Blu Aubergine Blog

ESCAPES: Nice, Cuisine Nicoise, and the Cote d'Azur

I love late September in the south of France. The dwindling days of summer here mean languid, sun-dappled afternoons napping on the pebbly beaches along Nice's corniche, strolling the cobblestone streets of the Old Town (Vieux Nice) or the Cours Saleya, shopping for lavender soap, gorgeous fruit candies, or golden-green Provencal olive oil. You can still get some late-season sun in the afternoon, break for lunch seaside or in town, and return for a swim in the electric blue waters (surprisingly brisk) as beach umbrella shadows grow long. And the food -- ahh, the food of Provence is arguably at its peak at this time.

Some background: Nice was a part of the (Italian) kingdom of Savoy, then briefly a part of France, from 1792-1815, then returned to Piedmont-Sardinia (Italian, again) until it was re-annexed by France in 1860, just a decade before Italy became an independent and organized nation in 1870.

Before that, the Cote d'Azur down to San Remo and on to Genova and the Ligurian Riviera -- it was all an Italian-speaking, pasta-eating stronghold. Going back much further, Nice is one of the oldest human settlements in the world, home to nearby terra-amata, one of the first spots where humans were known to have used fire, dating from the Lower Paleolithic age (about 400,000 years ago!).

It was an ancient Greek city (probably named for the Greek god Nike, after the Greek victory here, versus the Ligurians). But, like many places that eventually became strategic ports for the Roman empire, Nice skewed Italian. And after all of its history and numerous occupations, Nice still self-identifies as a formerly Italian city that embraces the Italian way of life as much as the French: controversial to the people of France, perhaps, but an obvious preference to the Italians.

As far as cuisine is concerned, Nicoise and Provencal food echoes more of the Ligurian and Piemontese cooking than that of any French region. It's big on fresh, local ingredients (olive oil, anchovies, produce, etc.), but also the classic salt cod from Northern Europe, as Nice was a port along the trade route. Local dishes include the famous Salade Nicoise, Pissaladière (a savory tart with caramelized onions, anchovies, and olives), Socca(chickpea flour pancakes), Stuffed Nicoise vegetables, Ratatouille (vegetable stew), and Daube (a Provencal beef stew made with red wine). 

Many variations on the classic Bouillabaisse (saffron-infused seafood soup) exist all along the Cote d'Azur, and you're sure to find some delicious versions in Nice, too -- though the original hails from Marseilles. The version in the photo here had exactly the rich, slow-cooked seafood broth I was craving, laced with saffron and a hint of cognac, and served with rouille, the traditional Provencal accompaniment to fish stews -- sort of an aioli made with saffron, fish stock, a little tomato, and often some monkfish liver.

We enjoyed this along the port in Nice, where we had a great lunch on a gorgeous day, under the protection of Le Bistrot du Port's sunflower yellow awning. This is a bustling spot overlooking the docked boats bobbing in the port, which is tucked away a bit down from the main thoroughfare and the Promenade des Anglais.

We also nibbled on a light lobster salad with fresh peas, mushrooms and greens, and a grilled calamari entree, with the calamari "fillet" quickly grilled and topped with a warm salad of calamari, tomato concasse, onions, and herbs -- with lots of delicious Provencal olive oil, of course. A light slaw on the side complemented the dish perfectly. When in Nice, I try to eat outside whenever possible, and it's almost always possible in September, which is part of the beauty of visiting at this time of year.

Also near the port is the elegant L'Ane Rouge, a sophisticated jewel with outdoor seating and a refined menu, specializing in seafood. Starters like the chicken and mushroom mousse-stuffed zucchini blossom on zucchini, mushrooms, and citrus, was a completely original way to start the meal.

We sat portside, on a crisp clear night, and enjoyed warm and professional service from everyone who passed by our table. Moving forward, we enjoyed main courses like the codfish on ratatouille, a classic and perfectly-executed example of the southern French vegetable ragout, served with a traditional fish in these parts.

We also enjoyed the obrine on chorizo-accented white beans with chanterelle mushrooms. The portions are, one might say, discreet.

But the food is flavorful enough to keep you sated, and to make you want to try several different courses. Everything is presented beautifully, as well. And though we really didn't have room for a full-on dessert course, the restaurant did provide a sweet ending and an alternative to the usual petits-four format. We each received a small glass filled with a red fruit puree and mascarpone cream, served with an almond tuile and an apricot gelee (very Provence). 

There are lots of lively spots where you can enjoy a nice meal along the Cours Saleya, which is a street running parallel to the waterfront, set back a block from the Promenade des Anglais. By day, this is a bustling food market where vendors also sell famous locally milled scented soaps, colorfully patterned Provencal tablecloth and napkin sets, and various antiques and furniture.

There are some cute bistros that line the street for lunch, but by night, it is a full-throttle central area for alfresco dining. The idea is to avoid places that are begging for your business, with tourist menus printed in four languages featuring photos of the dishes. Go for a place that's a little low-key -- and they do exist if you look for them -- and you can happen on a great meal. I enjoyed a delicious goat cheese and fresh fig tart on puff pastry, with candied pine nuts, tomato, and mesclun greens. Also perfectly Provencal? Seared scallops on eggplant caviar (roasted eggplant and garlic chopped to look similar to caviar) with a white wine sauce.

If you want to learn to cook Provencal specialties, the local cooking school Les Petits Farcis, run by English-mother-tongue Canadian (and friend of Blu Aubergine) Rosa Jackson, is a great option. Rosa offers both food and wine and market tours as well as cooking classes in the heart of Nice, and is a local expert in all things gastronomical.

Outside of Nice, there are many charming Provencal towns on the coast and more inland, definitely worth a visit. Of course Cannes is famous for its film festival every spring, but it's worth a visit even without the Hollywood draw. Its port and the convention center where the film festival are held are side-by-side, and the corniche is peppered with cafes and restaurants.

Antibes, further along the coast, is a gorgeous little town with a charming cobblestoned historic center where a daily market is held, and is also home to a lovely, intimate Picasso museum worth a visit.

Saint Paul-de-Vance, a breathtaking medieval village perched on a hilltop, is famous for its former artists-in-residence (Marc Chagall, for one), as well as its tradition of perfume making, centered in nearby Grasse. Its art galleries and jewelbox shops are lovely and worth a detour from the coast. 

Le Bistrot du Port de Nice

28 Quai Lunel, 06300 Nice

04 93 55 21 70

www.lebistrotduportdenice.fr

L'Âne Rouge

7 Quai des Deux Emmanuel

04 93 89 49 63

www.anerougenice.com 

Les Petits Farcis

http://petitsfarcis.com/

QUICK BITE: Easy Labor Day Salads

Heirloom yellow, green, and red tomatoes and cherry tomatoes, mint, microgreens, and toasted pistachios

Even though Labor Day weekend stretches into September this year, the heat is on and it still feels -- at least according to the mercury -- like we're in the middle of summer. And since we're celebrating Labor Day here in America, the last thing anyone wants to do is labor over a meal. Certainly, slaving over a hot stove is out of the question. But Americans love to grill, and the perfect accompaniment to grilled meat and seafood is a great summer salad.

And sometimes, salads are a great substitute for protein-heavy summer meals, as the main course. Composed salads are comprised of elements other than just greens and a few simple vegetables, plated together. Sometimes, there are no greens whatsoever. But even green salads can be elevated to another level with an interesting dressing (replace red wine vinegar with sherry vinegar, add a touch of dijon or miso, use walnut or hazelnut oil instead of olive oil).  Whether the salad is an accompaniment to burgers or steaks or lobster or grilled fish, keeping things cool with vegetables tied together with a great, bracing vinaigrette is the easiest, healthiest path to a delicious meal this Labor Day weekend. Herewith, some inspiration for delicious summer salads that require very little work -- and just some assembly, in many cases. Here's to a relaxing, labor-free Labor Day weekend: enjoy! 

Classic tuna Nicoise salad with grilled fresh tuna

Burrata, heirloom tomato, white peach, basil and mint

Classic iceberg wedge salads with blue cheese, bacon, cherry tomatoes and chives

Watercress with herbs, plums, red onion, and peanuts in Asian dressing

Heirloom tomato, radicchio, and grilled peaches

Mixed lettuces with broccoli, fresh apricot, and pomegranate

SEASONAL FOOD: Watermelon

When I think of late summer, the dwindling heat of end-of-August, I think of lazy days by the pool, happliy exhausting days on the beach, and backyard barbeques in the 'burbs. All are heavenly. And what food best represents these languid last days of the hottest season of the year? For me, the answer is simple: watermelon

The watermelon is the edible fruit (botanically speaking it's a kind of berry called a pepo) from a vine-like flowering plant that hails from southern Africa. Its cultivation harks all the way back to the second millennium B.C., in the Nile Valley. Watermelon seeds were found at the tomb of King Tutankhamun, and the fruit is mentioned as a food eaten by the ancient Israelites while in bondage in Egypt. The fruit was cultivated on the Indian continent by the seventh century, and had spread to China by the tenth.

China continues to be the world's largest watermelon producer, by a lot, today -- they account for about 50% of the world's production. It was the Moors who introduced watermelon (and a whole slew of other great things!) to Europe; evidence suggests that it was cultivated in southern Spain, in Cordoba and Sevilla, in 961 and 1158, respectively. From here its cultivation spread throughout Southern Europe, and by the 17th century, watermelon had become a fairly widespread garden crop on the European continent. We have the European colonists, and their slaves, to thank for the introduction of watermelon into the U.S. and the New World in general -- Spanish settlers in Florida in the late 16th century, on up to Massachusetts, and later Peru, Brazil, and Panama. Today, the fruit is grown in 44 U.S. states, with Georgia, Florida, Texas, California, and Arizona leading the charge. The largest melon on record, however, was grown in Tennessee in 2013, weighing in at a heaving 350.5 pounds!

