Home Sweet Home—500 Years Later

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Montalcino, Southern Tuscany

Montacino

Friday after class, my pal Cosimo and his spouse Rebecca, picked me up for the two hour or so drive to Montalcino which is located about an hour south of Florence. That little bit of distance changes the cuisine completely. It changes from Florence to Montalcino, but not as drastically as from, say, Bologna to Florence. Cows in the former, sheep and olive trees in the later. So, of course, the cooking fat changes. And the emphasis on slightly richer dishes moves to a cuisine created by a more austere existence.

I've glummed onto Tuscan cooking precisely because it is so spare, simple, and still fantastically delicious. With a carrot, an onion, a stalk of celery ( called a gamba, or leg, in Italy!), a bit of tomato paste, a couple ounces of pancetta and a pound of beans, I can make an amazing Tuscan bean soup. Add some kale, some stale bread and smash it all together and you get a totally different thing. But in any case, remember to top each with a very generous thread of great olive oil. Yum.

We arrived in Montalcino after dark because of some terrible traffic between Bologna and Florence. But it felt so good to be home. The wonderful folks at the hotel popped open a bottle of nice bubbly from northern Italy (I've known these people for at least 15 years) and we just let the highway tensions fall away.

Montalcino is a funny place. It is a small town, about 5,000 people, which sits on a very high hill, ok, a short mountain (the name means hill of the oaks), and is surrounded by very productive agricultural land, mostly olives and grapes. The grapes are grown primarily for the town's namesake wine, one of Italy's top two or three reds, Brunello di Montalcino, a very solid red with lots and lots of body. So the region's food has evolved to match the wines. In the past thirty years or so, Brunello making has matured such that these days, many formerly poor farmers are fabulously wealthy. Buy a bottle of Brunello in the USA—a decent one—and the price will be at least fifty or sixty bucks, and since this wine gets much better with age, a more desirable twenty-year-old bottle will run in the hundreds. It's good stuff.

Pancetta al Forno, Il Giglio, Montalcino

For my last several visits, I've managed to have Anna, the brains behind the hotel, and an amazing cook, prepare a special local dish which is hard to find in area restaurants (though I was lucky enough to have it many years back in a little place you'll read about below) called pancetta al forno. It is a large slab of pork belly seasoned with salt, pepper, a bit of garlic, a hint of rosemary and maybe a tad of lemon zest, which is rolled up like a jelly roll and slow roasted in the oven until much of the fat renders out, and the outside becomes a crispy golden brown. Holy moly, this is one of the best things I have ever eaten, and Anna is gracious enough to cook it up for me whenever I arrive. I think the pancetta she did on this visit was the best ever: it was perfectly juicy, tender inside and wonderfully crispy brown on the outside. And, yep, it goes great with Brunello, so Mario, Anna's husband, picked out a great one for us to share.

There is very little auto traffic within Montalcino, the central historic portion is off limits except for residents, and so, it is easy to allow yourself to float back to another time—most of the towns buildings date to 1500 or earlier, some a bit later. After dinner and a walk around town, I sat on a bench in front of the hotel on the street that is barely ten feet wide, if that, and answered email, took in the smell of burning pine from a few hundred chimneys, and just sort of zoned out until after midnight. Though I was sitting right on the street, it was incredibly peaceful, even a bit awe inspiring. I was in heaven.

The first time I visited here in early December of 1995, I fell in love with it. No, actually, something clicked inside me which said, "I've been here before." I'm not totally sure what that was about, though I have a few ideas. Whatever the source, the magnetic attraction was immediate and everlasting. I still feel that way. Guess I always will. It just feels like home. Comfortable. Easy. Mostly. I made a vain attempt after that first visit to buy a restaurant in the town so I would have a reason to move to Montalcino with my son. Obviously not meant to be, as they say, but I've returned many times, written about Montalcino for the Austin paper (back when they had a real travel section) and preach about it to anyone who will listen. Guess that now includes you!

Next morning it was off to the fairy tale restored abbey of Sant'Antimo, about six or seven miles south of town. It has been brought back to life by a group of French monks who are nurturing it back to health.

