I came to Italy to learn more about Italian food and to eat lots and lots of it. Until now, I can still maintain that I've learned the most about Italian food by having an Italian roommate (A very passionate, opinionated, food-obsessed Tuscan). Luca, my roommate, has taught me all kinds of crucial tips, like using rosemary to season squash, how to make perfect bruschetta, or to add course salt by the handful to the pasta cooking water, and then to add a few tablespoons of the salty, glutinous cooking water to the pasta when it comes time to serve it.
And as a student of Food Culture and Communication, I've gone on trips all over Italy: we've been to the North and the South, the seaside, wine country, and the mountains. We've eaten from street vendors and in fancy restaurants. Still, most of the best meals I've had this year have been cooked in my own apartment, with Luca at the helm, giving his guidance, his palate, and the final word on when enough salt is enough, when the pasta is properly cooked, and if the risotto needs more butter.
So, in this entry of Good Things I've Eaten, I stack one of Luca's best meals against the best Italian restaurant food I've tried.
After three glorious hours of waiting, smelling the meat braise away in red wine and crushed whole peppercorns, and watching every window in the apartment steam over, Luca finally declared the meat was done.
Then we served up bowls of warm polenta and Luca's Peposo. The meat was tender and the sauce silky and unctuous with all the gelatin released by the broken down connective tissue. And the copious crushed and whole black peppercorns that give the dish its name, lent a clean, bright spicy note to cut through the richness of the stew.
This was real Italian food. Truly satisfying, simple, prepared with care, and specific to a region and tradition. I got dinner and a tasty, concise lesson on Italian food culture that night.
2. The "Sorpresa" Tasting Menu, Risorante all"Enoteca I've only eaten a few fancy tasting menus in my life, but sometimes the sheer number of dainty plates can water down the experience, as memorable flavors and presentations get lost in the relentless onslaught of perfect, beautiful, delicious food.
I can remember every dish served at all'Enoteca.
And two plates stick out. First: cod steamed with fresh herbs and served with tomatoes, eggplant, and zucchini. And second: fresh pasta stuffed with creamy raschera cheese, served with shaved white truffles and butter.
These two dishes are bold in their simplicity. In this first, the chef elevated humble ingredients by cooking and seasoning each element to absolute perfection. The tomato tasted exactly how a tomato should taste, he teased out every potential for flavor in the small wedge of eggplant, and every other vegetable reached its full potential as they worked together with the flaky, dense fish to create five or six very different but cohesive bites (the plates are small here). In the second dish, the chef took on the challenge of one of the world's most precious ingredients, and he nailed it. He respected the quality of his white truffles by giving them a simple backdrop of pasta stuffed with mild cheese. The pasta had a pleasant chewiness, the cheese inside had just enough bite to not be boring, and the truffles and butter that took on their flavor were given free reign over the dish. After this course, I could truly say that I had eaten white truffles from Alba.
In kitchen stadium, I think Davide Palluda would beat Luca Parigi. Invite the Michein starred chef into our apartment to cook us dinner, he wouldn't stand a chance. We eat pretty well over here.