Watermelon, feta, and mint crostini.JPG

Nutritionally speaking, watermelon isn't vitamin or nutrient-dense in the classic definition of the terms. But the beauty is this: it's 91% water, contains 6% sugars, and is low in fat and calories, so for the caloric intake, it's a decent source of fiber and vitamin C. But new evidence suggests that watermelon has several additional nutritional and health benefits. Watermelon flesh is quite high in carotenoid phytonutrients, specifically lycopene, and has been moved up to the front of the line, alongside tomatoes, in recent studies on high-lycopene foods. What does lycopene do? It's especially important for cardiovascular health. Bone health, too.

It's an antioxidant and contains anti-inflammatory properties, so it potentially fights off all kinds of disease and inflammation that is the breeding ground for disease and chronic illness. Recently, scientists have become interested in the high citrulline content of the fruit as well. Citrulline is an amino acid generally converted by our kidneys into arginine, another amino acid -- which helps improve blood flow and general cardiovascular health. There's also hopeful evidence that this amino acid conversion process might help to prevent fat buildup in fat cells by blocking a particular enzyme activity. Things are looking up for watermelon fanatics!

Watermelon and cucumber salad.JPG

As for watermelon preparation and ways in which to enjoy the fruit, other than slices out of hand? It's actually incredibly versatile in both savory and sweet preparations. Watermelon "steaks" work well on the grill, even as served with grilled meats. One of my favorite summer dishes I've prepared in recent memory is a sort of riff on a Vietnamese pork chop dish.

I marinate thinly-sliced pork chops in a fish sauce, soy, and rice wine-based marinade, then toss them on the grill and reduce the marinade for a sauce. I serve them on a bed of greens (watercress is my favorite) with fizzled shallots, cilantro, watermelon cubes, and pickled watermelon rind. The combination of flavors, textures, and temperatures is heaven! 

Of course, simple preparations like my watermelon-feta-mint skewers and "cocktail sandwiches" is an easy snack. And there's this snack in salad form -- a dish that's become somewhat ubiquitous on menus in urban centers and beach locales all over. But it's still delicious and refreshing, particularly on a hot August day.

I like my watermelon salad with arugula and/or microgreens, salty feta (but not too much), and a kicky rice or sherry wine vinaigrette. Add some jalapenos and I'm even happier.

Mint is a must, cilantro is a bonus. Sorrel is a nice variation. Watermelon pairs nicely with cucumber (technically another member of the melon family), and both take well to heat -- as in the spicy kind, from hot peppers. This is true even in cocktails. We all know the trick of a hollowed-out watermelon with vodka-soaked melon balls, or "tapping" the green rind and turning the watermelon shell into a keg for cocktails. These are fun ideas, no doubt. But fresh-pressed watermelon juice with your liquor of choice and additional goodies makes for a sophisticated cocktail, without being hokey. 

Ditto the pulverized flesh of the melon. And for dessert, or a drink, or a cocktail-dessert hybrid? Freeze the pureed watermelon pulp to make granita, the Sicilian shaved ice and the world's original slushie frozen treat. Just add a bit of simple syrup to the pureed melon -- equal parts sugar and water, heated and cooled -- if it needs a little added sweetness (though ripe melon should be plenty sweet on its own). Pour into a tray or pan and pop it in the freezer, periodically mashing it up with a fork when it starts to freeze. Scrape, and serve. Here, liquor is optional, but ooooh, is it a good choice! It's the quintessential summer food, in any of its forms. Enjoy the season!

ITALIAN CLASSIC + RECIPE: Vitello Tonnato

The name itself is a puzzling one. It roughly translates to "tuna-ed veal." It actually sounded full-on disgusting to me before I ever tasted the dish, back in my days as a college student studying abroad in Tuscany. Then I tried it. Let's just say it became an instant favorite. Now, if it's summertime, and it's too warm to eat a hot main course, I'll always go for the tonnato -- from Sant Ambroeus in Southampton to Trattoria Ponte Sisto in Rome, this is my hot weather order of choice. And sometimes, if I'm feeling ambitious, or I'm having guests, I'll make it myself. It's always best that way, isn't it?

Vitello tonnato is a dish that the north of Italy can lay claim to, specifically the Piemonte region. It can also be made with pork (as in the photo above) or turkey, but veal is the classic. It's served at room temperature or chilled, which makes it an excellent summertime main course.

It's traditionally prepared a day in advance, to let the flavors really combine well. The cut of veal used is generally the eye round (a cut from the hind leg), sliced thin once it's cooked and has "rested" for a day in the fridge. The meat is braised in water/white wine/vinegar with some herbs and spices, or stock, or if you're really going thorough and old-school, you add olive oil-packed Italian tuna to the cooking liquid, and this braising liquid then becomes the base of the sauce -- this way the flavors of the two star ingredients blend and meld into a tastier whole. A homemade mayonnaise is then prepared by whisking together egg yolks, vegetable and olive oils, and a touch of vinegar as the basic base, to which the tuna is added. There is some argument as to whether or not the sauce gets slathered over all slices so that they may marinate in the sauce for several hours, or it the cooked veal gets sliced and served alongside a slightly thicker sauce for you to dip into or spread on the slices as you like. There is no argument, however, that capers are a must when serving.

VITELLO TONNATO

For the veal:

  • 2 - 2 1/2 pounds lean veal roast, preferably top round, firmly trussed, or turkey breast or pork loin
  • 17-ounce container top-quality Italian tuna, shredded
  • 1medium-size white onion, peeled and roughly chopped
  • 1rib of celery, roughly chopped
  • 1carrot, peeled and roughly chopped
  • 1bay leaf
  • 3 sprigs parsley
  • 1 ½cups dry white wine
  • 1 1/2 cups water
  •  
  • ½ teaspoon Kosher salt
  • 10black peppercorns

For the tuna sauce:

  • 2egg yolks
  • 1cup extra-virgin olive oil
  • 112-ounce container top-quality Italian tuna in olive oil, finely chopped, with its oil
  • 2anchovies, rinsed, dried and minced
  • 1tablespoon caper brine
  • Lemon juice
  • veal broth (see above)
  • Kosher salt to taste

Preparation

  1. Truss the veal with cotton string, so that it resembles a roast. Place the meat in a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven and cover with tuna, onion, celery, carrot, bay leaf, parsley, wine, broth, salt and pepper, then heat over a high flame until it comes to a boil. Immediately reduce heat to very low, cover and simmer for 45 minutes, or until the internal temperature of the veal reaches 130 degrees.
  2. Remove meat to a large, nonreactive bowl, strain the broth over it, cover and allow the meat to cool in the refrigerator, preferably overnight. (Discard the solids.)
  3. While the meat cools, put yolks in a medium bowl and beat with a wire whisk. Begin to add oil as you beat, a thin stream at first, adding more as each bit is incorporated. When a thick emulsion forms, you can add oil at a slightly faster rate.  The entire process should take 5 to 7 minutes, and you may not use all of the oil.
  4. Add tuna, anchovies and caper brine to a food processor, and pulse. Add the mayo and pulse to puree into a thick mixture. Add a few tablespoons of the veal broth to thin the sauce slightly. Add lemon juice to taste, and more broth if the sauce needs thinning. Taste for salt. The sauce should not taste overly mayonnaise-y but should be reminiscent of the best quality mayo.
  5. Remove the cooled veal from its broth, untie and cut across the grain into very thin slices. Smear the sauce on the bottom of the platter. Arrange the veal slices neatly on a platter with the edges of the slices overlapping, and spoon the tuna sauce over the top. You can place another layer of veal and repeat, but don't do more than two layers on one plate. Cover and return to refrigerator overnight or until ready to use. Garnish with capers or fried capers, lemon, hard-boiled eggs, or sprigs of parsley. Alternatively, you can slice the veal and serve the sauce in the center of the plate or on the side.
  6. Return to room temperature before serving.

POP-UP DINNER: Blu Aubergine and Filigree Suppers Celebrate Female Icons

It started out as an idea for a collaboration. I saw what the ladies at Filigree Suppers were doing, and that their dinners often propped up women, using female chefs, artisans (potters et al), designers, photographers...you get the picture. And then I saw their Moroccan-themed dinner just as I was planning a long vacation overseas which included my first trip to a bucket list locale for me: yes, Morocco. It seemed like fate.

So I got in touch about wanting to do a collaborative dinner with them, and Brita and Elise were lovely and receptive. We discussed several possible themes, and they mentioned they'd wanted to do a female icons-themed dinner for a while. I immediately loved it! It was a great way to pay homage to the women who paved the way for us -- entrepreneurs, all, doing our own thing and able to do what we love, without risk or protest, without inhibition or second-guessing. And while we have many political figures and brave women in technology and medicine and business and human rights activism to thank for our enjoyed (mostly) equal status in today's modern age, we decided that for this dinner, for this fun theme, we'd honor female icons of style and the arts from the 20th century. And then I was able to turn on my creativity.

First thing was the menu. That was my job: to come up with a multi-course meal that reflected the season (full-on summer in mid-July), and my cooking style, while interpreting what these female muses of modern style contributed to us -- and it all had to taste delicious, of course. I thought about the categories I'd wanted represented. As a long-time ballerina, I had to have dance in there. Pavlova was a legendary ballerina, and already had a dessert named after her, which was the perfect light end to a summer meal. Dessert done. As a budding chef and a very young girl, I'd watched Julia Child cooking on television, like...well, like it would some day be my job. I had to honor her and the culinary arts in some way. I'd worked in fashion early in my professional career, and knew what a tough business it was, and how I admired those who were truly talented at the art of design, who had enormous personal style.