Abbey of Sant'Antimo, near Montalcino

They celebrate mass every morning in Gregorian Chant, they grow olives, grapes and other staples, they pray, what?, eight times a day?, they even record gorgeous CDs of their chant in the church which they package in elaborate books complete with wonderful photos of the place, all produced on the abbey's Macintosh desktop system!  On one of my first trips, I befriended the Chilean custodian who showed me some of the normal off-limits parts of the church like the former bishop's quarters, the women's gallery (it is a sort of second story to the church around one edge…women were not allowed on the main floor!), and the sacristy which was built in the late 700s and was at some point adorned with a bucolic fresco which has a hilarious depiction of two pigs screwing in the barnyard. I love it.

Lunch! This was at my favorite place to eat in the area, the very homey Trattoria il Pozzo in the little town of Sant'Angelo in Colle, a few miles from the church. It is sort of like a miniature version of Montalcino, also built on a hill—providing it with gorgeous vistas of classic Tuscan landscapes—remember all those beautiful Renaissance paintings? These are the backgrounds. Sant'Angelo has no traffic: just narrow lanes, 500-year old houses, and only about four or five active business, three of which are food-oriented.

Pinci al olio, aglio e peperoncino, Il Pozzo, Sant'Angelo in Colle

The dish I crave at il Pozzo. Wait, il Pozzo was the first place I had the above-touted pancetta al forno when it was run by Laura, a great cook I had a great crush on whenever I was in the area.

Ok, the dish I love at il Pozzo is called pinci al olio, aglio e peperoncini. Pinci are the local version of "spaghetti", but they are hand rolled in the way we used to roll out snakes with clay in kindergarten. So the sign of a true handmade version is the irregularity of the rolling. One four or five inch snake will be thick, thin, thicker again, then thin. And they are a bit chewy, but not hard like al dente pasta, just chewy. They are a foil for a wonderful olive oil dressing which is spiked with lots of garlic and a little hot pepper. Absolutely perfect dish, and il Pozzo's version of the pasta is the best I've had. Anna's is good, but still comes in second!

Well, because il Pozzo also does other kinds of pinci, I had to go back for dinner.

Cingiale on polenta, Il Pazzo, Sant'Angelo in Colle

 This time it was pinci al ragù, a heartier version of meat sauce than Bologna's, but just as delicious. We also tried another local dish which was a wild boar (cinghiale) stew on top of some soft polenta. It was wonderful, but I just couldn't eat much of it. Recommended nonetheless.

Landscape from Sant'Angelo in Colle

Espresso closed the meal, and it was served in some nice cups which were decorated with images of Siena, another place I love dearly. Since I knew the cups were provided free to the restaurant by the coffee company whose logo adorned them, I didn't feel bad about asking the genial owner if I could have one to take home. She immediately wrapped one up and handed it to me. Wonderfully generous. Now, if they would just get free WiFi, this would be the perfect restaurant! Wait, it really is the perfect restaurant. Forget the WiFi!

Bologna Chow, Part Two

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Ok, back to food. We're gonna skate fast through this so as not to be even more boring than usual. I had written most of the Bologna food report yesterday, then, in one brilliant keystroke, I lost it all...I am certain it was Pulitzer-winning stuff, and had to start over.

So here is more, maybe all, of what I have to say about food in Bologna.

After my first pasta class, I headed directly to one of the only two places I'd eaten at in Bologna before this trip, a place simply called Serghei where I'd had a nice lunch back in 1997 or '98 when I jumped off the train to Florence just to have that one lunch in Bologna.

Trattoria Serghei, Bologna

Serghei is the consummate family run trattoria with sister in the kitchen, brother running the front and someone's mother in the kitchen to help from time to time. They don't do fru fru, but stick with the standards of Bolognese cuisine. The sister is skinny and cute, Silvanio, the brother, is a frustrated electric guitarist whose replica of a Fender amp from the early '60s resides in the hall to the bathroom.

I had a pleasant lunch that Monday, so much that I reserved a spot for that very night for a return visit...he told me they were having one of my favorite dishes, maiale al latte—pork roasted in milk—which is something you don't see often in restaurants and I wanted to see how theirs compared to mine.

