Aroma Cucina

Where Have We Been Lately?

‘May you live in interesting times.’ - ancient Chinese curse.
“They are times of danger and uncertainty; but they are also more open to the creative energy of men than any other time in history.” - Robert F Kennedy

Not that we’ve been in any danger, and that phrase about interesting times is most likely not a Chinese curse at all, but lately we have been roiled and rolled by life! 

Planning for the upcoming IACP Conference in NYC next spring has dominated our days, but it has been interesting, entertaining and stimulating. The collective creative energy of everyone involved is making this one wild and crazy time.

Earlier this week we went on a ‘dry run’ of one of our optional tours that will be offered during Conference. Escorted by the charming Kian Lam Kho of Red Cook,  we fearlessly boarded the No. 7 train to Flushing Queens.  He took us to three of his favorite restaurants: a Taiwanese, a Shanghai and a northern Chinese restaurant where we had the most amazing cumin crusted rack of lamb ribs. Cumin lamb ribs are Chinese? I would go back to Flushing in a heartbeat to eat these crispy, crunchy cumin-y ribs!
 Our last stop was the huge New World mall Food Court and I confess, I barely had any belly room left for tasting the hand pulled noodles that would normally be tops on my “To Slurp” list.

Grace Young, the Stir Fry Guru, was also along on our excursion and kept us entertained with stories and recipes from her family in China. We sampled the sticky, sweet, savory, succulent “3 cup chicken” at the Taiwanese restaurant. This launched a conversation about regional cooking variations that sounded as much like Italy as it did about China.  Grace’s uncle’s version of 3 cup chicken included equal parts rice vinegar, soy sauce and sugar. While Kian’s version was equal parts rice vinegar, soy sauce and sesame oil.  All I know is Jeff kept jabbing me with a chopstick saying, “You have to make this!!” So I guess I’ll be experimenting with this tasty glaze in the very near future.

Sea intestine just doesn’t sound appetizing, does it? Does it make you any more intrigued if I say it’s actually a sea worm? Or that one description of the live sea worm described it as a phallic filled condom?
Here are two of our cohorts watching a YouTube video of a tank of sea intestine worms. mmm...

But for all that buildup, it’s a mild flavored, toothsome, ingredient that when it is cleaned and cooked, looks a lot like whole wheat ziti and tastes great paired with braised Chinese celery.

One of my surprise favorites was the curdled soymilk soup. Despite it’s off putting look, I could see craving a bowl of this savory soup on a blustery cold day.

I’m late to the party when it comes to soup dumplings.  It seems like everyone else has been singing the praises of xian long bow. I thought soup dumpling meant the dumpling was in a bowl of soup, but it’s the other way around: the soup is inside the dumpling! (How do they do that??)

I needed a lesson on the proper way to eat soup dumplings and the beautiful Maya was happy to show me the ropes. Most important: eat them hot, hot! Carefully pry the dumpling out of the steamer with your chopsticks and into your spoon, add some ginger flavored vinegar to the spoon, bite the top off of the dumpling and then slurp up the soup and the dumpling. I believe this causes an instant addiction reaction.

And that, my friends,  was just one afternoon of Conference planning! I mean we had to do a ‘dry run’ of one of the tours we are planning, right?

 If you want to take this tour you’ll have to join IACP and come along on Kian’s next tour of Chinatown!
Buon appetito indeed.

Eating the NE Corridor: We gave thanks!

From New York City to Philadelphia to Baltimore to Washington NJ, we gave thanks. Thanks for family, thanks for friends who are extended family, and thanks for the memories to those who were not with us this weekend. Make no mistake, we ate and drank extremely well, but it was all about sharing.

Pre-Thanksgiving dinner at my cousin’s house has turned into a semi-annual event that is not to be missed. We all gather with choice wines in hand, and Jim and Zona turn out a 5 star meal.  One of the big hits of the evening: grilled pork tenderloin stuffed with figs and a Spanish blue cheese, served with a guava habenero sauce. Oh yeah!  The sauce was thick, rich and weighty, with a bracing kick of spice.

