1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (42 page)

The pungently bright lemon-egg sauce that enlivens so many Greek specialties is less expected (though no less appreciated) in the Italian lamb dish
abbacchio brodettato.
And given the symbolic importance of both lamb and eggs, it’s no wonder abbacchio brodettato is an Easter favorite in Rome and in the Adriatic regions of Abruzzo and Apulia. Also known as
agnello all’uovo e agro di limone
(lamb with egg and the bitterness of lemon), the dish begins with the tenderest milk-fed lamb, cut into bite-size pieces and gently stewed along with prosciutto, onions, white wine, and stock.

The magic happens when the meltingly tender lamb is about to be served. Over low heat, it is doused with a sunny blend of egg yolk, lemon juice and grated zest, marjoram, and pepper, all beaten lightly and quickly with a fork. The result is a creamy sauce that remains a satiny liquid without any scrambled egg coagulation, a neat trick that is the mark of a skillful cook. The astringent acidity of the lemon provides just the right contrast to the strong, earthy flavor of the meat.

In both Abruzzo and the neighboring region of Apulia, the dish is sometimes made with baby goat (kid), or
capretto.
The sauce can also be prepared with freshly grated nutmeg instead of marjoram, for a warmer, more exotic touch.

Given that the typical Easter meal would begin with a few antipasti and a pasta, abbacchio brodettato would be a sufficient and delicious main course.

Where:
In Rome
, Ristorante Matricianella, tel 39/06-683-2100,
matricianella.it
.
Further information and recipes:
Italian Cuisine
by Tony May (2005);
Naples at Table
by Arthur Schwartz (1998), see Agnello Cacio e Vova; for the Apulia and Abruzzi versions,
Flavors of Puglia
by Nancy Harmon Jenkins (1997);
italianfood.about.com
(search abbacchio brodettato).

Have you ever had deeply bronzed, syrupy garnet vinegar drizzled sparingly over a small chunk of Parmesan cheese or a spring bowlful of the wild woodland strawberries
fraises des bois
(see
listing
)? If not, you may never have encountered a genuine
balsamico
at all. Winey, top-dollar balsamics have become enormously popular, but the category is almost always misrepresented by thin, cheap, watery impostors
bestowing undesired sweetness to all sorts of salads, main courses, and sauces that should be savory.

The real balsamic vinegar that is the specialty of Emilia-Romagna, and in particular of the region around the towns of Modena and Reggio, can cost as much as $150 for a tiny bottle—which is why it is portioned out as carefully as caviar. Its flavor should hint of Madeira wine with a brassy candied sweetness, a winey acidity, and undertones of oak. By contrast, cheap balsamic tastes like artificially sweetened wine vinegar.

To be sure that you’re getting the real McCoy, look for regional authentication via a Denominazione di Origine Controllata (D.O.C.) label indicating that the vinegar has been produced and aged a minimum of twelve years (with the best and most expensive going to twenty-five) in and around the areas of Modena and Reggio, according to Italian law. Regional consortiums send representatives annually to check the progress of these vinegars as they age, determining which are ready to bottle, which need more time, and which are never going to make it due to imperfections detected during their development.

Mecca for balsamic lovers is the Osteria di Rubbiara in Nonantola, just outside of Modena, a sprawling, lively wine tavern where a single meal is served each night, all dishes having been prepared with
balsamico
. The real revelation is a visit to the back of house, where the management maintains its balsamico “cave” (albeit on a second floor). Here one can see the rows of small oak barrels filled with the aging vinegar, and hear them all described.

It is the custom of the owners’ family to put up a barrel of vinegar for each new baby born to the family, to be given as a sort of inheritance twenty-five years later. And a valuable inheritance it is. According to Lynne Rossetto Kasper’s excellent book
The Splendid Table
, the name
balsamic
refers to a balm or cure. And this vinegar has been considered a balm since as far back as the seventeenth century—some still swear by a few drops as a remedy for sore throats. (Others use it as a cure for blandness on a grilled veal chop, and it makes an elegant touch when a droplet or two tops a dessert portion of Parmesan cheese.)

Where:
In Nonantola, Italy
, Osteria di Rubbiara, tel 39/59-549019.
Further information and recipes:
The Splendid Table: Recipes from Emilia-Romagna, the Heartland of Northern Italian Food
by Lynne Rossetto Kasper (1992).

An
affogato
—vanilla ice cream that is “suffocated” in a bath of hot espresso—is pure simplicity. It consists of only those two ingredients and is as easy to prepare as it is appealing as a light dessert. There is majesty in its combination of hot and cold, liquid and (melting) solid, bitter and sweet as well as in the way the espresso washes over the ice cream—lovely to behold and even better to sip or delicately slurp from a long-handled spoon. And the affogato only gets better as the ice cream dissolves. Technically called
gelato affogato al caffè
, affogato—as it’s commonly shortened to on restaurant menus—the invention is generally credited to Turin, where it is served in nearly
every bar. It became popular stateside sometime in the late 1990s, and is now a staple on chic Italian dessert menus across the U.S. But it is dead easy to prepare at home: All you need in order to make the world’s most urbane sundae is good cold ice cream, preferably vanilla; a narrow juicesize glass; and very fresh, very hot espresso. Skip the sugar and, of course, the milk or cream.…

Where:
In New York
, Sandro’s, tel 212-288-7374,
sandrosnyc.com
; Marea, tel 212-582-5100,
marea-nyc.com
;
in Los Angeles
, Angelini Osteria, tel 323-297-0070,
angeliniosteria.com
.
Further information and recipe:
foodnetwork.com
(search affogato ina garten).

