Kevin72

Regrets and Disappointments • The weather. A difficult balancing act, finding a time to go in the off-season for Rome but not too wintery to enjoy things. While spring was getting well underway, it was rainy and cold starting about day 3 on. It paid off in Rome, so we avoided the tourist mobs, but in Puglia it was a little gloomy. Some of the locals we talked to even chided us about coming at the wrong time of year. May or June would be ideal for Puglia, I think. • Despite being in visual distance from the sea on several occasions, no big seafood extravaganzas in Puglia. Naturally, the food we did have was of course great, but I did miss a big full-on seafood meal, or trying one of their famous seafood brodettos there. Like Alberto said on his thread, I, too, was hoping to try sea urchins in some form. Granted, we didn’t make it to any of the real coastal or port towns; given a couple extra days we’d have hit St. Maria di Leuca on the very tip and gone to a trattoria there overlooking the meeting point of three seas, then made our way to Gallipoli and Taranto. The closest we got, and the only redeeming part of the day, was when we were stuck in Bari for four hours waiting for our train. We wandered down to the docks and there were small stalls set up selling one or two items. One guy was hawking anchovies (“Ah-leesh! Ahleesh!”), one was selling squid and octopus (and had a little portable burner with a frying pan set up to cook the food to order), and one was selling sea urchins which he’d crack open to order. A guy in a business suit came up and ordered a few and slurped them down while we watched. • Kept missing the markets! The way our travel worked out we were usually in transit during prime market hours and got to our destination after they closed. So we just missed the (locally) famous market in Cisternino, and Ostuni. Never saw any kind of market in Lecce. And, as with not getting to have any Pugliese seafood feasts, we likewise didn’t see any great fish markets. We did go to the Campo do Fiore in Rome and that was cool, if a little overrun by tourist-style shops. We got to meet the spice guy of the do Fiore market; he’s made a splash in some media including David Dowden’s Roman cookbook. • Didn’t get to try puntarelle. Puntarelle is a bitter green that has yet to make its way to Dallas, and like so many Roman classics I wanted to try it at its source. But we just ran out of time, unfortunately. • Alberobello and the trulli enclave wasn’t quite what it was cracked up to be. Took some great pictures but we were kind of done with it in a few hours. Also it was really low tourist season so the shop owners were off-puttingly aggressive in getting you into their shops. If it doesn’t watch out, Alberobello is well on its way to being Puglia’s first tourist trap.

Worst Meal of the Trip Da Baffetto “2”, right off Piazza Navona, Rome. In researching where to eat in Rome, Baffetto turned up a number of times as the place with the best pizza. Went there and it had the distinct feel of a chain to it. Teenagers running the place with Baffetto T shirts on, computerized data pads to record your order, etc. The House Salad had iceburg lettuce in it, fer cryin’ out loud. Still, “worst” here is relative, and proving that old adage about bad pizza true, the pizza itself, a thin, scorched disk, wasn’t too bad, if skimpy on the toppings: I ordered the one with anchovies and I think it had 3. And, chain or not, I don’t know any chain pizza joints in the U.S. that serve stuffed fried zucchini blossoms. Runner up would be the place we went in Fiumicino the night before we left. It was a hellish day of scrambling to return our rental car in Bari, getting stuck in downtown Bari for 4 hours, then a long train ride to Rome. Got there late and then went to the airport and wandered for 40 minutes looking for the taxi stations, only to have the first few taxi drivers we talked to refuse to give us a ride into town. One finally did and of course “got lost” looking for the main roadway in Fiumicino, resulting in a 30 Euro fare. Anyways, I was so hungry by now and so frazzled that the list of candidates I did have were tossed aside for convenience’s sake and we just went to the nearest restaurant to our hotel after the one the staff recommended to us (and that we walked down the dark streets to) was closed. Probably was my mood but the seafood spread was unremarkable and overpriced, and Fiumicino is a beachfront town, of all things.