Gramigna al Sugo di Salsiccia, Serghei, Bologna

So here is the rundown of the dishes I sampled on those two visits. First, I had a yummy pasta, gramigna al sugo di salsiccia (gramigna=bermuda grass, salsciccia=sausage)—the pasta is slightly thick and chewy, but not too much, and the sugo, or sauce was the perfect condiment, somewhat hearty on both counts. And as such, a bit counter to the idea of Bologna's food that I had in my head, but this is why I wanted to spend more than a couple of hours eating in the foodie (whatever that is) paradise.

That night I opted for two pastas (!) and a meat course. I had to try their tortellini in brodo so that, by the end of the trip, I would have at least three or four versions of this classic under by belt—oh, so literally that!

Tortellini In Brodo, Serghei, Bologna

The tortellini—which are typically stuffed with a finely ground mixture of pork, mortadella, maybe some prosciutto, eggs, cheese and nutmeg—were tasty and the broth, or brodo, was great, though it didn't quite match that depth achieved by Trattoria Anna Maria the night before. Still, a solid "A" rating.

My next choice—again, this is all for science you understand—was Serghei's version of tagliatelli al ragù, that anchor of Bolognese cooking. I enjoyed this dish very much, but, again, compared to Anna Maria's incredibly thin and light pasta, this one paled just a tad. The pasta was only slightly heavier, and if I had never had the other, this would be a standard by which to judge. So, if in Bologna, definitely put Serghei on your short list.

Tagliatelle al Ragù, Serghei, Bologna

I enjoyed Serghei especially for its family-run feeling, lack of pretense and honesty of the cooking and the presentation. No frills, just like me!

To top off these light starters!!!! I ordered the coveted maiale al latte. Coveted? No, greatly desired...is that the same. Anyway, Yum! it was delicious. The idea is to slow-roast the loin, shoulder, or whatever in about a liter of milk to keep the meat moist, and to add some flavor. As the milk cooks and reduces, what is left is an absolute treat. The solids, very full of sugar, caramelize into clumpy curds which are imbued with porky goodness.

I've made this dish many times, but have always wondered how mine compared to the home office's version. Well, I think I do pretty well. The pork in the USA is leaner, more flavorless and just more blah, so it's hard to exactly reach the same heights, but lately I've been using shoulder or butt, both of which have more fat than loin, and thus more flavor, and more moisture in the meat.

Maiale al Latte, Pork Roasted in Milk, Serghei, Bologna

I wish we had better pork more readily available. I will say that lately I've been using a nice pork in Portland from a small producer who finishes off the pigs with a diet of hazelnuts—NO, they don't choke them with nuts—which gives the meat more flavor, and, the breed they use is much fattier than supermarket pork. I'm sold even though it considerably more expensive. Once in a while, it is worth it. I know there are similar producers near Austin, just don't know who they are.

The next day I was on a hunt for a good version of the classic Bologna veal chop called cotoletta bolognese, and a couple of books directed me to the All'Osteria Bottega. So I trucked over after class and plunked my tired ass down in a chair in this comfy, but a tad "stuffy", place not far from my hotel. But I could tell they did things correctly and my mouth began watering as soon as I licked some stains on the menu. Wait, I didn't actually do that, except in my head!

One of the disappearing treasures of the Emilia (Bologna, Parma, Modena, etc) kitchen is called culatello, which literally translates as "little ass".  What it actually is, well, it's the prime ass cheek of these wonderful, whey-fed piggies. It's the "filet" of the prosciutto, the very best part, and it's expensive as hell because to "harvest" one, you destroy a whole prosciutto, or ham. Plus, to make it the traditional way, you have to cure it in a moldy, earthy room full of the right bacteria which provide the taste of a true culatello. Well, the assholes who are trying to make Europe a perfect ONE, have decided that all meats must be cured in rooms with white tiles which can be washed down periodically with a hose and water. Screw the culatello, they say! (Well, someone should screw THEM in their little asses, in my opinion.)  Well, somehow these diamonds of porkiness are still being produced, and they are still quite good if you search out the artisanal producers.