This impeccably simple dish is equally delicious hot or cold.

According to the authoritative 1967 cookbook
Le Ricette Regionali Italiane
, this roasted, rosemary-scented pork loin has an antique past: A specialty of the Florentine kitchen, the dish owes its name to the visiting Greek clergy who, attending the ecumenical council of 1430, declared it
árista
(Greek for “the best”).

One might expect a more complex recipe for such a heralded dish, but simplicity seems to have prevailed through the ages: Studded with slivers of garlic, rubbed down with salt and pepper, firmly bound with string, and tucked with sprigs of rosemary, the loin is ideally threaded onto a skewer and cooked on a rotisserie in front of an open fire, where it turns slowly, fragrantly, and succulently. (More likely these days—and only a bit less tantalizingly—the arista is slowly oven-roasted in an open pan.)

It is so simple, yet is distinguished by the inclusion of rosemary, the herb that differentiates the Florentine arista from pork loins roasted in other parts of Italy. A most traditional accompaniment would be pearly white beans, done either
all’uccelletto
(stewed with tomato, garlic, fresh sage leaves, and olive oil) or
al forno fiorentina
(baked in an earthenware casserole with tomatoes, pancetta, leeks, garlic, and olive oil), for a rich, thick nest for the sliced pork.

Where:
In Florence
, Coco Lezzone, tel 39/055-287-178,
cocolezzone.it
.
Further information and recipes:
For a braised version,
Marcella’s Italian Kitchen
by Marcella Hazan (1986), see Lombata di Maiale al Forno;
saveur.com
(search roasted herb-stuffed pork loin).

Caravaggio achieved intense realism with his
Basket of Fruit
.

As far as virtual feasts go,
Basket of Fruit
, painted in 1599 by the Renaissance master Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (1571–1610), is a masterpiece of the genre. For Italy-bound food tourists, it may also serve as an inspirational prelude to a tasting of the country’s incomparable summer fruits, most of which are available in open-air produce markets such as Rome’s Campo dei Fiori between late spring and early autumn.

It should be no surprise that the country that is home to arguably the most exquisite fruit still-life painting ever created also produces the world’s most fragrant and delectable pears, peaches, apricots, grapes, and figs. Fortunately, it is not necessary to go to Milan’s Pinacoteca Ambrosiana to have a glimpse of the painting (although that’s not a bad idea). Widely available for viewing in art books and online, the painting celebrates Italy’s most luscious fruits not only in their succulent prime, but also as some sadly and inevitably age toward decay, making them prey for a few of the most beguiling little worms and bugs ever drawn and colored.

A masterpiece of trompe l’oeil,
Basket of Fruit
ignites the salivary glands and invites the viewer to reach out for a red-gold peach, a sunny pear, plump and honeyed black and green figs, a perfect tart quince, a few luscious berries, and juicy red and green grapes. Try not to disturb the pretty grasshopper as you reach in.

Where:
In Milan
, Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, tel 39/02-806921,
ambrosiana.eu
.

In 1852, the French writer and gourmand Alexandre Dumas asserted: “Among the many good and beautiful things that I have found in Torino, I will never forget the
bicerin
, the best drink made with coffee, milk, and chocolate, served in all the
cafés at a relatively low price.” Dumas was not the only intellectual to hold this beguiling beverage in such high regard. The creamy, steamy blend of dark chocolate, espresso, and milk also captivated Ernest Hemingway, Italo Calvino, and Pablo Picasso, among others. Lest we ascribe too much merit to its powers, however, let us remember that although Friedrich Nietzsche was also a fan of bicerin (pronounced bee-cha-REEN), its rich mocha essence did little to cure his bleak melancholia.

Served in small, stemmed glasses at many cafés in its native Turin, the elegant city long celebrated for fine chocolates, this soul-warming confectionery drink is best experienced at Caffè al Bicerin—a fixture on this Piedmont city’s antique Piazza della Consolata, close to the colorfully gentrified quarter of Quadrilatero Romano, since 1763.

Some credit this café with the invention of the beverage (whose name derives from
bicchierino
, referring to the small glass that is so very far removed from the oversize monstrosities used for mochas in the U.S.), while others believe it was created at the extant and even older Caffè Florio. In any case, as far back as the seventeenth century, Turin and its province of Piedmont were already known for the Bavareisa, a similar drink in which the same luscious ingredients were stirred together. (In the bicerin they are layered in the glass.)

To prepare an authentic bicerin, you need a steady hand and a 4-or 5-ounce stemmed glass, slightly warmed. Fill it about a quarter of the way with strong, freshly brewed espresso, then another quarter or so with melted bittersweet chocolate, and finally crown it all with rich frothed whole milk or half-and-half. Sit back and take a sip. As coffee, chocolate, and creamy topping mingle into a blissful mocha haze, do not be surprised if Nietzsche, Hemingway, Picasso, or Calvino should happen to come by for a visit.