Well, it's fun reading back on Alberto's Puglia trip and realizing we had many similar experiences there. You're dead-on with the surprising lack of seafood and fish restaurants in the area; in fact that will be included in my own write-up soon. I'd also enthusiastically echo the recommendation for Lecce. It's a great little town and makes a neat base to explore the surrounding area. You got to go to a few places including St. Maria di Leuca and Gallipoli, as well as delve into alot of the smaller towns and hidden food gems though. We were more Central Puglia: Ostuni and environs. But I got to eat at both Cassareccia and due Corti, ha! Due Corti was fun. Lots of university folks seemed to go there, in fact the proprietor looks like he's a professor at the university by day and runs the restaurant at night. Lots of grilled meat items that we were regrettably too full to try. I'd agree that the cuisine might get a little redundant on a long stay--we had 'ncappriatta three times while we were there. But when it's that good, you don't mind the occasional repeats! Finally I now see what you mean about being slow on the uptake with tourism. It's a hard region to get around in unless you rent a car, in fact it's pretty much essential to do so. And the places to rent a car are Bari and Brindisi, two pretty unattractive, industrial towns. If Ostuni gets on the ball and opens a few car rental places or more regular trains and buses then it will easily take off a la the wine country in Tuscany (in fact some enterprising person could open a car rental spot in Ostuni and clean up, hmm . . . ). It'll definitely be interesting to see what happens in the next 5-10 years there, because it has every potential to be the next hot spot.

Absolutely. I even went into work the day after we got home! Spent all day Saturday scouring Dallas for Ligurian olive oil and wine and no luck. Definitely not in Italy anymore! Arrgh don't get me started! Although that's one of the things I still have to add to my trip thread . . .

Holy crap! Thanks for the mention. Truly an honor. The threat that lured me into eG was the account my Michael Ruhlman of an appearance he did with Bourdain. Actually anytime they get together in a thread makes for good reading. When I joined I think I spent the first whole day here reading the "I will never again . . . " thread. Also liked the thread on the reality show The Restaurant. Adam's Tuscan thread is a glory to behold, and honestly, the inspiration for my thread is Ore's.

I have a habit of cooking barefoot. Nothing bad yet but I'm sure it's only a matter of time before I'm firing up this thread . . .

I agree that it shouldn't be frozen. Should keep fine in the wine cellar. Geeze that's a lot o' cheese!

Thanks, Seth. The sheer volume of olive trees in Puglia is mind-boggling. I had heard a saying that there are more olive trees in Puglia than people in Italy. I was skeptical and thought it was just some tall tale, but now I'm not so sure. They are the dominant tree in Puglia. Entire forests filled with olive trees.

Saturday night's inaugural meal for Liguria: Corzetti with pine nut and oregano sauce: Corzetti are a pasta unique to Liguria. They are "stamped" using a special mold, the pattern usually of familial or religious significance. Lacking this tool I used a pizelle press, and so they were a bit larger than normal. Didn't need to roll them very thin, though: I only went to the second setting of six on my pasta roller. Anything thinner and the pizelle press didn't make any pattern at all. As it was it was still hard to make the impression on the outer edges and in fact I had to repress them all right before I boiled them. They were sauced with a pine-nut oregano (Plotkin calls for marjoram but my oregano is out of control) "pesto" using butter instead of olive oil. No cheese either. The secondo was zucchini stuffed with shrimp: Another deviation from the book, which called for veal, but we're back in doing a meatless Lent. When I was cooking from the Veneto I said one of the problems I had with doing Lent that month was that there were many great meat dishes from the Veneto I had to leave out. Liguria is much more Lent-friendly as they rely overwhelmingly on vegetables, then seafood for sustenance.

The region for what's left of March will be the delicate, herb-laden cooking of Liguria, which comprises the Cinque Terre and Genoa. If anyone got sick of me referencing Fred Plotkin ad nauseum for Friuli-Venezia-Giulia, it will be even worse this month as his book Recipes from Paradise is, curiously, virtually the only cookbook reference I know of on this region. Molto Mario was cancelled before he could cover Liguria, most of my regional cookbooks reference it only to give a recipe for pesto, and Marlena de Blasi dismisses it as "too Southern" in her book Regional Foods of Northern Italy. (And then her book on Southern Italy leaves it out with no mention). From what I do know I disagree with de Blasi's assessment of the region, which while it does have an abundance of olives, olive oil, and capers like much Southern Italian cooking, it also uses butter, virtually no chilies, and a number of tell-tale ingredients from neighboring Emilia-Romagna and Piemonte, not to mention France. Plotkin insists on this point that anything appearing "French" in Liguria originated in Liguria and was then taken by the French, and not the other way around. So, with so little to go on for reference I thought it best to use it on an abbreviated month for me as I was in Italy for the past couple weeks. As always, travel, dining, and cooking experiences others have had in Liguria, as well as suggestions for must-cook dishes, are welcome.

