Elections, More Montalcino, and More: Being the 148th issue of Cosa Bolle in Pentola

Greetings! The latest things on Italian Food are a look at how the Perini Family, which has a fine deli in Florence's Mercato di San Lorenzo, puts its food on display: if you work carefully you could do something similar the next time you hold a party, buffet, or cookout. Also, a look at some of the wines that impressed me the most at Vinitaly.

Le Elezioni

And though this naturally leads us towards Vinitaly, a quick aside on yesterday's election results. Mr. Berlusconi, the conservative businessman who was prime minister from 2000 to 2005 won handily, and will be leading a center-right to right wing coalition for the next 5 years.

The results are really not a surprise; Mr. Prodi's center-left coalition was a many headed thing that spent most of its time pulling in several different directions at once and got very little done.

Small wonder then, with the economy souring and a host of problems, that people should vote for change, though to be honest many of the problems Mr. Prodi failed to solve -- budget deficit, immigration issues, employment, housing and so on -- were inherited from the previous Berlusconi Government.

What is interesting, surprising even, is the complete collapse of the far left -- true communists, greens, and so on. They went from several senators and 20 congresspeople (including the Speaker of the House) in the former legislature to none at all this time, because the electoral law says -- to keep tiny parties from holding the majority hostage -- that to gain access to Parliament parties must get at least 4% of the vote. In 2005 the communists and greens got about 10%; this time they settled in at 3.5%. If they had spent less time squabbling and more governing, rather than behaving like the opposition (some of the radical MPs participated prominently in anti-government rallies), they might have gotten more votes.

Now the ball is in Mr. Berlusconi's court. The first test (of sorts) will be Alitalia; he said that if he won a group of Italian investors would emerge to save the troubled airline. We'll see if one does.

Vinitaly: Good, But Troubles Too

I enjoyed Vinitaly this year. It was a busy fair, but nowhere near as packed with people interested primarily in drinking as it has been in years past, and this made it much more productive for me. Troubles? They take the form of Velenitaly (PoisonItaly), the cover article L'Espresso, one of the major Italian weeklies, released on the day Vinitaly opened. The authors of the article weave together a scandal involving tainted very cheap jug wines that may or may not be poisonous, Brunello's problems, and several other things, some that are rather old, to unleash an indiscriminate blast at the Italian winemaking industry.

To be honest, I don't understand the logic behind the article, because wine is one of the few things that really works in Italy today. There are problems, and they need to be dealt with, but crude, sensationalist yellow journalism isn't the best way to go about it.

Especially not for a publisher that also puts out La Guida Dell'Espresso, one of the more respected Italian wine guides. The Guida's editor-tasters, who first heard about Velenitaly when they arrived at Vinitaly, all distanced themselves from the weekly's article while saying that the editors of the sister publication were independent and free to publish what they wanted. Enzo Vizzari (one of the Guida's editors) did, however, say he was profoundly disturbed (or something to that effect) by the Velenitaly article on his blog, which was hosted by L'Espresso. I say was and to that effect because following his comment the publisher shut the blog down, and now visitors to Vizzari's page (http://vizzari.blogautore.espresso.repubblica.it/) are greeted with "This user has elected to delete their account and the content is no longer available (in English)."

So much for editorial independence.

And this brings us to Brunello, the Continuing Saga
At Vinitaly I met with Lars Leicht, Banfi's Director of PR, who told me that yes indeed, Banfi is under investigation for fraud with respect to the 2003 vintage of Brunello, which they have been told to declassify. But not for having used non-Sangiovese grapes to make Brunello. Rather, for overcropping (producing more grapes per hectare than the Disciplinare governing Brunello production allows -- 80 quintals, or 8 metric tonnes), and this is where things become surreal and (to me) disturbing.

Banfi makes the Brunello in question from several vineyards located around the castle, and Lars told me the total yield of all the vineyards in question was less than the legal limit of 80 quintals/hectare. However, it was uneven, with some producing slightly less, and one slightly above. And that's what created the problems; the Prosecutor in Siena looked at the vineyard-by-vineyard yields, and even though the yield for the total vineyard area was within the limits set by the Disciplinare declared the entire production illegal because one vineyard produced more.

From a very narrow legalistic standpoint the man is right; yields should be below 80 quintals per hectare.

However, as Lars points out, vineyards are not precise factory environments. Vines produce grapes, and if left to their own devices produce lots, so the winemaker aims for a given per-hectare yield through vineyard management, which includes green harvesting and whatnot. While it's true that if one stays well under the maximum yield, one has no problems, doing so also costs money -- less wine = less income -- so people try to get close, and if this means averaging production, I see nothing wrong with that, provided total production doesn't exceed what would be allowed for a single vineyard of that area.

You may wonder, don't the vineyards that produce more grapes produce less quality? The answer is not necessarily. What is important is the production per individual vine, and if a producer has some older vineyards planted to a density of 4000 vines per hectare, and newer ones with vines planted to 8000 vines per hectare, the 80 quintals from the newer vineyard will be much better than the 80 quintals from the older vineyard because the older vineyard's vines are producing twice as much. 81 quintals from the new vineyard will probably be better than 65 from the older, and this is why I think the prosecutor is showing an excess of zeal in ordering that Brunello made from a series of vineyards whose average yield is less than 80 quintals/hectare be declassified because one parcel goes over.

"In the future we'll just aim for a maximum of 75 quintals/hectare; the wine will be better and we'll charge more for it," said Lars, and this brings up a second very important point about this investigation. The names that have come out so far are almost all large, but we've heard rumors to the effect that another 20-80 producers are under investigation, as is the Consorzio itself.

If these as-of-yet-unnamed producers are under investigation for using non-Sangiovese grapes in their Brunello, they should be prosecuted, because they're doctoring Brunello to appeal to market tastes (they could just as well label their "appealing" wine Sant'Antimo DOC, Montalcino's catchall appellation, but that doesn't sell as well as Brunello or for as much, which brings greed into the picture as well). Ditto if they're overcropping by a significant margin. But if they're under investigation for what Banfi is, the punishment -- having cellars sealed and being forced to declassify a vintage -- seems totally out of proportion with respect to the crime.

Especially in the case of small wineries; someone Banfi's size will be hurt by a forced declassification, but makes lots of other wines that are unaffected and will weather the storm. Forced declassification and cellar closure could (probably will) be a death knell for many smaller wineries, and if wineries are facing this despite staying within the limits set by the Disciplinare something is very wrong. Especially since Lars tells me the Consorzio has always told people to figure their production over their total vineyard area, and adds that as a result of this policy the Consorzio is now also under investigation too.

Bottom line: There are two things happening at Montalcino. On the one hand, some people cheated and got caught. On the other, people followed established practices and are getting ground up by an extremely narrow reading of the rules. The former should be punished, but the latter? I think not.

Budino di Fragole, Strawberry Pudding
Moving in a very different direction, the markets have been full of strawberries of late. It seems a little soon but it's nice to see them. While you can simply hull them and enjoy them, you can also do other things with strawberries, and this pudding, which Elisabetta and I made the other day, is very tasty and very easy. To serve 8:

• 1 1/8 pounds (500 g) strawberries, hulled
• 1 1/5 cups (300 ml) heavy cream, lightly whipped
• 1 cup (225 g) sugar
• 1/2 an ounce (15 g) fish gelatin in sheets, or gelatin sufficient to set 1 pint (500 ml) liquid
• Maraschino or other liqueur (optional, and we omitted it)
• A sprig or two of fresh mint, as garnish

Set the gelatin to soak in cook water, separating the sheets (if you are using another kind of gelatin follow the directions on the package).

Rinse the hulled strawberries and pat them dry. Set aside 3-4 of the prettiest ones to use as garnish, and blend the rest with 2 tablespoons sugar, and a tablespoon or two of the liqueur if you're using it..

Set aside 1/4 cup of the sugar, and mix the remainder with 1/4 cup water. Heat it to a boil and simmer stirring gently, until the mixture thickens and becomes syrupy, about 8-10 minutes.

Remove the syrup from the fire. Squeeze excess moisture from the sheets of gelatin, add them to the syrup, and stir gently until they have completely dissolved. Whisk the mixture into the blended strawberries, mix well, and let the mixture cool.

In the meantime whip the heavy cream with the remaining sugar; you want the cream to be airy and light, but not stiff.

Fold the whipped cream into the blended strawberries.

At this point you have a choice:

• You can fill 8 small molds with the pudding, if you want to serve individual portions.
• Or you can put all the pudding into a pint (500 ml, or slightly larger) ribbed mold. Chill the pudding in the refrigerator for several hours, or, better yet, overnight.