They have kindly shared the sauce recipe with us:
Ingredients:
                  12- 15 oz guava juice
                   2 heavy tsp. blackberry preserves or jelly
                   1 large shallot minced
                   1" piece of fresh ginger peeled and grated
                   1/4 cup honey
                   1/4 cup soy
                   1 good size habenero minced finely
 
Gently sauté the minced shallot in butter taking care not to brown the shallot.
Add the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil,  then reduce to low simmer.  
Add a butter/flour roux to thicken and cook for about an hour.
Refrigerate overnight and heat back up near a boil and and then strain the solids.

Our Baltimore Thanksgiving day tradition always starts off with a massive Oyster Rockefeller fiesta.  I see your face...”Oysters Rockefeller? That is so 1950's!” Which of course you are saying in your best "Honey Badger" voice.

If more people made this classic dish the way it should be made, you wouldn’t be making that face. Barely warmed oysters, topped with spinach, nuts and garlic, and sprinkled with grated cheese. The oysters are pulled out of the oven the instant the cheese bubbles.  The kind of perfection that people fight over! Serve with a cool glass of something sparkling.

We made our way back to Philadelphia on Friday where I had a taste epiphany: beer!


I’m one of the last holdouts in this craft beer craze that’s been going on, but I have seen the light at the fun and funky KraftWork Bar. Marvelously complex beers that are just crying out to be part of a cocktail, a dessert, or a little roast meat glaze. The idea flood gate has opened!

One last hurrah before the weekend was out: the annual Post-Thanksgiving Lobster fest featuring the best ceviche ever. Because, after all, there is always room for lobster, right?


Thank you to everyone who shared meals, laughter, wine, food and love with us this weekend!

Eating Alberto Il Magnifico: from beak to tail.

Alberto Il Magnifico was a capon, raised with loving care and surrounded by our growing appetites.
In case you are wondering, a capon is a castrated rooster. According to Wiki, the Romans ‘invented‘ capons as a way to get around grain rationing for chickens. Those crafty Romans would snip the little testicles off their roosters, feed them grain and they would grow to be twice the size of a chicken.  And here is your word for the day: caponization. Yup, that means snipping off of the balls. Now, use it in a sentence and report back.

Our friend Paddy struck a deal with me one extremely hot evening in July: he would raise the capons, and I would cook them. Seeing as how I was getting the far better part of this deal, we shook hands and Paddy raised Alberto from scruffy chick to Il Magnifco status.

Last week, the phone call came: it was time for Alberto to serve a higher purpose.
Put sentimentality aside for the moment. It costs money and time to raise birds; it’s been raised to be eaten, and there comes a time when the investment must pay off. If you are of the sentimental type, don’t name the animal. We cried for weeks when it was time for Cream Puff the bull to be made into short ribs.


Alberto was dispatched quickly with one shot, so there was no fear, anxiety or adrenaline rushing through his body. Paddy’s beautiful wife Tita did the plucking, and I must say, she is a master plucker. Not a stray pin feather to be found. (Jay..are you paying attention?)

Alberto was handed off to us in a plastic bag in a parking lot. What an ignoble setting for such a magnificent bird; he should have come to us on a silver platter surrounded by cooing doves who spoke of him in soft tones. Actually the plastic bag worked just fine because we’d never be able to fit a covy of doves into the trunk of my little roadster. In fact, poor Alberto had to ride home wedged in the front seat between my legs because he couldn’t fit in the trunk.

Paddy and I had gone back and forth on how to roast him, and we finally settled on a Renaissance-inspired glaze of honey and spices with a shot of whiskey.

Alberto was given a soothing brine bath for about two hours to let the salt do its magic and seal in the juices. I stuffed the cavity with a small, sweet orange and bunches of thyme, rosemary and sage from our garden. The skin was generously salted and Alberto was ready for roasting.

In the meantime I roasted some potatoes, made a fennel gratin, a large green salad and heaps of artichokes, so that Alberto would have plenty of company on the dinner table.

About half an hour before Alberto was done, I began painting him in 10 minute intervals with the glaze until his skin turned a dark, crackling mahogany color.

There were many glasses of wine drunk in his honor and we still sing his praises.
His bones were turned into broth, the left over scraps of meat were fed to our appreciative feline friends Niccolino and Raffaello.

Since then we’ve had capon broth risotto, and a most outstanding tortellini in capon broth, the spices from the glaze still wafting through the soup in a tantalizing way.