Who better encapsulates that than Coco Chanel, a woman before her time? I have always loved the Jazz Age, the roaring '20s (and on to the '30s and '40s), particularly New York and France in that period...though it felt like a time dominated by men in the arts (Picasso, Hemingway, Fitzgerald et al).

The female figures representing that time? The fabulous Josephine Baker, of course, as well as personal favorite Dorothy Parker. A recent visit to Santa Fe and the museum celebrating the work of a favorite artist, Georgia O'Keeffe, had her top-of-mind for me. Jackie Kennedy Onassis is a no-brainer for any roundup of women of style. And finally, since we were having the dinner in the Hotel des Artistes, it made sense to pay tribute to one of its former inhabitants, modern dancer Isadora Duncan. The cast of icons was complete. Now, how to honor them and use their work as inspiration for my culinary creations?

While I took care of the menu development, a whole cast of women contributed to the success of the evening. Filigree Suppers (www.filigreesuppers.com) rounded everyone up, including lovely flowers by Peartree (http://peartreeflowers.com), paper goods by Fourteen-Fort (www.1440nyc.com), liquor for our cocktail donated by Brooklyn Gin (www.brooklyngin.com), and a wonderful photographer with City Love Photography(www.citylovephotography), contributing many of the photos you see here today. We had gorgeous ceramics on sale all evening from Red Raven Studios (www.redravenshop.com), and I contacted another fabulous female graphic designer, who'd created the lovely labels for our wine for the evening, Festival and Feast (www.festivalandfeast.com).

Our dinner event took place in the gorgeous, colorful, and super-cool apartment of equally gorgeous (colorful, super-cool), chic Beatrix Ost, who is herself a fashion and art icon and pretty much the definition of a Renaissance woman. Her duplex apartment in the Hotel des Artistes on the Upper West Side was the perfect location for our celebration of female style, creativity, and power.

The evening began with a cocktail hour. And which female icon is better suited to a New York gin-based cocktail than Dorothy Parker herself? The drink, called the Ascerbic Mrs. Parker, was created in Brooklyn at a bar called the Shanty. It features gin, orange liqueur, hibiscus syrup, lemon juice, and soda, and goes down as smoothly as Parker's witty lines.

To balance the rapier wit and cynicism of the cocktail's muse, we decided to pair it with some cocktail fare inspired by lovely, sophisticated Jackie O. I created two hors d'oeuvres in the former first lady's honor. One celebrates the Kennedy part of her: East Coast clam crostini were a nod to summer days spent with the Kennedy clan in Hyannis Port. Greek salad skewers represented the Onassis part of Jackie O, and were a perfect accompaniment to the cocktail and a refreshing light bite on a sweltering summer evening (the mercury rose well above 90 degrees that Sunday night!).

And so, after plenty of mingling and sipping and nibbling, the dinner part of the evening began. The ladies from Filigree made their introductions, and presented the hostess of the evening, and then I came out to introduce the actual food part of the event. I would explain each course before it was served, plated but buffet style on Ost's lapis-blue, oversized dining room table.

 

We began with the amuse bouche, inspired by Coco Chanel. Since the designer is known as much as anything for her iconic bags, I created a "Cocoa" Chanel beggar's purse as a riff on a beggar's purse (classically, a crepe filled with creme fraiche and caviar, tied with a chive). 

I made a crepe with cabernet flour and cocoa, filled it with sour cream and smoked trout caviar, wrapped it in a bundle tied with a chive, and plated it with a spoonful of caviar and a fuchsia beet aioli double-C. The guests were treated to some wonderful lyrical opera music from singer Eva Glasmacher, singing from a balcony overhead, in truly dramatic fashion. Her performances were peppered throughout the evening, whenever inspiration struck her. I am always amazed at the powerful voice that can come out of such a petite frame.

I

After the amuse bouche, we continued on to the salad. I created this course to celebrate the work of Georgia O'Keeffe, one of my favorite painters, and an artist who celebrated women and the female form throughout much of her work. Of course, she's known for her flower paintings, and her adopted home of Santa Fe, New Mexico is known for its gorgeous desert sunsets in colors ranging from ochre to burnt sienna -- something I tried to reflect in my Georgia O'Keeffe Southwestern Salad.This included mixed field greens and herbs, roasted corn off the cob, chile-candied bacon, micro cucumbers, and edible flowers in sunset colors, all tossed in a piquant chili pepper-lime vinaigrette with cumin. Again, as it turned out, a nice refreshing course in the midst of a hot summer night.

. 

Next up? A tribute to the sultry American triple-threat (singer, dancer, actress), beloved in her adopted France, and a performer ahead of her time: Josephine Baker. Her fans comprised most everyone in the entertainment industry, as she played to rapt audiences around the globe.

In an era of black and white (photos, film, and how many people viewed the world), she was a groundbreaking artist who refused to perform for segregated audiences in the U.S, and the first black woman to star in a major motion picture. Hemingway dubbed her "the most sensational woman anyone ever saw." I needed to translate her into a dish, and so, I created a Seared Coquille St. Jacque on squid ink couscous with pickled cauliflower and Moroccan spiced citrus oil. The dish is a nod to her becoming a French citizen, the couscous a culinary translation of her nickname, "The Black Pearl," and along with the spiced oil, is a reference to her time spent in French Morocco.I think (hope!) the dish was an honorable tribute to a true talent.

The final main course was a fairly obvious choice for me, since I most definitely wanted to include a culinary legend in the mix of female icons, and one who actually had a great impact on me from a very young age. Little did I know, when I was a young girl, the interesting life Julia Child had led well before she turned her focus on food. Some have said she was a spy. She definitely worked for the OSS during World War II in its Secret Intelligence Division in Washington, then in postings in Sri Lanka, and after marrying her husband Paul, moved to Paris where he was posted in the foreign service.

She didn't arrive at culinary school until she was 37, nor the idea of a profession in food until she was basically 40 years old. She is inspiring across the board! And what was one of her most well-known dishes? The classic Boeuf Bourguinon -- and my version was deconstructed. I used short ribs for the beef, slow-cooked them in a red wine sauce, and cooked the vegetables separately, each a little differently, from sauteeing the mushrooms in olive oil and rosemary and garlic, to glazing the carrots with butter and sherry vinegar, to making sweet-and-sour cippolini onions with balsamic. This was served on a bed of celeriac-potato puree, and finished with sea beans for a little pop of salinity and green in the dish. Served with some of the reduced red wine demi-glace, and topped with some purple opal basil, this lighter version of the classic was about as heavy as we could handle in the summer heat. As Julia would say, Bon Appetit!

Dessert was simple (an ode to ballerina Anna Pavlova), but challenging in the execution. I knew immediately that serving mini Pavlovas would be the perfect option from a diner's perspective: light, summery, fruity, refreshing. But from a chef's point of view...well, meringue can be tricky. Still, I managed to keep the meringue nests cool. Until the scorching, humid day of the event, that is.

We tried to rescue the meringues from melting, and although we salvaged them to some degree, they would never be their formerly crisp, crunchy selves.

Good thing we had lots of delicious organic whipped cream, berries, pineapple, and fresh mint to plop on top of the meringues, so all was not lost! We also put out a platter of goodies for our guests to take home, the final nod to our female icons theme: in black filigree-patterned cellophane bags, in honor of Isadora Duncan, we tucked in some almond-hazelnut biscotti for "duncan" in your coffee the next morning, wink-wink. 

The crowd seemed to enjoy it all, and as the evening wrapped up and we enjoyed our final vocal performance, a lot of connections, conversations, and friendships had been sparked among the guests.

In coming together to honor iconic women in the arts and creative fields, we celebrate and appreciate the beautiful side of our existence, the little things that make everyday life a pleasure.

Wonderful hostess in a wonderful home...great supper club hostesses...creators and thinkers and makers joining together for a fun midsummer night's meal.

And that's really what these supper club evenings are all about, right? 

Special thanks to all of those who attended, and to Beatrix Ost and her lovely family, all of the other creative ladies who helped with each facet of the event. And to my fabulous Blu Aubergine team of gals: grazie mille! I couldn't have pulled it off without you!

QUICK BITE: Pizza a Taglio a Roscioli

Ah, pizza. Real Italian pizza. There are several ways to enjoy pizza, particularly in Rome. I adore pizza bianca, but that's for another time. Probably the way I eat pizza in Italy most frequently, and the easiest and quickest way to enjoy this Italian fast food, is pizza a taglio: pizza by the slice. Or, technically, by cut.

The Italian way to cut slices of pizza is not from a round pie, but rather from a long, rectangular slab of pizza, either made in a sheet pan tray, or cooked directly on the oven floor and hand-rolled out to a very oblong disc or an approximation of a rectangle. 

And it's often cut with scissors. That's right. It makes sense when you think about it. You point out how large or small a piece you'd like, and they literally cut you a piece to measure. It is then weighed and you pay by weight, so that pizzas that are loaded with lots of toppings, ranging from tuna and artichokes with mayo to chile pepper-parsley hot sauce to sausage and potatoes and porcini mushrooms...the more that is loaded on there, the more you pay per piece.

Giusto, no?

But what most expert chefs -- and eaters -- know is that often times, the simplest iteration of something, the purest form of the ideal, is the best. Roscioli  is a family-run business that's been around for decades. They've run what used to be a simple alimentari (specialty food store) since back in the '90s, when theirs was simply my local shop (that happened to carry Philadelphia cream cheese when none of the grocery stores did) -- an old reliable, if you will. With the new millenium, they ended up closing for a spell and completely remodeling to convert this into an upscale gastronomic temple to meats, cheeses, smoked fish, oils and vinegars...with an excellent restaurant and wine cellar added in for good measure.