1. (Tie) Dinner at Osteria del Tempo Perso (Ostuni, Puglia) 3/5/05 and lunch at Il Frantoio (Ostuni, Puglia) 3/6/05 Ha, I couldn’t just leave it at five, now, could I? This way I get to work in one extra place! Anyways, this idea is totally cribbed from an article reviewing Il Frantoio. In it the author says that the past 24 hours, culminating in dinner at Il Frantoio, have been the best 24 eating hours of her life. I had a similar experience with our stay in and around Ostuni, in Puglia. So I had been pumped to go to Tempo Perso after reading about it on this board, in a Budget and Travel article, and then in Marlena de Blasi’s book Regional Foods of Southern Italy. All mention the lavish parade of antipasti you get at the outset of the meal. And really, it doesn’t prepare you for what happens. Tempo Perso is set, like many places in Ostuni, in what can only be described as an above-ground cave. You go in, sit down, and are handed a menu. Just when you start to pick out maybe what you want, you’re poured a glass of sparkling Italian white wine and given a plate of little fried balls of bread and mint. Then they ask if you want the antipasti sampler and of course I don’t even let the waiter finish before I agree. And so it begins. Nine antipasti are served, including the freebie you just got. Ricotta with almonds and parsley oil. A little scoop of ricotta, still holding the shape from its basket, it served with a smattering of slivered toasted almonds on top and parsley oil on the bottom. Buratta with pomegranates. Buratta is very much coming into vogue as a cheese right now. It originates in Puglia. Basically it is fiore de latte cheese (in Italy, cow’s milk mozzarella can only be called fiore de latte; mozzarella is reserved only for buffalo milk cheese) with cream and curds in the middle. You cut into it and all this milky, cheesy decadence oozes out. The pomegranate seeds were a perfect, tart foil for the rich cheese. Fritters with fiore de latte and pancetta. Three little disks of dough are fried and then you lay a slice of pancetta fiore de latte over it. The fritters are hot out of the oil so the pancetta and cheese both wilt into it. Miniature eggplant parmigiano: just three coins of fried eggplant slices layered with tomato sauce. My wife’s favorite of the three. Green beans braised in olive oil. Miniature mold of wild mushrooms. Porcini and oyster mushrooms, braised in olive oil, are placed in a gratin mold, then topped with a tart crust and baked. My favorite. Cauliflower and percorino flan: little baked savory custard with chunks of cauliflower and pecorino cheese. Rapini fritters: bitter greens dipped in batter and fried. These are all served at once, and maybe the only thing I’d offer as that they’d be brought out one at a time or in threes so as not to overwhelm you. And not crowd the table! Afterwards the waiter asked if we wanted a primo course. We were already dizzy from the antipasto onslaught but we couldn’t refuse. ‘Ncapriatta. Again, the fava bean puree, probably the national dish of Puglia (in fact all three times we had it appears on this countdown). This was the best version, a little more “elevated” from its peasant roots: I’d guess that maybe even a little cream went into it to give it a smoother texture. Or maybe potatoes, which is sometimes the tradition. Also, it came with the full spread that you’re “supposed” to have: braised bitter greens, green peppers seared and then steeped in olive oil, and lampascioni, the bitter wild onion the Pugliese dote upon. “Orecchietini” with seafood. Actually they weren’t that much smaller than a standard orecchiette. Came with a scampo (langoustino), clams, and artichokes. I was so, so happy when I ate this. Three things I love: seafood, artichokes, and pasta, in one dish? Now we were hurting. But how could we turn down a meat course? Luckily our waiter came up with a solution: “Why not split your secondo?”. Do it! Beef with artichokes. Probably the only subpar thing that night. I’ve now had beef three times in Italy so I feel safe making a blanket stereotype of an entire country: something’s up with Italians and beef. Now I’m going to make the exception here for the Chianina beef variety which I’ve yet to have, but the other three time’s its been pretty bland, underseasoned, and even a little tough. Before we could even be tempted by dessert I told the waiter to just bring us the petit-fours I saw other tables getting at the end of our meal. It was all almond variations: crusted with sugar, or bitter chocolate, or espresso, or in croccante. Had an excellent Primitivo di Manduria with the meal. Due Palme was the brand/maker, I believe. Tempo Perso takes Pugliese classics and elevates them to a whole other level. This was our first meal in Puglia, and I was worried that the other, more rustic or homey places wouldn’t compete, and so was pleasantly surprised when they did. The next day we get up, still dreamy from the previous night, and head off to Il Frantoio, a farmstead and guesthouse about 5 kilometers down the road from Ostuni. We arrive and the owner/host, Armando, greets us as we get out of the car. “Welcome home”, he says warmly. And damned if it isn’t, for the next 24 hours. We convene to eat lunch at 1, starting first with a spread of local nuts, seeds, fried slivers of fava beans, olives, and white wine. Then we move into the dining area where Armando’s wife, head of the kitchen, greets us. Armando comes by the table to tell us that everything we’re about to eat except the coffee and the wine are produced on that farm. Thank goodness we get a menu at the end of the meal or I would have lost track (the menu not only lists the wines that are paired with the meal, but also their olive oils!). • Pizelle con sughetto e ricotta forte. More dough fritters. You dip them in either tomato sauce or ricotta forte, fermented ricotta. Like lampascioni, this is another acquired taste much beloved by Pugliese. And also like lampascioni, most accounts I’ve read describe it as an unpleasant first tasting experience. So now I have to try it. And it is like a punch in the face it’s so strong. My wife gags and pushes it away from her, saying it’s like rotten cheese. I naturally love it and crave it the rest of the trip. • Spuma con zucca e zucchini. A ricotta-based layered flan; the top had zucchini in it, the middle layer was plain, and the bottom layer was winter squash. • Carciofi al cotto di vino e lampascioni a fiore con miele d’arancio. This was probably my favorite, and best-done dish of the meal. The bitterness of the lampascioni were amplified by the orange honey glaze. Then you take a bite of the baby artichokes, glazed in wine must, and the sweetness tempers the bitterness. But the most ingenious thing was the wine pairing, a small grappa glass of Primitivo di Manduria dolce, which had its own sweet notes. “Normally, you cannot pair artichokes or lampascioni with wine.” Said Armando as he explained the dish. Then he added almost mischievously, “But not in Puglia, with this primitivo.” And he was right. The strong, sweet, syrupy wine perfectly tamed all the wild, bitter, tart flavors and it was gloriously harmonious. • Spuma di baccala con finocchio gratinati. Another baked flan or custard, now with baccala, served with a gratin of fennel and cheese. Another delicious pairing. • Straccetti al finnochietto selvatico con pure di ciccerchie e papaveri. Ciccherchie are an ancient bean, believed to be the ancestor of the chickpea. Another point of pride for Armando: “Only in Puglia do we still eat the ciccherchie.” These are pureed and used as a sauce for ribbons of homemade pasta scented with wild fennel fronds. Poppy plant leaves garnished the dish. • Involtini di maiale e polpette en umido di verdure con patate paglia. Fried and glazed pork bundles, and little meatballs, scattered around finely shredded and fried potatoes. • Insalata mista con nasturzi. Mixed salad of nasturtium leaves. We were sitting with the British couple from #3 and at this point our conversation, fueled by much wine, was reaching a good, fevered groove. So unfortunately I barely remember this salad and the next entry. • Macerated fruit salad. • Sospiro con crema al Rosolio d’Olivo. Olive leaf-gelato; the gelato base was simmered with olive leaves which left a very faint scent in the final product. This was served slightly softened with layers of pastry. This snapped my attention back to the meal, it was so well-constructed. • Digestivi. One of the most interesting things I found about Puglia is that while they still do have a healthy representation of limoncello and similar products (orange and citron), they also favor a digestivo made in a like fashion from more savory herbs. So here they offered olive leaf digestivo, and laurel leaf digestivo, and wild fennel (even later and elsewhere in Puglia I saw a digestivo made from arugula!). As with many of our meals in Italy, we were now loopy from wine and so much good food. The entire meal had lasted three hours. We get up and express our gratitude to Armando, and I think the British man who was with us went into the kitchen and hugged all the cooks, and then went off to take a real, well-earned siesta. And so that’s it. With the 24 hours starting at Tempo Perso, continuing with lunch at Il Frantoio, and then our antipasto spread at the osteria listed at #3, I had had maybe the best single eating day of my life. Ostuni and environs is an achingly beautiful place that captures everything great about Pugliese cuisine and is a fantastic eating destination. I know I had said no pictures at the start, but if the food isn’t enough to sell you, these pictures of “The White City” will: Ostuni: Tempo Perso: Nameless Osteria from #3: Il Frantoio: L'OSTERIA DEL TEMPO PERSO Via Tanzarella 47 Ostuni (00 39 0831 303 320). Closed Monday. Il Frantoio SS. 16 km 874 72017 Ostuni (Brindisi) Italia tel. 39. 0831.330276 e-mail armando@trecolline.it 5km outside Ostuni