Come time to unmold the pudding, heat a pot of water you can dip the mold into. Let the water heat the mold for just a second (longer and the pudding will begin to melt and run). Cover the mold with your serving dish and flip the two together; the pudding will settle gracefully onto the serving dish (if it doesn't, dip the mold briefly again).

Decorate the pudding with slices of the reserved strawberries, sprigs of mint, and, if you want, a little more whipped cream. Serve at once, before it has time to start warming up.

This time's proverb is Tuscan: Le Disgrazie Sono Come Le Tavole Degli Osti -- Misfortune is like the hostler's table (which is always set).

Until next time,

Kyle Phillips
Editor, The Italian Wine Review
http://www.italianwinereview.com
Want to comment? Drop me a line at Kyle@cosabolle.com

PS -- Please forward this to anyone you think would enjoy it! If you would like to read past issues (nothing in them really gets stale), you'll find recent ones at Cosa Bolle.Com, http://www.cosabolle.com, and older ones at http://italianfood.about.com/blbol.htm.

Montalcino, Restorations and More: Being the 147th issue of Cosa Bolle in Pentola

Greetings! The latest on Italian Food are Leonardo Romanelli's Tiramisu recipe, which gets around the dangers posed by raw egg in a deceptively simple way: He makes a zabaione of the yolks and stirs them into the Mascarpone cheese to make a Mascarpone cream. See here for illustrated step-by-step instructions. The latest on the Italian Wine review is instead an overview of the 2004 Amarone, with the notes from the presentation held in Verona about a month ago. 2004 is a good vintage, and some of the wines are superb. More could be, and those that aren't offer an opportunity to reflect upon the effects of supply and demand. See here.

Rumblings in Montalcino
Supply and demand lead us straight to Montalcino, where those in charge are doing their best to keep the lid on an ominously rumbling pressure cooker, and this invites yet more reflection.

Why the rumbling? Rumors of counterfeit wines. Actually, they're more than rumors: Before Benvenuto Brunello a friend and colleague told me that a dinner guest of his had told him that a fairly large -- several hectare -- vineyard not planted to Sangiovese had been found in the course of an inspection of one of the major Brunello producers. This would have been fine had the vineyard been destined to the production of Sant'Antimo DOC, which is Montalcino's catchall appellation for wines that contain things other than Sangiovese. Unfortunately, the vineyard in question was "atto a Brunello," for the production of Brunello -- winemakers must declare what their vineyards are for -- and since Brunello can contain only Sangiovese that vineyard shouldn't have had other varietals. But it did, and the Magistratura (essentially the DA) launched a criminal investigation for fraud, which is ongoing, and -- rumor has it -- has expanded to include several other major producers, who also have non-Sangiovese varietals in their Brunello vineyards.

I hadn't mentioned this because the investigation is ongoing, and I didn't think it was worth saying much before the names were released and the charges were made public -- conjecture can and often does wildly exceed truth, and in the process do much harm. However, Franco Ziliani, who is always in the forefront when it comes to ferreting out problems of this kind, said on March 21:

"Insistent and worrisome rumors reach us from Montalcino, and also from Germany and Holland, to the effect that several wineries (4-5) have been seized after the discovery, by the NAS -- The Carabinieri's food fraud unit -- and the Guardie di Finanza -- the Revenue people -- of Puglian wine that was sold (or rather passed off) as Brunello di Montalcino.

"The charge is said to be the usual "frode in commercio e falso in atto pubblico", commercial fraud and public falsehood…" (translation mine, see here).

As one might expect, the effect of Franco's post was like kicking a hornet's nest; a great many other bloggers weighed in, many saying it's about time (there are always rumors of fraud, but they rarely come to much), and a few -- Franco quotes Wine Spectator's James Suckling -- saying that what's going on is driven by envy and will turn out to be a tempest in a teapot. Then, yesterday, La Repubblica, one of the major dailies, said in a short piece that fully a quarter of all Brunello might be at risk (what I said about conjecture…).

Faced with a mounting wave the Consorzio took the extraordinary step of sending out a blanket email informing us that since 2004, when they began inspecting member vineyards (in 2002 the Italian government charged the Appellations with making certain their members followed the rules), they have found 17 hectares of non-Sangiovese vines, in a total of 1667 hectares of Brunello vineyards inspected. Less than 1% of the total acreage is not what is should be.

On the one hand, this is reassuring: Most people are playing by the rules. On the other it is not, because we don't know how those acres are distributed. The occasional different vine in a vineyard planted to a density of 6-8000 vines/hectare can occur, because nurseries do make mistakes when they deliver (Marchesi Pancrazi's entire Pinot Nero vineyard, whose wines now win awards, was a mistake -- the nursery was supposed to deliver something else).

But I have the impression that the occasional mistake is not what we're talking about here -- it certainly wasn't in the case of the winery my friend mentioned months ago, because a several-hectare vineyard with the wrong vines is not the isolated Cabernet, Merlot, or even Colorino vine surrounded by legitimate Sangiovese vines. And while it's true that when cuttings (which look like sticks with a root grafted to them) are planted, one plants on faith, assuming the nursery supplied what it said it supplied, when said cuttings grow into vines and begin producing fruit, one can see what they are. And if they're the wrong thing, one rips them out and sues the nursery, or at the very least changes the designation of the vineyard. One doesn't continue declaring the vineyard to be a Brunello vineyard (and making "Brunello" from those grapes) when it no longer qualifies. Nor does one leave the isolated Cabernet or whatever vine there, because it doesn't belong and that's that. But is seems that some people have, and here's the rub.

Does this mean all Brunello is suspect? Certainly not, not any more than the persistent rumors one hears every year of Brunello (and other northern appellations including French) being cut with inky dark, concentrated, alcoholic wines from the south. Some winemakers will do it, and then the question becomes which, and why.

The which is easy: Winemakers, like everyone else, have all sorts of personalities. On one end of the spectrum are the upstanding who follow the rules. Because they're rules and serious people live by them. On the other are those people who are great fun at a party, but you wouldn't trust with your house keys. If the rules are convenient (for them) they follow them, and if they aren't they don't. The former's Brunello will be Sangiovese and nothing but no matter what the vintage was like, while the latter's may not be -- if they think they can work around the regulations to counter nature's adversity or get ahead they will, especially if they think they have to.

And this brings up the more interesting question, why would one cheat? After all, the risks are enormous, because if one is found out one is (ahem) screwed -- a sales rep who handles one of the wineries under indictment posted a comment on Franco's blog saying he's been told not to sell any of that winery's 2003 Brunello indefinitely.

The answer is multifaceted, and in part imponderable. In the case of a small winery, I can think of three reasons: Willingness to gamble, laziness/incompetence, and a desire to make "what the markets want;" with this latter factor becoming much more important for larger wineries.

To begin with the gambling, some people are simply willing to gamble. I don't understand it. Laziness/incompetence? A small winery that works well, and makes good wine, will always be able to find someone willing to buy the volume it produces. If it works less well, the owners may decided to cut corners, turning to outside help to get the concentration, color, or whatever they were unable to achieve on their own.

And this brings up "what the market wants." As I said, a small winery that makes good wine (of any style, from the traditional austerity to the most opulent starlet in a glass) will always find someone interested in purchasing it. A large winery that makes several times the volume of the smaller winery is in a much more difficult position, because it cannot wait for the impassioned wine merchant/importer to say "This is the wine I like and will sell to my customers!" It instead has to find many purchasers, and is therefore much more conscious of what the wine press speaks admiringly of, leading the vast mass of wine consumers to seek: Depth of color, concentration, power, smoothness of tannin, richness of fruit and so on. And if what's in the glass the large winery's enologist draws from the cask doesn't match what the press is favoring, he or she may well decide to make it so, with outside help (the owner or enologist of a small winery that wants high scores may also do this).

In other words, some winemakers of most every appellation -- Brunello producers are certainly not unique -- will bend the rules for a variety of reasons, and though some are more understandable than others, I don't approve of or condone any. I would venture that the winery my friend heard about at dinner was trying to make what it thinks consumers will like, because it has to move a lot of wine. And it's successful, because its wines get good ratings -- I've read them. This doesn't justify what the winery did, though I can understand why it did it, and I will be quite curious to see who else has gotten caught in the net.

And what would I suggest to people thinking about buying a Brunello? Traditionalists are much less likely to be involved in this sort of thing than innovators, for the simple fact that though full bodied, traditional Brunello is neither packed with color nor tremendously concentrated. With this in mind, I'd say the same thing I've been saying all along: 2002 and 2003 were very poor vintages, and there aren't many wines I would consider buying of either. 2001 and 1999 are vastly superior (of the sort there would have been much less pressure to "correct;" the incriminated wines are said to be 2003) with many very good wines to be enjoyed. If you have read my notes, you'll know what I said I would look for at the vintage presentations, and I think I would continue to look for the same wines now. In particular, see here for the 2001 Brunello, and here for the 2001 Brunello Riserva.

