Andrew Fenton

Francesco, Welcome to eGullet! And thank you for identifying the ricciola. I have had ricciola a few times in Sicily, and I agree that it's a wonderful fish. (Somewhere I have a photo of a really beautiful ricciola preparation from a restaurant in Taormina; I'd post it, but I'm having computer issues.) I haven't spent a lot of time in Calabria, but the coast there is one of the most beautiful parts of Italy. And Reggio is a great town, especially along the waterfront. I'd love to go back: maybe do some fishing...

I doubt you'd find too many of the Philadelphians making a claim for a cheesesteak as the ultimate sandwich. Roast pork? Sure. Hoagies? You bet. But putting the cheesesteak in its place is something of a point of pride...

Yeah, I'll try asking around once I'm back. Because ohhh, they are so good. Yes, sir!

Saber fish, eh? A badass name for a badass fish. Thanks!

I've been reading this thread for the first time, and thought I'd cross-post to another thread I posted in the Italy forum, about the fish markets in Venice and Syracuse. A couple of the pictures from that thread; first, the alien Venetian life forms known as canocce: And some beautiful Sicilian mackerel:

Count me as one of those who likes his food- at least some foods- very hot. It's one of the things I've enjoyed about living in Italy, where pasta and risotto are usually served (in good restaurants, anyway, and in most homes I've been to) extremely hot. It encourages the diners to slow down and take their time with the dish; also a good thing.

Not too long ago, I posted a thread on one of the best sandwiches I've ever had, the boiled beef sandwich from Da Nerbone in Florence. An amazing sandwich: A nice piece of fatty beef, cooked slowly in a broth until it's just as tender as you could ask for, sprinkled with salt and spread with green bollito sauce and a little red pepper sauce. It's the best reason to go to Florence. Agreed, however, that New Orleans is the sandwich capital of the world. But Philadelphia does its part too: I submit the roast pork Italiano from Tony Luke's as one of the top sandwiches anywhere.

Yeah, you heard right. You want a piece o' me? Come on and get it... Anyway, I can't claim to have anything like a comprehensive knowledge of sandwiches in Florence. But this one is really elegant in its simplicity, and noteworthy for its groundedness in local tradition. I'd argue that this has to be a better Florentine sandwich than the best spinach and mozzarella sandwich, just because as good as mozzarella is, it ain't Tuscan. The arista is a different story, I grant you, and is probably terrific. But everybody knows that the best pork sandwich in Italy is porchetta from Ariccia. (He says, looking for another fight...) And as a bonus, Nerbone is right near the train station! So even if you don't want to deal with the city, if your train is going through there, you can just jump off, get a sandwich, and be back in time for the next train...

You know, I don't remember ever seeing pasta alla marinara on a menu anywhere I've been in Italy. Oil and garlic, sure, but it's never called "marinara". Similarly, tomato sauce is common, but it's just called tomato sauce, not "marinara". I suspect your source is right and that this is an example of something that has taken on a life of its own outside of Italy. Sorta like "bruschetta". Now, I have seen pizza alla marinara, with tomatoes, olive oil and fresh basil. Same sort of deal as a pizza Margherita, only without the mozzarella. And since the origins of pizza are firmly datable to the post-tomato world, there's no problem with ascribing the origins of pizza alla marinara to the preferences of (notoriously lactose-intolerant) sailors. So here's a hypothesis (completely unencumbered by actual evidence): non-Italians looking for a name for a fresh tomato sauce, something "authentic" and without the stain of red-gravy Italian, remembered the pizza they had in Italy and transferred the name over. Because hey, "marinara" sounds all classy and stuff and you can charge an extra buck or two per plate.

A trip to Disneyland-on-the-Arno is a real trial. Pushing your way through mobs of American undergraduates and tour groups all heading for the Tuscan Country Bear Jamboree is an exercise in practicing patience and love for one's fellow man, and I'm not really up to the task. Still, at least I ate well there, which helped recharge the ol' fellow-man-love batteries (wait. Let me rephrase that...) We had an okay dinner at Sostanza (a good fiorentina, but I've had better in Rome). We had a better dinner at Da Ruggero, on the southern edge of town, past the Porta Romana. I had a first-rate ribollita and a very good bollito misto (brisket and tongue, if I remember right), but the real standout was the carciofini: marble-sized artichoke hearts marinated in oil. They were almost heartbreakingly good, and may have spoiled me for all other artichokes forever. Also, some very good granita: Sorrento lemon at Grom, and a truly exceptional peach at Carabe. But hands down the best thing to eat in Florence is the boiled beef sandwich at Nerbone in the Central Market. They open at 7 AM, so you can go for breakfast and lunch. Here's the counter: They advertise themselves as having been in business since 1873, which is plenty of time to perfect their craft. The sandwich is based on a big ol' chunk of beef (brisket, I think), which is cooked in a broth until it gets nice and tender; same deal as a bollito, just in sandwich form. Here's the meat: Nice and fatty, as you can see. They take it out of the broth, slice off a chunk or two, then ask you if you want your roll dunked in the broth. (Need it be said that the correct answer is "yes"?) The beef goes on the roll, is sprinkled with a little salt, slathered with a little green bollito sauce and (if you like, and trust me, you do like) some red pepper sauce. Here's a closeup of the sandwich: That shot is a more than a little pornographic, I know; and I apologize to eGulleteers with more delicate temperaments. But then, this is not a sandwich for the delicate. It's juicy and meaty and a little spicy; really wonderful. It's a top-10 sandwich for sure. Probably a top-5, up there with a muffaletta from the Central Grocery in NOLA or the roast pork Italiano at Tony Luke's in Philadelphia. As impressive a work of art as anything else in Florence.

