Category Archives: Italian

Food Adventure: Gnocchetti Verdi in Alto Adige

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I rang in the New Year in a small town in Alto Adige, Italy, also known as the Südtirol. Here, the joint of influence of Austria and Italy is palpable everywhere—on the road signs that read in Italian, German, and the local dialect; on the cartons of milk labeled in kind; and most certainly in the food. Bordering, and formerly a part of, Austria, this Alpine region is characterized more by its German cuisine, albeit with Italian names, evident in the heavier meat-and-potato-laden dishes. By far my favorite of those I tried, however, was a dish that seemed more to bridge the two cultures: gnocchetti verdi are a local specialty whose form is like that of spaetzle but whose flavor is more reminiscent of a spinach-infused potato gnocco. Topped with butter and Grana Padano, it made for an excellent après-ski meal.

 Gnocchetti verdi in the ski rifugio

Dinner Party: Italian Night! Carbonara and a Twist

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Stevie has mentioned a few times that she was interested in learning Italian (she comes from Italian stock), so we finally decided to do our first cena italiana this past week. The idea was simple: cook an Italian meal, drink Italian wine, and speak as much Italian as we could, pointing and miming our way through it. I enlisted Toni to join us to keep the conversation going and to be an additional teacher in the room. Lesson #1 went well, with Stevie learning and recording a few key terms and present tense verbs in a little notebook I gave her, while assuming her usual duties of chef/sous-chef combo when we cook together.

And what did we eat? We decided a simple carbonara dish would be fun and easy, allowing us to focus on the language without having to worry about too much prep work. Since her butcher didn’t have any pancetta available, Stevie picked up some thickly-sliced coppa, the muscle of the pork right behind the back of the head, at the top of the shoulder. It was an interesting, meaty alternative to the usual fatty taste of the pancetta (whose closest cousin in American is bacon).

Stevie diced the meat into little cubes and threw it in a pan with a bit of butter. In the meantime, we put some spaghetti on to boil. I had previously bought some elegant pasta from Marlow & Daughters for a dinner party a few months back but never ended up using it — this seemed like the perfect time for it. I opened up the package to find that each spaghetto was slightly curled at one end: a handmade pasta that had been hung to dry and later cut. I was ecstatic… life really is in the details. While the sea salted water boiled, I began to separate the eggs. We’d consulted several carbonara recipes and ultimately decided we only wanted to use the yolks (no worries, I saved the whites for a yummy omelette).

We put Toni to work, grating the parmigiano. Everything had to be ready for the moment when the pasta came out of the water, since the heat of the noodles is what would cook the egg and create the cheesy “sauce.”

Everything came together in the pot, lightly coating each and every spaghetto. We noshed happily on way too much pasta with a bottle of Orvieto, a white wine from the eponymous town made from Trebbiano and Grechetto grapes. A slightly fruity and weighty white that is balanced with the acidity from the Trebbiano juice, it was an excellent complement to the eggy, meaty pasta we were consuming.

At this point, you might be wondering what the twist was. Toni buys melons almost by the dozen, and since one was reaching a high level of ripeness, I figured it was best to try something new with it, a change from fruit salad. Summertime screams prosciutto e melone to me — the perfect, light combination of salty and sweet — but as a result of the hot days we’ve been having, I’ve been eating it all the time. So why not take the traditional antipasto dish and make it into a dessert? In preparation for the meal, I made a canteloupe sorbetto a few days before:

I had Stevie pick up a few of the thinnest slices of prosciutto she could get. I proceeded to dry the meat in the oven to give it a harder consistency:

Then, once we’d begun to digest the pasta, I served the sorbet with pieces of prosciutto sprinkled on top. The same salty-sweetness that I love in the antipasto shone through in the dessert version. Ta da! A meal in reverse!

Sorbetto di Melone

  • 1 medium-sized canteloupe, diced
  • The juice of one lemon, freshly-squeezes
  • 2 tablespoons vodka
  • 1/2 cup sugar (shouldn’t need more if the melon is in season!)

Place the melon in the bowl of a food processor and process until smooth. Add the lemon juice, vodka, and sugar and process briefly, until blended. Place the mixture into the refrigerator until the mixture cools. Pour the chilled mixture into the bowl of an ice cream maker and churn for 20 minutes. Transfer the sorbet to an airtight container and place in the freezer for 3 to 4 hours before serving.

Adapted from Alton Brown.

Going across town for real Italian pizza

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Yesterday, after a long day of work, I took the wrong train home and found myself at Waverly Place in the West Village, completely disoriented. I was so hungry that I could not think to straighten myself out. A $10 cab ride later, I was at my door in Alphabet City. Since there was nothing in the fridge, G and I decided to go out to dinner rather than hit the grocery store. I headed out in the direction of one of the many restaurants I had read about, thinking that on a Wednesday night, it wouldn’t be too full. I was wrong–there was a short line out the door. When we went to ask how long the wait was, G eyed the portions and shook his head. We turned our backs on the hostess as she came toward us and set out in search of something a little more…substantial.

La pizza, he said. Why don’t we go to that pizza place over on Carmine and Bleeker? We’d looked for this place before, but with G’s great sense of direction, we’d spent an hour and a half wandering all around it, never finding it, even though he’d eaten there before with friends. And it was in Tribeca. I wasn’t quite ready to tell him that I’d just been over there, that I’d splurged on a cab to get back to the east side. So I agreed. Plus, once he said the magic words, my brain was hooked on the thought of an (almost) authentic Italian pizza.