2. Trattoria Cadorna (Rome) 3/3/05 The setting: on our third day in Rome it starts raining. Torrents. And it’s cold. We were at the Coliseum at the time and were planning on making our way to Osteria Cucagna just off Piazza Navona. But now we’re drenched through and just not wanting to bother with it. Let’s get back to the hotel, change, warm up, and hopefully it has stopped by then. We do and it hasn’t. We don’t want to get wet all over and it’s probably 20 minutes’ walk to get to Piazza Navona again. Then my wife suggests that we just stay local. I agree, but reluctantly looking at my list of researched places to eat. It’s Thursday, so that means it’s gnocchi day in Rome. We have to go someplace that serves gnocchi! I doubt the places near our hotel will, so I’m in a bit of a tizzy about it. But we set out anyway. We go a block and walk up the street to the place our hotel guy recommends. We look over the menu and low and behold: “Gnocchi fatta en casa, solo Giovedi” (House-made gnocchi, only on Thursdays—please forgive both my butchery of Italian and its translation). We’re in. First a bottle of rosso di tavolo to warm us up. Then we order the fritters. Just different types of fried dough, with a jot of tomato sauce and pecorino. Tastes like mine, tastes like mine! We both get the gnocchi and it’s an ample portion. The gnocchi are small, maybe the size of your thumbnail, and have more tomato sauce and a dusting of cheese. By now it’s the Italian dinner hour so the place is filling up and getting boisterous, adding to our enjoyment. A table of local businessmen with visiting Japanese businessmen squeezes in next to us and I enjoy hearing them trying to explain the menu to their visitors. One of the Japanese guys comments on all the cheese and seems astounded. For secondo, my wife orders grilled sausage and rapini, and I order the oxtails. We also order verdure di stagioni. My oxtails are great, fall off the bone tender, and have a lingering spicy kick to them. But the sausage and greens. Oh my. That alone merits the restaurant’s place. The sausages were little patties and the meat had a rough, hand-chopped consistency to it. And the greens were so vibrant and yet rich and silky all at once. And the contorni were perfect. I’d long heard that Romans were particularly reputed, among many things, for their vegetable cookery and this absolutely nailed the case shut. Dessert was gelato covered in pastry cream and it was every bit as decadent as it sounds. We staggered home happily. As a postscript, it turns out that where we went wasn’t even the place our hotel guy had recommended, and in fact he hadn’t even heard of this place. So what’s the lesson here kids? You don’t have to look very hard for a great meal in Rome. We didn’t even make it to Cucagna, or Vino del Candido in Vatican City, but I’m pretty comfortable in having had a great trattoria experience in Rome, the thing I came there to do. If I put the address here, doesn’t that negate the whole point of this entry? Actually, I don’t have it. It’s on Via Cadorna, near where we stayed at Hotel Ercoli.