Spiced Honey Glaze
1/2 cup honey
1/4 teaspoon strong cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon all spice
a few scrapes of nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon powdered ginger or a few slices of fresh ginger
4-5 juniper berries
1 chili pepper
1 shot whiskey

Over low heat, melt the honey and add the spices and chili pepper, let simmer for 5-10 minutes. Add the whiskey and let simmer for another few minutes until the glaze is dark and thick.

Let the bird roast until nearly done and then pull it from the oven and paint the glaze over the entire bird. Repeat two or three times until you have a dark crust on the bird.

Alberto, you were and always will be Il Magnifico!

Plate2Page Magic in Toscana

Is it alchemy or magic when a spell is cast and you are transported to another place? When words transport and images bring a place to life?
Food bloggers are stuck in that nether world between art and craft, hobby and vocation, respect and silliness.
Perhaps we belong to the old tradition of serial story telling?
Not unlike Pinocchio and the Pickwick Papers that told their stories in regular releases in the newspaper, we tell stories and share recipes in little daily bites. Our loyal readers are in on the jokes, know the characters, know of my fondness for roasting quail.

It was in that spirit, of wanting to walk in Dickens or Collodi’s shoes,  that I went to the Plate2Page food writer & photography workshop in Tuscany.

OK...I confess Dickens was not exactly what I was thinking about on the long, foggy drive from Montone to Pistoia. But, I was looking for inspiration, and permission, to play with my words and my photos.

Writing is solitary and there is certainly an appeal to being able to share fears and frustrations with other who tell tales through words and pictures. How much of my personal life should I reveal, must everything be 100% truthful and hot off the fire, how often must I blog, and how the hell do I adjust the white balance on my camera? 

Blogging is a new frontier for sharing and those of us who truly care about what we write push ourselves to do it better with every post.


There were 16 of us: 4 organizers/teachers and 12 participants. We came from:Germany via India, France via Florida, South Africa via England, Italy via Sweden, Malta, Brazil,Canada, California, Denver, Belgium, Toronto, Poland, Amsterdam, England. In other places and other situations, this might make for long uncomfortable silences, but when food is your love, the barriers melt, the Belgium chocolates are passed around and the noise level rises.

There was a late night photography class, and multiples of writing and photography assignments throughout the weekend. And while I picked up technical knowledge, what I truly gained was a respect for our craft and the comfort of comraderie with my fellow serial writers.

Many thanks to our creative organizers: Meeta of  What’s for Lunch, Honey; Jean of Cooksister;  Jamie of Life’s a Feast, and Ilva of Lucullian Delights. Each of you brought something unique and wonderful to the experience.

And more thanks to the generous sponsors of this Plate2Page workshop: Bisol Prosecco, Sunchowder’s fabulous jams, Zwilling J.A. Henckel’s knives, tasteofhome's yummy baking book, Smaromi’s gorgeous salts, OXO, South African’s Peppadew peppers, Cavi-Art’s beautiful faux caviar, Gallo rice, Nielsen-Massey Vanilla, Gourmelli’s pink Himalayan salt slab, Matcha Factory’s green tea powder and travel size bottles of Tabasco.

Olio Novello Time is Here! 'Tis the season for fresh olive oil!

It’s olive picking time in Umbria. Olive picking, followed by pressing is fragrantly joyous; there is something comforting about knowing you will have oil. It means there will be food on the table and it will be good.

This past weekend, a small group of us were invited by Mario Ciampetti of Hispellum, Terre Rosse to participate in an olive oil weekend in Spello, Umbria. It was an eye-opeining experience to hear first hand why Mario is so committed and passionate about his particular olive oil.  Mario only grows and produces the ‘moraiolo’ olive, that is indigenous to Umbria. It’s a small olive, with a big pit, and big flavor.  He grows his olives under biodynamic conditions and believes that his oil speaks directly and passionately about where it comes from.

He is right. His oil is unlike any oil I’ve tasted before.  It is unique. The freshly pressed oil is an amazing bright emerald green color. When I first saw it on bread, I thought the bread had pesto on it, but it was just the oil. The initial flavor hints of artichoke leaves, and this eventually gives way to a spiciness that leaves a tickle in the throat.

