Venice: A Labyrinth for Romantics

Only a few cities in the world come close to matching the mystical beauty of Venice, Italy. It is an island where vehicles are prohibited on land, while boats traverse the crossword puzzle of murky green canals through the labyrinth of buildings. Buses are large boats.  Taxis are water taxis. Romantics may hire a gondola for a hand-pushed ride in those long and skinny Venetian boats, best for small parties.

 Above sea level, walking by foot is the only other choice. Here, no bicycles are found, no motorized scooters or tiny Smart cars are allowed.  Here, the island is a life away from the rest of the world.  A sort of paradise for romantics.  In the winter months, Venice is a cold and not so pleasant place.  Being located on the sea seems to chill even the warmest bones no matter how many layers of clothing. The benefit of going that time of year is the number of tourists drastically decrease.  Off season numbers are fantastic, including off season pricing for hotels and as airfare. 

 But in spring, autumn, and summer in particular, Venice may be crowded, but it has a magic to it.  The flowers are in full bloom delighting the nose and the eyes. The evening temperatures are comfortable, where nights show people wearing perfectly appropriate shorts, shirts or light dresses.  The charm of the city is discovered through evening strolls in the largest public square, Piazza di San Marco.  There, centuries ago, visitors arrived at their docks to a large palace, called the Doge Palace, and a beautiful basilica, the Basilica of San Marco.  Today, people stand in awe at the immaculately detailed and wonderfully preserved mosaic and sculpture-filled facades of the religious institution. Truly, it is a jewel not to be missed both at day time and night.

 In the very same piazza, at least one live band plays easy listening instrumental-only hits. One band prefers to showcase their accordionist. Another, more of a jazz ensemble, highlights their talent through the liquid yet playful clarinet. Every one of them has a pianist and drummer.  Behind the band is the entrance to the restaurant sponsoring the musical group.  In front of them are seventy tables for two, tempting passers-by to sit down and enjoy just a few more pieces over a refreshing Bellini  the peach and prosecco concoction originating from Venice. Falling in love with everything has never been so easy.

 At Carnevale, the annual festival right before Lent, people wear masks and have done so for hundreds of years. Because of this age-old tradition, they are sold, it seems, in every other store on the island.  From the bright and colorful to the blank, unpainted varieties, masks of every odd mold and design are uniquely Venetian.

 Murano is nearby Venice, an easy boat ride to an island of artisans.  Their handmade glass is unique and known worldwide, considered very good quality. Art-lovers are lucky.  They don’t have to go to Italy just to get the beautiful products.  They can find Murano glass nearly everywhere, as vendors understand the demand for hand-crafted excellence.

Beautiful glass, odd shaped masks, canals, labyrinths and charm. Venice is easily one of the cities that make Italy so great. Have you ever been there?  What did you like best about Venice?

Rustic Bean, Sausage and Fennel Soup

It feels like late autumn.  The days are overcast, exuding a darkness that inspires laying in bed. Rain showers intermittently drop through the falling grape leaves covering my walkway. The loosest leaves succumb to the heavy liquid as it drops from the skies, creating a sound absorbing, earthy-smelling cover to the concrete.  The air is more than crisp.  It leaves a chill in my bedroom only a cozy bed can combat, and layers upon layers of covers.

On this fine fall day, it's true, I wanted to stay in bed.  But the refrigerator called and it said, "Feed me." It had been bare for more than a day now and no longer could I live off of the things that never seem to go bad, like chestnut honey or that never ending bottle of vermouth.  Off to the grocery store I went and I was greeted with an Italian, "Good day," by the always pleasant female vagabond who unfailingly sits in front of the store every day, happy to accept any spare coin in my pocket. I reply hello but have no change to give her and walk through the market's doors. 

As it happens, going to the supermarket in Italy is all about timing. My usual store opens at 9:00am.  If you go right when it opens, that's when the employees are restocking the shelves.  These are the times when I know I don't need salad, vegetables or fruit.  Because the produce specialist working that time doesn't seem to get to the task until about 10:00am.  But the locals seem to be keen on this fact, because by 10:30am, the store is packed.  And that's when the battle begins for the red plastic handcarts. 

