1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (48 page)

Within Emilia-Romagna, the ultimate product is
culatello di Zibello
, produced artisanally in a specific area around Parma, centered in the town of Zibello—a product so distinctive that its name is protected by the territorial Denominazione di Origine Protetta (D.O.P.) label. The label assures not only that the meat was cured within the area, but that the pig resided there while alive, and that all steps of the slaughter, butchering, and curing were performed within the region’s boundaries.

The cut for culatello is the bundle of muscles from the upper hind leg of the native pig. After being skinned and boned (another way in which culatello differs from prosciutto, which is cured on the bone), the cut is salted down; enmeshed in a net of twine that imparts a pear shape, it is then encased in a pig’s bladder for a year-long hanging in a cold curing room, where it dehydrates to a weight of six to ten pounds.

When it has cured to perfection, the snowy mold-covered chunk must be trimmed of twine and washed in warm water, then left to soften in dry white wine for a few days. For the tenderest results and most felicitous mouthfeel, the meat should be hand-sliced into thin, silky folds that follow its grain and form.

Where:
In Bologna
, Tamburini, tel 39/051-234726,
tamburini.com
.
Further information:
The Splendid Table
by Lynne Rossetto Kasper (1992).
Special event:
November Porc, tastings of culatello di Zibello, Emilia-Romagna, November,
novemberporc.com
.

Sure, you can get espresso everywhere these days—but will it be made with just the right amount of the right coffee, and with perfect water at a precise temperature, by a trained barista? For a benchmark espresso, stroll around the Pantheon in Rome (the most complete ancient Roman building in town) to Piazza Sant’Eustachio and knock one back at the bar of Caffè Sant’Eustachio, famous for the mellow strength of its espresso and the quality of its tell-tale spuma. This foam topping is considered perfect when it is tinted a creamy tan, never black (an indication of brewing with overheated water), and can hold a sprinkling of sugar for several seconds before it sinks. Lightly sweetened unless requested otherwise, Sant’Eustachio’s espresso is designed for the Roman palate—prepared with less-acidic coffee than is preferred in northern Italy (Rome being the dividing line between Italy’s north and south).

It’s easy to get into arguments about Rome’s best espresso, but Tazza d’Oro seems to be the top challenger to Sant’Eustachio. The chain has several locations, but the outpost aficionados prefer is also near the Pantheon.

Amble back and forth between Tazza d’Oro and Sant’Eustachio and decide for yourself, but beware of catching a case of the jitters while you’re at it. In summer, at either café, try the restorative icy
granita di caffè
—what we know as Italian ice, made of this lusty caffeinated drink. For a real indulgence, order it
con panna
, with a cloudlet of softly whipped cream.

Where:
In Rome
, Il Caffè Sant’Eustachio, tel 39/06-686-1309,
santeustachioilcaffe.it
; La Casa del Caffè del Tazza d’Oro, tel 39/06-67-89-792,
tazzadorocoffeeshop.com
.
Tip:
Do it yourself with imported espresso coffee from Illy or Danesi, both widely available in the U.S.

Lightly sautéed, the dish is delicate but satisfying.

It has been said that liver is often both underrated and overcooked—and this statement is all too true. Lightly and delicately sautéed in butter, the tender meat
should
emerge with just a faint golden glow and a blush-pink interior. It should also be calf’s liver, with its smooth, unctuous texture and mild, delicate flavor—or pig’s or lamb’s liver, the latter of which is typically seen around the Mediterranean. Coarse, strong beef liver is usually what gives all liver a bad name.

Nowhere is calf’s liver more exalted than in the Veneto region of Italy, where
fegato alla veneziana
began its reign: Thin slices of tender, sage-seasoned calf’s liver were sautéed with satiny soft onions, a splash of vinegar (or sometimes white wine) ending it all with a tang. The dish was elevated to new and fashionable heights when the Cipriani family opened Harry’s Bar in Venice in 1931 and took the then-daring step of putting the offal on the menu. The move kicked off a new feeling about rustic Italian food and put calf’s liver with onions on the culinary map. (A sunny helping of softly cooked polenta didn’t hurt the cause.)

Where:
In Venice
, Harry’s Bar, tel 39/041-528-5777,
harrysbarvenezia.com
;
in New York
, Harry Cipriani, tel 212-308-5653,
cipriani.com
;
in Scottsdale, AZ
, Veneto Trattoria, tel 480-948-9928,
venetotrattoria.com
.
Further information and recipes:
The Harry’s Bar Cookbook
by Harry Cipriani (1991);
Saveur Cooks Authentic Italian
edited by
Saveur
magazine (2008);
foodnetwork.com
(search calves liver venetian style).

Come November, most serious, upscale Italian delis or groceries begin to stock little square straw baskets holding tightly compressed, golden-brown figs, each stuffed with a whole toasted almond. In a treat that is traditional to the Naples area, the figs are baked with a topping of fragrant bay leaves, some redolent of wine or brandy, and all with a sweet, chewy succulence that contrasts with the sudden snap-crunch of the almond within.

