Travel

Italy: What’s New, What’s Not

October 5, 2022 by Toni Lydecker

During our month-long stay in Italy this summer, the weather was relentlessly hot and dry. It had been three years since our last visit, with the pandemic lingering like an obnoxious dinner guest who refuses to leave. So we were looking at Italy with fresh eyes.

Overall, Italy is still Italy and one of the best places on earth to be. Some impressions about things that seemed the same and others that had shifted to a new reality.

In conversations with Italians, anxiety about Ukraine, energy prices and other thorny issues came through. The value of the euro was declining, while gas prices inched up. Corriere della Sera ran articles on Prato’s Chinatown and the distribution and influence of foreign residents. At the same time, everyone was revelling in the pleasures of summer.

Spigots with continuously running spring water were more welcome than ever. Anywhere except Rome’s Trevi and Piazza Navona fountains, where the authorities threatened fines, people managed to splash some water on themselves.

I admire Italians for relying less on air conditioning that we do. More systems have been installed in hotels and restaurants, but often the rationale is to please us. When temperatures allow, Italians still open shutters in the morning, close them to the mid-day heat and take time for the pausa before emerging in the evening. The dinner hour shifts later in summer to make the most of slightly cooler temperatures and I always wonder if children have any bedtimes at all.

Washing machines, yes. Dryers, not so much. The smell and feel of laundry dried in fresh air is still appreciated.

Although credit cards, Apple Pay and the like are acceptable most places, Italy still has more of a cash economy than we do. I carry a wad of euros because it often feels more comfortable to pay that way, once you notice that’s how many Italians are paying for their lattes or groceries. Twice we had taxi drivers who turned out to be cash only.

Some American products qualify as cool. Brownies had their day and now muffins seem to be a thing in some pasticcerias. Maine lobsters are prized, and so is American craft beer.

English continues to penetrate the Italian language. Meeting, check in, fashion, pub, scooter, computer, modem are examples. Even when there are perfectly good Italian terms for the same thing, the cool factor often wins–just as in English speakers savor the pleasure of saying “Ciao!” instead of “See ya!” Still, learning some Italian makes a difference. Outside the most heavily touristed places, there’s nothing that opens cross-cultural doors faster or brings more pleasure than speaking to Italians in their language.

The table is yours for the evening and I love that. Just once did a server try to pick up a plate before we’d finished eating and it’s still considered rude to appear to hustle customers out the door by offering the check. If you’re in a hurry or having trouble flagging down the server, it’s perfectly acceptable to head for the cashier to settle the bill.

As New England residents, we feel right at home with Italy’s roundabouts/rotaries. We first noticed them about 25 years ago in Piemonte and now the network extends throughout Italy. As a result, the road system makes more sense than ours, plagued by competing jurisdictions of cities, states and national governments. Trains, same.

Ice cubes! Forty years ago, the waiters at my parents’ Florence hotel argued that the ice water they wanted, even with breakfast, was terrible for their digestive systems. Over time, with the growing popularity of spritzes and G&Ts, a few ice cubes were grudgingly slipped into glasses. Now those glasses are routinely filled to the brim with ice.

Aperitivo now refers to the pre-dinner tidbits served by bars as well as to your wine or cocktail. When the dishes are more substantial, you’re looking at apericena, a tapas-like spread that constitutes dinner.

Italy’s political turn to the right was happening. Following dinner, a friend flicked on the TV and we watched as the Italian parliament dissolved in shouts and Mario Draghi was forced to resign. Since then Giorgia Meloni, with her anti-immigrant views, has become the new prime minister and Berlusconi is back–this time as a senator.

There are more graffiti and message boards than in the past, my husband pointed out, and mostly they do not get washed off or painted out. The messages can be political, romantic, obscene, hilarious. They are found in all kinds of places, from a dingy alley to the boisterous streets of Trastevere. For the most part, they contribute to an exuberant, expressive atmosphere rather than to a scary one.

Tonnarelli cacio e pepe, spaghetti alla carbonara, bucatini all’ amatriciana are examples of regional specialties that appear with depressing regularity on menus everywhere. You can still find truly local dishes and truly creative dishes, but you have to look harder for them. This lovely dish, savored at a Roman restaurant called Quercia, consists of stracciatella cheese and salt-cured anchovies on a chickpea crust (panissa)–simple and irresistible!

Coffee is always better than at home. Because experienced baristas know how to make your espresso or latte fast, to be served in a real cup or glass (your choice). Here’s the next generation, enjoying a decaf cappuccino.

Italian supermarkets can be fabulous, but I’m partial to watching a vendor choosing my produce with care. And the butchers! Still worth the airfare.

Italian signage is more universal and fun than ours. The graphics focus on communicating with people who speak a variety of languages, because that’s the situation. Some signs, such as this one designating a suggested meeting place, I’ve never seen anywhere else.