3. Nameless Osteria (Ostuni, Puglia) 3/6/05 We’d met a British couple at Il Frantoio, a farmstead where we were staying just outside of Ostuni, in Puglia. We had had a huge lunch and weren’t quite up to a big dinner spread, and so the idea was to drive back into Ostuni and just do an antipasti sampler by going from place to place. The night before my wife and I had walked around Ostuni and seen one place after another offering some interesting sounding antipasto, so it should be easy enough. We go into town and stop for some aperitivi at a bar, then it’s off to the first place, which wound up being the only place we went that night. My wife and I had passed it a couple of times, a door down a steep staircase leading directly to a little bar to stand at. We go in and find that it’s a little cave-like room with two fireplaces and cushioned benches and rickety wooden chairs scattered around. At the bar is a guy in a red hat, carving salumi to order. We go in and find a table near the back, where there’s a third fireplace and a woodburning oven where two women are cooking. Near the fireplace is a huge earthenware pot which is cooking their soup of bitter greens. Also they are making lasagna and a casserole of more bitter greens and breadcrumbs, which they shove into the oven. Finally, there’s bruschetta, which they toast over the fire, then finish with chopped tomatoes from an earthenware crock and herbs from a little pot on their workspace. We order the bruschetta, a plate of salumi, and a cheese plate. The bruschetta are everything you think of when you hear the word: “This is what it’s all about, isn’t it?” the British man eating with us says after his first bite. The salumi (prosciutto, lardo, pancetta, guanciale, and spicy salami) are all a little wilted from the heat of the fireplaces in the room, and so they blossom and melt on the tongue. The cheeses are all aged and crumbly; I only recall a smoked kind and a goat’s milk. They were so pungent that they made your jaw hurt eating them. Had three rough, local red wines with the meal. I’ve read so many books about the great hosteria culture in Italy, of places were you go in and sit at a bench with the locals, and there’s no menu, just maybe five dishes they make daily. And I’ve never had it on any of my three trips to Italy, and in fact had written it off as a dying culture: “osteria” now usually means, somewhat tongue-in-cheek I guess, a high-end place: think about Osteria del Tempo Perso in the same town, or Osteria da Fiore in Venice. But here it was, and it was grand. Big, robust, smoky flavors all around, perfect for a damp, misty night. Leaving that night (we closed the place down, and the locals left there all warmly sent us on our way), we were a little slooshed. I paused at the door and squinted in the dark at the sign on the door, trying to remember the name. Giancarlo? Giacomo? I guess it’s appropriate for a place like that that I didn’t remember the name.