Their bread bakery is down the street from their 'headquarters' and main restaurant (they've now expanded to include a local pizzeria nearby, and it seems they're always moving on to a new venture). This bread bakery is always busy and they have a great selection of classic Italian biscotti and pastries as well as their renowned bread and pizze (that's plural for pizza, kids). Their selection varies form day to day, but it's always delicious, and they always have the basics, which to me -- here, at least -- are the best. That's right, a simple pizza margherita ("plain" in American parlance), and in Rome what's referred to as pizza rossa ("red pizza") -- otherwise known as alla marinara, hold the oregano -- just tomato sauce, no cheese. The simplest of the simple. And in this case, the pizza dough and the tomato sauce are the only two ingredients you have. So they'd better be stellar.

Here you can see the specimen: a very thin, crackly crust. Blistered bubbles in the surface of the pizza dough itself, owing to extremely high temperatures of the pizza oven. Just a slick of tomato sauce and a brushing of olive oil to make the overall presentation glisten (one of my sayings regarding good food's appearance: it really shouldn't be matte). A sprinkling of Italian sea salt. And when you bite into the pizza, it needs some chew. Real, authentic, delicious pizza needs gluten to get that chewiness activated in the dough. And that's it. It couldn't really be more simple, though from the end result that's available out there, you'd think it would be one of the Italian (or otherwise) kitchen's greatest challenges. Roscioli rises to it, as do several other spots around Rome. I was just lucky enough to have Roscioli be my local. And I was also lucky enough to call Rome home, where a walk along the Tiber, pizza rossa in hand, is all in an afternoon.

ESCAPES: Puglia, ITALY, Part 2: The Southern Salento

The southern part of the Salento region in Puglia boasts some of the most dramatic and stunning landscape in southern Italy. Here, you can head to an eastern, rocky Adriatic coast beach in the morning, then head west to the mostly sandy Ionian coast for sunset and aperitivi. And this can all be done in an hour's time. The water is the gorgeous turquoise green of the Caribbean, and then gradually deepens to a royal blue found in the most pristine waters of the North Atlantic. From the eastern tip of Puglia, you can look across the Mediterranean on a clear day and see Albania. I know from experience that you can pick up their radio stations as you drive along the coast heading south.

And it's here that you hit the most easterly town in Italy, the beautiful coastal mini-city of Otranto(pronounced OH-tran-to), which abuts the water and boasts a charming harbor, the city having served as Italy's main port to the East for 1,000 years.

The beautiful seaside port belies a brutal history in the sack of Otranto in 1480, when the Turks and Venetians rushed the city with 18,000 troops and basically massacred everyone there, including the 800 survivors who were marched up a hill and beheaded for refusal to renounce their Christian faith. Some of these martyrs' remains are contained in a chapel in the nearby Cathedral. The Aragonese Castle (attributed to the 16th century Spanish) is another landmark in town that towers over the landscape. It's open for touring. Beyond this checkered history, Otranto and the Salento are lovely locales, packed with (mostly Italian) tourists and former residents-come-home in the summertime. 

The beaches in this area are gorgeous and bustling, and the coastline is a dramatic and stunning scape. You can see how this was originally a Greek outpost, just from the visuals: the Cerulean waters and arid land covered with ancient, craggy olive trees as far as the eye can see. The drives along the coast to the north and south of Otranto offer some of the best beaches in Puglia -- and arguably in all of Italy. To the north, there is the Baia dei Turchi (Bay of Turks), where translucent turquoise waters from tourist posters comes to life. Heading south, towns like Santa Cesarea Terme (home of a renowned Moorish resort) and Castro, with a small marina much like Otranto's, are worthy of stops down to the very tip of the Pugliese peninsula.

And, they're not on the typical tourist radar. There are also grottoes to be visited -- including Grotta Zinzulusa, most famously -- offering a subterranean glimpse into the rich cave formations of the region and, where there's water, an otherworldly emerald glow. The very southern tip of Puglia is capped by Capo Santa Maria di Leuca, with its lighthouse at the very end of southeastern Italian land -- and where you're only 44 miles from Albania. 

As for lodging around Otranto, like in most of Puglia, the masserie reign supreme. These former working farmhouses for communal living that dot the Puglian landscape have been transformed into the area's signature B&B/hotel, most of which have a central courtyard with a pool, and a functioning restaurant on the property, which usually uses local ingredients often procured on the masseria's land, from its garden, etc.

One such lovely spot is Masseria Montelauro, originally constructed in 1878. Since then it has been a monastery, an herbal pharmacy, a restaurant -- even a discotheque. It now houses 32 rooms and suites refurbished in whitewashed Mediterranean minimalist chic, with wrought-iron beds, arched stone ceilings, flowing white curtains, and bathrooms in stone and marble.

The on-site restaurant serves three meals a day (including poolside and room service), and uses Montelauro's own olive oil, herbs, and vegetables in the cooking. The pool in the middle of it all is the perfect place to while away the morning or afternoon, and then you can take a short drive to one of the coasts for a few hours at the beach, after breakfast or post-lunch. Part of the charm of Puglia is that, though it's an ancient part of the Italian peninsula, it's not jam-packed with must-see tourist sites. There are those, of course, but it's also about getting into the Italian rhythm of life, and vacation, which is decidedly slow. You may very well finish that novel you pack.

Across the region, on the western (Ionian) coast, there is the area around Punta della Suina ("Pig's Point"), a beach in an area of nature reserve where you walk through a small pine forest to get to the waterline itself. (That's a view of Gallipoli in the distance, by the way -- we'll get there in a minute). Here at Punta della Suina, there are stabilimenti (beachside establishments that include bathrooms, bars, and often restaurants or sandwich and pizza bars, from completely informal shacks to sprawling, mod-design aperitivo magnets with full-on DJs). Here, you can rent lounge chairs and umbrellas, indulge in a salad or a panino and a glass of vino or a cocktail, if you like. It's one of the charms of the area.

There are also plenty of seaside trattorie where they serve local seafood dished up in various preparations. And this being Puglia, there is always a wealth of vegetable sides alongside the seafood stars. In short: you will not go hungry at the beach if you don't bring a picnic lunch.

Drive just north up the Ionian coast and you hit the famed town on the Golf of Taranto, Gallipoli -- which, fittingly, means "beautiful town" in Greek. The ancient city center ia an island joined by a bridge from the more modern (and much less interesting) part of town. The historic quarter is relentlessly charming, extremely photogenic, and definitely a must-see on any trip to the southern Salento.

The perimeter of the old city is lined with sea walls, on top of which are perched pastel and whitewashed stucco houses, hotels, restaurants, and shops. The cobblestones streets of the old city offer much of the same: charming vicoli and back alleys from which echo the patter of sandal-clad feet, reminiscent of those historic towns of the Greek islands of Mykonos or Paros. You can linger for a serious gelato or granita, particularly at the entrance to the old city, by the port, or at

Caffe' Duomo

.

There are some very lovely and stylish retail stores, including a personal favorite, Blanc, which sells everything from furniture and home design to women's accessories -- basically what you'd want your ideal Puglian trullo to look like, with you in it. The large space also contains a super-chic cafe' and lounge within its fabulous stone walls, perfect for a coffee or cocktail post-beach. Another amazing shop is Salamastra, a store specializing in fun shoes, leather and suede wraps and skirts trimmed in what's made to look like Pugliese eyelet lace, and jewelry made from lizards skins and leather. They also feature home goods made out of local shells, nautical rope and the like, inspired by the Salentino beachy style. The three co-owners also have a store in South Beach Florida. They divide their time between the two places, which is certainly a best-of-all-worlds scenario!

As for the food, Gallipoli's port is its pride, and it's all about fresh seafood here. Fresh catches arrive in the morning and again in the late afternoon, and opposite the port on the other side of the bridge, a fish market is set up twice a day until they sell out of goods. As to be expected in these parts, there are booths set up for the sole purpose of selling ricci di mare, or sea urchin. Some are meant to be scooped out and eaten on the spot, but many sellers clean the ricci at their booth and plop the little orange sacks into seawater-filled jars to preserve them.

These are sold cheaply for about 8-10 euros per small jar. We bought a jar and I added the sea urchin at the last minute to that evening's pasta, spaghetti con le vongele (with clams) -- it was a particularly rich and delicious Pugliese version! But the fish market in general is a gorgeous spot. You can bargain for great prices on the famous local red shrimp, beautiful scampi, swordfish...on all kinds of whole fish like branzino, and for octopus, calamari, and every kind of sweet shellfish you could hope for. So much of this delicious seafood is edible without cooking -- and here in Puglia, it's often best simply sprinkled with a little sea salt and some buttery-green unfiltered Pugliese olive oil, possibly a spritz of lemon. And that's it. Simple enough to do without lighting a stove, casually sitting there on your patio or terrazza or poolside at the masseria (or ask the chef where you're staying to prep it for you!). Add a little local rose' wine, and you're set. Southern Salento style.

photo credit: M. Sweeney

For more information on locations, lodging, and activities around the region, check out:

http://www.charmingpuglia.com/en

Masseria Montelauro

Uggiano Localita Montelauro

Strada Provinciale 358, 73028 Otranto

+39 0836 806 203

Blanc

Via XXIV Maggio, 19

Gallipoli LE, Italy

+39 0833 26349

Salamastra

Via Antonietta De Pace 90

73014 Gallipoli (LE)

+39 0833 261577

info@salamastra.com

SEASONAL INGREDIENT: Capers

Capers are a curious little flower bud. Their briny touch of heat adds an interesting hit of flavor to sauces, salads, and main courses to which they're added. Caper bushes grow in harsh, semi-arid environments in Morocco, southeastern Spain, Italy, throughout the Middle East, and in parts of Asia and Australia.

The plant thrives in intense daylight and temperatures of over 40 degrees centigrade in the summer -- though it doesn't do so well in cold and frost. Once it takes hold it acts much like a weed, growing through the cracks of the Western Wall in Jerusalem, creeping over ancient walls in Rome, and snaking between cobblestones and fortifications in Marrakesh and Damascus.