On Cleaning Paintings
Moving in a very different direction, you may recall the tremendous controversy engendered by the Vatican Museum's decision to clean and restore Michelangelo's frescos in the Sistine Chapel. A great many art historians/critics wailed that the frescos would be ruined forever, and we were much better off looking at them darkened by centuries of grime. Some even went so far as to suggest that Michelangelo may have put a wash of grime up there to tone down the colors. While I have my doubts about this -- the Renaissance was known for lavishness, and I can't see people who enjoyed lavish lives wanting to tone down their paintings -- one thing people really didn't talk about was the fact that the frescos had already been restored or touched up several times, and a respectful cleaning using techniques and equipment of a sort unthinkable even 50 years ago could give us a much better idea of what Michelangelo actually painted, and his patrons saw (Daniele da Volterra's Braghe, or undies, added to Michelangelo's naked figures by order of the Counterreformational Congregation of Trent in 1564, were but the first of many additions made to the frescos ). The truth of the matter is that very few old paintings have escaped restoration at some point.

And that's what makes Vasari's Pala Albergotti so interesting. It's a large panel depicting the Assumption and Crowning of the Virgin, with Saints Donato and Francesco to the sides, and a number of smaller panels with facial portraits surrounding the major composition, which Vasari delivered to Filippo Salviati in 1567. Salviati had it placed in a chapel of the convent of the Suore di San Vincenzo in Prato. In 1570 Nerozzo Albergotti purchased it for 200 Scudi, as Vasari notes in his diary -- exactly how the transaction came about is unclear -- and took it to Arezzo, where he had it placed in his family's chapel in the Pieve di Santa Maria. There it remained until 1865, when the Church fathers decided to restore the Pieve and moved the painting to the Church of Santa Flora for safekeeping. The restoration was radical enough that the Albergotti chapel was ripped out (to reveal what was older) and therefore Nerozzo's painting remained undisturbed in Santa Flora until quite recently, when the parishioners and Don Soldani, the Parish Priest, decided to get it cleaned.

It didn't take long for the restorers they hired to realize they were the first to have worked on the painting since Vasari, and they therefore had something unique in their hands, which offered an unparalleled opportunity to study the painting technique of a Renaissance Master without the filters applied by subsequent generations of restorers. Rather than rush forward, they have studied the work at length, and will be holding a conference that promises to draw restorers from all over.

Just a reminder that even the smallest parish church in Italy can hide an unexpected treasure. The restoration, we were told, will likely take a year -- if you visit Santa Flora now you will find Vasari's painting hidden behind the walls of a tent erected in the church -- and I eagerly await the opportunity to see it next year, once again looking the way it did when it captured Nerozzo's attention and admiration.

Pastissada di Manzo
Winding down, Pastissada is an old Veronese stew that draws from Austro-Hungarian tradition (Verona was a part of the Empire for a long time) and brings goulash to mind. Most of the recipes I've seen call for horsemeat, but this one is beef-based, and might be nice with an Amarone. To serve 6:

• 2 1/4 pounds (1 k) boneless beef; I would be tempted by the rump

For the marinade:

• 1 onion, finely sliced
• A carrot, peeled and diced
• 2 ribs celery, diced
• 2 cloves (the spice, not garlic)
• A teaspoon of powdered cinnamon
• A spring or two of rosemary
• A bottle of dry red wine, e.g. Valpolicella
• Peppercorns to taste
• Salt

Come time to cook:

• 2 ounces (60 g) cured lard or pancetta, cut into matchsticks
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste diluted in a little hot water

Put the meat in a bowl, together with the chopped vegetables, herbs, spices, and finally the wine. Marinate the meat for at least a day, turning it occasionally. Come time to cook it, remove it from the marinade and pat it dry. Make several thin punctures in it and slip the matchsticks of lard into them to baste the meat from the inside as it cooks.

While you're preparing the meat, heat the marinade in a saucepot big enough to comfortably hold the meat. Add the lardoned meat to the pot, together with the tomato paste diluted in warm water, cover, and simmer for about 2 hours, turning the meat every now and again.

When the meat is dome remove it, slice it, and set the pieces on a warmed serving dish. While you're doing this, cook the pan drippings down some over a fairly brisk flame, and blend them. Spoon the sauce over the meat and serve at once. Accompaniments? Polenta, and greens or spinach wilted in a pot, squeezed somewhat dry, and sautéed in a little olive oil with a clove of crushed garlic and salt and pepper to taste.

This time's proverb is from the Veneto: A chi che no ghe piase el vin , che Dio ghe toga anca l'aqua: May God leave he who doesn't like wine without water, too.

Until next time,

Kyle Phillips
Editor, The Italian Wine Review
http://www.italianwinereview.com
Want to comment? Drop me a line at Kyle@cosabolle.com

PS -- Please forward this to anyone you think would enjoy it! If you would like to read past issues (nothing in them really gets stale), you'll find recent ones at Cosa Bolle.Com, http://www.cosabolle.com, and older ones at http://italianfood.about.com/blbol.htm.

Old Whites and More: Being the 146th issue of Cosa Bolle in Pentola

Greetings!

To begin at the beginning, the latest on Italian Food is a quick thing dedicated to broccoli, which the Romans greatly enjoyed -- at least the cabbage Pliny the Elder says is among the best sounds like broccoli -- though it seems to have been a food for the masses. I gather this because, as far as I can tell, Pliny doesn't tell the story about the Emperor Tiberius's son Drusus's gorging on cabbage until his urine turned green that several websites (and a book) attribute to him. Quite the opposite; Pliny says that a famed bon-vivant abhorred the cabbage and therefore so did Drusus, at which point the Emperor Tiberius (his father) criticized him for having overly delicate tastes.

Granted, there is a certain morbid fascination in wondering how much broccoli a guy has to eat to pee green, but what Pliny says is just as interesting, and perhaps more so because it shows Tiberius being much more down-to-earth and sensible than his kid. In any case, you will find the thing here.

The latest on the Italian Wine Review is instead a spectacular vertical of Vernaccia di San Gimignano organized by Elisabetta Fagioli at Montenidoli. We started with barrel samples and tasted all the way back through her first (quite successful) attempt at barrel fermenting, past her first Vernaccia (in 1984), and onto the first wine she made at Montenidoli, a 1971 Chianti di San Gimignano DOC. Very good it was, too.

Thinking About Old Whites

The best wine was -- we all thought -- A Vernaccia Fiore from 1991, and this leads to some interesting considerations on Italian wines. As you likely know, Italian reds come in all kinds: some are meant to be drunk immediately, for example light brash Dolcetto or Sangiovese di Romagna, some are best after a few years, for example Chianti Classico (especially the Riserva) or oaked Barbera, and some, including Barolo, Brunello, Amarone and Taurasi, can take decades to develop fully. Wine lovers know and expect this, as do Italian restaurants, which -- if they pride themselves in their wine lists -- often have older vintages of the wines that age well.

The situation changes with whites; if you go to a wine show you'll be presented with the latest vintage, still smarting from having been bottled if the event is in the spring, and if you ask about previous vintages as you eye the squalling toddler in your glass, the winemaker will shrug apologetically and say that the restaurant crowd has been trying to get him to release the new vintage since January.

To be honest, I have never understood the Italian infatuation with young white wines; while it's true that whites do develop faster than reds, and by the end of the summer that follows release (non-oaked whites are generally released the spring following the harvest, 2008 for a wine from grapes harvested in 2007) the wines are entering physical maturity, maturity is a relative term. By the end of the summer the wine will be at best an adolescent, and while it is true that some people look and are at their best in adolescence and thereafter it's a long slow slide, the vast majority are physically more attractive, not to mention more interesting to talk to, when they reach their 20s, and some continue to improve for decades.

The same is true for white wines. Some are at their best when they're so young they have little more than lively zest and forward fruit, but others, especially those made by winemakers who farm to low yields to insure concentration, continue to develop for many years, and if you open them too soon you end up drinking a pale shadow of what the wine was destined to become.

This is true even for wines that are generally drunk very young. I recently attended Alessandria Top Wines, a show featuring the wineries in the province of Alessandria that received high scores from the major wine guides. The province of Alessandria's best (in my opinion) white wine is Gavi, a wine made from the Cortese grape that is brisk to frankly acidic with lemony overtones, when young, and producer after producer has told me (I've tasted through Gavi on other occasions too) that they simply cannot sell anything but the most recent vintage: restaurant and wine shop owners aren't interested in the older wines. And this is a great pity, because it has the structure and acidity to age well for many years.