I think that most of the fish was local, and wild, but I'm not 100% sure. Italian fish markets (like Italian vegetable markets) are supposed to mark where there products come from. I'm not sure whether they have to say whether fish is farmed or not; and I don't remember noticing any signs. I do remember noticing that some of what was for sale in Venice had come from elsewhere. Shrimp, in particular, seemed to a large measure to come from Sicily or other southerly places.

I did try them that night. They were served as part of an antipasto plate, cooked very simply and served sort of on the half-shell, with the inside carapace removed. As I mentioned above, they were sweet (though not especially distinctive), sort of like shrimp crossed with crab. At the restaurant, the price was expensive- but everything in Venice is expensive. I don't remember how much the raw canocce are; if I have a photo with the price market, I'll let you know. I do love their little "eyes"; those are actually their tails. And the blue stripe limning their tails is just terrific. Don't remember about the heads: I think they were served headless. The weird thing about seafood antipasto in Venice (this is based on the vast experience of two meals, mind you) is that it's served warm. It's usually been my experience in Italy that seafood starters are served at room temperature or slightly chilled; but there you go.

Not to mention "holy mackerel!" Nobody ever said "holy mullet!" (Except maybe for Robin. When he and Batman were attacked by Redneckman.) I'll keep my eyes open for them when I get back. It seems odd to marinate herring in olive oil: but then, there's pickled herring, right?

(N.B.: shamelessly cross-posted from my blog.) I've been thinking a lot about fish lately, prompted by a project I'm beginning on fish in Roman culture and literature. It's not a bad thing to work on here, since it gives me the excuse to do some research on fish in modern Italy. By "research", of course, I mean mostly "eating"-- but I've been looking into fish in other ways as well. You wouldn't think it from visiting coastal Italy (or, for that matter, an inland city like Rome), but the Mediterranean is actually relatively fish-poor, at least compared to the ocean. Modern fishing techniques mean that it's not too hard to get a variety of fish to market. But some parts of the peninsula have historically had better access to fish than others, and that access is reflected on a consumer level by the presence of large fish markets. I'm going to look at two of these, from opposite ends of Italy. The first of these is pretty famous, the Rialto fish market in Venice. Venice's lagoon, with its shallow, brackish water, is a great environment for attracting the wide variety of fish that are the hallmark of Venetian cuisine. The importance of fish for Venice is highlighted by the elegant architecture of the market. The structure, built in 1907, is a wide portico with room for two rows of stalls, facing onto the Grand Canal. It's easily the loveliest fish market I've ever seen (okay, not that much competition there...) The column capitals along the outside are all in the shape of different fish, boats, etc.: I didn't see any turtles for sale at the market! But these guys are pretty cute. The architect (whom my guidebook lists as the painter Cesare Laurenti) was clearly having some fun, while maintaining a traditional Venetian appearance. As the city of Venice has shrunk (there are about 60,000 people in central Venice, down from 200,000 a century ago), the importance of the market has decreased. Restaurants buy a lot of fish, of course, but they mostly get it from the wholesale market, and while tourists might buy an apple or cherries, a whole mackerel or bag o' shrimp doesn't tend to fit well into a suitcase! As a result, when I was there (late May), the market was only about half-occupied by stalls, and many of the people walking around were (like me) tourists with cameras, rather than shoppers. Too bad, because the seafood there is absolutely gorgeous. I'm pretty bad with seafood names (in English or Italian)- so please feel free to help me out in comments... Here's one I do know, some nice looking red mullets: They're particular favorites of mine, both because the Romans loved 'em (as pets and as food), and because, hey: "red mullet". hee! There's a lot of care put into displaying fish (it helps that I arrived at around 8 AM, when things were just starting to gear up): Here are some canocce: alien-looking crustaceans that are very characteristic of Venice. I don't know if they live elsewhere: I love those "eyes". This is a close-up, obviously, but lots of the vendors stack them up like so much fishy cordwood. We had canocce for dinner that night (at Alle Testiere); they're sweet and tender, sort of between really fresh Gulf shrimp and crab. Here's a bucket o' eels: Still alive: that one in the center was flapping its gills and glaring balefully at me. I have to admit something here and say that eels squick me out a little, and this guy didn't really change things for me... The fruit and vegetable market is right next to the fish market. There's a nice selection, but it didn't strike me as especially distinctive: Hey you! Get back to the piazza San Marco! (And memo to shoppers: be sure to wash that eggplant well! The other fish market I've visited that really impressed me was way at the other end of Italy, in Syracuse. Sicilian seafood is of course famous, and rightly so. Like Venice, Sicilians have been able to exploit their environment to get access to lots of different kinds of seafood. In this case, the straits of Messina provide naturally good fishing grounds. The small space creates a difference in temperature between the western and eastern Mediterranean, something that attracts fish. And the narrow straits funnel fish, making them easier to catch. The market in Syracuse is on the island of Ortygia, steps away from the temple of Apollo and next to the small harbor. It stretches for about two or three blocks on a small street. Not as picturesque as the Venice market, but with at least as good a selection of fish, and with a more vibrant atmosphere. Here are some anchovies. Or maybe sardines. I'm not really sure, actually: To misquote Maurice Chevalier, "thank heaven for leetle feesh!" I've really come to love the miniature members of the scaly tribe: alici sott'olio? Oh yeah. It's a real shame that Americans are so fixated on steak fish (salmon, tuna, etc.); I'm sure whether I'll be able to get them back in the US. Anyway, it's an excuse to eat as many as possible now... I don't know what this thing is. But it kind of scares me. Probably it's delicious, but I wouldn't have the faintest idea what to do with it. Other than back away slowly... Again, not really sure what these are. I just think they're really beautiful. As with these: Let's just call those last photos "two studies in stripes." Finally, the biggest fish in the market that day, a nice-looking tuna: Everybody is impressed (and rightly so), even that kid in the corner. Yum! I love Syracuse; it's a beautiful, friendly city with wonderful food and a fascinating history. One of my fantasies-- once I win the lottery, you know-- is to move there and just cook fish every single day. Someday, maybe...