4. La Campana (Rome) 3/1/05 This was our first dinner in Italy. It bills proudly itself as the oldest restaurant in Rome (1518). There’s an antipasti bar laid in front of you as you walk in, and next to the door is a display of the day’s fruits and vegetables. Older waiters bustle about the room, stopping at various strategically-placed prep tables to finish dishes with cheese, or to dress a salad. My desired experience in Rome was to get a true feeling for the trattoria culture. Rome is the originator of so many classic dishes: fettuccini alfredo, all’amatriacini, alla gricia, (actually these last two originate in or near Amatrice, on the Lazio/Abruzzo border, but were both popularized in Rome) carbonara, cacio e pepe, saltimbocca, oxtails, tripe . . . I had to try as many of them as I could, to eat them in the city of their source. This one set the stage nicely and in fact I burned through many classic dishes just in one night. • Carciofo alla guidea. A whole, deep-fried artichoke, pressed along the bottom of the pan as it fries so that the leaves spread out like a flower. We fell into it ravenously and were carefully watching each other’s portion size to make sure one of us didn’t get more. Could’ve eaten four more of them. • Spaghetti alla carbonara. My wife’s pasta dish. Just eggs, cheese, and guanciale, the cured pork jowl beloved in Rome. • Rigatoni all’Amatriciana. It was my understanding the common pasta accompaniment for amatriciani is bucatini, the hollow spaghetti. But in Rome whenever we saw it, it was with a stout, tube pasta like ziti, or penne, or in this case rigatoni. Is that the en vogue thing to do? Not a complaint since anything sauced with tomatoes and chilies and pecorino and cured pork can’t be bad! This may sound a little self-congratulatory, but eating this dish was such an affirmation of my own cooking. I always worry how off I may be from the original without access to the same quality ingredients, or improvisations here or there, or a heavy had with this or that. But this dish was amazingly familiar when I tasted it. I almost danced around the room I was so giddy at eating something that I had been getting right all this time! (Unless of course La Campana is infamous for having the worst Amatriciani in Rome, please don’t tell me if it is!) • Chicken croquettes (crocchette?) with fried zucchini. I ordered this for my wife. By itself, the chicken was a little dry, but when you had a few of the fried strings of zucchini it took on a new, better level. • Lamb “scottaditti” for me. Two lamb chops seared off in a pan and dressed with lemon juice. Bam, that’s it. Addictive, homey food. The only thing I’d change it use a different cut—these were shoulder chops so they were a bit gristly here and there. • Carafe of Frascati. I’ve always like Frascati, but I know it gets a little maligned here in the U.S. as too much of a lightweight. I imagined it would be considerably different closer to the source, and was I ever right! This almost had a grappa-like flavor, but of course not nearly as harsh. Still, there was kind of an alcohol edge not normally present in the Frascati I’ve had in the U.S. Too full for dessert, alas. Though we noticed most customers just had fruit, which the waiter would select from the bar in front of the restaurant, put on a plate, then walk it back to the kitchen to be prepared. They’d come out seconds later with the fruit peeled and/or cut up for eating. La Campana--18 Vicolo della Campana, tel. 686 7820, in between Spanish Steps and the Palazzo Vittorio Emmanuele area.