Sunday morning Mario brought us to his olive grove to do a little olive picking. His experienced workers had already spread the nets on the ground. Thanks god, because net management is really a pain. It’s an ongoing battle to lay the nets so there are no holes or places for the olives to escape, and so you can channel those runaway olives to stream downhill into the crates.

The guys all got to use the ‘shaky’ machines to do their harvesting. Picture a long handled, long-tined pitchfork that does very fast 90 degree turns and literally shakes the olives out of the trees.
The girls were given small hand rakes to comb the lower hanging olives out of the trees.  That worked for me, it was a much quieter and more peaceful experience than going Olive Busting!

Olive picking is communal. My guess is that it has always been communal just by the nature of needing lots of olives, all picked at the same time. It feels like you are tapping into something mystical and eternal.

After picking our 143 kilos of olives, we headed down to the mill. The machinery or layout may change from mill to mill, but the process is essentially the same. Separate out the leaves and twigs. Wash the olives. Mash the olives into a paste, extracting the pits. Then a whirl around in a centrifuge to separate the water from the oil, and voila....extra virgin olive oil!  It’s a little more complex than that, and temperatures need to be carefully monitored, but that’s the basics.

I’ve said this before, but it is high time that chefs and cooks learn more about the olives in their olive oil. There are huge flavor differences from one variety of olive to another; from one region to another.
As part of the weekend experience, we had a guided tasting where we compared the Umbrian Terre Rosse oil to a Sicilian oil. It’s like the difference between tasting a merlot and a chardonnay...different planets, different reasons for using one or the other.

If you’ve read this far, you care about food.
So here’s your homework assignment...go out and taste olive oils. Pour a little bit into a cup, warm the cup with your hand. Then inhale deeply, take a sip, and bring some air into your mouth. Pay attention to what is going on in your mouth.  Now start imagining what dishes would work best with that flavor.

And if you are fortunate enough to find Terre Rosse olive oil..snap it up! You won’t be sorry..it speaks of wind swept hilltops, rocky soil, hot summers and cold winters. And you won’t be able to find this particular flavor anywhere else.

Grazie mille, Mario per un weekend incredibile!

Azienda Agraria Hispellum
Via Vitale Rosi 42, 06038 Spello (Pg) Umbria IT - Tel/Fax (+39) 0742 302274 - info@hispellum.com

Food Speak: NYC Style

Do you think we could view the world of food as a many faceted, sparkling crystal? Shiny in spots and grubby in others?  Do you think New Yorkers are a tribe unto their own? How does everyone afford to go out night after night? Why didn’t I didn’t know I could go to a different food event every day and night? 

I’ve been a part of some amazing and unique conversations while I’ve been in The City the past few weeks. As is par for the course with me, one question leads to another.

There is no question that food is HOT. The media, the buzz, the attitudes, the events remind me of the crazy days in the fashion world when money flowed and the world revolved around Kate Moss.  Linda Evangelista infamously declared she didn’t get out of bed for less than $10,000.  Now, I believe it s Giada De Laurentiis who is the reigning diva of the moment.

Celebrity chefs have usurped the Super Models. My, how the world has changed.  Or, my, how it really hasn’t changed at all; it is still just as silly as it ever was.
But, there is something else going on; there is an air of urgency, an awareness that we need to know more about what we are eating.


Our complacency with the way we eat is slowly being shrugged off, like a sleeping giant shaking its head and trying to make sense of what happened while he was napping.  Shake, shake: junk food isn’t really cheap if you factor in the cost of making people sick. Shake, shake: food tastes better when you eat it in season. Shake, shake: people forgot how to cook, but they’re waking up to it’s pleasures once again. Shake, shake: we’ve got a lot of people to feed on this planet, how we gonna do it?

On Tueday night, I listened to Kat Flinn, Pam Anderson and Lauren Shockey talk about their new books and their personal journeys that led them back to the home kitchen. The crowd roared when someone said, “Bring back Home-Ec classes!”


As part of the Culinary HIstorians series,I listened to one of our national treasures, Paula Wolfert, talk about the joys of Moroccan cooking, and how happy she is to bring Berber cooking the attention it deserves.  It was a sold out event and the audience was rapt, respectful and informed.