Umm... it's good? Seriously, San Crispino is maybe the best gelato in Rome, and this flavor is pretty great. Like most of SC's flavors, it's pretty subtle: just a slight honey flavor. I think it'd take a pretty sophisticated palate (by which I mean "more sophisticated than my slacker palate") to recognize specific arbutus-y notes in it. Random political/celebrity moment: my friend was at San Crispino last week and was right behind Romano Prodi. It's hard to imagine too many world leaders just stopping in for a quick gelato (Bush or Berlusconi? naaah.) But there he was-- though I don't know what flavor he got. My friend asked the worker (the gelataio?) how often Prodi comes in, and the guy just sort of shrugged his shoulders: "boh- often enough." Anyway, here's a photo of an unripe arbutus berry (from Campania, not Sardinia), taken at the beginning of April: You can how the berries are kind of fuzzy; when they get ripe they turn red and look a little like strawberries. Indeed, the arbutus sometimes gets referred to as the strawberry tree, a name that's probably more evocative than it deserves...

Aw shucks; thanks Kevin. I'm afraid that I haven't updated the blog for a long time, but now that I have a little more free time, I intend to get a few more posts-- including food-related ones-- up before I head back to the US...

Were they soft or really young? I bought pecorino Sardo for the pesto I made last weekend and was surprised that it was a fairly young cheese. You know, I'm not sure how old they were. The texture wasn't hard like an aged pecorino, so I guess they weren't too old. They weren't stinky like a gorgonzola or soft stinky cheese; it's more that they had a real odor of... sheep.

When I think of Sardinian food, I think of stinky sheep cheeses. (With or without maggots.) When I was in Parma at the beginning of May, there was a food fair with a Sardinian booth: Those cheeses at the end were pretty good. But stinky, yo. One of my favorite Sardinian foods are gnochetti: a shell-shaped pasta, sort of but not exactly like gnocchi. Usually served with a sort of tomato and sausage sauce (though they're also good-- though less traditional-- with pesto.)

And I had the best lobster bisque ever there: all creamy and lobster-y and good. Probably from the same lobster you had. (And so the circle of life continues, Simba...)

A followup on supermarket colombe and panettone: I asked an Italian friend what he thought about this phenomenon. His response was that "in Italy, the upper classes and the lower classes just eat the packaged stuff and don't think much about it. It's just the bourgeoisie, like us, who worry about this sort of thing." I don't know if this is a very useful answer-- and I'm not sure that he was all that serious, either. But if nothing else, it shows the difficulty of getting a straight answer out of an Italian communist academic...