The caper and its relatives in several European tongues can be traced back to classical Latin capparis, which was borrowed from the Greek kápparis -- the origin of which, much like the plant itself, is unknown but most likely Asian. A different theory traces kápparis to the name of the island of Cyprus (Kýpros), where capers grow abundantly. The Sicilian islands of Salina and Pantelleria are justly famous for their capers in salt. There, rustic, often unpaved roads are lined with makeshift (and sometimes not-so-makeshift) stands selling local capers, often manned by a young boy who picked the capers himself.

The island of Salina is the perfect place for every step in the caper production process, since the salt, too, often comes from the island's own salt flats (hence the island's name). It's the good fortune of nature that capers pair so well with the fruits of these islands: seafood from the surrounding Mediterranean, as well as vegetables like eggplant, tomatoes, and peppers for which the cuisine of Sicily is renowned.

The caper buds, when ready to pick, are a dark olive green and roughly the size of a kernel of corn. They're plucked from the bush at the bud's base, then placed in a jar and brined in sea salt, or pickled in a salt-and-vinegar solution, and then eventually drained.

Here, we're picking the little guys from a couple of bushes in the walled back yard of the B&B my friends Monica and Marcello run in the Salento region of southern Puglia, Italy. It was June and every day when we awoke, new buds were ready to be picked and put in a small jar, sotto sale("under salt"), as the Italians say. This way they're perfectly preserved for future use -- though it's best to know a little in advance when you're going to need them for cooking, as they do well with several soakings in water to remove the powerful saline intensity they pick up from the salt. 

Harvesting capers can be a labor-intensive, arduous process on a larger scale, since they're too small and delicate to be plucked by machine. It's all done by hand, which is what makes them a pricey comestible. The smallest, called nonpareil, are the most prized of the bunch, and the most frequently used in cooking. Mustard oil (known as glucocapparin) in the capers is released from each bud, which accounts for the bite capers have. When this oil is released, the enzymatic reaction forms rutin, resulting in the crystallized white spots you often find on the surface of the bud.

If left to flower and come to fruit, caper berries are created, which are almost a cross between a traditional caper (bud) and an olive, with lots of tiny, crunchy seeds inside. The caper berries are usually pickled and are often served in Southern Italian and Greek aperitivi and mezze -- perfect pop-in-your-mouth cocktail snacks that, much like briny olives, help to fill the tummy while working up a thirst.

Capers are a distinctive ingredient in Italian cuisine, especially in Sicilian and southern Italian cooking. They're used in everything from salads and pasta salads to meat dishes, fish preparations, and pasta sauces. Two of the most famous uses for capers are in chicken piccata and pasta alla puttanesca.

The latter, of course, is famously named supposedly because it was a pasta dish that was relatively easy for Neapolitan prostitutes ("puttane") to prepare for their clients...(yes, everything -- everything -- in Italy seems to come with a side of pasta!)...the thought being that every single Italian pantry contains, at the very least, canned tomatoes, olives, capers, anchovies, and dried pasta. Whether this is true or not is a different story, but I've always loved this culinary origin tale, mostly because it paints the working girl-client relationship as more than just a business transaction, but as one during which they actually break bread, share pasta, have a few laughs, maybe a glass of wine.

Which leads me to this fun fact about capers: in Biblical times, the caper berry was supposed to have aphrodisiac properties. The Hebrew wordabiyyonah (אֲבִיּוֹנָה) for caperberry is quite closely linked to the Hebrew root אבה, which means "desire" (the word even occurs once in the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes). Ancient desire, the Wailing Wall, gorgeous Sicilian islands, friendly prostitutes in Naples...as it turns out, the little caper is a mighty flower bud, finding itself in places sacred and profane, arid and lush, throughout history. Something to chew on.    

LIBATIONS: Borgoña, Chilean "Sangria"

I'm always looking for a new refreshing summer cocktail. And the search, of course, is half of the fun! In honor of Chile winning the Copa America this past weekend, I thought I'd introduce my readers to a delicious Chilean summer drink staple.

While on a city tour in Santiago, Chile, my friend Jess and I were pointed in the direction of a very famous, time-worn dive of a bar/restaurante favored by old men playing cards, eating overstuffed sandwiches and sipping on local wine cocktails. We knew once the the tour ended, we'd do a B-line for the place. It's called Bar Restaurant de la Union, and it seemed fortuitous that it was located on a street named for my home city: Nueva York.

Once inside, we admired the dark wood paneling and the old-school waiters who looked like they'd been there since before Pinochet. We decided a snack was in order, so we enjoyed some delicious bocadillos (sandwiches)...and of course the drink that our guide had described to us as the thing to order here: Borgoña. This is a sort of Chilean sangria, refreshingly simple and using two star ingredients from Chile's rich earth: delicious red wine, preferably of the Carménère varietal, and frutillas, which is Chilean Spanish for strawberries. 

These strawberries, it needs to be stated, were some of the most gorgeous specimens I've ever seen in my life (and living in Rome for the better part of a decade, I know from gorgeous strawberries)! They most likely don't need any help in Chile, or in Rome for that matter, but if you can't find ripe, ruby-red strawberries where you are, you might want to add a touch of sugar to the mix. Now, like most things, this drink gets better the longer it sits with the fruit macerating in the wine. But you can also mix in the berries (sugar optional) just before you make a batch. Yes, "batch" is more realistic than "glass" -- this is not the kind of drink of which you make just one, if you know what I mean.

And yes, there are variations on it. You can make it with white wine and strawberries, or white wine with peaches (great with a sauvignon blanc from Chile's Central Valley -- the peaches pick up the hints of stone fruit in the wine itself). This is called Clery or Ponche. You could add various kinds of berries, as well --- raspberries and red currants to tilt it towards tart, blackberries and blueberries to bring out the inky ripe berry flavors in the wine. 

The basic recipe is simple. Slice one cup of delicious, ripe strawberries, one bottle of Chilean red wine, and a tablespoon of sugar (optional). Mix with ice, or simply chill in the fridge, either for several hours or just 30 minutes, if you can't wait. And sip! That's it -- it's so simple, but so refreshing on a hot summer day. And it's the perfect drink to toast to the Chilean team, Copa America winners...and, while you're at it, toast the American Women's Soccer Team for a fabulous World Cup victory yesterday, as well! (Hmm...I may need to come up with a cocktail just for the women's soccer team....)

Bar Restaurant de la Union

Nueva York 11

Santiago Centro, Santiago, Chile

+56 2 269 61 821

RESTAURANT REVIEW: NOPI, London

It makes me quite happy that there is a trend in the western dining world in which Eastern Mediterranean/Middle Eastern Cuisine has experienced a surge in popularity -- or, as the real case may be, this cuisine is being discovered, for many, for the first time. Leading the way in this popularity is Israeli food, championed in America by the likes of Israel-born/America-raised Michael Solomonov, in Philadelphia, and in London, Jerusalem and internationally by foodie favorite Yotam Ottolenghi. It seems obvious that Israel, as a now-fertile part of the world, would have more to offer than just falafel and hummus (even if it is the most delicious falafel and hummus out there!). The Israelis have turned desert into functioning agricultural oasis, and the produce coming out of the Holy Land can seem, at times, like it's been touched by You-Know-Who.

Which is why it's so interesting that Yotam Ottolenghi has taken the food world by storm, by creating lush, interesting, abundantly-flavored salads and grain dishes and vegetarian-friendly fare (though not only)...in London, England, of all places.

It may be, though, because London's got the international audience and has been starved for market-fresh Mediterranean ingredients like Ottolenghi procures, that his eponymous cafes are such huge hits. Their success actually allowed him to open a couple of slightly more formal restaurants serving a more upscale, refined eastern Mediterranean Israeli cuisine, called NOPI. We enjoyed a delicious, multi-course dinner at the Soho location last month. I was, as expected, impressed.

The setting is a mod, spare white dining room upstairs. The subterranean level consists of an open kitchen and 2 large communal tables perfect for large groups or socializing your way through dinner. The sharing-plates thing adds to the communal nature of the dining experience here -- something at which I often roll my eyes these days (shared plates, again? Oh yes, server please explain to me how that works. 6-7 plates each, you suggest? Grrr). But here, since I really was tempted by practically everything on the menu, ordering lots of smaller-portioned plates "for the table" really did work well. 

We started with some nice homemade bread, and ordered cocktails immediately. My friend Helen had been sipping on a variation of one of the drinks on the list, doctored with vodka instead of tequila, and with plenty of passion fruit with seeds in the mix. (A plus: the bar was very accommodating).

Once we placed our orders, the dishes started coming out when they were ready, bit by bit. First out? The courgette and manouri cheese fritters with cardamom yogurt were flavorful bites of Mediterranean vegetal, herb, and tangy flavors in one. It wasn't much of a wait before we were scarfing down rainbow chard with tenderstem broccoli and yuzu, as well.

Of course, pretty much every time I see eggplant on a menu -- particularly when Mediterranean or Middle Eastern food is involved -- I need to order it. Here, it was a deliciously charred aubergine over a smear of almond yogurt (which seemed more like a miso, with its rich umami flavor), sprinkled with pickled chilis. It was fabulous.

We continued with a plate of chickpeas, butternut squash, feta, and balsamic, a study in texture and sweet-savory-acidic-salty. We also enjoyed the hearty beef short ribs with a beer glaze and horseradish. We had scallops with apple, nettle, and lemon puree', and pork shoulder croquettes with kohlrabi, nashi pear, and basil mayonnaise. The classic simple staple on the menu is the chicken dish: a twice-cooked baby chicken, with lemon myrtle salt and chili sauce, in either a half or whole-chicken portion. We didn't have room for it, but I imagine it's perfectly cooked, seasoned, and balanced in flavor, with enough of a spicy bite to make it a standout. The beauty of the cooking here is the freshness, paired with an excellent, heightened sense of the interplay of texture, flavor, and elements of taste that the chefs employ. This, to me, is one of the most important skills in being a quality chef.