The Calabrian version has a richer stuffing: Powdered cocoa is added to slivered almonds, along with the diced peels of oranges, lemons, and citrons. While hot, the baked, stuffed figs are dipped in red wine and layered into a terrine, along with sprinklings of powdered cinnamon, cloves, and sugar. They’re then left to cool and their flavors to ripen. They remain delectably fresh, chewy, and moist for months, their exotic blend of flavors intact; if they do dry out, a brief simmering in clove-scented red wine (in which they can be left to marinate for a day or two) will return them to a lusciously viable state once again.

Whether of the Neapolitan or the Calabrian persuasion, baked stuffed figs are delicious with glasses of wine, grappa, or strong tea, and make an elegant and satisfying small dessert after a large meal.

Where:
In New York and Chicago
, seasonally, Eataly,
eataly.com
.

The parallels in flavor between a ripe, pungent white truffle and this cheese from the same Piedmont region of northern Italy are examples of the power of
terroir
. Fontina d’Aosta’s earthy essence is not really so surprising. But welcome it is, enhancing a firm ivory cheese that is soft enough for nibbling but more alluring when cooked.

Made for centuries from unpasteurized cow’s milk, Fontina d’Aosta is a classic semihard cheese. It comes in sunny twenty-pound wheels that sport official emblems attesting to its authenticity. Thankfully we can import high-quality Fontina d’Aosta to our shores because it is ripened for nearly four months, satisfying U.S. import laws, which require raw-milk cheeses to be aged a minimum of sixty days. Look for Fontina marked Denominazione di Origine Protetta (D.O.P.), assuring its point of origin, ingredients, and methods of processing, all overseen by a consortium authorized by the Italian ministry.

Fontina graces all manner of pressed sandwiches and pizzas, but it makes its most authentic appearance in the dish
fonduta.
A first cousin to the Swiss fondue, the hearty mountain specialty involves a heated, whipped combination of cheese, milk, butter, and eggs, spooned atop rice, polenta, or vegetables. (Urbane cityfolk seeking kingly meals would be well advised to top homemade
fonduta
with grated white truffles and serve it with a Piedmont red wine such as Barbaresco.)

Retail and mail order:
In New York
, Murray’s Cheese, tel 888-692-4339,
murrayscheese.com
.
Further information and recipes:
Lidia Cooks from the Heart of Italy
by Lidia Bastianich (2009);
Cheese Primer
by Steven Jenkins (1996).
Tip:
When shopping for fontina, avoid old rounds, detectable by their off, somewhat foul odor or cracked appearance.

Gently curved cheese crisps are delicious solo or with dip.

It’s hard to believe that the lacy-edged and crisp
frico
—literally “little trifle”—is simply a bit of grated hard cheese fried in olive oil or baked in a hot oven. The quintessentially cheesy and utterly habit-forming appetizer, traditionally made with a sweet and milky cow’s cheese called Montasio, has a marvelous simplicity that belies a long and fascinating history: A specialty of Italy’s northeastern Friuli–Venezia Giulia region, it was a snack that the wives of vineyard workers made for their spouses at
lunchtime as early as the fifteenth century.

Inventive cooks eventually figured out that hot-off-the-griddle frico can be molded before it cools, perhaps formed into little baskets to be filled with polenta, green salad, or a sautéed potato and onion concoction. (But bite-size is by far the more commonplace, popular primarily with an aperitif or as a premeal nibble.)

Where:
In Denver
, Panzano, tel 303-296-3525,
panzano-denver.com
;
in Kansas City, MO
, Lidia’s Kansas City, tel 816-221-3722,
lidias-kc.com
;
in Pittsburgh
, Lidia’s Pittsburgh, tel 412-552-0150,
lidias-pittsburgh.com
.
Mail order:
igourmet.com
(search montasio).
Further information and recipes:
Lidia’s Italian Table
by Lidia Bastianich (1998);
saveur.com
(search montasio cheese crisps).
Tip:
When baking frico, use a nonstick Silpat sheet. If frying, use a nonstick pan. If you can’t find Montasio, Parmigiano-Reggiano, grana padana, or asiago are workable alternatives.

Pair with crisp white wine for a summer meal.

While Tuscany’s meaty mixed fry (see
listing
) is largely unknown outside of its homeland, Southern Italy’s popular fish and shellfish version has traveled the world. No matter where it is prepared, its highly anticipated arrival is heralded by the warm scent of fresh and sunny vegetable oil (never olive, but preferably corn or sunflower) and the tangy salt-air aroma of the sea. A pre-fry dusting of flour on the seafood is all the preparation that is needed, and in very hot cooking oil the frying will take only a few minutes. Some seafood types must cook longer than others. Tiny, lacy tentacles of squid need more time than slim fingers of flounder or cut lengths of eel. Whiting (
merluzzo
) should be fried whole, as should temptingly tiny new spring crabs. Traditionalists will insist that if shrimp are included, they should be left unshelled, with heads on, as they would be in Italy. De rigueur, no matter the mix, are shelled clams and mussels.