A widdle bit of googling reveals: 1009 N. Bodine Street, Philadelphia, PA (via this food blog, which has another post on FPC here.) Looks good. I could go for some good fried chicken. And waffles. Oh my, yes.

Heh. Those poor priests! ← I change my mind. Just learned about "cazzetti d'angeli." Immature, I know. ← Pontormo, I like the way you think. But I have no idea what that pasta looks like... and I'm not sure I really want to know. There are some serious theological difficulties inherent in that dish...

Nice looking oven; I like the stone facing. And it convinces me once and for all that I was at a different place last month- the top of its oven was covered with blue tile...

Thanks, I'll give that a try next time I'm in Naples. Since then, I've been fantasizing about opening a friggitoria in the US: a place that would sell cheap, high-quality fried foods. Suppli, arancie, zucchini flowers (and maybe the vegetable too), eggplant, etc. I wonder if it would have any hope of being successful. The problem would be that it would have to be someplace with lots of foot traffic (so a city like New York or Philadelphia), but the rent would be pretty high in one of those places. And I don't know how easily Americans would take to Italian-style fried foods... That may be. This time around, at least, I definitely went to di Matteo (they have the name in tiles on their oven.) I may have gotten confused by the Slow Food osterie guide (2005), which says about di Matteo: "il locale e conosciuto dalla gente del posto come la pizzeria del Presidente" (and then gives the story.) Anyway, it's yet another excuse to get back there and eat more pizza.

After Rome, Naples is probably my favorite city in Italy. It’s beautiful (sometimes stunningly so), vibrant and with more history and culture than I could ever hope to absorb. So I’ve been very glad to have had the chance to head down to Naples a few times over the last few months. The most recent trip was on April 14- Good Friday. This was a short visit (just a few hours), and I wasn’t able to go to any sit-down restaurants this time around. But I was able to take some notes on my favorite Neapolitan street foods. I started with my favorite pizza in Naples: Di Matteo, aka “Del Presidente”. It’s the president’s pizza thanks to Bill Clinton, who in 2001 took time out from the G8 summit in Naples to stop in here and enjoy a pizza. They’re pretty proud of this: there are lots of photos of the prez on the walls of the store. The restaurant is pretty much a hole in the wall- though with a very convenient location on the via Tribunali, smack dab in the middle of Spaccanapoli. And the pizza! This picture is actually from an earlier trip—this time around, I was too busy eating! This is a small: about the size of an LP record (hey, remember those?). If I remember right, it cost a euro: cheap cheap cheap. This time around, I was charged € 1.50. I’m not sure why: the only difference was that before they had several pizzas already made, and this time it was made to order. At any rate, a measly 50 cents is a bargain for a freshly-made pizza like this. I had it served to go, and ate it while sitting on the steps of S. Paolo Maggiore just up the street. This is a fantastic pizza, people: a real taste from the pizza mothership. Served like this, the crust is soft and floppy and slightly charred underneath. It needs to be floppy, because you have to fold it up into sort of a cone to keep the molten cheese from slopping out over the sides. The cheese and sauce sort of turn into a volcanic stew of sweet salty greasy goodness, like a Vesuvius in your hands. If there’s a better, cheaper way to spend your money on food, I’d like to know about it. Though Friggitoria Vomero may come close. This is up in the Vomero neighborhood, the highest part of town and right near the Castel Sant’ Elmo. They specialize in fried foods—hence the “friggitoria”. And when they’re frying, you can tell. I wouldn’t want to live nearby; it would drive me crazy. But it’s gotta be a good marketing technique: put an awesome fried-foods joint right next to the funicular... It’s hard to pass it up. Here is part of what I got. Again, I lacked the discipline to start eating until AFTER the photos were done; sorry, because the photo is missing the star of the show, an amazing zucchini blossom. But what’s left is good too: from the left, a faggotino (baked, not fried) stuffed with escarole. (For those looking for an extra carbo-blast, they also serve them filled with pasta. yow.) I’ve learned just how good a filling escarole is: another one of my deep-fried Neapolitan friends is a deep-fried pastry stuffed with escarole. (I can’t remember the name: maybe calzono?) Next up is a very simple slice of eggplant, fried in a light batter. Entirely too easy to eat these. And finally, a small fried pizza: a piece of fried dough with sauce and cheese and one little basil leaf. Yum! Fiori zi zucca and eggplant were each 30 cents, I think. The faggotino and pizza were a little more, but in all, the food came to about 3 euros. Need I mention what an insane bargain this was? After the fried goodness, we waddled up to the Certosa di S. Martino monastery and looked out over the gorgeous Neapolitan skyline and Vesuvius in the distance: and reflected on the fact that, on the whole, it was a pretty good fry-day.