By Friday, I needed to round up food people for our #IACPNYC photo shoot.  The word went out and within 24 hours I had a skate boarding butcher, mustached mixologist, gorgeous coffee roaster, courageous author, vegan activist, home charcuterie maker, two adorable boys who wanted to play air guitar with a bunch of celery, and an urban farmer all lined up to have their photo taken for the cause. My sincere thanks to Holley Atkinson of  Slow Food NYC and Karin Endy of The Culinary Trust for helping me to gather the clan.


There was a kind of magic in the room as everyone shared their stories with us. These passionate people are doing amazing things and changing the way we think about food and drink.  I have the utmost respect and admiration for our photographer, Jason Blake, who conceived of this project and who let his curiosity and enthusiasm bring out the best in everyone.

One last shout out of the week to Jane Lerner of Smorgasburg/The Brooklyn Flea frame. What a great time and great food to be had in Brooklyn!  Thanks for getting me over there and opening my eyes and tastebuds.

There’s a phrase that keeps simmering in my brain as I work on the IACP conference and meet all these committed people: “May you live in interesting times.”  Well, I do believe I’ve hit the jackpot.

Grocery Shopping NYC Style: Seriously Whole Food

Grocery shopping in Manhattan is painful. It’s all about geography.  I love Fairway, don’t get me wrong, but it’s up in Harlem, which makes it a long bike ride and I can’t buy the super saver pack of toilet paper because there is no way it will fit on my bike.

Of course I have other options.  The very nearby Gourmet Garage is so staggeringly overpriced that I don’t understand why anyone goes there...except there is nothing else in the ‘hood’. Today’s special: $7.99 for one of those plastic clamshells of Driscoll strawberries. You thought I was kidding? I’m not.

There is the wacky Essex Street Market and a giant Whole Foods, but they also involve the bike, and blogging doesn’t exactly pay well enough to make Whole Foods my go-to grocery store.

Besides, there is something off-putting about a place that is just soooo wholesome, and organic and sustainable, and PC and, and, and.... I confess, I’m not a Food Saint and it’s all so seriously sanctimonious that it makes me want to eat a can of Pringles right now.

But, I had to break down and buy some food.  All I had in the fridge was a lone bottle of Bud that my nephew had left there over the summer, and Budweiser just doesn’t work as a coffee substitute in the morning. Maybe for some of us...

I decided to head over to Chinatown where there is a slightly scary Chinese grocery store.  It’s cleaner than it used to be and I think it’s now called Hong Kong Market. The name changes every once in awhile, probably when the tax audit man comes around.  It’s a little scary because you’ve got butchers whacking away at various animal parts, crazy dried stuff hanging over the frozen food section, and you can’t ask anyone a question because no one speaks a word of English.

As I’m walking down Mott St., checking out the vegetable stalls to see what looks good, there is a spiffy looking new storefront, aptly called: “New York Mart”.  It looks intriguing, so in the name of neighborhood research, I wander in.


Right at the entrance, there are two very long rows of open freezer cases with the usual Chinese dumpling suspects. Nice, but not earth shaking. It does however have the wildest video security screen I’ve ever seen. Are you going to tell me that anyone can spot a bad guy on this screen?

When I get to the end of the freezer aisle, I realize the place  has a whole other wing. I pass the very intriguing pots and pan section on my way into the hot prepared roasted meats area take-out area. The smell is amazing and I’m breaking rule no 1 of grocery shopping: never go shopping when you are hungry.

This opens up into to a massive fresh produce section, which is bordered by the enormous fresh meat selection and fresh fish area. They actually have live fresh shrimp, which are only in season for a short few weeks and are so, so delicious. Score!


Holy moley...I realize I have a real neighborhood grocery store! There is even a respectable looking bakery department.
No cheese section, but that’s OK.

There is nothing coy about calling this a place of “Whole Food”;  if you want head, feet, tongue, tail...name your animal and the whole beast will be there.

The bad news: I still can’t ask anyone a question. I have got to learn Mandarin one of these days.

The good news: I once again give thanks to the Goddess Serendipity because grocery shopping just got a little less painful.

New York Mart, 128 Mott St.

Dining, NYC Style!