Sadly, we had no room for dessert. And that's a real shame, because pastry and "puddings" are a strong point of Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi, his partner. Next time, I'd go for something like the roast pineapple, macadamia nuts, lemongrass and coconut cream (Asian style) or stick with the strawberry mess, sumac, and rosewater (Middle Eastern fused with old English). We were able to finish up our cocktails and enjoy a trip or two to the over-the-top bathrooms downstairs: an Alice In Wonderland, hall-of-mirrors affair where they feel compelled to label the exit door handle. Don't leave the restaurant without a trip here!

And more good news: the restaurant is open for breakfast and lunch, which are traditionally strong meals for Israelis, with elaborate spreads both savory and sweet. NOPI also features one of my favorite Israeli breakfast/brunch/lunch options: shakshuka, the egg and spicy tomato-pepper-onion dish of north African extraction that you find in every cafe worth its sumac in Tel Aviv. And much like I've done with Tel Aviv, I swear to return to NOPI and Ottolenghi's other restaurants. You should join me!

NOPI 

21-22 Warwick Street

London W1B 5NE

Tel: 020 7494 9584

contact@nopi-restaurant.com

MARKETS: Ortygia Island in Siracusa, Sicily

The island of Ortygia, the centro storico (historic center) within the city of Siracusa, Sicily, is a gorgeous spit of land connected to the mainland coastal town by a narrow channel and 3 small bridges. It's a typically Southern Italian ornate, mostly-baroque confection of narrow streets and wrought iron balconies, fortresses and cathedrals, and plenty of ruins and underground tunnels. It's as Greek in feel as it is Italian, and of course Siracusa actually defeated Athens in 413 A.D., so perhaps what we think of as Greek is actually just, well, Sicilian. Regardless, the name Ortygia (also Ortigia, same pronunciation in Italian) means "quail" and comes from the Greek ortyx. 

"Quail Island" has an old Jewish quarter that's probably the most charming section of a tiny island filled with charm. The Jewish community here in Siracusa was the second most populous in Sicily after Palermo, and was an integral part of the population before they were expelled by the Spanish kings in 1492. Here in the Giudecca (Jewish section), the beautiful architecture that lines the narrow vicoli is a blend of Medieval and Renassiance, Hebrew-Israelite and Sicilian Baroque. You can even visit the miqvah, the Jewish baths restored and open, on a limited basis, to the public. Water is such an integral part of life here on the Sicilian coast, where you're surrounded by it, you're on top of it, and you sustain human life with aquatic life.

Speaking of, we're focusing on the relatively small-but-beautiful food market of Ortygia today, teeming with life and Sicilian salesmen calling out their wares. The local aquatic life is, of course, something of which to be proud: branzini so fresh they're still in rigor mortis, ruby-red tuna famous in these parts. There's Sicilian swordfish as well as abundant sardines, calamari and scampi and shrimp and octopus...all beautifully displayed for purchase and cooking for lunch or dinner (though admittedly, I'd had an amazing seafood couscous the previous evening that was so filling that I could barely fathom eating anything more than a juicy peach the next day!).

The market itself is surrounded by inexpensive clothing and souvenir stalls, but the good part of the food market is mostly on Via de Benedictis, opening up onto the Piazza C. Battisti, abutting the shoreline, where there is also a famous specialty store owned by the Fratelli Burgio called Il Gusto dei Sapori Smarriti ("The Taste of Lost Flavors"). Here you can find countless local Sicilian cheeses, salumi,and specialty food items local to the island of Sicily. You can even ask them to make you sandwiches and put together a great picnic basket to take to the water or to the 4,600 year-old Greek ampitheater in town.

The market stalls offer spices sold from baskets, remnants of Sicily as a cultural crossroads. And in the general fruit and vegetable market, there are countless beautiful iterations of southern Italian produce, from numerous variations of eggplant and peppers and onions (including the torpedo-shaped red Tropea onions from Calabria, pictured here), to garlic and herbs. There are countless fruits available by the piece -- though they're so enticing, you'll want them by the bushel or the bag full, so yo can serve them by the bowlful (and they'd look even more delicious served in some of the stunning decorated ceramic pottery for which Sicily is famous. But I digress). Of course, each season in Sicily is reflected in the market, and I had the good fortune of being in Sicily in early August, when so many stone fruits and melons and berries and figs and fichi d'india ("Indian figs," what we call cactus pears) are abundant.

But of these fruits, possibly the most abundant and mind-boggling in its variety is the tomato. The market in Ortygia offered an impossibly vermilion collection of the most gorgeous tomatoes, in all shapes and sizes, I've ever seen. And the scent of them! They've never seen a refrigerator (nor should they), and the smell of ripe tomatoes, warm to the touch, sitting in the shade but in the Sicilian heat, vine-ripened....well, you get the idea. The photo at right is not enhanced in any way -- the red glow is as it was in 'real life'. You can see why I might wax poetic about this display.

And speaking of tomatoes, another wonderful aspect of Ortygia's market is the variety of Sicilian-specific products featured in its stalls. We're talking about local oregano, hung to dry and sold like bouquets of dried flowers. We're talking about those peerless Sicilian tomatoes, sun-dried to concentrate their flavor, and sold alongside other salt-cured, -brined, or otherwise salt-forward products, including Sicilian capers and caper berries, olives, and frutta secca (dried fruit) which includes sultanas, almonds, figs, and the world-renowned pistachios from Bronte. Everything is lovingly displayed, and the sellers of these items call to passers-by (often in Sicilian dialect, mind you), highlighting the extraordinary quality of all the foods this proud island has to offer. My recommendation? Get it all, everything you may have room for, in your kitchen, your fridge, your bags. Regret is for suckers, not Sicilians.

RECIPE: Saltimbocca alla Romana

It's a classic Roman dish that never goes out of style, though there are many renditions of this cucina romana staple: saltimbocca alla romana. The name saltimbocca literally means "jumps in the mouth," which is what a great version of this dish should do, in terms of flavor. The elements are simple: great quality, super thinly-sliced veal scaloppine (though the dish works surprisingly well with chicken or turkey scaloppine as well -- just don't tell any Romans I said so!). Top-quality prosciutto. Fresh sage leaf. Local white wine. Good quality olive oil and butter, and a spritz of lemon and/or white wine vinegar. And that's it. No cheese, please. And for even cooking and simplicity's sake, I don't roll the scaloppine up. Flour is negotiable: coat the scaloppine in a light dusting of flour if you'd like a more pronounced crust to the meat and a slightly thicker sauce. But really, the beauty of the preparation is also its simplicity, like most great Italian dishes.

SALTIMBOCCA ALLA ROMANA

(4 servings)

4 large slices prosciutto, thinly sliced

4 large veal scallopes, about 3/4 lb. total weight

4 fresh sage leaves

AP flour for dusting (optional)

salt & pepper to taste

6 TBS. butter

2 TBS. olive oil

6 TBS. dry white wine

Juice of one lemon or 2 TBSP. white wine vinegar

- Place a slice of prosciutto over each veal slice, so it’s just slightly smaller than the piece of veal.

- Place a sage leaf in the middle of the prosciutto and secure with a wooden toothpick.

- Dredge in flour mixed with a bit of salt and pepper, if desired

- Heat 2 TBS. butter and 2 TBS. oil in a large skillet.

- When foam subsides, add the meat, prosciutto side down.

- Brown on both sides until golden.

- Remove meat from pan and transfer to serving dish.

- Add wine to skillet, and stir to mix up the browned bits in the pan. Add lemon juice/vinegar here if desired.

- Turn up heat and let the sauce bubble for 1-3 minutes, to reduce to about 1/3 cup of liquid.

- Add the remaining 4 TBS. butter to the pan, a bit at a time, swirling to melt as you go.

- Taste and adjust seasoning, then place veal back in pan to heat through and glaze with sauce. Remove veal and place on a serving platter, pour sauce over meat, and serve.

ESCAPES: Charleston, South Carolina, Part 2

And we're back in Charleston...back in the South, where the summer days are languid in this semi-tropical clime, and the only way to cool off is on a side porch or inside under a ceiling fan with a cool drink.

Hominy Grill is just about the best place in town to relax with a laid-back lunch, either on their cute outdoor patio, or inside under their white painted pressed-tin ceilings and aforementioned spinning ceiling fans, pictured at left.

The blackboard specials are sure to entice, but of course one comes here to enjoy the southern staples of low-country cooking.

Their version of shrimp and grits is a beautiful, simple thing: a bed of stone-ground creamy-white hominy, with plump gulf shrimp, crispy bacon, sauteed mushrooms, and scallions on top of the grits. Served with a lemon wedge to squeeze over top, this is the ultimate in southern comfort food. It's filling, but it doesn't overwhelm. Which is a good thing, since you can't order just one dish at Hominy Grill.

The boiled peanuts we got to munch on while waiting for our appetizers (yes, that's right) were so flavorful they practically defied culinary explanation. They were meaty, in the best sense of the word, and I'm guessing they were cooked in ham liquor -- the brothy goodness made with ham hocks in which collard greens are boiled in the southern kitchen.  They were unbelievable.

The picnic plate appetizer consisted of delicious southern ham, pimento cheese (another southern staple), pickled okra, and beet-pickled hard-boiled eggs, served with garlic toasts.

It's a fun and eclectic selection of the various flavors of the region. Of course, the she-crab soup needed to be sampled, in all its sherry-laced glory.