Italian street fashion continues to amaze, regardless of a person’s age, gender or ethnicity. No point in describing–I’ll just show a sampling.

I’ll close with a couple of art photos. First, the she-wolf nursing Romulus and Remus, a symbol of Rome in the Capitoline Museums. It is a masterpiece but, as you can see, the crowds that now throng the Vatican and Forum are nowhere in evidence. Italy is so rich in its cultural heritage that you can stray from the guidebooks’ must-see checklists and still experience artistic wonders.

We did want to revisit the Giotto frescos in Padua’s Arena Chapel, present on any touristic checklist. Reservations were required and limited to 15 minutes of viewing (in addition to an excellent introductory video). Believe me, we treasured every moment.

Chickpea, Lentil and Farro Soups, Norcia Style

October 7, 2020 by Toni Lydecker

On a fall visit to the mountainous Umbrian town of Norcia, I ordered the area’s famous lentil soup. I wasn’t expecting much. The soup was a thick, monochromatic beige.

But the first spoonful surprised me with honest, deeply satisfying flavor. Over the coming days, I ate soup at almost every meal. Chickpea, farro, and then back to lentil. It was fall, the weather was raw and I craved these meltingly delicious, sustaining soups.

In Italy a soup is either a thick zuppa or a minestra, a mix of more clearly discernible ingredients. These soups were in the zuppa category, most decidedly.

Norcia, mid-way between Ascolo-Piceno and Spoleto, made headlines in 2016 when a powerful earthquake devastated the historic town and surrounding areas such as Castelluccio, reputed to grow the best lentils in Italy.

Researching our trip last year, we learned that the town remained a maze of unstable, scaffold-cloaked stone buildings, with reconstruction dragging along.

This was disappointing, because I had always longed to visit Norcia. I knew that the town lent its name to the word norcino, the butcher who traditionally circulated among farms each fall to kill family pigs. It is famous for prosciutto and other cured meats, for black truffles, and for the farro, lentils and other legumes grown in and around Castelluccio.

The dear friends travelling with us agreed that Norcia merited a place on our itinerary and, intrigued by a reasonably priced Relais et Chateaux hotel called Palazzo Seneca, we decided to stay four nights.

During that time, we did lovely luxury-hotel things. We got massages in the spa, went on a truffle hunt, took a cooking lesson from the chef of the hotel’s Michelin-starred restaurant.

We visited Castelluccio, surrounded by snow-capped peaks looking down on greeny-gold pastures where grain and legume flowers blossom each spring.

We wandered the eerily deserted streets, listening to shop owners tell of happier years when tourists crowded the streets of Norcia to sample local cured meats and cheeses, to buy saffron, to dine on dishes lavished with black truffles.

St. Benedict was born in Norcia and we attended a twilight prayer service conducted by monks of that ancient order.

Incredibly, we were virtually the only tourists in Norcia that week.

A year later, the memory of wandering through Italy seems like a fantasy. But those comforting soups, they are still real.

Besides lentils and chickpeas from Castelluccio, I also came home with an heirloom pea variety called roveja.

The peas’ autumnal hues range from golden to brown to dusky green. Their flavor, once cooked, takes “earthy” to a new level. They were a little much, on their own, so I added carrot, celery, tomatoes and broken tagliatelle nests to yield a more interesting soup. (Unless roveja comes your way, lentils will work fine in this recipe.)

I stuck to the essentials in making chickpea-farro soup, honoring the spirit I found in Norcia. This simplest and most savory of soups is about survival, for them and for us.

Chickpea-Farro Soup, Norcia Style

Prep Time

20 mins

Cook Time

1 hr 30 mins

This zuppa from a mountainous Umbrian region puts legumes and whole grains on center stage.

Course: Appetizer, Main Course

Ingredients

2 cups dried chickpeas picked over and washed
1 small onion finely chopped
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil plus more for drizzling
1 garlic clove finely chopped
2 bay leaves
½ cup farro
Sea salt or kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper optional
8 ounces mild Italian sausage cooked separately, cut in small pieces

Instructions

Soak chickpeas in abundant water for at least 8 hours (or follow quick-soak method).
Saute onion in olive oil until pale gold. Stir in garlic, cooking briefly.
Add chickpeas, bay leaves and water (about 6 cups) to depth about 2 inches above chickpeas. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer slowly until chickpeas are barely tender, about 45 minutes.
Stir in farro and continue to cook until chickpeas and grain are meltingly tender, about 25 minutes longer. Add water as needed at any point. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Cool soup to warm. Transfer one-third of mixture to a blender and blend until smooth. Roughly smash the remaining mixture with a potato masher or pastry blender, leaving some chickpeas whole. Return pureed chickpea mixture to saucepan. Stir in sausage.
Reheat soup and spoon into bowls. Drizzle a thread of olive oil on top of each serving.

Recipe Notes

Variation: Substitute lentils for chickpeas. The cooking time will be shorter.