Tagliatelle al Culatello, All'Osteria Bottega, Bologna

All this is leading up to the pasta choice I made at Bottega: talgliatelle al culatello, basically delicate fettuccine (tagliatelle) topped with a healthy portion of lightly sauteed, perfect pig's ass, culatello. No secret blend of herbs or spices, just culatello, some butter or olive oil, and nothing else to get in the way of the pure taste of the perfectly cured pork...an absolute delight, for sure. Can't get this at home!

And I will want more soon! What to do???

Well, the focus of this day's meal was the cotoletta, veal chop, and I was in for a celebration of animal fats without really knowing it.  The thin chop, bone attached, was lightly sauteed in butter, then topped with a few thin slices of prosciutto, then "broiled" with a generous amount of Parmigiano on top, and then left to swim in butter. Crapola! It was great, but so, so, so, so, so rich.

Cotoletta Bolognese, All'Osteria Bottega, Bologn

You can see the pool of butter in this photo. Click to enlarge it for a better look at what will surely add greatly to my risk of death by heart failure.

Somehow, that same day, I was able to eat again. This time at the other place I'd been to for one of those "express" lunches, this one was in 2007. Trattoria Giginia is another of the stalwarts of true Cucina Bolognese, and I was very impressed on my first visit. So, along with my friend Cosimo and his always-attached wet towel, I went back to sample even more goodies from their menu. 

Trattoria Giginia, Bologna

I had to have passatelli again, and was interested to see if Giginia's brodo could meet the standard set by Anna Maria. Well, the answer is no. But it was close, and, again, if you never had the very, very best, then this one would have possibly earned that title. But not now. I've been spoiled.

Passatelli In Brodo, Trattoria Giginia, Bologna

Spuma di Mortadella, Baloney Mousse, Trat. Giginia, Bologna

Oh, wait, we had some appetizers too, including spuma di mortadella which I call "baloney mousse" which is more or less what it is. Puree some mortadella, add some finely minced sauteed onion, a bit of reduced broth since mortadella, about 40% fat, isn't already rich enough, then a sizable amount of whipped cream, again, because forty percent just isn't rich enough, then chill in a mold, and serve with bread or toast points. Really good, this stuff, and Giginia's version is quite luxurious, but then, anything with this high a fat content could only be so.


Well, the next day after my pasta class I decided to try out a place I'd heard prepared a good tortelloni alla zucca—pasta stuffed with winter squash—and that the best way to have it was not with the more common butter and sage, but with ragù. So I headed toward the stangely named Trattoria dal Biassonot which was about two doors down from Serghei. Apparently Biassonot is some symbol of night spirits in Bologna and takes the form of a black cat.

Trattoria dal Biassonot, Bologna

I walked in just before lunch was over and grabbed a table. Since I was by then on a quest to try every version of tortellini in brodo, guess what I ordered?  I knew that the chef/owner was a master pasta maker, having won a Matterello d'Oro a few years ago, I was certain that Biassonot's offering would be among the best. And it certainly was. Flavorful stuffing with hints of the individual components, yet still blending into a unique, unified entity into itself. And, of course, the pasta wrapping on these tiny packages was properly transparent and light. I was impressed. As usual, the broth was excellent, but still didn't reach the heights of Anna Maria's. But didn't I say it was excellent on its own?

Tortellini In Brodo, Trattoria dal Biassonot, Bologna

So, for my next course, I sampled the recommended tortelloni alla zucca with the standard ragù bolognese. They were fine, but I like my version a tad better. I grind amaretti cookies into the filling, and overall, the flavor of the stuffing of mine is more pronounced. But my version comes from a different place, a few miles up the road, and the folks in Bologna would snicker at mine. Oh well.

Tortelloni alla Zucca, Trattoria dal Biassonot, Bologna

After the meal was finished, the owner came out and spoke with me. She knew about my pasta course because I had mentioned it in an emailed reservation request I'd sent the night before. She knew it was me when she saw me. Guess it's the brother/sisterhood of sfoglini (bolognese pasta makers) that allowed her to recognize me???!!!  We spoke for a while about my classes, her pastas, and food in Bologna in general. She even pulled out her great, great grandmother's mattarello which she held carefully and proudly while mentioning that she almost never uses it because she doesn't want to damage it!