Proof?
La Sparina was pouring their current Gavi, a 2006, which was nice, in a direct key: Brassy white with brassy reflections, and a deft bouquet with pleasing floral accents mingled with bitter almonds and gunflint. On the palate ample, and fairly soft, with greenish white berry fruit supported by clean mineral acidity that flows into a clean bitter finish; it's a wine that will work well with a variety of foods.
2 stars

They were also pouring a 1995 Gavi La Villa:
Pale brassy yellow with greenish reflections, and looks quite young, actuall. Intense bouquet with pleasing bitter gunflint and hints of balsam mingled with tropical fruit and savory overtones. Quite nice, with a lot going on. On the palate it's full and bright, with powerful sour lemon fruit supported by clean bright lemony acidity that flows into a long, long citric finish. Very nice, and is the sort of wine you will greatly enjoy if you like mature whites.
88-90

There is an obvious difference in the vintages; 1995 was clearly better than 2005, and there may be differences in vineyard technique; it felt to me as if the 2005 grapes might have been harvested a little riper, and consequently with less acidity (in the past grapes were harvested when their sugar level would give a desired alcohol content, whereas now many producers wait until the grapes reach what is called maturazione fenolica or polyphenolic ripeness, with the result that sugars continue to accumulate while grape acidity drops, leading to a more alcoholic wine, less acidic (softer) wine). But there's no getting around it; the 1995 Gavi has aged very well, and those who drank it fresh out of the blocks missed out on all that it has become.

To finish up this discussion of older Italian whites, my impressions of Montenidoli's Vernaccia Fiore 1991:

Montenidoli Vernaccia Fiore Vernaccia Di San Gimignano 1991
Brassy gold with brassy highlights. The bouquet is impressive, with petroleum and minerality mingled with savory accents and some honeysuckle richness. Beautiful. On the palate it's extraordinary, with bright clean lemony fruit supported by clean slightly bitter citric acidity, and it flows into a clean savory citric finish. Extraordinary wine, and one would never guess its age were it to be presented blind. The stuff of dreams.
96

Again, the complete Montenidoli tasting is here.

Pastiera and Lamb: Happy Easter!

Moving in a very different direction, this Sunday was Palm Sunday, and next Sunday will be Easter. As is the case with every other holiday in Italy, the celebrations vary greatly from place to place. One of the most spectacular Easter pastries is the Pastiera Napoletana, a wheat berry and ricotta pie that gains grace and allure from orange water. "Nobody escapes its allure," wrote Caròla Francesconi in introducing it, "an allure due not so much to its goodness as to a subconscious love that's transmitted from generation to generation." Anything that can burrow into the regional psyche, bearing with it the "perfumes of spring," is powerful stuff, and it comes as no surprise that the descendents of Italian immigrants continue to make it in their new homelands. Aironeverde is a regular visitor to the Italian food forum, and recently posted her recipe; as usually happens on forums a couple of other people chimed in.

Her recipe:

This is approximately the way I made Pastiera di Grano (Easter wheat pie)

• Hulled wheat grains (or one-pound can of presoaked wheat)*
• 1 1/2 lbs. of the best quality whole-milk ricotta you can find
• 6 eggs (You will use 6 yolks and 4 whites.)
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• One teaspoon salt
• About 1/2 cup finely diced candied orange rind (the best quality you can find)
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup finely diced candied citron (the best quality you can find)
• About 1/4 cup finely diced candied lemon peel (the best quality you can find) (Substitute this for some of the citron if you can find it.)
• 1 1/2 to 2 tablespoons orange flower water*
• 2 or more teaspoons cinnamon
• 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 teaspoons oil of orange peel*
• A very small drop of oil of lemon peel*

Crust--Follow recipes for "pasta frolla" or use commercial graham cracker crust, which is absolutely not authentic, but tastes good with the filling. See note.*

To start preparing the wheat, boil the hulled wheat grains in water until the grains burst open.

Add more water and a little salt and boil covered for about 45 minutes. Then set it aside for about two hours. (If you use unhulled hard wheat, the steps are the same, but everything will take much longer, i.e. more than an hour boiling, and overnight soaking).

Drain the soaked wheat. Measure about two cups (or a little more), which will probably be a little over a pound, or squeeze out excess liquid and use about a pound or 1 1/4 pounds. Or, if you are not preparing your own wheat from scratch, open your one-pound can of pre-soaked wheat.

Boil 1/2 cup of milk, add a little sugar, and cook the wheat in this for a few minutes. Add a little salt.

Add the candied orange, citron and lemon peel and the orange peel oil (and optional lemon peel oil) to the wheat. Set aside or refrigerate to cool.

Prepare filling as follows. Mix 1 1/2 lbs. ricotta with 1 1/2 cups sugar until uniformly mixed. Add the orange flower water, vanilla extract and cinnamon and mix well.

Beat separately 6 egg yolks and 4 egg whites. (The whites should be beaten until very light and high.) Mix the yolks into the ricotta mixture. Mix the whites into the wheat mixture. Then mix the two parts of the filling together and blend evenly.

Spoon the filling into the graham pie crusts. This filling recipe is enough to fill one large, one medium and three mini commercial pie shells.

Bake in preheated 350 F. oven until the filling is medium tan (probably more than a hour).
Sprinkle with powdered sugar before serving.

Quantities for the flavorings are approximate and can be adjusted according to taste.

* Re: ingredients.
The wheat grains may be available from Italian specialty food stores, especially around Easter time and in early December. They may also be available from "whole" or natural foods stores, but try to get the hulled wheat; unhulled wheat can also be used, but it requires a much longer soaking period in order to soften it. If you get unhulled, get "spring wheat," which is softer. The canned wheat is usually available from Italian specialty food stores around Easter time, and though it looks bad when it comes out of the can, it works quite well. Orange and lemon peel oils are available in Boyajian brand from many stores specializing in "gourmet" cooking ingredients and from some mail order cooking and baking supply catalogues. Orange flower water is essential to this recipe; nothing can substitute for it. You can generally find it in "gourmet" food stores, Italian specialty food stores, middle eastern and north African grocery stores, and some old-fashioned toiletries shops like Caswell-Massey and Crabtree and Evelyn.

Note:
The authentic sweet crust for this Easter specialty of Naples is called pasta frolla; it is not at all like graham cracker crusts. If you would like to make an authentic pastiera di grano napoletana, you can find recipes for pasta frolla in cookbooks containing traditional recipes of southern Italy. The filling recipe above will be very good with either the authentic pasta frolla or the graham cracker crust. Do not use standard pie crusts normally used for American fruit pies. They do not go well with this filling at all because they are too salty and tough.

Blue Moon, another forum regular, chimed in with,
This does sound VERY good...Here I go being me...I'd (that's me) have to add about 1 tablespoon rose water along with the orange blossom water.

You can find food grade rose water along-side the orange blossom water. If anyone has a hard time finding an Italian specialty store for any of these wheat berries...try your local healthfood store(s). I usually find a variety of wheat berries...in bulk(by the pound)...summer, winter, hulled, unhulled, ancient varieties, spelt, you name it, etc...

Good luck and Happy Easter to all!

I thank them both, and with regards to a pasta frolla recipe, suggest Artusi's which you will find here. And a traditional Neapolitan pastiera recipe, if you're curious.

While we're on the subject of Easter, one more lamb recipe:

Agnello Coi Carciofi, Lamb With Artichokes
Artichokes and lamb go hand-in-hand, with the bitterness of the former nicely balancing the richness of the latter, and at this time of year the markets are full of both. To serve 4:

• 2 1/4 pounds (1 k) boned lamb, cubed
• 2 eggs
• 4 artichokesù3 tablespoons olive oil
• 4/5 cup (200 ml) dry white wine
• 2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
• The juice of 2 lemons
• Salt and pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a saucepot large enough to contain the lamb, add the garlic, and cook until it is golden but not brown. Add the cubed lamb and brown it over a brisk flame for 5 minutes, stirring the pieces to color all sides. Add the wine, reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for about 20 minutes.

In the meantime, prepare the artichokes by trimming the stems and removing the tough outer leaves (you'll find detailed instructions here). Cut the cleaned artichokes in half from top to bottom, and scoop out any fuzz you may find in the artichoke hearts. Sliver the artichokes lengthwise (figure 6-8 slices per half) and put the pieces in a bowl of water acidified with 2 tablespoons of lemon juice to keep them from discoloring.

When you are done slicing, add the slivered artichokes to the lamb and continue cooking for another half hour, adding a little water of the pot looks to be drying out. At some point check seasoning.

In the meantime, beat the eggs with the remaining lemon juice to form an emulsion. Lemon. When the meat is done, turn off the burner and pour the egg-and-lemon emulsion over it, stirring carefully to evenly distribute the sauce, which will thicken thanks to the heat of the meat. Serve at once.