And one of the specials of the day happened to be cheese-stuffed jalapeno poppers -- here done one better than standard bar fare style, as the peppers were served with whipped sorghum butter, a rich, sweet counterpart to the spice and sharpness of the peppers and cheese stuffing.

Delish.

All of this was washed down with iced tea, of course, but I did feel it necessary to try one of the house cocktails, since so many of the ingredients used were local and terribly enticing. I selected the Blackberry Collins, which was refreshing and tart with a nice vodka kick. I had to reel myself in so I didn't start day drinking with multiples of this cocktail! But the indulgence continued, of course, with a special dessert of the day: a coconut pie with dark chocolate ganache, sort of a Mounds bar (love) in pie form.

The ganache was super dark and rich, the coconut textured and just sweet enough, with an expertly-made pie crust that was thin, flaky, and fell on the savory side, which I love as a nice counterbalance to a sweet pie. It was topped with fresh, unsweetened whipped cream on top. I mean...come on! I left Hominy Grill a very happy camper. And full doesn't even begin to cover it.

Once you've had a filling lunch like that, you may want to find a hammock somewhere and nap (I wanted that desperately). But instead, your time might be better spent on a lovely carriage ride around town to see the sites around historic Charleston, from King Street on down to the Battery. You could also take a River Boat Cruise on the water down to Ft. Sumter, which is a relaxing and informative way to spend a few hours (some tours allow you to get off at the Fort, some just swing by the island on the water).

You can go to the old slave market and museum, where America's slave trade was essentially headquartered. I know -- all of this is pretty hard to swallow, no pun intended.

But as much as it all leaves a bad taste in your mouth (ahem), it's all part of America's history, and important to witness and to study.

Even the beautiful houses that participate in the Charleston House Tours -- historically registered and restored, explained by well-versed tour guides, and lovingly kept up inside and out by gardeners and caretakers...sometimes I felt like paying money to see these things was contributing to the upholding of something sinister. But really, it's much better that these places remain, not just for their historical significance, but also for their aesthetic beauty and the current Charleston community that survives based heavily on its tourism appeal. Much as its history is checkered, there's no denying Charleston's present day charm. There are a few weeks a year when houses that are not usually open to the public, open their doors. The city tends to get crowded during these weeks, and hotel rooms can be hard to come by, so book ahead if you can. One house that is open to the public year round is the Nathaniel Russell House. Built in 1808, It's possibly the town's finest example of Federal-style architecture, with a free-flying staircase and beautiful garden.

And speaking of palatial digs, we spent the second half of our stay in Charleston at the gorgeous Charleston Place, in the middle of much of the city's center, with one side on King Street, the city's shopping epicenter and a hub of restaurants and bars. This grande dame was recently refurbished, and it shows. The huge lobby chandelier and sweeping staircases make for a dramatic entrance, and the rooftop indoor pool, gym, and outdoor lounge area give you a bird's-eye view of Charleston. One of the top restaurants in the city, Charleston Grill, is contained within the hotel, and many shops, if not in the hotel proper, are very nearby, as are so many restaurants and bars of note. The renovated rooms are spacious and beautiful, tranquil, with large marble bathrooms and a gigantic shower: a real treat.

We had one of our best meals the evening we moved to Charleston Place, at the nearby FIG, which had come highly recommended to me by colleagues in the food business and various culinary publications as well. I have a weakness for places with "fig" in their name, but in this case it's an acronym for "Food Is Good." Direct and to the point, you can't argue that. But it's deceptively simple for a menu seemingly straightforward, but executed with a sophisticated flair and a spot-on chef's palate. Our server was incredibly thorough in his explanations and well-versed in the preparation of the dishes, their ingredients, and the wine list as well.

I started with a vegetable salad, a cornucopia of various fresh veggies of all colors, shapes, and sizes, bright and springy and left to taste the way they're supposed to taste -- everything from cauliflower and beans to French finger radishes and crisp peas. Refreshing. The hands-down best dish of the evening was one that The Big Guy ordered, and it was a rare occasion that I suffered order envy. The pork schnitzel over farro with spring peas was exactly what the English dub as "moreish": you want more and more of it. The delicate lettuce leaves on top and the peas kept their snap, as did the crunchy crust of the schnitzel itself, but the meat inside was juicy, the farro was nutty-toothsome, and the sauce was one the most flavorful kinds of savory, enriched jus I've ever tasted.

I would like this dish right now, actually. All this is not to say that I didn't enjoy my dish, because I most definitely did: triggerfish (a local fish we saw all over the menus of Charleston, which is delicious) over broken rice grits -- that is, broken bits of rice grains cooked in the manner of grits, another thing you see on menus in these parts -- with a vibrant green sauce and broccoli.

It was a delicious, light, springy dish, local.

Tasty. But it was no schnitzel! The sides were delicious as well, and included a silky potato puree and earthy roasted beets with a vinegar kick. The portions don't look terribly huge, nor are they miniscule -- but they're actually much more filling and hearty than they look. By the time we leisurely made our way to dessert, we were absolutely stuffed. And yet. A chocolate almond cake with mint chocolate chip ice cream beckoned to the 9-year-old inside of me. The port tasting, to accompany the dessert, beckoned to the adult, real-time me. It was almost -- almost -- too much. But the richness of the chocolate cake was cut by the minty freshness of my favorite ice cream flavor. It was an excellent way to cap off a meal that exceeded expectations, even if those expectations were pretty high to begin with. 

Did I mention we were in town during March Madness? My alma mater's team was doing quite well in the tournament, something UVA had not experienced since I was in college (!) in the early-to-mid-nineties. So we were all very excited to be able to root for the Cavaliers once again. The ACC is quite a competitive group of schools, many of which are in the South, so we had our competition just to watch the UVA games in Charleston. But there were establishments that showed the game, and we found them.

They were often the more casual joints around the city, serving burgers and beer, or fish and chips -- pubby, but still really focused on good quality food. The first place we viewed a game was a pub next door to our first hotel, The Vendue Inn, called The Griffon. It was a small place that felt authentically English, with a great beer selection and a big screen (literally. Not a TV. A big screen) showing the Virginia game, with lots of UVA fans mixed with local Carolinians rooting for their team.

We were winning, but we got there late, so they'd stopped serving dinner fare. We hopped over to the Pearlz Oyster Bar around the corner off Meeting Street, as the kitchen is open late. They also indulged us and let us change the channel on the bar TV to the UVA game. We were happy with a great beer selection and some very legitimate fish and chips, as well, served in newspaper with homemade tartar sauce and all. The only drawback was that the 'chips' were American chips, potato chips. They were homemade though, so they get some points back.

The next memorable meal we enjoyed was a brunch at The Grocery, in a converted loft-like space off of Upper King Street. Again, this place features local ingredients, and since Southern style breakfasts are a strong suit in the low country repertoire, brunch offers numerous possibilities for this revamped local cuisine to shine. Examples?

Take, for instance, the playful "Green Eggs and Ham": poached eggs rolled in parsley bread crumbs (hence the green), over smoked ham, on cornmeal-cheddar griddle cakes, drizzled with a mustard vinaigrette.

Or, their upscale update of chicken and waffles: fried quail and french toast (made with thick country bread), with an orange-sorghum syrup. I wished there was more of it, as quail lacks the meaty quality of good fried chicken, but it was flavorful, with a nice batter, and of course the interplay of super-savory and sweet was there in all its glory. It's one of those places with a menu that begs you to try everything on it. Next trip, I'm eager to try their Hangtown Fry (fried oysters and green tomatoes with a  farm egg and bacon frittata, with remoulade) and the Duck Confit Hash with potatoes, apple, fennel, a soft egg and dijonnaise. I'd also like to return for dinner, especially at this time of year, when their Soft Shell Crab 3 Ways has my name written all over it. After brunch, one might head out to see a nearby plantation.

Middleton Place is highly recommended for its gorgeous grounds and architecture, a short drive outside of Charleston proper.

There are several great cocktail spots in Charleston for aperitivi, or pre-dinner drinks. One of the best is the rooftop at the Market Pavilion Hotel. It's decidedly less formal than their old world, beautiful dining room downstairs.

You take the elevator to the rooftop and get some gorgeous views at sunset, with an expansive cocktail list to boot.

The rooftop at the Vendue Inn was, sadly, under renovation while we were in town and staying there ourselves, which was a real shame. But I hear it's fabulous, and our experience at the inn was great in general, so I'm sure the rooftop is an excellent spot.

Another game night, another sports-viewing-friendly establishment...but again, with some good food. We headed to the oddly-named Closed for Business, which was open for business and showed the UVA game. Their craft beer selection met the approval of The Big Guy, and we selected our beers according to our divergent tastes in brews...and with glass sizes to match our actual sizes! After this mellow game night on Upper King Street, we headed for a change of pace to Bin 152, on lower King Street near our hotel. Their wine list is long and varied, and the atmosphere is mellow and rustic. We could have shared a lovely cheese plate, but were too full to have been able to enjoy it, so we sipped our wine and reflected on our time in Charleston. I was happy to have finally made my first trip to this charming southern city, and swore it would not be our last. With a flight under 2 hours and a temperate semi-tropical climate, popping down to the palmetto state is a very enticing option. The food and drink? That's the icing on the cake.