After we traded food secrets, I asked if she knew where I could get some great parmigiano reggiano, and of course she did, right around the corner. (I bought two kilos of 3-year old cheese there!) And then one more request, this time for a source for one of my favorite after dinner drinks, and a specialty of Emilia Romagna, nocino, which is an infusion in alcohol of green walnuts picked in late June on St. John's day, the 24th. After a few months, probably in October, the walnuts are removed and a simple sugar syrup is added and then the stuff is left to age until about Christmas. The taste is strong and an acquired on for sure...most people don't like it, but for some reason I find it delicious.

Nocino, Green Walnut Liqueur, Trattoria dal Biassonot, Bologna

Well, she replied that she could sell me a bottle of artisanally produced nocino, and she offered me a generous sample. Needless to say, I bought a bottle.

I guess it was that night, or the night after, I tried another joint that came highly recommended. Trattoria Gianni. It was fine, the food good, but somehow the vibe bothered me. I had a nice tagliattele, but this time with a lamb ragù instead of the beef/pork version. Good.

Stinco di Maiale, Pig Shank, Trattoria Gianni, Bologna

For my second course, I had something I'd been looking for since Florence, an oven roasted pork shank, the stinco di maiale. It was very well done, nicely browned outside, and very moist inside. But it was so rich, I could not finish it. Maybe because I had an appetizer, Gianni's nice version of spuma di mortadella. Well done.

Spuma di Mortadella, Trattoria Gianni, Bologna

Lasagne Bolognese, Trattoria dal Biassonot, Bologna

And at that point, I was about to pop!

Let's see, I tried to go back to Serghei for my last lunch in Bologna, but somehow got there too late. So, instead, I went next door to Biassonot for another hit of pasta. Duh.

Since I had already had her past in broth, and I had yet to try the quintessential Bolognese baked pasta, the famous lasagne. Ok, time to break another stereotype, this time of lasagne being a heavy dish laden with lots of cheese and meat and al dente pasta. Well, the primary source of Italian-American recipes is southern Italy (and we will mistakenly include Sicily in this geographic chunk) where the food does tend to be a bit heavier than in the north. Lasagne there is often, maybe normally made with a semolina-based dried pasta, the same you can buy at any American supermarket. The result, combined with the more southern fillings of ricotta, mozzarella, etcetera is a globby, heavy mess, and the kind I grew up with.

In Bologna, things are different. The dish is made with fresh egg pasta, never dried semolina pasta. And the pasta most often employed is made with spinach, thus the lasagne (lasagne is plural, lasagna is singular…one rarely eats ONE lasagna; just trying to keep things straight here!)—thus, the sfoglia used to make the lasagna is green, verde. And instead of ricotta as a filler, a very light schmear of white sauce (béchamel) is utilized to help bind the casserole (god, i hate to use that word here, but it fits, I suppose) together. A tiny among of ragù is used for substance between the layers, and a dusting of parmagiano reggiano completes each stratum. The first time I made lasagne in this way, I was shocked at how light and delicious it was. So different from my mother's, or any I had ever had at any American Italian place. It almost seemed like meeting an old friend, and I can't say why that is, but it immediately became my lasagne standard, though I still gobbled plenty of the other style when I visited the folks.

Trattoria dal Biassonot, Bologna

Biassonot's  lasagne was exemplary (damn, this is confusing...the actual dish is plural, but talking about A dish in the plural seems odd, so sorry for any inconsistencies. Almost airy in its lightness, a few nuggets of ground meat showed up here and there, and the sum total of all the parts made me a very happy, ballooning gastronome (not sure I really qualify for that, I might want to stick with chowhound).

Zucchini Ripieni, Stuffed Zucchini, Trattoria dal Biassonot, Bologna

For my "main" course, as if anything could take the spotlight off that serving of lasagna, I opted for another traditional dish, stuffed (ripieni) zucchini. The squash is hollowed out and filled with a meat mixture that is basically used for meatballs as well. In fact, the plate was dotted with a few tiny meatballs, a nice little touch, and the whole thing was bathed in tasty, light tomato sauce. I was very pleased with this home-style dish which I understand is now rarely served in restaurants. Lucky me to find a place that still does. (Actually, so does Serghei, and I wanted to try theirs during this lunch, but that was not to be, so it was cool Biassonot served it as well.)