This time, we knew exactly where to go–we headed straight for the yellow awning with the big “28” written on it, catty-corner to the new GROM gelateria. After walking across town, we sat ourselves down amongst all of the other Italians in the restaurant. Around us, I only heard one table of English speakers–a good sign! The menu listed a few antipasti, but its main emphasis was pizza, which you can order in 14″, 18″, or 29″ derivations. We debated splitting a 29″ pizza, but I was craving pizza bianca, while G went for the S. Daniele (prosciutto, arugula, and parmigiano). We opted to split two 14″ pizzas–the pricing came out about the same anyway.

The wine selection was also pretty wide–all Italian wines, but a good variety, from Barbera d’Asti to Nero d’Avola. After ordering himself a Moretti beer and me a glass of Falanghina, we turned to the pizza. He ordered the S. Daniele, while I debated the Tartufo (mushroom sautée with truffle oil) and the Bianca con Soppressata (spicy salami). Without hesitation, our waiter recommended the Tartufo, so I followed suit. Ten minutes later, pizzas were on the table, hot out of the brick oven…too bad my wine arrived hot too.

G and I split our pizzas half and half, but one bite of the Tartufo and I was smitten. I had a piece of the S. Daniele, but ended up giving the rest back to him. Instead, I savored the mushroom, ricotta, and truffle dance that played out in my mouth–sound cheesy? It was. Melted cheese-y.

We cleaned our plates like good members of the Clean Plate Club that I have belonged to since I was a child at my mother’s table, but our empty plates sat for too long on the table. I began to pick at the little scraps until I could finally wave down a waiter by ordering a tiramisu–we had to compare to Giano’s, of course. It came a moment later, already prepared and cold from sitting in a refrigerator. The waiter (not ours) sat it down on the table, and we inhaled it the moment he turned his back. Embarrassingly fast. In fact, the busboy cleared it before our original waiter knew we had even ordered it, so the check came sans tiramisu.

Restaurant Review: Candela Candela

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*now closed

Last night, G and I went to Candela Candela, a Cuban-Italian fusion restaurant on 2nd avenue between 5th and 6th. Strange mix? I thought so too, so I decided it was worth a try. The interior has a purposefully dated look–old photographs and a mural decorate the walls, and rough-hewn wood tables and countertops characterize the space. It’s sure to have a cozy feel in the wintertime, although we sat halfway between the open window and the patio.

Our waiter, a Franco-Israeli, was extremely attentive and helpful. He brought us the menus immediately, as well as the wine list. The wines, however, were available only by the bottle, so for wine by the glass he resorted to memory. There were three whites, Chardonnay, Pinot Grigio, and a Sauvignon Blanc (all to be expected), and five reds. No labels or provenances were mentioned. He helped pair our wine to our meal choices–Cabernet Sauvignon with my red pepper souffle and a Pinot Noir with Giorgio’s chicken.

Despite the extensive selection, the menu left much to be desired–there was no true sense of fusion of the two cuisines. Instead, the Italian dishes were listed alongside the Cuban ones, saltimbocca next to ropa vieja. We decided to go for an appetizer and a main course between the two of us. To me, the Tortino sounded the most appealing–a red pepper souffle baked with walnuts and served over chickpeas and corn puree. For G, I thought the Perugina sounded perfect–chicken breast rolled around baby spinach, prosciutto, and pine nuts, served with a gorgonzola sauce. He typically likes the most heavy-sounding thing on the menu.

Our wine was served, and a few sips later, the food came out, served on country crockware that matched the restaurants rustic feel. The Tortino was about a palm’s size, as I had expected, but I noticed G blanch when he was served–5 tiny little medallions of chicken and spinach rolls. We dug in, however, and both dishes proved to be quite filling. On the other hand, the flavors were unadventurous. His gorgonzola tasted more like a cream sauce, and I couldn’t trace the red peppers anywhere in the cake, which was more of a veggie pattie than a souffle. It lacked any sort of airiness–I can only assume eggs were included for it to have been given that name.

The service was the most exceptional part of the evening. Candela Candela is a great neighborhood joint–you leave full and satisfied–unless you have your own spot that your already love to frequent. Nothing about the food, from the concept to the flavors, is very special, and the Cabernet leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

Restaurant Review: Giano

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In Roman mythology, Janus (Giano in Italian) was the god of gates, doors, doorways, beginnings, and endings—so it’s fitting that I’d choose Giano as my entree into this blog. There is nothing like this East Village treasure, which takes the Roman god as its inspiration to put a new twist on Italian cooking. Like Janus, the restaurant looks both to the past and to the future—its innovative take on the traditional dishes combined with creative new approaches to a more modern cuisine results in the most mouth-wateringly delicious food that I have tasted on either side of the Atlantic.

The antipasti are all wonderful. I’ve tried the summer spinach salad with strawberries, the goat cheese and black olive terrine, and the caprese (the mozzarella is surprisingly fresh and nutty). However, the real winner is the carpaccio di polpo, thinly-sliced raw octopus—for you non-octopus eaters, stash your prejudice. There is no off-putting texture or fishiness, just a refreshing start to your meal. The lemon dressing really caps it off nicely.

I Primi: The gnudi, traditionally conceived as “naked” spinach and ricotta ravioli filling, are whipped into tiny souffles (a far cry from their normal rustic texture) and drizzled with butter and crispy sage leaves. I dream about these little Italian dumpling, they are that good. That’s not to say the other pasta and risotto should be missed–the taviolini tartufo e bottarga, a creamy truffle and fish sauce over the long, tubular noodles, is surprisingly amazing, while the pappardelle con ragu biano d’agnello (a white lamb sauce) is an ultra-modern take on the old comfort dish. And what’s there not to love about circular lasagna? As for secondi and dolci, the stuffed pork cutlet followed by tiramisu are really unbeatable.

Everything about Giano, in the end, is about the present: the meal, the ambiance, the presentation, the service, the wine. It’s all wonderful, beautiful, and encourages you to stop and savor every bite, sip, and moment.