Hominy Grill

207 Rutledge Ave. (Canonboro)

(843) 937-0930

www.hominygrill.com

FIG

Mike Lata

232 Meeting Street

(843) 805-5900

www.eatatfig.com

The Griffon

18 Vendue Range

(843) 723-1700

 www.griffoncharleston.com

Pearlz Oyster Bar

153 East Bay Street

(843) 577-5755

The Grocery

4 Cannon Street

(843) 302-8825

www.thegrocerycharleston.com

Rooftop at the Market Pavilion Hotel

225 E. Bay Street

(843)723-0500

www.marketpavilion.com/pavilionbar.cfm

Closed for Business

453 King Street

(843) 853-8466

www.closed4business.com

Bin 152

152 King Street

(843) 577-7359

www.bin152.com 

Charleston Place

205 Meeting Street

(843) 722-4900

www.charlestonplace.com

Nathaniel Russell House

51 Meeting Street (South of Broad)

(843) 724-8481

www.historicalcharleston.org

SEASONAL INGREDIENTS: Rhubarb

Rhubarbis a curious ingredient, one that many shoppers consider confusing, but it's a rewarding one to use during its short market season. We're in the prime time now: late spring in the northeastern United States (it can be grown and sold into fall, further south). Rhubarb is technically a vegetable, but is used most often as a fruit -- sort of the opposite of the tomato -- and looks like red or pink-tinged celery. The leaves can be poisonous, so unlike many other vegetables with edible, often prized, leaves...well, it's here rhubarb's similarity to celery, and other veggies, ends.

The stalks were used centuries ago as a curative "spice" along with saffron and other expensive ingestibles, starting in the Far East as part of Chinese curative medicines, and eventually making its way west along the spice routes. It is still considered to have laxative properties and is rarely eaten raw, though it is sometimes enjoyed in Scandinavia when its stalks are in season and most tender, dipped in sugar and eaten out-of-hand.

Still, rhubarb is probably most famous for being paired with its seasonal sister-in-crimson, the strawberry. The beloved strawberry-rhubarb pie is a favorite in America and northern Europe, a true culinary signal to spring.

Here's a photo of baby strawberry-rhubarb pies I made for a client's spring baby shower: perfectly pretty and just large enough in single-serving format. And though rhubarb is commonly paired with strawberry, other seasonal sweet berries work just as well with rhubarb's tart zest. And for an interesting twist on highlighting rhubarb's savory side, pickled rhubarb is a wonderful way to use the stalks.

With a brine of three parts water to one part vinegar (and maybe a splash of wine, too -- a dry rose' would work fabulously well!), plus a few tablespoons of salt and a few of sugar, and a handful of spices of your choice (peppercorns and coriander are standard, but cloves and ginger and cardamom and star anise are interesting options, too)...and you've got the perfect liquid in which to soak those stalks and come away with delicious pickled rhubarb in no time.

Keep these in the fridge to use in savory salads, to cut through the fat and smoke of early summer's grilled meats, and to dot on gorgeous plates of spring and summer fish dishes, for a bit of acid that pairs perfectly with both raw and seared seafood. Mixed together with other spring ingredients, like fresh peas, greens, seared scallop, and crisp bacon, the final presentation is like May on a plate.

Of course, we can also pair rhubarb with berries in another favorite way: cocktails! For a delicious late spring sangria, simply cook the rhubarb over a low flame with some sugar to make a barely-sweet compote. Use this as a base with other fresh berries and pair with white or rose' wine, cointreau and some club soda for sangria. Or mix with rum, lime, and a little mint, top with soda, and you have a fabulous rhubarb mojito. There are countless iterations for cocktails (rhubarb-arita, anyone?) -- all it takes is a little sugar and a little creativity to make it work. But hurry, the growing (and eating) season is relatively short for fresh rhubarb in these parts.

And once you start using the ingredient, you'll be devising new recipes and creating new dishes just to incorporate the "pie fruit" into your spring diet. Of course, there's always the classic. Or, the galette: a free-form tart that, unlike a pie, is uncovered. This allows the rhubarb, in all its ruby glory, to shine through.

QUICK BITES: Il Maritozzaro, Roma

Rome is no longer the late-night, curfew-free city it once was. In many ways, this is a sad change, and my friends and I often reflect on the crazy times we had in bars that stayed open until the owners wanted to go to bed, and in clubs that opened at 4:30 or 5 a.m. where you danced until noon. Times have changed, and alas, so have we all, to some degree. But the great thing about Rome is that it never completely changes, it never morphs into a city that's unrecognizable, like so many urban centers. It is in many ways, as its nickname suggests, The Eternal City. And one of my favorite holdovers from my late-night jaunts around the Eternal City still exists:  Il Maritozzaro near the Trastevere train station. 
For the uninitiated, a maritozzo is basically a freshly-baked brioche bun, torpedo-shaped like an oversized hot dog bun, but faintly sweet and fluffy and light, and barely warm with a few crisp, buttery corners. When you order one, the barman behind the counter fills it with freshly whipped cream, smoothing it out along the top like delicious, decadent spackle.The original version of the brioche, intended as an offering for newlyweds (hence its name) also contained raisins and dried fruit and orange zest and probably resembled panettone more than anything, but I prefer the simplicity and beauty of the maritozzo in its current form.
The Maritozzaro even makes other pastries, including the standard breakfast fare of cornetti (sweetened croissants) and cream-filled donuts. These are fine, but not why I come to the Maritozzaro. I suppose you could pair your maritozzo with a turbo-charged espresso or for breakfast with a cappuccino. It certainly qualifies as a morning waker-upper (though you might need a nap once it's consumed!). But I prefer to think of the whipped cream-filled delicacy as a dreamy, end-of-the-evening indulgence, after a few too many glasses of vino and some limoncello. On a crisp Roman evening, it doesn't get much better. 

Il Maritozzaro
Via Ettore Rolli, 50
00153 ROMA
+06 581 0781
 

RECIPE: Lenticchie e Salsiccia

It's a classic central Italian pairing: Lenticchie e Salsiccia. Lentils and sausage. It reminds me of trips out to Umbria, usually in the fall or winter, and sometimes early spring. We'd spend a Sunday afternoon in Orvieto, enjoying the gorgeous churches and small shops, as well as some surprisingly sophisticated restaurants, in this hill town an hour outside of Rome. Or, we'd head out for a weekend in the country to a friend's house on the Tuscan-Umbrian border, just taking in the view and building fires and looking up at the stars after a full-table feast of simple, local fare. Or we'd visit friends in Citta' di Castello, not far from Lake Trasimeno, sharing a lunch al fresco with lots of local, juicy, dark Sagrantino di Montefalco wine.

Umbria is Italy's only landlocked region that doesn't share a border with another country. Its name echoes ombra, the Italian word for "shadow" -- and it seems to have always been in the shadow of its better-known neighbors, like Tuscany and Lazio. But the region has so much going for it, including the beautiful topography and a history as rich as its cuisine. One of its famous local foods is the Umbrian lentil, which is tawny brown and roughly the size of the tiny green French Puy lentil. Umbrian lentils are often featured in local dishes, and are a great foil for the rich game featured so prominently in this region.

I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention another great Umbrian contribution to Italian cuisine, which is the concept of the norcineria. There's no direct translation for the word, but it's basically a 'meat emporium,' including and especially pork products, fresh and cured. Norcia is a town in the province of Perugia in Southeast Umbria, nestled between Spoleto and Ascoli Piceno (in the Le Marche region). 

The town is famous for its meat emporiums, and so this kind of shop all over central Italy has taken on the moniker norcineria. I did once make it to "ground zero" in Norcia on a trip to my ex's childhood home near Ascoli Piceno, and we picked up some delicious pancetta and a few other items to cook for dinner at his mother's house. But the important thing is not procuring these meats in Norcia itself, but rather the significance of the quality norcineria, wherever you may find one. I often went to the Norcineria Viola in Rome's Campo de' Fiori, as it was close to home and they had a great selection, offered up assaggi (samples), and the owners were a hoot. 

If you're lucky enough to be cooking the following recipe in Italy, a norcineria would be the prime spot to pick up some delicious, house-made sausages. And if you don't have a go-to 'meat emporium' -- well, a butcher (preferably Italian) or Italian specialty store would be second-best. But anywhere you trust the sausage makers qualifies; the quality is key. And a tip: generally speaking, though Tuscany is the next region over, this dish does not use Tuscan-style sausages, which contain fennel seed. Try and use sausages without that anise flavor...if you're sticking to tradition, that is.

LENTICCHIE E SALSICCIA

4 TBS. olive oil

1/2 large onion, finely chopped

3 carrots, chopped into small dice (1/8 inch)

1 celery stalk, chopped into small dice 

2 cloves garlic

3 cups Umbrian lentils (or Puy lentils), washed and sorted through to clean

2 sprigs rosemary

8 Italian sausage links, sliced in half lengthwise

1/3 cup hearty Italian red wine, Sagrantino if possible

1/2 cup water

Flat leaf parsley, roughly chopped

Salt + pepper to taste

For the lentils:

- Warm the oil over medium heat in a wide saucepan with some depth (and one with a fitted lid). Add the garlic cloves and infuse the olive oil for a minute or so. 

- Add the chopped carrots, celery, and onion, and cook to soften, about 4 minutes. Sprinkle with salt and cook another minute. 

- Add the lentils, stir well, and cover with cold water until submerged and with a bit of water above the lentils. Bring to a boil, add a couple of small sprigs of rosemary, and cover. Turn down the heat to low and let simmer for 30 minutes or so, until the lentils are cooked through and most of the liquid is absorbed. Add salt and pepper to taste.

*Lentils can be cooked in advance to this point*

- When the lentils are almost ready, or you're reheating them, heat a grill pan or a frying pan over medium-high heat, and add enough olive oil to just cover the bottom of the pan. - Brown the sausages on both sides, making sure not to crowd the pan (we want them seared, not steamed).

- When sausages are fully browned, toss in the red wine and the water and let the liquid cook down and bubble up for a few minutes. Then cover, an cook for another 10 minutes or so.

- Plate the warm lentils on a serving platter, and then place the sausages on top of the bed of lentils. You can either use the wine gravy as is, or add a spoonful of a dijon mustard and whisk that into the sauce. Add salt and pepper to taste.

- Pour the sauce over the sausages and lentils, and sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve.

Buon appetito!