Lentil Soup with Egg Noodles

Prep Time

30 mins

Cook Time

1 hr 10 mins

The lentils in this recipe are left whole, but could be partially pureed for a creamier consistency.

Course: Appetizer, Main Course

Cuisine: Italian

Servings: 8 servings

Ingredients

2 cups French green lentils (or Roveja, wild Umbrian peas)* the kind that hold their shape when cooked
½ onion
Several celery ends
2 bay leaves
2 medium carrots cut in small dice
1 large celery rib cut in small dice
2 cloves garlic chopped fine
14- ounce can plum tomatoes chopped fine with puree
Sea salt or kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 to 3 ounces tagliatelle or other thin egg noodles
4 ounces dried sausage or salami cut in small cubes (optional)
Extra virgin olive oil

Instructions

Pick over and wash lentils. Cover with water to a depth of at least 2 inches above lentils. Add onion, celery ends and bay leaves.
Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until almost tender, about 20 minutes, adding water as necessary. Add carrots, celery, garlic and tomatoes. Continue cooking until fully tender, about 30 minutes longer. Season to taste with salt and black pepper.
Shortly before serving, stir in egg noodles and dried sausage. Simmer until noodles are tender. Drizzle a thread of olive oil over each serving.

Recipe Notes

• If you discover a source for this wild Umbrian pea variety, you are better off presoaking them in the same way as chickpeas, about 8 hours.

Mushroom Tart, Fresh from the Woods

December 6, 2018 by Toni Lydecker

My path to making a shiitake tart started with a walk in the North Carolina woods. It had rained and fungi had popped out. I wasn’t tempted to cook with them, but they were worth a look. Some were gorgeous and others just weird.

Toward the end of the stay, our friends took us to Deep Woods Mushrooms, where Greg Carter farms and forages for mushrooms that do belong in the kitchen.

Some of the foraged ‘shrooms looked as strange as those we’d seen in the woods. Indigo milk caps were new to me. Lion’s mane mushrooms were sweet and chewy, tasting a little like crabmeat. We also sampled thin raw slices of beefsteak mushrooms, known as “sushi of the woods.”

Among farmed mushrooms at Deep Woods, shiitake rule. “There are a blue million varieties, with different properties,” says Carter. “Some grow in the fall, others in spring.” His favored varieties grow outdoors (rather than in sheds used in large commercial operations), sprouting on logs positioned upright or in a tipi design.

An outdoor log can take more than two years to produce a fruiting body that results in mushrooms. Sometimes the logs can be stressed into picking up the pace–a whack with a sledge hammer might do the trick.

After eating mushroom pizzas from Carter’s wood-burning oven, we returned home with bags of dried shiitake and a sack of fresh ones. What to make? Pasta with mushroom sauce, risotto with mushrooms, polenta with sauteed mushrooms. All were considered. Morrison and David, our dear hosts, liked the idea of a tart so that’s what I made.

The dough for this tart is pasta frolla, made with a beaten egg as well as butter. It’s parbaked, which ensures a crisp crust when the filling is moist. I went heavy on mushrooms, using just enough egg and cheese to hold the filling together.

I’ve made this tart with all shiitakes and with a mixture including oysters and cremini. Both versions were excellent.

MUSHROOM TART

Ingredients

Crust:

2 cups flour, plus more for rolling
½ teaspoon salt
10 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut in pieces
1 egg, beaten

Filling:

1 pound mushrooms, such as shiitake, cremini or oyster
1 large shallot
2 ounces pancetta in a thick slice (optional)
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
Kosher or sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
3 eggs
½ cup heavy cream
¼ cup shredded sage leaves
1 cup Italian Fontina, raclette or gruyere cheese, grated
1/3 cup pecorino

Instructions

Prepare crust:

Mix flour and salt in large bowl. Add butter and toss to coat with flour. Blend in butter with a pastry cutter (or, if you move quickly, your fingers). With a fork, moisten flour mixture with egg. Add cold water, a tablespoon at a time, until mixture holds together.
Roll dough between two pieces of parchment paper to make a circle about 13 inches in diameter. Line a 10-inch tart pan and trim top edges with a knife. Fit parchment paper into shell and fill with weights (lightly oiled dry beans work well).
Preheat oven to 375F. Cook tart crust for 10 minutes. Cool slightly. Remove paper with weights. Cook 10 minutes longer until lightly colored. Cool.

Prepare filling:

Slice mushrooms, chop shallot, and cut pancetta (if using) in 1/8-inch dice. Heat olive oil over medium-high heat in a large skillet. Cook shallot and pancetta until golden. Scrape into a bowl.
Melt butter in same skillet. Saute mushrooms, stirring, until softened and lightly browned. Season with salt and pepper. Stir in shallot and pancetta. Cool.
In a medium bowl, whisk eggs with cream. Season with ½ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper.