Already the stack is empty so I walk to the cash registers where people empty their carts to pick one up.  None are there as well.  Just a long line of people waiting to buy their groceries.  But, alas, my luck has arrived, because a lady has only two items left in her cart.  I walk forward slowly, beginning to spelunk my way through the thin passage of overflowing carts and tall people.  Almost there, I think of how to approach the woman as she empties her last item from the cart.  Excuse me, miss, may I have that? Yes, that would be the right way.  I will be formal, polite, and stunningly knowledgeable of how to ask someone for their cart in Italian.

Right when I'm about to open my mouth, my competitor got the best of me, a middle-aged woman who snuck up right behind me, saw an opening, took it, and now stood in front of me asking for the cart.

Cartless, I turn around and peak through the rest of the cashier lanes.  Excellent!  Someone accidentally placed their empty one on the other side, hidden to most, but thankfully, I'm taller than the average Italian, or so I like to think. So I grab that before anyone else can and I'm on the way to grocery buying history.

All I had on the mind was food fit for fall weather.  I needed to make something warm, full of body, something that said this is autumn. And when I got to the butcher section, I saw the excellent variety of sausages, thin, fat, long, short. And right under my nose sat two lonely packages, nearly obscure due to their front positioning. What caught my attention was their sickly dark color. Not gray, not black, but something bordering improper.  Was this blood sausage?  No, not dark enough but I wish it were.  I've made a superb Catalan (spanish) soup using blood sausage before so I wasn't exactly afraid of the stuff. No matter.  It was different than any of the other kinds available and I instantly knew I could create great soup with some complementary products. As I walked away, I noticed these were sitting next to packaged tripe, cow tongue and other offal parts. A good sign.  Those less adventurous may disagree with that notion. 

I grabbed a multicolored bag of dried beans which were considered "rustic" according to the label.  Would you want soup any other way? Then it was off to the produce section and even though I wasn't sure what part of the pig this sausage was made from, I knew some diced vegetables would greatly add to it.  Who could pass up fresh fennel when it looks so good?

Some several hours later, may I present to you... tonight's dinner:  VASGO's Rustic Bean and Fennel Soup, with Pork Liver Sausage.

Photo Source

1 bag of mixed dried beans

3 large stalks celery

4 large carrots

1 medium fennel bulb, fronds removed

1 medium green bell pepper

1 yellow onion

5 cloves garlic

1 Tablespoon dried oregano

1/2 Tablespoon black pepper 

4 links fresh pork liver sausage (if you can find it!)
Any type of crusty, springy bread to soak up the liquid in between bites, such as sourdough.

Speed soak the dried beans in a large soup pot, about 1.5 hours total. Do NOT add salt or your beans will never cook properly. During that, dice all the vegetables, mix all together. In a fry pan, saute vegetable mix with olive oil over medium/medium-high heat until carrot pieces can be pierced easily with a fork. Do in batches if necessary. Add to bean soup/bean broth when beans are ready for their secondary cooking. Add oregano and black pepper to liquid. Place pork liver sausages in the soup and let simmer for an hour or two.  Remove sausages and let cool. Skim fat from soup's surface. Slice sausages into thin rounds. Add back into soup, add salt as desired. Serve. 

Mmmmmm.... home made soup....

I should also mention, a few shakes of the old Tabasco bottle gives it a surprisingly Cajun feel that shouldn't be missed if you like that type of thing.

Rome's Restaurant Week

For the life of me, I can't understand why November isn't considered part of the high travel season in Rome. This is possibly one of the best months to visit Rome.

This is the month when the best festivals take place.  Olives are pressed, the newest wines are uncorked from last year's harvest.  It is easily two of Italy's favorite things.  But then there's also the colder weather.  Sure, it's a little rainy, but the air is crisp. Scarves wrap every neck and people look more than good as they eagerly show off their newest fall purchases.  The air mingles scents of wood-burning fires from each pizzeria with the sweet smokey chestnuts of the street side vendors. Later in the month, lights will be hung down main streets and the Christmas markets will pop up to children's delights everywhere.