A wine? I'd be tempted by a white because reds and artichokes rarely work. Perhaps a Falanghina.

Election Talk

Winding down, Italy is also in the grips of election fever, and the candidates of both sides are doing their best to garner votes. A few days ago Former Prime Minister Berlusconi, head of the center-right coalition, was participating at a question-and-answer session, where a young woman asked what Mr. Berlusconi's coalition would do for those who are unable to find stable employment, and thus qualify for a mortgage and begin a family. "I suggest you marry someone rich who doesn't have those problems, like my son," replied Mr. Berlusconi, adding, "with a smile like yours you certainly can."

As you might expect, the left hooted and hollered, while at least one site posted a declaration of marriage for people to compile and send (registered mail) to Mr. Berlusconi's sons. However, Mr. Berlusconi is known for this sort of comment, and most people simply shook their heads, while the young lady in question said she got a laugh out of it. She also said she would cast her vote for him, while the left offered her a candidacy in Rome, which she has declined.

This time's proverb is Calabrese: 'U ciucciu all'irtu e l'omu allo perrùpu -- One measures the strength of a mule on a hill, and that of a man in difficult times.

Until next time,

Kyle Phillips
Editor, The Italian Wine Review
http://www.italianwinereview.com
Want to comment? Drop me a line at Kyle@cosabolle.com

PS -- Please forward this to anyone you think would enjoy it! If you would like to read past issues (nothing in them really gets stale), you'll find recent ones at Cosa Bolle.Com, http://www.cosabolle.com, and older ones at http://italianfood.about.com/blbol.htm.

Felice Otto Marzo and More: Being the 145th issue of Cosa Bolle in Pentola

Greetings, and the happiest of March 8ths to all who celebrate International Woman's Day.

Not familiar with it? Like many other days set aside to celebrate the rights of workers, its origins are American: At the turn of the last century women were entering the workforce in record numbers in the United States, and began to agitate for better working conditions and pay, as well as the vote. In 1908 the Socialist women of the US held demonstrations for improved working condition, better pay, and suffrage on February 28. On February 28 1909 several thousand women turned out in Manhattan, and during the same winter the women working in the sweatshops struck for better conditions and pay, with the support of the Woman's Trade Union, which provided bail money and food.

American women continued to observe February 28 as Woman's Day, while in 1910 the delegates of the Socialist International Meeting in Copenhagen voted unanimously to establish an International Women's Day, without setting a specific date.

So in 1911 the women of Austria, Denmark, Germany and Switzerland demonstrated on March 19, and it is estimated that more than a million people participated. A week later, on March 25, in Manhattan the Triangle fire claimed the lives of more than 140 workers, mostly immigrant girls -- there was only one fire escape for the hundreds of people trapped in the burning floors -- and the newspaper accounts led to calls for reform, while tying the fire to the struggle for women's rights in popular imagery. (For more information, including heart-rending newspaper accounts, see http://www.ilr.cornell.edu/trianglefire/).

Yearly demonstrations continued, becoming associated with the peace movements that formed as a response to the gathering clouds of war in Europe; in particular, Russian women settled on February 28 as the day for their demonstrations. And continued to demonstrate during the war; despite opposition from other activists, on the last Sunday of February -- the 23rd -- 1917 they went on strike to protest conditions at home and the more than 2 million war dead. They called for "bread and peace," and four days later the Czar capitulated; one of the first things the provisional government did was grant women the right to vote. The date, February 23 on the Julian calendar then used in Russia, was March 8 in the Gregorian calendar used elsewhere, and that's why International Woman's Day is March 8.

In Italy it's an occasion for meetings, talks, and demonstrations, and men traditionally give women a sprig of mimosa, with its bright yellow blossoms, to mark the occasion.

Again, happy March 8 to all who celebrate it!

Returning to Cosa Bolle, the most recent addition to The Italian Wine Review is a look at Marsala, a wine that once launched ships, and was enjoyed by kings, but then fell into a long, agonizing decline from which it has never really emerged. But even within this depressing picture there are punti di eccellenza, points of excellence, and if you happen upon a bottle of Marsala made the way they used to make it, it will open your eyes to a world well worth exploring.

The most recent addition to Italian Cuisine is instead a look at "Italian Seasonings," those jars of seasoning mix one can find in supermarkets outside of Italy: A reader wrote asking me why I didn't give a recipe, and I replied because it had never occurred to me -- Italy is so regional that almost everyone here would find fault with something labeled "Italian Seasonings," either because it lacked lack an ingredient they considered absolutely essential, or because it contained something they considered superfluous. If you have a recipe, please share, I said, and so far three people have, one giving a mix that can be turned into a sauce for boiled meats, one a seasoned salt, and another a rub. You'll find them here, and if you have a recipe you'd like to share I'll be happy to add it.

Lamb For Easter
Winding down -- this is a short issue -- Easter comes unusually early this year, on March 23. In the Italian Easter dinner lamb plays the same role turkey holds in the American Thanksgiving dinner -- the celebrations wouldn't be quite the same without it. With this in mind, here are a couple of lamb recipes:

Agnello Con Finocchi e Patate - Lamb with Potatoes and Fennel
This is an old, and very simple recipe from the Abruzzo, and also quite delicate; fennel adds a delightful hint of anise freshness to the dish, while the oloves also contribute. To serve 6:

• 2 1/2 pounds (1.2 k) boned lamb, cut into pieces
• 2/5 cup olive oil
• 1 pound (450 g) potatoes, peeled and cubed
• 1/2 pound (225 g) bulb fennel, cubed
• A bay leaf
• 2 cloves, crushed
• 1/2 pound (225 g) pitted green olives
• Salt and pepper to taste

Heat the olive oil in a broad pot (terracotta if you have it), add the lamb, season with salt and pepper, and cook for 10-15 minutes, stirring the pieces about to brown them on all sides. Add the diced potatoes and fennel and the olives, together with the bay leaf and the cloves, and mix well, cover, and simmer until the meat and the potatoes are fork tender. After a bit, check seasoning.

Liquid? Fennel gives off quite a bit of water as it cooks, but should the pot look to be drying out, add a little boiling water to keep things from sticking and burning.

A wine? Red, and I would go with a Montepulciano D'Abruzzo.

Coscia Prena - Stuffed Leg of Lamb
It's difficult to overstate the importance of shepherding in the Sardinian economy, even now that the island is a magnet for tourists who flock to the coastal towns -- inland it's just as dry and barren as it ever was, and the animals that thrive best are sheep. Hence Sardinia's renowned pecorino cheese (they make both pecorino sardo and the saltier pecorino romano), Sardinian wool (my father collected Sardinian rugs), and -- of course -- lamb. Here we have a leg, stuffed. To serve 6:

• A leg of lamb, weighing about 4 1/2 pounds (2 k)
• 1/2 pound (225 g) minced lamb
• 1/4 pound (110 g) fresh mild sausage, casing removed and crumbled
• 3 eggs
• 1/3 cup (50 g) dry bread crumbs
• 1 2/3 pounds (750 g) plum tomatoes, blanched, peeled, seeded and chopped -- canned tomatoes will also work
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• A small bunch parsley, minced
• A medium onion, peeled and minced
• 2/5 cup (100 ml) olive oil
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Butcher's twine

Bone the leg of lamb, working carefully to obtain a single piece of meat you can flatten out.

Heat the olive oil in a saucepan or Dutch oven large enough to contain the leg of lamb and sauté the minced garlic, parsley and onion until the onion is a translucent gold. Remove the mixture from the saucepan to a bowl with a slotted spoon, leaving the pan drippings behind. When the onion mixture has cooled, work into it the minced lamb, sausage, eggs, and bread crumbs. Work the mixture until it is homogeneous and season it to taste with salt and pepper. Spread the mixture over the inner side of the leg of lamb. Roll the leg up tightly and tie it with the twine lest the stuffing escape as the meat cooks.

Reheat the pan drippings in the saucepan and brown the meat, turning it to get all sides. Add the tomatoes, crumbling them between your fingers, add enough water to reach part-way up the sides of the pot, and simmer everything gently for at east an hour, until the meat is quite tender.

When the meat is done, remove it from the pot. Remove and discard the string, and slice the leg, arranging the pieces on a warmed platter. Spoon the sauce over it and serve at once. A wine? Red, and Canonau would be quite nice here.

Variations: Some people use cured lard instead of sausage, and you can also use coarsely ground semolina instead of bread crumbs.