[As I write this, I am on a train heading from Alba to Milan, the first stage of my journey back home. I'll overnight in Milan, then up early for the flight Sunday morning to JFK. I'll hang out in NYC for a few days visiting pals and eating lots of great Chinese food. Stay tuned for that!]

Tortellini In Brodo, Trattoria Anna Maria, Bologna

Ok, before we all explode, let's return to where we started, to Trattoria Anna Maria. Like I said, I'd been jonesin' for that broth all week and just had to get back for one more hit. This time, I went with the tortellini, my, what, fourth of the week? Third? I've lost count. As expected, the brodo was exceptional and managed to easily maintain its place as number one in my book. The tortellini themselves, at this point, were almost secondary, but were sensational as well. I'm so glad I decided to return.

For a change of pace, my other pasta on this visit was still her hand-rolled stuff, but this time cut a bit thicker into what are called pappardelle, not as wide as in Tuscany, but definitely wider than the tagliatelle. I was chided in my pasta class, when I was learning to cut tagliatelle with a knife, for cutting them about an eighth of an inch too wide. "Those are papparedelle! Not tagliatelle!" Ok, so now I know. The condiment consisted of sauteed mushrooms, but I am not sure what kind. Porcini were out of season by this time, but whatever they were, they were perfect.

Pappardelle ai Funghi, Noodles with Mushrooms, Trattoria Anna Maria, Bologna

Try it at home: get a variety of mushrooms—crimini, white, shitake, whatever you can find—chop them very coarsely, then, heat a bit of oil in a pan, not too hot, and had a tiny bit of chopped garlic, then the mushrooms…low heat, please…maybe splash in a half cup or so of dry white wine and let it evaporate. Then maybe a tiny bit of chicken stock or broth and let the pan cook on very low heat until the mushrooms are very soft and tender. Check for salt and pepper, add a bit of freshly chopped Italian parsley (with 3-4 mint leaves if you have them). You will add this to your cooked pasta. If the sauce seems too dry, add at least one-quarter cup of olive oil…more if you can deal with it. Serve with generous sprinklings of parmagiano reggiano…freshly grated, please!!!!

Ok, with that little "regalo", I'm gonna close out this hot-winded account of my eating adventures in Bologna.

Hungry yet?

Next stop, Montalcino in southern Tuscany. My personal paradise and where my will stipulates that my ashes are to be scattered when that becomes necessary. Yes, I love the place.

Inedible Bologna—Mostly

Someone asked why I didn't connect with Bologna when I first arrived. Well, I think it is because, unlike Florence, Siena, Montalcino, Alba, even the part of Rome I normally inhabit, Bologna does not qualify immediately as a sort of fairy tale town where one can instantly forget time and feel as though it is 1500 again. Oh, I DO remember the 1500s in Montalcino...my favorite year of time! Ha! No kidding, I do! Ask my hypnotherapist...

As I stayed in Bologna, I began to unravel its secrets and uncover more of its charm. I am still not putting it my list of favorite places, but I guess I need to go back when I have time to actually visit the city and not stay glued to a rolling pin for half the day. I think I entered a total of two churches, zero museums and zero nada nada nada. Of course I made time for restaurants, but those will remain for other posts.

In the meantime, here are some photos and thoughts.

Coffee machines. I have an obsession with an old espresso machine made in the early '60s by Faema. The E-61 is now considered a classic because of its styling, but more so because of its very functional, efficient and delicious "group head", now referred to as the E61, and used on many "pro-sumer" espresso machines made in Italy and gobbled up by foreigners like me. I've owned two such machines and have loved them greatly. Number one machine is with the Son-of-Rammack-Lady in Oakland and performs flawlessly.

Well, on my first day in Bologna, no, second, I encountered two of these machines, very rare I must say, within an hour. One in the breakfast room of my hotel, the other in a coffee shop near my pasta school, though this one was a reproduction. The next day, I encountered another at the All'Osteria Botegga where I had some great food.