Assemble tart:

Spread mushroom mixture over pastry shell. Sprinkle with sage leaves. Pour egg-cream mixture over mushrooms and tilt to distribute evenly. Top with Fontina and pecorino. Bake until filling is just cooked and cheesy top is browned, about 25 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Eating “Greek Salad” in Greece

October 18, 2017 by Toni Lydecker

As I labored up rocky paths during our REI hiking trip to Greece’s Cycladic Islands, the glorious views kept me moving. And also the thought of my next meal.

After dropping our hiking poles and packs, we sat twice a day around a communal table at a taverna–almost always outdoors–and the dishes, served family style, started coming. Fish, lamb, artichoke pies, eggplant casseroles and delectable pastries, to give you an idea.

Our guides, Nefelina and Cristos, had arranged for the menus to change at every meal, providing a wonderful introduction to regional Greek cooking.

Salad was the exception. It showed up at every meal, but seemed more or less the same. Juicy tomatoes, cucumber, green pepper, onion: similar to what we call Greek salad at the U.S. but with some critical differences.

1. None of the shredded lettuce that abounds in American-style Greek salads. In fact, no greens at all.

2. Vegetables were cut in big chunks, to be addressed with knife and fork. Feta, rather than being crumbled, was sliced and laid on top.

3. The salads were lightly dressed with good olive oil, a few pinches of salt and perhaps a little lemon juice or wine vinegar–a welcome change from the vinegary, overly sweet or creamy dressings served in many Greek-American restaurants.

This combination went with everything and I never tired of it. Gradually I began to appreciate small differences. One taverna’s salad was seasoned with dried oregano, while another’s had fresh dill or a sprinkling of piquant capers, reminding us of the caper bushes we passed along the trails.

On the island of Tinos, we found crisp rusks among the tomatoes and cucumbers, a combination that made me think of the Tuscan bread salad called panzanella.

A Naxos Town taverna put potatoes in its salad, an addition I loved.

And, on Santorini, my final salad was made with a cucumber variety prized for its firmness and sweetness. “Let it ripen a little and it will taste almost like melon,” promised the restaurant owner, pressing a large cucumber into my hands.

I couldn’t say no, and it’s just as well. Ten days later, after two flights and a train ride, I made panzanella in Italy with my Greek cucumber.

Greek Salad with Potato

Prep Time

20 mins

Cook Time

15 mins

Total Time

35 mins

Course: Main Course, Salad

Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 large potato, peeled
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 large tomato
1 medium cucumber
1 small green pepper, cored and seeded
several red onion slices
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
Juice of 1 small lemon
sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup kalamata or other Greek olives
1/4 cup chopped fresh dill or several pinches dried oregano
2 to 4 ounces feta in a block

Instructions

Cut potato in large chunks. Place in a small saucepan, cover with water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until just tender. Drain, return to pan and sprinkle with vinegar. Cool.
Cut tomato, cucumber and green pepper in large chunks. Combine in a large bowl with potato and onion slices. Add olive oil. Toss gently. Add lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste. Toss again.
Pile the salad on a platter. Sprinkle olives and dill over it. Cut feta in large slices and lay on top.

Sampling Umbrian Wines and Olive Oil at the Source

May 24, 2017 by Toni Lydecker

A few years ago I spent a day visiting Sagrantino wine producers with Alessandra Mallotti of Discovering Umbria. That taste of a unique varietal in its glorious country setting brought me back to sample some of the region’s organic wines and olive oil.

It hadn’t occurred to me that last year’s earthquakes in Umbria (also Abruzzi and Lazio) would be an obstacle to this experience–and they weren’t. So we were surprised to hear from Alessandra that tourism has taken a blow as travellers avoid what they think might be devastated or dangerous places.

I can vouch for the fact that the zone we were in, roughly between Assisi and Todi, was untouched, and we hear that areas such as Norcia have largely recovered.

Simona Bonci, Alessandra Mallotti, Kent Lydecker

Some of the Ronci azienda’s olive trees are ancient, gnarled moraiolo trees with appropriately silver leaves that might be as old as 400 years. They’re tall, requiring ladders for harvesting and well spaced, pointing to an era when the goal was to produce oil just for the family and the padrone, with the spaces between filled with other crops and animals. Others are leccini and frantoio varieties, sitting closer to the ground.

The cluster of olives Simona Ronci pointed to was the size of her fingernail. But she was already thinking about the moment in mid-October when they would be plump and juicy, filling the air with their perfume during the pressing. “The days are still warm then but the nights are cool, and the olives respond by producing more antioxidants,” says Simona. “This is the ideal moment.”

The sooner the olives are pressed after the harvest, minimizing oxidation, the better the quality of the oil. In a race against time, the family’s modern presses work around the clock, pressing olives from other producers during the day and their own olives at night. Two or three hours of sleep might be the norm during this period.