Capretto alla Cacciatora - Kid Cacciatora Style
There are many recipes for things alla cacciatora, which refers to a seasoning mix containing garlic, rosemary, and (usually) vinegar. In this recipe from Trentino Alto Adige we have lemon juice instead. Though it calls for kid, you could also use lamb. To serve 6:

• 2 1/2 pounds (1.2 k ) kid or lamb, cubed
• 1/4 pound (110 g) cured lard, ground (you could also use fatty pancetta)
• 2 shallots, chopped
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 2 glasses (about 1 3/4 cups) dry white wine
• A bay leaf
• Several leaves fresh sage
• A 6-inch (15 cm) sprig fresh rosemary
• The grated zest of an organically grown lemon, and its juice too
• Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat your oven to 400 F (200 C)

Heat the oil and butter in a casserole large enough to hold the meat and brown the meat with the pancetta and the shallots. As soon as the meat has browned, sprinkle some of the wine over it and add the herbs. Mix well and transfer the casserole to the oven.

Cook the meat until it is fork-tender, at least an hour, turning the pieces occasionally and sprinkling more wine over them as what's in the pot evaporates; if you finish it all use water.
When the meat is just shy of being done, sprinkle the lemon zest and juice over it. Mix well, and serve.

A wine? Red, and I would be tempted by a Lagrein Riserva here.

One thing: The cooking times of these recipes may strike you as long, if you are used to rare lamb. Italians as a rule prefer their lamb well done -- my father-in-law would return it to the pot or oven if he saw blood -- and a couple of people have written to tell me that they had never liked lamb, until they had it well done.

This time's proverb is Ligurian: L'é megio ese invidiae che compatï - Better people envy you than feel sorry for you.

A presto,

Kyle Phillips
Editor, The Italian Wine Review
http://www.italianwinereview.com
Want to comment? Drop me a line at Kyle@cosabolle.com

PS -- Please forward this to anyone you think would enjoy it! If you would like to read past issues (nothing in them really gets stale), you'll find recent ones at Cosa Bolle.Com, http://www.cosabolle.com, and older ones at http://italianfood.about.com/blbol.htm.

Vintage Considerations, Victory for Parmigiano, and More: Being the 144th issue of Cosa Bolle in Pentola

Greetings, and apologies for being late. Again not much to report on the Italian Wine Review, though I do have something to say here. On Italian food, a reader's question about pheasant resulted in a quick collection of recipes, together with instructions on how to ripen (can one ripen meats?) feathered game.

Chianti, Nobile, and Brunello: Vintage Considerations

Returning to Cosa Bolle, I spent last week at the vintage presentations of Tuscany's three major appellations, Chianti Classico, Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, and Brunello di Montalcino. As is always the case at these events, the number of wines presented was much greater than I could properly address in the time allotted, so in tasting I picked and chose, selecting some wines because I'm familiar with the winery and wanted to see what they've done this time, some because someone was whispering admiringly about them, and some because the name of the winery (or the wine) caught my eye.

Chianti Classico is an especially serious offender in this regard -- the table the sommeliers took their samples from looked to be about a hundred yards long, and it was solid bottles. On the other hand, Chianti Classico is a big appellation, and it was very nice to see the variety of wines available: 2006, 2005, 2004, and 2003 Chianti Classico D'Annata, and 2006, 2005, 2004, 2003, and 2001 Chianti Classico Riserva, for a total of 316 wines. Actually doing something with all that variety in the 2 days we had is another matter, and I decided to concentrate on the vini d'Annata, or vintage wines, the wines that are, in theory, made to be set out and enjoyed upon release or shortly thereafter. Not quite quaffing wines, but certainly not the sort of thing one sets aside to return to and meditate over years later.

Unlike some appellations, which encourage producers to release their wines after a set time, Chianti Classico allows quite a bit of leeway, producers who prefer a younger, fresher style can release their wines the spring of the year following the vinification (2006 in this case), while those who prefer a more mature style can hold the wines longer -- many opt for 2 years (releasing 2005s this time) and some wait even longer.

I was pleasantly impressed by the 2006 vintage: it was a nice summer, and this translated well into the grapes, which produced wines that are quite drinkable, with nice balance and pleasant richness of fruit backed up by good structure. As a group they tend to be nimble on their feet, and even though some are rather tannic, they have sufficient fruit to balance the tannic richness, and are bolstered by bright acidities that again keep the wines on their toes. Quite nice, and I found myself scoring them highly; they'll also drink very well with foods, everything from hearty minestrone and ribollita through red sauced pasta dishes and on to grilled meats and light stews. In short, versatile, and if you have friends over don't be surprised if the bottle empties long before you get to dessert.

The rich frutiness of the 2006 also bodes well for the 2006 Chianti d'Annata that will be released next year, and the 2006 Riserve now in barrel and cask.

The 2005 Chianti D'Annata released this year didn't fare as well. Last year I summed up the vintage, which was wet and cold, with the word "tart," adding that many of the young wines had a certain brambly grace to them. Alas, many of the wines that spent another year awaiting release emerged considerably dulled, with the fruit faded in intensity and brightness, and the tannins clearly drawing from oak, which steps in to help the fruit along in a way that would be unnecessary in a better vintage. As is always the case there were some exceptions (brilliant ones, even) to this dreary picture, but when buying wines of the 2005 vintage you'll have to be much more careful than you will when buying the 2006 vintage.

There was also a fair number of bottles of the 2004 vintage; it was good last year (and 2 years ago) and continues to be quite nice now, with the bottles presented this year displaying considerable poise and grace. It was, and continues to be a vintage well worth looking out for, and I also greatly enjoyed the few Chianti Classico Riserva 2004 wines I tasted.

2005 Nobile di Montepulciano

Wednesday evening we all headed south, to spend the night in Chianciano Terme, and transferred to Montepulciano Thursday morning to discover the 2005 Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. Given my experience with the 2005 Chianti Classico I wasn't particularly optimistic, but that changed in a hurry with the wines: Montepulciano is warmer and drier than Chianti Classico, and it was drier enough and warmer enough (and probably sunnier enough) that the 2005 wines I tasted were much richer, with pleasing fruit and nice underlying structure bolstered bouquet good acidities that kept them from settling. Not quite as bright as the 2006 Chianti Classico, but more in that direction, albeit with more structure behind them

I do have to admit that my tasting was incomplete: There were a number of barrel samples, and since a barrel sample only gives a limited indication of what the wine will become -- many nuances develop in the bottle -- I decided to return to Montepulciano this fall to taste through everything when it is a bit readier. But the initial impression of the 2005 Nobile di Montepulciano was quite positive. I was less pleased by the Vino Nobile di Montepulciano Selezione wines that were also presented; these are for the most part vineyard selections (many from 2004), and with respect to the basic 2005 Nobile they were all much more heavily oaked, and in many cases with much softer, riper fruit. Now it's true that oak will with time fold in, but the softness and the ripeness of the fruit seems to be going in a different direction than that followed by the 2005 wines, which are much more vibrant and (to me at least) interesting.

Last year I said there appeared to be two currents in Montepulciano, one that favored deft, vibrant tightly knit wines, and the other that sought greater concentration and ripeness, but was also much softer and laxer, and I see that continuing in the contrast between the 2005 Nobile and the Nobile Selezione wines.

2003 Brunello di Montalcino

2002 was probably the coldest, wettest, most difficult vintage in the past 20 years, but the searing, parched 2003 vintage wasn't much if any easier, and given the disastrous experience I had with the 2003 Barolo this spring I approached it with considerable trepidation.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I was pleasantly surprised, but the experience wasn't as bad as I had feared it would be. The wines were, taken as a group, big and alcoholic, and many have vibrantly green tannins of the sort that denote drought-related ripening problems (and led fellow journalist Kerin O'Keefe to say she thought the vintage was worse than 2002), but I didn't find many wines that were wildly overripe. There was plum, and there was prune, and sometimes candied fruit, but there were also many wines with the more normal berry fruit flavors one expects of a red wine.

The combination of ripe berry fruit and green tannins was a bit of a surprise, until I remembered that Italian wine law allows what is called a taglio migliorativo, in other words a "blend to improve:" the winemaker can add up to 15% of a different vintage of a given wine to the wine in question, and I would not be at all surprised if many winemakers took advantage of this provision to balance the overripeness of the 2003 wines. In other words, many 2003 Brunellos have a great deal of cellar in them. Many but not all; those whose vineyards are a little cooler (and therefore less good in normal vintages) made out better, as did those who correctly guessed what was in store early in the summer (it was already hot by late May) and planned their vineyard managements accordingly.

And what does this all mean for the consumer? To be frank, 2003 is not a good vintage -- on a scale from 1 to 5 I'd give it 2.5 -- and its timing was especially bad for producers coming off an equally difficult 2002 vintage; had 2002 been better I suspect many would have channeled most of their 2003 wine into Rosso di Montalcino, which would have been a more appropriate place for it. Because even the better Brunello from the 2003 vintage is atypical, lacking (with one or two exceptions) the easy grace and elegance coupled with power that is the hallmark of Brunello, and the reason it's the flagship of Tuscan, if not Italian wines. In purchasing 2003 Brunello select with care, keeping in mind that many of the best vineyards are also those that were hit hardest by the summer sun, and therefore some of the wineries one normally considers a sure bet won't be this time.