Can I have my salad on the side, but I’d like the tomatoes separate.
I still want the tomatoes, I just don’t want them touching the greens.
Great.
And what’s in the salad dressing?
OK. Oh pumpkin seed, pomegranate. Fabulous. Sounds so yum.
Could you do me a favor, and just coat the plate with the dressing; don’t put it on top. OK?

Great. I’ll have the line caught tuna. It is line caught, right?
How do you prepare that?
Sous vide, then finished with a lightly smoked foraged cedar ash char?
Fabulous! Sounds so yum!

But, could you do that with just a half char? I really like just a touch of char on my tuna.
It can be so overpowering.

OH MY GOD! Truffle mashed potatoes?? Have to have ‘em. I love truffles...but they have to be super fresh, don’t you think, I mean otherwise what’s the whole point? I love French truffles, but they are so overpriced, I’m totally fine with Piedmontese.

I know, I’m being so picky, but I have a gluten intolerance so I need everything to be completely lactose free range. 

Look at this tweet. 2Tongues is here! It’s so rude to be tweeting during dinner...he’s having the trout....

This is like the best bread I’ve ever had. Try it with just a little smear of the butter and a sprinkle of the Black Sea salt...fabulous. I am SO into Black Sea salt. It has these anti-oxidant radicals, and ever since I started eating it I just have so much more energy.

This wine taste a little off? Mmmm...maybe not, maybe it’s just me. My taste buds are off after my last cleanse.

Oh. Oh. Can I taste that?? YUM. Like, that is just an amazing combination, but  when I do it at home, I like to finish it with a little fresh horseradish. It’s so cool, I can grown it in the bathroom, under the sink. My sink has a leak, so instead of wasting the water, I’m growing my own chanterelles and horseradish.

No, no dessert. I’m trying to be good because my yogi thinks processed sugar interferes with everything.

Thanks. I’ll just have some ice water. Three cubes.

Check please!

If you can't say anything nice...

My mother always said, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”   And ordinarily if we go to a restaurant and we don’t like it, we don’t blog it.
But, this one got to me.
We had gone to Il Clandestino in Porto Novo a few years ago and had an astonishing, memorable, can’t wait to go back meal.
The setting is gorgeous, right on the rocky beach, there is nothing but  you and the sea. Lovely waitstaff glide around this funky beach shack in crisp, billowy linen outfits. Each plate that was put in front of us was a tiny work of art, each mouthful a sensory exploration.

Fast forward to this week.

  After festa, we needed a little Montone break, so we headed to the beach at Portonovo on the Adriatic side of Italy. We convinced our traveling companions, John and Libby,  that going to Il Clandestino would be a sublime treat. After nearly two weeks of this torrid heat wave and the nonstop festivities of festa, it was time for swim in the sea.

We spent a fabulous day at the beach, with an equally fabulous lunch at Anna’s. This unpretentious little trattoria on the beach that has never disappointed and we always look forward to simple, good seafood. Over-sized penne pasta served ‘in padella’ (in the pot) with an abundance of sea creatures never disappoints, and neither do the succulent mussels cooked with lots of lemon chunks.

After a full day of swimming, floating on a raft, and intense people watching, including a few beach bums, we were fully primed for a dinner extravaganza on the beach.


It’s not that the dinner was a disaster; it was a combination of uncomfortable dinner ware, sticky astro turf place mats, and disinterested wait staff that started to signal things may not be as we remembered.

Jeff was obsessed with the silver ware. Extremely long, slender, slippery utensils with teensy fork prongs, or spoon bowls that defied you to actually get any food to your mouth. My theory is that the portions were so small, it was a psychological ploy to make you feel full. If your hand went to your mouth that many times, surely you’ve eaten enough to be satisfied? I found it easier to flip the fork and knife around and use them as chopsticks. I am NOT a fan of form over function, especially when I’m eating.


The kitschy little placemats were OK for the first part of the meal, then they left imprints on your arm that weren’t so comfortable. But at least they were easy enough to roll up and move to the side, which is what we did. That was after we had a burst of creativity and turned the place mats into a variety of hats.