Indeed, November is a great time of year. And in Rome, it just got even better, all because this week was Restaurant Week! (Nov. 5-11) Here, have a log with some sweets on it!

More than a month ago, the participating restaurants were announced.  Some were great, others not so much.  The best of the best had their time slots full within days.  This year's list can be found here.

For 25 Euros, most people were offered a three course menu.  Not a bad deal if you chose well.

But then some places had stars next to their name. Some stars were red, others were gold, and one even had two gold stars.  What did this all mean?

It turns out some of the restaurants could "up" their game, something I don't recall seeing during Restaurant Weeks in Philadelphia or New York City.  In my opinion, it's a good idea which benefits both parties.  The restaurant makes more money while the consumer eats a better meal. I just want it to be extra good if I'm going to be paying more, like this meal at Metamorfosi... 

The amuse bouche - perfectly cooked chicken bite with fresh herbs and a light orange sauce, perfect with the complimentary glass of prosecco they gave us.

A modern take on carbonara with a 65 degree Celsius cooked egg, guanciale pieces and a pecorino foam.

Sweet onion risotto with snails in a light pesto at the bottom.

Lamb roulade, herb blend on the inside, outside: fennel, dill, awesome, perfectly cooked.

Pre-dessert lollipop: White chocolate coated gorgonzola pop in a  port sauce.

We had to splurge on real dessert, called Torrefazione 2.0. Dark chocolate shell, hazelnut gelato center, sugary foam at the bottom then they pour hot coffee on top to split open the center.  Then pour on puffed rice to add another level of texture.

And finally, post-dessert dessert. Delicious cookie with real raspberry puree, pineapple gelee with a  passionfruit gel, and a dark chocolate lollipop with a coffee truffle center.

Red stars mean the meal costs 35 Euros.  This is to make up for the use of better ingredients. This meal was the best 35 Euro I have ever spent.  And then of course, I spent more for the extra dessert and the bottle of wine, but wow, Metamorfosi was a stunning experience.  Talk about forward-thinking Italian cuisine!

For more info on the restaurant, go to their website: http://metamorfosiroma.it/

A single gold star means the restaurant has earned a Michelin star.  They charge an extra 15 Euros per person for better ingredients and service.

And two gold stars means the restaurant has earned two Michelin stars.  They charge an extra 30 Euros per person.

Restaurant Week to me always meant a "somewhat" better deal to be able to try a restaurant's offerings.At Metamorfosi in Rome, it was an outstanding deal. The other restaurant I went to earlier this week... not even worth mentioning. A disappointment for the 35 euro.

Have you ever been to a restaurant week dinner? What city was it in and why did you like/dislike it?

Olive Season

November in Italy means olive season!  Those small green or black berries are just waiting to be picked, only a small percentage destined for the salty bath we all know as brine will make them wholly edible.  The rest will be thrown into the press.  Olive oil, here we come!

The single largest olive tree I have ever seen, simply MUST be hundreds and hundreds of years old, located at the ancient Villa Adriana (Hadrian's Villa) in Tivoli, Italy.

My latest article can be found here: http://www.made-in-italy.com/travel-to-italy/news/harvesting-olives-in-november

Pigging Out at the Wild Boar Festival

If you've ever lived in Italy, then you know the fine people of the country love their festivals.  The words sagra or festa are found year-round, usually ending with a food product the city is celebrating.  In this month alone, I am aware of a chestnut festival, a polenta festival, and one of the largest chocolate festivals in all of Europe located in Perugia, Italy. Next month, I will hear of wine festivals as well as olive oil festivals.  Food is synonymous with Italian culture, which is why I proclaim myself a "Culture Junkie".

Yesterday, in a lovely hillside city 45 minutes outside of Rome called Castelnuovo di Porto, was the Sagra del Cinghiale. The Festival of Wild Boar.  