I'm sorry to come down hard on a second consecutive vintage, but a person unfamiliar with Brunello who buys a bottle of the 2003 vintage will likely come away with a distorted view of what Brunello is all about, and this is a shame considering that some of the older but still available vintages, for example 1999 and 2001, are developing beautifully and easily explain the comment made by Baron Bettino Ricasoli, the man who developed the Chianti blend in the mid-1880s: When invited to lunch by Ferruccio Biondi Santi, the father of Brunello, he took a sip from his glass and said, "I can't make wine like that." 2004, to judge from 2004 Chianti Classico Riservas I have tasted, should be much, much closer to the mark, if not dead on.

Parmigiano: A Victory for the Cheesemakers!

When I was in college in the States we occasionally had spaghetti with meatballs or lasagna, which were inevitably accompanied by shaker cans with a horrid, rather acrid cheese "product" that the label on the can claimed to be Parmesan. Of course it wasn't, but there was nothing the makers of Parmigiano Reggiano could do about the appropriation (in translation) of their name.

Nor, until recently, could they do much about the German appropriation of the word Parmesan for a significant fraction of their cheese production. Quite the contrary; they sweated bricks when German cheesemakers applied for DOP (product of protected origin) status for their Parmesan, and heaved a collective sigh of relief when the food people in Brussels turned down the application. At least the knockoff wasn't an officially recognized knockoff, and at that point the producers of Parmigiano Reggiano, with the help of the Italian government, went before the courts in Luxemburg to have their name protected in translation too. The Germans at this point flip-flopped, arguing that Parmesan is actually a generic term that everyone should be allowed to use (if so, why did they try to register it?), but the court found with the Parmensi, and ruled that only cheese made within the Parmigiano Reggiano production area following the rules set forth in the Parmigiano Reggiano production code can be called Parmesan within the EEU.

The ruling is a major victory; it clearly establishes that only the traditional producers of a food have the right to profit from their good name and the reputation they have built for themselves. Copycats from elsewhere cannot. However, it's also an incomplete victory: The court ruled that a product's gaining DOP status does not automatically protect it from copycats and imitators. Rather, it's up to the country where the DOP product is produced (in this case, Italy) to seek injunctions against those who infringe upon the DOP products. In this case, the Consorzio del Parmigiano Reggiano has to actively seek out German imitators and take them to court, and I do not see that as being positive at all. The Court in Luxemburg should have said that it's flatly illegal to infringe upon DOP product names and required the countries where the products are made (and, one assumes, labeled) to prevent name grabbing.

And the Parmigiano people do have their work cut out for them; in addition to Parmesan, the makers of the fake stuff use many other Italian-sounding names, including Pamesello, Rapesan, and Pasgrasan in Europe. These should all in theory be relabeled something else that doesn't invoke Parmigiano Reggiano. We'll see if they are.

The other hollow point of the victory is that it only applies to Europe. A significant percentage of what is sold as Parmigiano Reggiano/Parmesan/Similar outside of Europe is counterfeit, and mostly poor quality industrially produced cheese, and since the producers of this stuff will never export it to Europe, they have no incentive whatsoever to change the name.

Artisan cheese makers who use the method used to make Parmigiano where they happen to live might, on the other hand, decide to rename their cheese, because Europe is a huge market, always interested in new things, and a good cheese will always sell, no matter what it's called.

Want proof? Corzano e Paterno makes spectacular wines, but they also make cheese. One day when they were still learning the ropes a batch came out looking decidedly odd and smelling worse, but was too much to throw out. So they set it aside, during which time the skins of the forms became gray and warty. When they got around to tasting a piece, however, they discovered that it was WONDERFUL, with a creaminess reminiscent of Taleggio. So they figured out what they had done wrong, did it again, and when the next batch came out the same as the first called the cheese Buccia di Rospo, or Toad's Skin, because that's what it looks like. Not exactly an inviting name, but it's extremely popular, and you can find it in Florence's finest restaurants.

Winding down, the conventions used in establishing DOP status can lead to some surprises. For example, at Montalcino this year we were given cold cuts and other pork dishes made from the Cinta Senese breed, which is one of the oldest Italian pig breeds -- the word "cinta" means band, and indeed the pigs are black with a white band that goes up one arm, over their backs and down the other arm -- appearing in Lorenzetti's Effetti del Buon Governo in Campagna, painted in Siena's town hall in the late 1330s.

The people serving the foods were also giving out little booklets entitled "Pleased to meet you. Suino Cinto Toscano (Genetic Type Cinta Senese) DOP. In other words, the pig is being called a "Banded Tuscan" of the Cinta Senese genotype, and some of the Sienese eating lunch weren't happy about this: "The damn Florentines don't have a pig of their own so they steal ours," the guy next to me muttered.

It turns out the name is dictated not by the Florentines, but by the EEU bureaucrats who oversee the concession of DOP status: You can't register a breed, because a breed can be raised anywhere. So you tie it to a place -- the Banded Tuscan Pig -- and then specify the breed, Cinta Senese. Makes sense, if you think about it.

I've heard this time's proverb in more than one region: La gatta frettolosa fece i gattini ciechi - The hurried cat has blind kittens.

A presto,

Kyle Phillips
Editor, The Italian Wine Review
http://www.italianwinereview.com
Want to comment? Drop me a line at Kyle@cosabolle.com

PS -- Please forward this to anyone you think would enjoy it! If you would like to read past issues (nothing in them really gets stale), you'll find recent ones at Cosa Bolle.Com, http://www.cosabolle.com, and older ones at http://italianfood.about.com/blbol.htm.

Happy Valentine's Day, and More: Being the 143rd issue of Cosa Bolle in Pentola

Greetings! Not much to report this week on the Italian Wine Review, though I hope to put some thoughts on Marsala up soon. On Italian food, the major new things are rundowns of the Barolos from Alba Wines that impressed me the most, which I divided into two groups -- 2003, which consists of fewer wines than I realized when I was taking notes and marking those that impressed me, and 2001 Riserva, which is a completely different kettle of fish.

Why so few 2003 Baroli? Because it was a very difficult vintage, even more difficult than the sorry, wet, cold 2002 vintage in some respects. While one often hears that hot dry summers are good for wine, it's also true that there can be too much of a good thing, and when this happens -- 2003 was the hottest, longest, driest summer in many, many years -- all sorts of things can happen: the grapes can overripen, or the ripening can just stop; the acidity can go through the floor, the tannins can remain as green as well-watered grass, sugars can go way up, leading to problems in fermentation and excessive alcohol, and so on.

People who work well, and are lucky, can mitigate the effects of all this, and produce good -- even very good -- wine despite the pitfalls Mother Nature scatters over the landscape. But the vast majority, those who worked well but had Luck frown at them, and those who simply made the wrong decisions, made dismal wines. That's just the way it is.

2001 was, on the other hand, an absolutely beautiful vintage, and I was greatly impressed by quite a few 2001 Barolo Riserva wines. They're pricy, and very young, but are the sorts of wines that one can buy and set aside with confidence, to enjoy for a special occasion 10, or even 20 years from now. You'll find what impressed me most here.

San Valentino
Returning to Cosa Bolle, San Valentino is rapidly approaching. You may not know who he was, or why people would associate a Catholic priest with Love. According to Jacopo Da Varazze, the Archbishop of Genova who compiled La Leggenda Aurea (The Golden Legend in English; it's the most important medieval Lives of the Saints) in the mid-1200s, Valentino was invited to renounce God and worship idols by the Emperor Claudius II in 280 AD. When Valentino refused, the Emperor had him locked up in the Provost's house, where he prayed that God illuminate the house, that those living there know God was the True God.

The Lord did, in the process restoring the sight of the Provost's blind daughter, and the whole family converted. Claudius was not pleased, and had Valentino beheaded. At this point Jacopo stops. Popular tradition holds, however, that Claudius had the entire family executed, starting with Valentino, and that on the eve of his execution he wrote the girl a letter, signing it "from your Valentine." After his death, tradition continues, a pink almond tree, symbol of abiding love, blossomed near his grave.

There is more, however. As is often the case with old Christian Holidays, San Valentino replaces a pagan festival, and more specifically a much older Roman fertility rite called the Lupercali, in which the men and women who followed the God Lupercus would meet in mid-February in the cave where the She-Wolf fed Romulus and Remus, put their names in an urn, and have a child draw several couples at random. The couples thus formed would live for a year as husband and wife, doing everything husbands and wives do until the next Lupercali, and in doing so guarantee fertility for the world.