Here they are...whoops, I can't find the photos of my hotel's machine, strange. I'll keep looking. But the last in this series is one of Faema's new machines. It just doesn't have the class of the old E-61s!


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Faema E-61 Reproduction, Bologna

Close up of Faema E-61 Group Head, Montalcino

Faema E-61, Bologna

 

Faema's Recent Design, Alba

Now, some random shots of Bologna:

Old porticos, Bologna

One of the original porticos, Bologna

Artichokes, Bologna

Artichokes, Bologna

Part of Piazza Maggiore, Bologna

John Lennon Memorial Mont Blanc, Bologna

Amazing cheese shop, Bologna

Loggia, Bologna

The famous towers, Bologna

San Domenico, Bologna

More soon...and back to food. What else is there???

Bologna La Grassa: Bologna the Fat!

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Bologna has several nicknames in Italian: Bologna La Grassa, Bologna La Rossa and a couple of others.

Bologna's Typical Red-colored Buildings: La Rossa

La Rossa comes from the overall reddish orange color of many of the city's buildings, and, from the fact that the area around Bologna has long been a stronghold of the Italian Communist Party, the region of Emilia Romagna (regions are the Italian equivalent of our states, more or less) has had more than one Communist governor, and Bologna has had many Communist mayors and politicians.

La Grassa derives from the city's amazing cuisine which relies on many rather fatty ingredients like butter, rich, fat-focused pork products like mortadella (the original baloney), pancetta, prosciutto and...lard called strutto! The food is incredibly rich, unctuous and delicious because of the fat.

Spuma di Mortadella

Mortadella, The Original Baloney

Some also say that the inhabitants themselves lean toward the corpulent, but I didn't notice this much, but then, I am accustomed to American body types.

Because there is an abundance of milk in the area, butter is the cooking fat of choice, unlike Tuscany which is all of one hour away, where the cooking fat is typically olive oil. What a difference an hour makes.

Of course the other major feature of the cuisine is the hand-rolled pasta, called sfoglia in Bologna, because it is so thin, like sheets of paper, foglia. See this earlier post: Pasta School in Bologna

Sfoglia from Bologna, prepped for ravioli

This pasta is used to make Bologna's famous tortellini, tortelloni, lasagne, tagliatelle (like fettucine), mezzalune, and so on. The results are typically a light, not al dente, pasta that is not like the chewy factory past of the south we are more familiar with. In fact, if you have never had fresh pasta, you are in for a treat. Call me, I'll take care of that! (By the way, most of the junk sold in grocery stores and even in Portland's famous Pastaworks, does not come close to the real thing, regardless of hype.)

The essential philosophy is to combine a few choice ingredients in proper proportions to create fantastic pasta dishes, deeply flavored broths for soups, tremendously tasty roasted meats, and even wonderfully satisfying, yet amazingly light fried foods. Simple is everything. American chefs: stop screwing with tradition, leave it alone...use the best ingredients and you won't need to add kiwi fruit, phony balsamic vinegar, or other unnecessary trendy ingredients to the pasta sauce, the grilled or sauteed meats, and vegetables.

Meat and Cheese Shop, Bologna

Focus is on simplicity. For example, make an amazing broth—the famous brodo of Bologna—, cook some tortellini or other small pasta in it, and there you have one of the most elegant, most pure, most simple and delicious dishes you can imagine. Broth redolent of flavor of chicken, capon, a bit of beef, some subtle onion in the background and leave it alone. Magic in a bowl...a true wet dream!

36-Month-Old Parmigiano Reggiano, Bologna

Just to bring you up to speed a bit. The area around Bologna produces some of the products we count as staples, or at least quite desirable, in cooking "real" Italian food. Here is a short list: Parmigiano Reggiano (many consider it to be the best, most noble cheese on the planet, at least of Italian origin...it doesn't come in a green can);
Prosciutto di Parma, that perfectly cured pig's ass cheek/rear leg which is typically eaten raw and it just darn difficult to approach its perfection, by the way the pigs used for these precious hams are feed a diet which is largely composed of the leftover whey resulting from the Parmigiano making process; balsamic vinegar—ok, this isn't really vinegar, and the junk you find in just about every dealer in the USA is NOT true balsamic which costs at least 75 bucks for about three ounces, is thick and sweet, and so unlike that water acidic imitator you get at 99.99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999 percent of restaurants in this country—it's made from cooked grape syrup and aged at least ten years before it gets even close to being ready;

I'd never spent any time in Bologna before, other than a couple of quick lunches (literally hopping off and on the train to Florence), and so I was looking forward to discovering more about the cuisine even most Italians (or some) agree is one of the best in the very, very culturally diverse and divided country.