5. Trattoria Cassereccia (Lecce) 3/8/05 A place run by all women, most likely within the same family. You have to ring a bell to be let in and they ask if you have a reservation (we didn’t but it was still “early” by Italian dining standards—8:30). All of them except the oldest wait on you, so you never have just one server. The oldest is in the kitchen, whipping out Pugliese standards. No menu. They come out and ask if you want antipasti, and in fact the whole meal progressed that way, in stages. • Braised bitter greens, marinated anchovies. This was getting towards the end of our trip and I hadn’t had marinated anchovies yet, despite seeing them everywhere both in Rome and Puglia. Take anchovy fillets and steep them in vinegar or lemon juice for a few hours, drain them, then submerge them in oil. Intense and addictive. I cackled with glee when they brought these out, almost as if they were reading my mind. The bitter greens (rapini), which we had many times on the trip, were the best here. **Memo to Italy: Don’t bring out bread by itself to the Americans. This isn’t some sort of Atkins aversion, we just can’t help ourselves. Italians, I know, don’t even think about touching the bread until they have a sauce to sop it up with, but we don’t have that self-control. If it’s in front of us, we eat it. All of it. One of the women came out and chided us to stop eating the bread, we’d fill up before the later courses! She was of course right, especially with the next dish. • ‘Ncappriatta. This is a puree of dried fava beans. Actually, if cooked right, and you use the harder-to-find peeled dried favas, you don’t even puree it. It just naturally falls apart as you stir it, then you swirl in olive oil off the heat. They even brought out an extra carafe of olive oil. It was served with cooked chicory and garnished with fried bread cubes. And the hostess was right: we could have used more bread to sop up the rest of the puree. • Mussel and potato casserole. In another incident of ESP, I had also been lamenting that we hadn’t had any of the casseroles Puglia is known for. Then we get not one, but two of the region’s potato casseroles. This one came with mussels and onions. The mussel meat was bright orangish red and they were very powerful-tasting, but good. • Potato, cardoon, and olive casserole. Best dish of the night. Nice caramelized, crunchy top, no doubt aided by the cheese topping. Now the hostess asked if we wanted pasta or more antipasti. I was surprised we weren’t even done with the antipasti yet. I asked to just bring two smaller pastas. • Ciceri e tria: Flat homemade ribbon pasta served with chickpeas. Half of the pasta is deep-fried, so you have brown, crunchy bits mixed in for texture. A Pugliese specialty. • Wheat pasta with tomato sauce and pecorino. More ribbon pasta, only this time twisted into a corkscrew shape with tomato sauce and pecorino • Stuffed Squid. The waitress asked if we wanted meat or fish. I asked what kind of meat and all my wife had to hear was “cavallo” (horse) and fish it was! • Plate of cookies: All were chewy, probably due to almonds in the dough. Also scented with limoncello. Liter of vino rosso di tavolo Trattoria Cassareccia Via Col. Costadura 19, Lecce, 011-39/0832-245-178

Got back from Italy late last night and am currently going through a bout of jet lag. It's midnight over in Italy and 5 pm here. Ate many wonderful meals but I'm going to weed them down to a top five meal experiences, but also will have some other observations later on. While we took tons of pictures of course, we took very few restaurant pictures. I just get intimidated. That and I wolf it down before I even pause to consider taking the picture! I'm still sorting through the pics and will be doing a write-up and/or narrative to go along with them, but it will be (slightly ) less food-centric so it probably won't go up on eG. This will then either be a Word document or some sort of online scrapbook. If anybody knows how to put this online, please let me know. I'll post that link or offer to send the document to interested people when it's all done. First one up in a bit.

Italian cooking for me, probably to a fault. I've tried to get into other cuisines but they just don't grab me the way Italian does with its microregionality. I've also found that I don't really want to do the "pantry overhaul" that would be required of shifting to a radically different cuisine, like say Chinese. I'm trying to branch out and am starting with two somewhat similar cuisines (i.e., not much of a change needed for pantry goods on-hand): Greek and Spanish.

We're wanting Sushi tonight so we might just check out Simon's. What's the address? Have you been to Miso Cafe in Plano yet? Nice sushi presentation. No liquor license though . Went for lunch and ordered Japanese entree stuff and it was a little more uneven. I'm wondering if once Zorba completes its expansion they'll be more accomodating of the separate check request? May be worth checking out.

I noticed that about the Plano Whole Foods too! I went a few years ago and it was so small and I left angrily promising never to shop there again. I went recently and it has really improved. Usually between Central and WF I can find what I need and I'm often surprised by the Plano WF. Still, Central's the one for me. It's not mentioned in the USA Today article, but Whole Foods bought out an outfit in Atlanta called Harry's Farmer's Market which was, ironically, also the model used for Central Market when they were researching it. It really took off there (the shopping segments of Good Eats episodes are often shot there) and I was wondering how long before they tried nationalizing it. Guess they tweaked it even more though.

Honestly though, Rick, having just come back from Rome, don't get so caught up in lining up every place to eat. I went with a big list and got a little overwhelmed when we were there because we also kept seeing neat other places to try! Particularly in Trastevere. Pick a few "must have" places but do yourself a favor and build a few open nights where you just go to a place that looks good. Rome's a great town for eating at trattorias and in fact the best food we had there was when we were forced, on a rainy and cold night, to stay local to our hotel and just went to the nearest place. As long as you don't go to a place that has 4 language translations on its menu, or a waiter or barker standing out front to lure you in, you'll do well.