I was expecting vendor stalls upon vendor stalls badgering people to purchase their quality pork products over their nearby competitors.  Tube meat would be tossed overhead to eager customers in the back of lines. Wild boar prosciutto, salami, sausages, ragu, spreads, everything about the pig's cousin would be celebrated.  I even hoped there would be the lone oddball out there with a wild boar lollipop or gelato flavor, always the losing dessert on televised cooking competitions.  

But when I arrived at the small medieval city, all that was there in the main piazza, the town square, were several picnic tables and a long line leading to the pickup window of a temporary outdoor kitchen. It was a comforting mix of prison and grade school lunch service. I was given my tray along with a leaky bottle of draught white wine, sfuso. Then I asked for the three course Wild Boar meal.

Pappardelle in Wild Boar Ragu

Wild Boar cooked in a savory and spicy chocolate sauce

French Fries

The french fries were delicious.

And honestly the pasta dish was quite good.  But the boar in chocolate sauce would have been ok if they de-boned it better, in addition to serving it MUCH warmer.  Throughout many bites, I found myself pulling shards of bone from my mouth, not the most pleasant experience.  But for 12 Euro total, I got what I paid for. 

That's right, a man on stilts who made balloon animals.

By the way, for any doubters out there, boar in chocolate sauce is amazing.  The best version I have eaten is at a restaurant in Rome called:  

L'Asino D'Oro

Via del Boschetto, 73  00184 Rome, Italy

If you are unsure of eating wild boar, let one of my other articles change your mind:

http://www.made-in-italy.com/italian-food/news/pigs-porchetta-and-cinghiale-the-italian-wild-boar

The Holy Grail of Beers

Westvleteren is the name of the brewery in the Trappist Abbey of St. Sixtus of Westvleteren.  Serious beer lovers know the name because they have mystery appeal.  Most have heard of it, and most have never tried it. Since World War II, the abbey has prohibited the commercial sale of this beer.  The monks who reside at St. Sixtus create the beer solely to keep the abbey running, not for profit - the mantra of the trappist label.  So, sadly, they cap the amount they brew each year to a mere 60,000 cases each year.

Through a quick search online, one unreliable source suggested that Budweiser brews 2,500,000 cases each year. Much, MUCH more.

But in this comparison lies the age-old dilemma.  Which is more important: Profit or Quality?

I'm certain our ancestors from the early 1900s would say quality craftsmanship, regardless the product, was the most important business goal. I'm also certain today's generation would describe the goals of corporations and other major businesses quite alternatively. Oh trusted Capitalism, how you've changed your ways over the years.

Thankfully, St. Sixtus is concerned with one thing, making what many consider to be the world's best beer.

The story goes like this: You couldn't buy their beer anywhere. If you wanted a bottle of their beer, you would have to buy a case, and no more than one case, DIRECTLY AT THE BREWERY, located in Vleteren, Belgium, way up in the northeastern part of the country near the French borders. They made three different kinds with the names of Blonde, 8 and 12.  The bottles weren't labeled.  The only way to distinguish which beer you were drinking was from the color of the cap.   Oh, and if you wanted to buy a case, you also had to call and reserve one - their way to make sure it wasn't going to be sold commercially.

So on recent search for the Great Pumpkin at my favorite local pub in Rome, Open Baladin, I overheard a customer to my left speak enthusiastically in English.  When a person gets this excited over beer, I know there is something we can talk about.  So I waited for the right moment.  First I tried to find out what he and his friend were drinking without bothering him. I walked to the restroom and on the way back, I passed by the dark bottle... just some roman numerals on the front.  I still had no idea what the beer was.  Eventually, I had to know what he drank, so I interrupted him from his divine moment to find out he was drinking the holy grail of beers, Westvleteren 12.

How did he get this beer?  What is it doing with a label on it? What is it doing in Italy being sold commercially?