Federico Bibi

The flavor of the oil hints at the tree(s) of its origin. A blend of moraiolo, leccino and frantoio carries a slight astringency that clears the palate, a hint of green tomato and artichoke, a peppery finish. More delicate, the frantoio on its own. The moraiolo monovarietal is full-bodied, with an artichoke note and piquant finish, and that was the one we shipped home.

Around the time the olives are harvested, the vineyards are a raging colorfest of dark red grapes. During our visit to the Terre Margaritelli cantina, in the Torgiano Sangiovese area near Assisi, the emerging leaves were a bright spring green.

The family started in the lumber business, producing wood products such as railroad ties and now parquet flooring. One generation started making wine on the side and, when the family decided to get serious, they found it a very different world from lumber.

Federico Bibi, hired from outside, is now the wine maker. The operation is organic (“bio”), like the Ronci olive operation, and rigorous inspections take place at least two or three times a year.

Other varietals are grown here but during the tasting we gravitated to 100% Grecchetto and Sangiovese wines. Grecchetto tastes of apple to a friend and reminds me somehow of a limestone cliff. Regardless of your personal associations, it is a delicious white aged three months in white oak from a French forest owned by the azienda.

What’s special about an Umbrian sangiovese? “This is a southernmost terrain for sangiovese,” says Federico. “It’s a ‘generous’ grape that leaves a lot to the skills of the winemaker. Our goal is freshness, a balanced style and drinkability.”

Freccia degli Scacchi, the azienda’s 100% Sangiovese, is aged two years in white oak from a French forest owned by the family, and and then another year once bottled.

We bought Terre Margaritelli wines to enjoy later, but on our last night in Todi, we chose a Sagrantino to savor with Umbrian salumi and cheeses at La Vineria di San Fortunata. I’m already looking forward to tasting more of what this region has to offer, whether at the source and back home in the States.

Sicilian Tuna, Potato & Caper Salad

December 18, 2014 by Toni Lydecker

photo by Tina Rupp

If you’re like me, sometimes you have to step back and just have a salad for dinner. This one satisfies the yen for fresh greens and vegetables, but the tuna and potatoes add heft, turning what would otherwise be a side salad into a satisfying meal.

When I chose this tuna, potato and caper salad for a cooking demo at the Saturday Morning Market, I realized I could get virtually all the ingredients from the vendors. Organic lettuce and other produce come from Worden Farm, owned and operated by two Ph.D.s in southwest Florida. Olive oil and white wine vinegar from Puglia from Tampa-based V Spicery make a lovely vinaigrette.

A good brand of canned tuna would be fine in this salad, but I decided instead to use a special technique for poaching fresh tuna in olive oil. Martin Fisher ordered the tuna for me. If you’re not familiar with Fisher’s, his stand, check it out. Any given Saturday Martin can be seen deftly filleting grouper, snapper, mackerel, whatever the catch of the week might be.

Sicilian Tuna, Potato and Caper Salad

Prep Time

15 mins

Cook Time

30 mins

Total Time

45 mins

Course: Main Dish, Salad

Cuisine: Italian

Servings: 4 servings

Ingredients

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1/4 teaspoon sea salt or kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 medium boiling potatoes peeled and cut in small dice
1 large tomato or roasted red bell pepper
1 celery stalk angle cut in thin slices (about 1/2 cup)
1/2 small sweet onion halved pole to pole, cut in slivers
1 to 2 tablespoons capers preferably salt-cured, rinsed
4 cups torn salad greens
7 ounces good-quality canned tuna or fresh tuna poached in olive oil recipe follows
Small black olives such as Gaeta

Instructions

Combine the olive oil, vinegar, salt and black pepper to taste in a medium bowl.
Place the potatoes in a small saucepan, cover with water and bring to a boil; reduce the heat and simmer until tender but not mushy, about 10 minutes. Drain and cool under running water. Add to the bowl with the dressing and gently turn the potatoes until coated.
Halve the tomato and scoop out the insides; cut the shell in thin strips. Alternatively, cut a roasted pepper in strips. Add to the potatoes along with the celery, onion and capers.
Line 4 plates with the greens and spoon the salad over them. Arrange the tuna and olives on top. Makes 4 servings.

Recipe Notes

Tuna Poached in Olive Oil: Cut 1 pound of boneless fresh tuna in large chunks and coat with 1 teaspoon sea salt or kosher salt. Pack tightly in a medium saucepan or small skillet. Add1 rosemary sprig, 1 garlic clove, several peppercorns, a bay leaf and olive oil to cover (about 1 cup). Bring to a simmer over low heat and cook very gently until just cooked through, about 10 minutes. Cool. Transfer the pan contents to a ceramic container or glass jar. Refrigerate for up to a week. To use the tuna, break into smaller pieces. When it’s all gone, discard the oil.

Lemon Ricotta Gelato, Made at Home

May 16, 2014 by Toni Lydecker

lemon ricotta gelato

Researching my Tampa Bay Times article on the best gelato in Florence, Italy, was a good excuse for guilt-free gorging. Now I’m thousands of miles away, consoling myself with my own lemon ricotta gelato.