Great pics as usual. Perfect food for I'm sure a cold night in Scotland, and I like the regional (Scotland) twist you gave it as well. Good call on the bitter green accompaniment as a foil for that rich meat.

Final meal in the Veneto region: "Straw and hay" with radicchio and a lemon-cream sauce. Another recipe from the Paradiso Perduto episode of Molto Mario. As opposed to the gnocchi recipe, the radicchio here is sauteed with the aromatics at the start and then cooked in the cream, so its bitterness is tempered somewhat. Also, lemon zest and juice are used in the cream, which really liven up the dish. Main course was the pesce in saor alla da Fiore as I discussed with Hathor upthread. In a similar vein as the Risi e bisi with cinnamon, the saor recipe from the da Fiore cookbook harkens back to the height of Venice's trading power. Rather than vinegar, this recipe uses lemon and orange juices to get its sweet and sour flavor. Also, there's a touch of ginger in the recipe, giving it a nearly Asian flavor. Much more subtle than the more common version; if you like saor I encourage you to try this variation. This is my final entry for the next few weeks before my trip to Rome and Puglia. But that's another thread!

Aww, no pic of you, Ore, and Divina? Fantastic thread. I feel your pain in leaving there!

You definitely did it right to be near a kitchen. Much as I loved eating in Italian restaurants, it was painful to walk through the markets and see all that stuff and not be able to buy and cook it myself.

Cooking from this past week: Clam and bean soup I love dishes that create a mediation between the land and the sea and Venetian cooking seems to do it quite well. The briny clams deepen the mellow beans. In the Veneto there's a bean called the lamon which is supposed to be even creamier than the borlotti. Saw it a few times when we were there but alas didn't try it or bring any back with us. Risi e bisi Halfway between a soup and a risotto. I liked the faint touch of cinnamon that is called for in the da Fiore recipe. In their writeup on this dish they say that this is Venice itself, and the cinnamon is an ode to its status as a spice trade capital. Friday's meal was a tribute to another restaurant in Venice that we went to: Osteria ale do' Marie, in the easter portion of the city. This was the same night I mentioned earlier when we walked along the miserchordia canal. It had started out as a "cicheti" crawl earlier that afternoon, with us just going from one bar to the next, ordering a few cicheti and then moving on. But we had been walking for an hour now and hadn't had anything to eat in even longer, and actually were pretty hungry. So here we were in a pretty empty part of the city, and we walked down an alley and this was the only open doorway. Encouraged that there was no barker out front to lure us in (never a good sign in Venice), we went in. We were the only ones there, and we were actually at peak Italian dining hours (nine), and in fact only two older gentlemen came in after we arrived. It was good, honest Venetian food, certainly not the best of our trip but remembered fondly. What we do not remember so fondly is that afterwards we got hopelessly lost. This was a completely empty, very nearly abandoned looking part of the city. Streets had no lights on them. We saw no one. We kept coming back to the same spot again and again: a bar that was playing Orson Welles' A Touch of Evil inside to a smattering of patrons. I just can't describe how eerie the experience was. Anyways, onto the meal itself: Seared scallops with mushrooms and arugula Another "land and sea" dish. Of course at do'Marie they used porcini. In this case I ground dried porcini to a powder and crusted the scallops with it, and used trumpet mushrooms in the salad itself. Do they sell porcini canned in oil in Italy? We had a few dishes with mushrooms that were supple and rich but didn't have that firm bite of fresh mushrooms, and we did have one porcini dish where we could tell it was a fresh, porcini mushroom. Not that it's a complaint, in fact I'd snap it up in a second if they had them that way here. The main dish was spaghetti with clams. Even more frustrating than seeing the variety of produce available in Italy vs. the U.S. is the variety of seafood. I'm sure it's better in places like New York or Boston and on the West Coast, but here in the Dallas area you get one kind of shrimp in different sizes, one kind of clam, mussels, and 3-4 varieties of fish. In Venice . . . well, you know. It's one thing to talk about the canocche, the flat, centipede-looking shrimp which are only found in the Adriatic, but the multitudes of different bivalves . . . And the taste! So sweet, and yet with the clams there's this peppery backbite. And the shells are so delicate and nearly translucent, and they make a tinkling glass-like sound as they fall to the plate. So this is the best I can do here, littleneck clams. Not bad, but just not as subtle as Italy can do. At do'Marie, rather than chili peppers, they used ample black pepper to go with the clams' own peppery flavor. Last meal in the Veneto is tomorrow night.