo was vitello tonnato, poetically translated on the menu as "veal scallop with tuna fish cream". Doesn't that sound tasty? I was not such a fan. Admittedly, it was the first time I'd tried that dish, though I've tried it a few times since, and I must say, I just don't get it. Even in the Piemonte region, where the local veal was sublime, the combination just didn't do much for me. But hey, you don't know until you try, right? This meal, too, was nice and cheap. €14. Dinner that night was one of the better meals of the trip so far, at Bucadisantantonio, Via della Cervia 3. My guidebook deemed this place a Fodor's Choice, supposedly among the better "budget restaurants" (whatever that may mean) in Italy. I always take such recommendations with a grain of salt, of course, but the place seemed to be in several food guidebook as well, so I figured I would give it a shot. I'd reserved for 9pm, I think, and I strolled in a few minutes later. Hey, how are you doing? Good to see you again. (I'd stopped in that afternoon to check out the menu.) It'll just be five minutes. Five turned into ten, and ten into twenty. Soon, they brought out some prosecco and some assaggini, or little snacks, and apologized for the wait. No worries, I thought, as I sat there reading their copy of La Gola in Tasca, kind of the all-in-one Italian restaurant guidebook. I was shown to my table, and I ordered two courses. The antipasto was a tortina di ricotta e porri, a ricotta-and-leek tart, which was very tasty. Spotting the dishes brought to a nearby table, I developed some pasta envy, so I asked the waiter if I might add a small primo. Sure thing, he said, and soon came a dish of tortelli lucchesi al sugo, tender homemade pasta stuffed with a meat ragu. This was good, if not a step up from the antipasto, at least keeping pace with it. The secondo, too, was very good. A tender chunk of spit-roasted capretto, or baby goat, wrapped in its own fat, and served alongside a sformato di carciofi (artichokes) and roasted potatoes. None of the regular dessert options appealed to me. (Well, more accurately, I found them overpriced..) But I did have a very tasty €2 glass of Malvasia wine from Sicily, along with some housemade biscotti. For reasons unknown to me, they didn't charge me for the primo, and the meal, with a glass of red wine (Colline Lucchesi) came to €34. Pretty reasonable if you ask me. Every area inevitably has their traditional sweets, and of course I sampled some of Lucca's. My first stop was at Buccellato Taddeuci, Piazza San Michele, which produces the namesake buccellato, an anise-and-raisin bread of sorts. Good flavor, but the bread certainly could have been fresher. Strolling down Via San Paolino, I saw the beautiful display of buccellato, tarts, cookies, and more at Panificio Chifenti, but ended up buying only a wedge of foccacia integrale. It had been way too long since I'd had whole wheat anything, and this scratched the itch nicely. From Pinelli, a bakery on Via Beccheria 28, one morning I had a treccia lucchese, the usual braided dough you see all over Italy (I'm going to assume treccia means braid, though I'm not sure), this time studded with chunks of candied fruit and given a thin glaze on top. Tasty. And no visit to a new city would be complete without some gelato, of course, so I went to Gelateria Veneta, Via Veneto 74, which I'd seen recommended in the Gambero Rosso gelato book. €2.50 buys you five tiny scoops (yes, they use scoopers not spades here ), so I chose fragole, stracciatella, tiramisu alla frutta, nutella, and torrone. Combining five gelato flavors, of course, is near impossible, but each one was pretty good on its own. My favorite was probably the strawberry.