The idea of making gelato at home occurred to me during an interview with Silvana Vivoli of the renowned gelateria Vivoli. Americans love exotic flavors, but she told me her Florence customers’ top choices are crema, chocolate and strawberry.

Crema? It’s an egg-based custard gelato. The best gelaterias take pride in the honest goodness of their crema–and without masking flavors, lesser gelaterias can’t hide. Sometimes crema is flavored with vanilla or lemon zest, but not necessarily. Crema was the first flavor Silvana’s grandfather made when Vivoli opened during the ’30s. (Fior di latte is the other pale gelato you’ll see in Italy–the difference is it’s made just with milk and cream, no eggs.)

Could I make crema successfully at home? Silvana shrugged: Sure. Use the best eggs, milk and cream you can get, she advised. And, before freezing the custard, refrigerate it overnight so the flavors mature.

The next decision was how to flavor my gelato. I wanted something different, without straying too far from a straight-out crema. I decided on vanilla and for emphatic lemoniness, both lemon zest and limoncello, the Southern Italian lemon liqueur. And ricotta, because I always enjoy eating ricotta gelato in Italy and rarely find it here, even in Tampa Bay’s top-rated Paciugo, just a three-minute walk from my home.

Making the crema base was a simple matter of “tempering” the beaten eggs by gradually adding the hot liquid and then cooking the mixture until it thickened. While the mixture chilled overnight in the fridge, excess liquid drained off the ricotta, set over a strainer.

The next day I tasted the gelato and–brava, me! Maybe not the best I’ve ever tasted but certainly the best I’ve made, with a deliciously creamy texture that doesn’t turn icy when frozen.

I love the simple goodness of crema and the fact that it goes with anything. If you want to embellish beyond what’s here, soak small-diced dried Mission figs in limoncello before adding to the custard mixture. Or drizzle the gelato with sweetened berry puree or a rich chocolate sauce.

Lemon Ricotta Gelato

Prep Time

20 mins

Cook Time

10 mins

Total Time

30 mins

Course: Dessert

Cuisine: Italian

Servings: 1 quarts

Ingredients

4 egg yolks
3/4 cup sugar
1 ½ cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 to 2 teaspoons grated lemon zest
1 large pinch sea salt
2 tablespoons limoncello liqueur optional
1 cup whole-milk ricotta

Instructions

With a whisk or electric mixer, beat the egg yolks and sugar in a bowl until it reaches a pale yellow, creamy consistency.
In a medium saucepan, heat the milk and cream over medium heat until steaming. Gradually add about ½ cup of the hot liquid to the egg mixture, whisking constantly. Blend into the milk mixture, stirring, and cook for about 5 minutes, or until the custard is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Stir in the vanilla, lemon zest, sea salt and limoncello (if using). Cool.
Transfer the custard to a nonreactive container, cover and chill for several hours or overnight. Scrape the ricotta into a small strainer positioned over a bowl. Chill for the same length of time.
Thoroughly mix the drained ricotta into the custard. Freeze until firm in an electric ice cream maker. Shortly before serving, move to the refrigerator or kitchen counter until soft enough to scoop easily.

Tale of a Black Truffle

February 21, 2014 by Toni Lydecker

cross section of a black truffle

Fresh truffles are usually available only to chefs, but I can get them just by walking two blocks to my local farmer’s market.

Every Saturday at Fidel Gamboa’s stand, fresh truffles–black or white or both, depending on the season–are displayed in a case like the edible jewels they are.

These truffles, from Alba in Italy’s northwestern Piemonte region, are the real thing. Fidel grew up in Venezuela, studied to be an opera singer in Italy, and now is passionately devoted to introducing the world’s most prized truffles to America. “I feel like Christopher Columbus, teaching Italians about tomatoes,” he says.

As it happens, Fidel’s wife Teresa comes from Alba and it is a truffle-hunting family friend, Paolo Cerutti, who sends the overnight shipment each week. U.S. Customs, bless their bureaucratic hearts, clears the precious but perishable fungi in good time for the Saturday market. It’s been a great year for fresh truffles (both quality and quantity), according to Fidel, and thanks in part to a front-page article in the Tampa Bay Times, there’s usually a crowd at the stand.

I’ve tasted my way through their truffle-flavored honey, preserved truffles, creamy truffle spreads and truffle pasta. But I failed to spring for a fragrant white truffle during its brief November-December season, and that felt like a mistake. Black truffles continue into March, however, so when food-loving friends arrived for a weekend, I asked Fidel to save one for me.

The variety he calls pregiato is known scientifically as Melanosporum and colloquially as the Perigord truffle. It is not as celebrated as Alba’s white truffle, but at about $100 an ounce compared to $220 for the white ones, not as breath-taking a splurge. Those prices reflect the labor and uncertainty of searching for the gnarled fungi, which are unearthed by trained dogs under certain kinds of trees–especially hazelnut and oak, in the case of black truffles.