Trattoria Anna Maria, Bologna

So my first stop had to be at a place renowned for its hand-rolled pasta, in this case, Trattoria Anna Maria, one of the last stalwarts, and still legendary in this style of pasta making. In fact, they have won many pasta making competitions, including the much coveted Mattarello d'Oro (Gold Rolling Pin). Many of these very awards were won by one of my teachers at the pasta school, Alessandro, brother of the school's owner, Alessandra. And his photos on the wall back up his well-deserved finesse. I was getting hungry just looking at those photos!

Passatelli in Brodo, Trattoria Anna Maria, Bologna

I started out the meal with, guess what, a bowl of that broth, but instead of the standard tortellini, I opted for passatelli which are sort of exuded dumplings, about pencil width, made of cheese, breadcrumbs and a bit of nutmeg...they are squeezed out of a potato ricer or similar implement directly into the broth where they form little worm-like strands. I've made these many times in the Tuscan style which includes spinach and sometimes a bit of meat. The Bolognese variety strips all the excess down to just a few minimal, but fantastic essential parts and rockets the result into some sort of culinary heaven.

One bite, then BLAM! That broth knocks me on my ass.

It was almost viscous, its flavor was so profound, so pronounced. Anna Maria set the bar so high for this broth that I was not to find its equal in any of the six or seven other places I tried it over the week. I was sure it was made with capon which is a far richer bird than chicken, but Alessandro, who spent thirteen years in the kitchen, assured me it was chicken. They must have an amazing source for these divine creatures. By the way, if you have never had roasted capon, please do yourself a favor and try it. They are usually in the frozen section of the meat counter and they are not cheap, maybe three bucks a pound. But, if you are feeding a small group for Thanksgiving or Christmas, you just can't beat it. Brine the sucker, roast it with a cut lemon in the cavity, baste it a bit with some wine or Marsala, and you will be rewarded with a fantastic feast.

Tagliatelle al Ragù

Next I had another pasta dish, a classic tagliatelle al ragù, one of the absolute standards and anchors of Bolognese cuisine. Ok, let's get this straight right now, Bolognese ragù is NOT a tomato sauce, in fact, nowhere in Italy is ragù mostly tomato. Rather, it is a very meaty sauce, usually with a hint of tomato for added richness. The Bologna version varies from house to house and may or may not contain some prosciutto, a bit of pancetta, maybe some pork, but mostly beef or veal, cooked in a sofritto base of onion, carrot and celery...NO GARLIC...some wine perhaps, maybe a bit of cream or milk. But no oregano, no rosemary, no basil. This ain't a spicy meatball, but it will kick the ass of about any version of sauce you find in ANY restaurant in the USA. It doesn't come in a jar, it doesn't cook for six hours. But it will delight and surprise you with it's deep flavor. (Notice a common thread here?)

So, this ragù is mixed in a small amount in a skillet with some freshly cooked hand-rolled and cut tagliatelle (like fettuccine) and served in a nice, ample pasta bowl, maybe topped with freshly grated parmigiano reggiano, the king of cheeses made right up the road from Bologna. The pasta is rolled quite thin, and cut into strips about a quarter-inch wide. They should be light, tender and NEVER al dente or chewy. Oh gawd, this was drilled in for five days in my pasta course. And Anna Maria's tagliatelle were just about perfect in every way. I was in heaven.

This place was so good, I knew I had to go back at some point later in the week. For days after, I found myself jonesin' for that brodo! And as good as other versions were, they just couldn't equal this true marvel of kitchen wizardry.

Ok, next entry: more delights from Bologna...soon!!!! I'm over a week behind on this and am now three cities ahead of this blog!

Cardi (Cardoons), Fruit and Vegetable Shop, Bologna