I had all these questions I wanted answered, but not the fluency to find out the truth.  So I bonded with my new friend, we talked beer and Rome and then he left. And I had to have my own. After all, I might never get to try this again.

And so I did. Many reviews have said it's just like the St. Bernardus Abt 12 and not deserving of the reputation. I found similarities, but I could absolutely tell the difference in quality, especially in the finish.  The Westvleteren 12 is a dark, high alcohol beer at over 10% with notes of dark fruits, slightly sweet with a hint of brown sugar or molasses, light but desirable fruit esters and the finish is smooth and lingering in the best of ways. Talk about one amazing Belgian beer.  St. Bernardus Abt 12 ends too strong, too overpowering to the palate in my opinion.  Yes, the Westvleteren 12 was worth spending the extra money and if you get the chance to try it, do not let the opportunity pass.

What do you think are the world's best beers?  Post a comment below to share your thoughts.

In Search of the Great (Roman) Pumpkin

To many Americans, October means Halloween.  To beerophiles, October means pumpkin  beer… the finest brews made with pumpkin, cinnamon and often dark brown sugar. 

This fine overcast Sunday in Rome, I decided to search for the Great Pumpkin in Rome.  I knew it wouldn’t be an easy task considering Italians don’t share the same squash-beer love ratios that Americans do. Nonetheless, I was ready for the challenge.

I decided to start with the place I figured would most likely have it… Open Baladin Roma.  I sat down at the bar immediately and looked over the multi-page menu.  If you are unfamiliar with my previous posts about this place: Open Baladin has about 46 varieties on tap. (See Best Places in Rome for Craft Beer and Autumn Beer Festival for more details.)  After flipping through the various categories, I finally found the object of desire.

Wait a minute… it’s from America?  Not what I was looking for guys.  I wanted Italy’s interpretation of the ultimate pumpkin beer.  I will have plenty of time in my future years to taste liquid pumpkin pie from the safety of my American home.  So I threw the menu on the bar top in a fit of anger.

The bartender looked at me, inquisitive at the least.

“Excuse me”, I asked in Italian, “but don’t you have artisanal beer made with pumpkin from Italy?”

The bartender turned around and searched through the mini-fridge behind him. Coming up empty-handed, he explained, yes, Baladin makes a pumpkin beer, aptly named Zucca, the word for squash in Italian, but they were out of stock. All I wanted was a taste of the good old days.  So I grumbled a few curses under my breath, fondly mixing the two languages I knew so anyone and everyone might know the pain I was then suffering, and I said, “I’ll take the Pumpking Ale from Southern Teir.

Pumpking Ale by Southern Tier at Open Baladin Roma

At that point, it didn’t matter what country made the beer.  I had pumpkin on the mind and it wouldn’t go away until I had my fix. So it arrived, a lovely light amber color with a fine cream head and I sniffed the pint to my heart’s content.  Aromas of pumpkin, cinnamon, dark brown sugar filled my nose making my mouth water instantly and a nostalgic feeling took over my mind. It’s like I’d just gone back to the U.S. to visit my family for Thanksgiving. More specifically, it was the moment I woke up in my old home, smelling of pumpkin pie at its last minutes of baking in the oven, ready to for dinner later that day. Buttery, sugary, spiced.

Then I took a sip.  At 8.5%, this beer packs a punch, but the brew master at Southern Tier has done an outstanding job of balancing the high alcohol to flavor ratio.  My beer-tasting palate is more advanced than some, and I could easily tell where that the alcohol was there, but it blended so perfectly with the rest of the overall taste, I knew this was a beer anyone would enjoy, especially beer-snobs.

The Translation: Pumpkin Ale - Now a typical American tradition, beer brewed with pumpkin and cinnamon.  PUMPKING ALE 8.6% - by Southern Tier - An amber beer that tastes of grain, somewhat sweet with notes of cinnamon.

The search still continues for Italian pumpkin beer.  Can Italy create a quality pumpkin brew in the likeness of U.S varieties? Will the love for this seasonal taste catch on internationally? Only more samples will tell.