As Fidel lifted the case cover, a wave of truffle aroma rose. I chose one that weighed 1¼ ounces, ample for the four of us. Wearing white gloves, Fidel gently rubbed it with a soft brush. Wrapped in a paper towel and nestled in a plastic container against a Coolpak, it was mine.

I’ve tasted truffles in restaurants, but my only previous experience in owning a truffle was a white one we brought home from Alba. The heady aroma diminished a little every time we opened the container to sniff and, alas, it had lost most of its oomph by the time I recovered from jet lag enough to cope with it.

This time I was determined not to miss that window of freshness. The Italian approach to truffles to keep the dish simple, allowing the earthy flavor to shine through—so that night we sat down to freshly made tagliatelle with a light sauce of butter, cream, Parmigiano Reggiano, salt and pepper. The truffle shaver acquired during the Alba trip had gone missing. Instead, I used a mandoline on the finest setting. It made satisfactory shavings, substantial enough for us to appreciate not only the aroma, but the somewhat brittle texture of the truffle as we chewed.

We had only consumed about half of our little black knob, so the next morning we tried another classic: softly scrambled eggs topped with black truffle. This time we used a small handheld grater–perfect for the firm texture of a black truffle, thought perhaps not for a white one.

What to do with the remaining fragments? I shoved them into a jar of sea salt, turning it intensely aromatic by the next day. Burying them in Arborio rice would have been another option. I liked Fidel’s suggestion of making a compound butter with grated truffle and freezing it. And one of these days, I’ll try his father-in-law’s trick of combining truffle bits with anchovies–the saltiness preserves the mixture for up to six months–to use as a savory addition to pasta sauces and such.

Truffle oil might come to mind, but despite what many Internet sources say, you can’t stick a piece of truffle in olive oil and expect to end up with delectable truffle oil. Instead, the truffle will likely ferment and turn nasty tasting. Truffle oil is typically made with an essence, which is usually artificial. A more authentic product is a pâté or paste with olive oil plus a high proportion of truffles, and a price tag to match.

All in all, our black truffle weekend was good fun and definitely an education. if you’re in the neighborhood, stop by Fidel’s stand or contact him at tartufoalba100@hotmail.com. And, if you really get hooked, consider signing up for the trip he and Teresa are leading next fall, with destinations that include the white truffle auction in Alba and opera season in Parma.

Clam Chowder with Italian Touches

January 8, 2014 by Toni Lydecker

Cedar Key, a charming town three hours north of Tampa Bay that once dubbed itself “the Venice of America,” ships farm-raised clams all over the country. So it’s a great place to indulge in steamed clams, fried clams and, of course, clam chowder.

My husband and I hadn’t come here just for clams. After spending a weekend celebrating a friend’s birthday, we returned to this unspoiled fishing village on our own for a restorative visit. Cedar Key pleasures are simple but sufficient: Wander down the two-block main street, stopping at the visitors’ center to bone up on the town’s 19th-century heyday as a center for oystering, shipping and manufacture of red cedar slats for pencils. Check out the excellent artists’ coop. Walk the abandoned rail line, now given over to songbirds and native plants. Watch sunsets over the island-strewn bay.

One day was spent in the company of Captain Carl Robinson, who sped us

across flats and into gorgeous estuaries in his air boat. We caught a zillion redfish, all of which failed to meet the 18-inch limit, but they were feisty and that’s what counts with fishing. Capt. Robinson is the fourth generation of fishermen in his family and figures he’ll be the last–his son decided to take up house painting instead.

The mixed seafood platter at Tony’s was tasty–fried fish, steamed clams, broiled sea scallops and other delicacies I could imagine eating on the coast of Italy. What the restaurant is really known for, though, is its “World Champion clam chowder,” winner of a national competition three years in a row. I’ve eaten it, but…eh. I have to say that rich, creamy chowder is not to my taste.

So, instead of stocking up on Tony’s chowder, I bought a 12-pound sack of Cedar Key clams to take home. I had a choice of small, medium and large–and took the advice of the guys on duty, who insisted that the larger ones, though a little more expensive, are a better value.

Then I set out to make clam chowder. The so-called Manhattan kind, with tomatoes but no béchamel sauce or cream. Inevitably, I headed in an Italian direction, using olive oil, wine and a good brand of imported plum tomatoes. And why use salt pork when pancetta would be so much better?

The clam chowder was good and, as I hoped, light enough for the shellfish flavor to shine through. No need to return to Cedar Key if I make it again–the town’s clams are available here in St. Petersburg. But I have plenty to other reasons to go back.