On to the food. The starters were lovely: a plate of barely seared sliced tuna and a dish of strips of seppie (cuttlefish) were refreshing and delicious. The starters are paired with an apperitivo, which was nice enough, but if you are going to do that, then make the apperitivo interesting. The tuna was paired with a Verdicchio (no surprise there...you cannot NOT have a Verdichhio wine with everything while you are in the Marche).  My seppie was paired with a sharp flavored Champagne.


The main courses were very limited in choice, with artsy-confusing descriptions, and ultimately not that memorable. I had a riff on an Ancona speciality of baccala with potatoes and tomatoes, which was bland and served with undercooked potatoes. John had the absolute winner: capesante (scallops) that were butter sweet with pureed potatoes and oddly intriguing squid ink chips.

Herein lies the crux of our disappointment: on our previous visit we were awed with each dish.  Those crunchy black ink chips were the only intriguing, unusual element we served the whole evening. Last time I remembered a bracing ginger aerosol appertivo, flavor journeys that teased their way from savory to spicy, color and texture that seduced and charmed.  Now, there was no magic in the dishes, no passion or flare. The sparks of intrigue and mystery had given way to the cooling embers of ennui.

Fortunately, our dinner companions were fun, the evening warm, the setting gorgeous, so you could almost forgive. Almost.

What’s that other saying, “You can never go back.”? In this case, we’ll stick to Trattoria Da Anna’s welcoming trattorie and leave others to cope with that moronic silverware.

More Mushrooms Than You Can Imagine

As I’m walking into our local grocery store, the Euro Spin, AKA “The Spin”, an elderly, hunched over lady is staggering out of the store lugging a massive flat of white mushrooms.
 Of course, I’m thinking, “What the hell is she going to do with all those mushrooms??”

I cruise into the produce section, which in Italy is still front and center in most grocery stores and is at least 95% untouched, unsliced, unadulterated produce, and I see a wall of mushrooms.
They are selling whole flats of gorgeous, fresh white mushrooms for 2,50 euro (or about $4 US bucks).  They are practically giving them away!

 Holey camoley, now I know why that lady bought so many mushrooms and we’re buying them too.  I bring the flat to our grocery cart, and Jeff gives me the raised eyebrow, what-are-you-doing-now look.  I tell him the price and he makes a secure spot for the flat in our grocery cart. And, that’s one of the reasons why I love him.

Then we get home and I realize this is really A LOT of mushrooms. So the first thing I do, is bag some up for our Orto-Mates. And that still leaves me with 5 or 6 pounds of mushrooms.  

It’s another use it or lose it moment, so I start cleaning mushrooms. I cut the spongy stems off, cube the mushrooms into chunky quarters, go harvest a pile of parsley from the orto, slice up a head or so of garlic and toss everything into a very large pot with equal parts butter and olive oil. And the house smells wonderful!

Here’s the recipe scaled down to a 2 to 4 person serving.

Sauteed Mushrooms
1/2 lb or 500g mushrooms, cleaned and quartered
3-4 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
1 small clove of garlic, minced
1 heaping tablespoon of finely chopped parsley
1 T butter
1 T olive oil
1 glug of wine
1 3 finger pinch of bread crumbs
lemon juice, 1/2 half of a juicy fresh lemon
salt, pepper

Melt the butter in a saute pan big enough to hold the mushrooms in only one or two layers. Add the olive oil and over medium heat add the mushrooms, sliced garlic and a sprinkle of salt. Cover the pan and let the mushrooms release their juice. Stir frequently.

When the mushroom pan is full of juice, uncover the pan and add a good glug of white wine. Cook until all the moisture is gone. This will take about 15 minutes.

The mushrooms will turn a deep, golden brown. Right before serving the mushrooms, generously pepper them, add the minced garlic, parsley, breadcrumbs and finish with the juice of half a lemon. Cook for no more than one minute and serve with a smile.

You can serve these as a side dish with roasted pork, or chicken or use as a pasta sauce.
If you are using them in pasta: about a minute before the pasta is cooked,  spoon a ladle full of the salted pasta water into the pot. Drain the pasta and add to the mushroom sauce pot. Cook until the pasta is done and the cooking liquid has been absorbed. Serve with some extra olive oil and grated cheese on the side.

Buon’ appetito!

PS I went back to the Spin the next week, and there wasn’t a mushroom in sight.