Clam Chowder Any Italian Would Love

Prep Time

30 mins

Cook Time

20 mins

Total Time

50 mins

Course: Main Dish, Soups

Cuisine: American, Italian

Servings: 5 servings

Ingredients

5 pounds medium or large clams about 4 dozen
Kosher or sea salt
1/2 cup white wine
2/3 cup chopped red onion
2 ounces thick-cut pancetta or bacon diced small
1 tablespoon olive oil
2/3 cup chopped canned plum tomatoes with some of the puree
1 large Yukon Gold or other boiling potato diced small
1 large stalk celery diced small
Freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup freshly chopped flat-leaf parsley

Instructions

Scrub the clams to remove sand. Combine 2 quarts water with 1 tablespoon salt in a large bowl. Stir until it dissolves. Add the clams (add more water if necessary to submerge). Let stand for 2 hours to expel any sand.
Lift the clams out of the water and combine in a large skillet with the wine and 1/2 cup water. Steam, covered, removing them as the shells open. Cool, remove the clams with a spoon and roughly chop them.
Sauté the onion and pancetta with the olive oil in a medium saucepan until lightly browned. Stir in the tomatoes, potato and celery. Using a fine-mesh strainer, strain the clam broth into the saucepan and add enough water to cover the vegetables with a few inches to spare. Bring to a simmer and cook for a few minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Continue cooking until the potato is tender.
Stir in the chopped clams and parsley (if using) shortly before eating. Serve with water crackers or, better yet, taralli.

Recipe Notes

Note: For a thicker consistency, stir in a little cornstarch dissolved in water toward the end of cooking.

Montevarchi: More than a Prada Outlet

June 25, 2013 by Toni Lydecker

It’s easy to spot visitors in search of designer fashion bargains at Space, the Prada outlet in Montevarchi, about 45 minutes south of Florence. Invariably dressed in black, they’re the ones sprinting for the parking lot or train after their shopping spree.

Taking in the local sights isn’t on their agenda, but I think they’re missing out. I won’t argue that Montevarchi can compete with tourist magnets like Siena or the Chianti. But long stays at Il Poggiolo, down a nearby country road, have given me a chance to know and appreciate this place. Like so many Italian towns that seem to be nothing special, it has a history and a way of life.

The stone garrison, now home to a modern art museum, was built in 1289 to defend the town. In battles between Florence and Arezzo, Montevarchi and other towns in the Arno Valley fell into Florence’s sphere, and even now residents feel a closer affinity to that city than to Arezzo–even though the latter is closer.

Montevarchi’s medieval wool and silk industries were the foundation of hand-crafted shoe, hat and clothing businesses that continue to this day.

As an important market town,
Montevarchi once boasted its own unit for measuring weight. True to that heritage, the town hosts a Thursday market that’s one of the region’s largest–there you can buy inexpensive clothing, a porchetta sandwich, fresh vegetables. Even better is the Mercato Coperto (Covered
Market). Open every day, it sells goods from 70 local farmers and producers of olive oil, cheese and wine.

On a side street is Bonci, a family-owned bakery that makes panbriacone, a “drunken sweet bread” with an international following. An all-natural panettone is injected with liqueurs and sweet wine that keep it moist and delicious for up to a year. (I plan to write more about Bonci, so that’s all I’m saying for now!)

My favorite destination is through ancient alleys into the heart of the old city. If you’re a local (or, like me, a temporary local), you might start with a cappuccino or espresso at a bar. I frequent any of them except the one with a dozen old guys sitting on benches.

The Collegiata of San Lorenzo church is open, so I slip into its Baroque interior to see the Relic of the Holy Milk and a few paintings of minor 16th-century artists.

The shop that once sold us fresh pici and spaghetti alla chitarra is gone, and so is the store where I bought the white blouse of a lifetime.

I’m afraid the salumeria has closed, but it’s only moved around the corner to a larger space. There are still several fine bread and pastry shops, two butchers, a merceria selling sewing supplies and a pharmacy where customers line up to confide their health problems. In short, life goes on despite Italy’s economic crisis.

Talking to shop owners and a loquacious barber, we ask how things are going. Nationally, unemployment stands at nearly 12 percent and, for young people, approaches 40 percent. But, from what we hear, Montevarchi is doing better than average. Some businesses have closed—notably, those that make cheaper clothing—but customers of Prada and other high-end clothing makers insist on Montevarchi’s “made in Italy” tags.

Most shops shut down for the pausa, 12:30-ish until 4. Montevarchi is hardly a restaurant mecca, but there are a few good options. Daniele e Riccardo, run by two brothers, has risen to the top on consumer sites. No tourists when I lunched there, just a few locals and business people passing through. Daniele laid on complimentary panzanella in addition to spaghetti with fresh tomato sauce and zucchini flowers, steamed baccala with mashed potatoes, a glass of red wine and an espresso, all for 20 euros.

Plenty of time for a visit to Mariani, the best gelateria in town. For less than two euros, I linger over a cup with one scoop of creamy orange and another of pistachio gelato, its army fatigue color testifying to naturalness.

Then back to the center, where apartment dwellers open their shutters to the late-afternoon light and shoppers start to make their rounds.

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