As you might guess, the early Church was not at all happy with the Lupercali, and in 496 Pope Gelasio suppressed the holiday, decreeing that from then on people would celebrate Valentino instead. He was the perfect choice; in addition to writing the note to the Provost's daughter, he is said to have performed the first mixed marriage, between a girl named Serapia and a centurion named Sabino; the family refused when Sabino asked for her hand because he was a pagan, but Serapia had him talk to Valentino, who agreed to baptize him so they could marry, and also talked to the family. Alas, while this was happening Serapia caught consumption. Valentino hurried to her deathbed, where Sabino begged him to marry them, so he did (after baptizing Sabino), and as he raised his hands to impart the Blessing the betrothed fell into a blessed sleep from which neither awoke.

Valentino was also known for his love of children, and would let them play in his garden, which was much safer than the streets (some things never change). Come evening, he always gave the children flowers to take home to their mothers, knowing that if they carried flowers in their hands they'd hurry straight home, and that giving the gift would increase their love and respect for their parents. Thus comes, tradition says, the custom of giving loved ones little gifts.

Having said all this, a couple more ideas for Valentine's Day, or any other romantic occasion:

Bruschetta in Giallo - Bruschetta in Yellow
Bruschetta is, at its simplest, toast rubbed with garlic and seasoned with olive oil and salt, and it's a wonderful way to start a meal. However, you can do much more with a slice of toast, including this light snack. To serve 4:

• 8 slices toasted bread, ideally Italian
• 4 eggs
• 3 tablespoons heavy cream
• A walnut-sized chunk of butter
• 6 ounces (150 g) cooked shelled shrimp (canned will be fine), drained
• 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh chives, or more to taste
• Salt and pepper to taste

Toast the bread and keep it warm.

Beat the eggs with the cream. Heat the butter in a non-stick pan, add the eggs, and stir them about to scramble them, adding the shrimp as well after a few seconds. Continue to cook until the eggs reach the degree of doneness you like, and season them with salt and pepper.

Arrange the toast on four plates, spoon the egg mixture over them, sprinkle the chives over all, and serve at once, with a dry white wine. A Ribolla Gialla might be nice.

Spaghetti alla Cipolla Rossa Con Acciughe Sotto Sale - Spaghetti with Red Onions and Salted Anchovies
This might not be romantic in the traditional sense, but it is a rather lusty, zesty dish that will heighten the senses. Red onions are a little sweeter than white onions, and make for a slightly richer dish. To serve 4:

• A scant pound (400 g) thick spaghetti (or even bucatini).
• 2 salted anchovies, headed, boned, rinsed, and crumbled
• A pound of red onions, peeled and finely sliced
• 3/4 cup salted ricotta, grated
• A bunch of parsley, minced
• 1/4 cup (4 tablespoons) extravirgin olive oil
• Salt and pepper to taste

Set pasta water to boil, salt it when it does, and cook the pasta. In the meantime, heat the oil in a broad fairly deep skillet and add the crumbled anchovies. Stir over a gentle flame for a couple of minutes, until the fall apart completely, and add the parsley. Stir the mixture about and add the onions, which will separate into rings. Season to taste with salt and pepper, cover, and simmer over a low flame for about 10 minutes, by which point they will have softened. Uncover the pot, stir in half of the cheese, and turn off the burner.

When the pasta is done drain it, turn it into the skillet, and cook over a brisk flame for about 2 minutes, and serve it at once with the remaining grated cheese. A wine? White, and I might be tempted by the refreshing directness of a Colli Albani.

Finally, something strictly for Valentine's day:

A Cuore Fondente, or Melting Heart
While a heart-shaped baking tin for two is not a requirement, it does add to the presentation. You'll need,
For the crust:

• 1/2 cup (50 g) flour
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, broken into bits
• An egg yolk

For the filling:

• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1/4 cup heavy cream
• 4 ounces (100 g) baking chocolate
• 2 more tablespoons unsalted butter
• Good quality milk chocolate and powdered sugar

Using a mixer, beat the flour, sugar and butter until the mixture looks like crumbs. Beat in the yolk too, and when the dough forms into a ball warp it in plastic wrap and refrigerate it for a half hour.

Roll the dough out to about an eighth of an inch thick (3 mm), and use it to line a heart-shaped pan whose midline is between 4 and 5 inches (10-12 cm). Prick the bottom of the dough with a fork and chill it for 20 minutes. While it's chilling, heat your oven to 360 F (180 C)

When the time is up, line the dough with oven parchment, fill it with dried beans, and bake it for 20 minutes. Remove the pan, remove the beans and the parchment, and let the baked crust cool.
In the meantime, break the chocolate into chunks and melt it over a double boiler with the cream and the butter, mixing well. Let the mixture cool, pour it into the pie shell, and chill everything in the refrigerator for 4 hours. Come time to serve it, decorate it with shavings of milk chocolate and powdered sugar.

To make a bigger pie to serve 6 you'll need:

• 2 cups (200 g) flour
• 1/2 cup (100 g) unsalted butter
• 1/3 cup plus a tablespoon (80 g) sugar
• An egg and a yolk
• 1/2 pound plus one ounce (250 g) baking chocolate
• 3/5 cup (150 ml) heavy cream
• 1/4 cup unsalted butter
• A 10-inch (25 cm) diameter pan

Winding down, a couple of modern proverbs:

Il cuore ha le sue ragioni e non intende ragione - The heart has its reasons, and doesn't listen to reason

Non baciarti mai davanti a casa... L'amore é cieco ma i vicini no - Never kiss on your doorstep… Love is blind, but not the neighbors

A presto & Auguri!

Kyle Phillips
Editor, The Italian Wine Review
http://www.italianwinereview.com
Want to comment? Drop me a line at Kyle@cosabolle.com

PS -- Please forward this to anyone you think would enjoy it! If you would like to read past issues (nothing in them really gets stale), you'll find recent ones at Cosa Bolle.Com, http://www.cosabolle.com, and older ones at http://italianfood.about.com/blbol.htm.

Foods For When things Are Tight, Thoughts About Varietals and More: Being the 142nd issue of Cosa Bolle in Pentola

Greetings! This week I've been thinking about Bollicine, Bubbles, which those in Franciacorta would like to have us associate exclusively with their sparkling wines, but that can actually be applied to just about any kind, including Prosecco and Gavi. On the IWR I've just posted my complete tasting notes for the bollicine I tasted this fall at Spumantia, a fascinating event held in Viareggio (on the Tuscan coast). On Italian Food, a variety of recipes, which are mentioned in the blog entries from the home page, http://italianfood.about.com.

More about Italian Incomes
Returning to Cosa Bolle, Scott, who is trying to compare Italy and the US in light of the income figures I gave last time, sent me a note asking about taxation. I'll have to do a bit of research, but the quick and dirty answer is that the figures I gave are net, after taxes.

As for taxes, if the worker is a dependent they are withheld (from what I understand; I am not a tax person); professionals instead have to make payments, and the primary income tax, which is called IRPEF, is on a sliding scale, ranging from 23% for those earning up to 26,000 Euros, to 43% for those earning more than 75,000. If you are a dependent worker the company you work for also makes payments into INPS, the pension system (the payment for dependent workers is about 9%, and is detracted from taxable income). I'm not sure how pension plans for professionals work, nor what the percentage they pay is, but they again pay directly.

The other thing self employed professionals have to do is take out a an IVA (value added tax) number and include the IVA in every bill they emit, paying what they have collected quarterly to the State (people can and do get squeezed if the billee hasn't paid yet by the time the VAT comes due). VAT is collected for anything that's paid for, and varies depending upon what one is paying for; for most foodstuffs (and primary non-luxury homes, among other things) it's 4%, for many necessities, including electricity, it's 10%, for most professional services it's 20%, and it's higher for luxury items, for example jewelry or villas. The bottom line, a friend who does PR work for wineries as an independent professional (with IVA number) told me, is that if she wants to take home 5 she has to charge 10.

There are some local taxes, for property, garbage, watershed protection, and so on, but they are relatively low, certainly much lower than the State income taxes one has to deal with in the US. And then there is the gasoline/kerosene tax, which I shouldn't mention but will because it affects everyone: Much of the roughly 8 dollars a gallon of gasoline costs in Italy goes to the government. A percentage of this windfall is earmarked for the road network, but I'm not sure anyone knows where the rest of it goes.

One thing we don't have which Scott counted as an additional expense, is health insurance: Italy has socialized medicine, which means part of our tax bite goes into the Ministero della Sanità, and we get care back. When we have needed the system it has worked fine, and I will stop now before I become polemical.

Foods For Tight Days
As if the news week about how little the majority of Italians bring in every month weren't enough, yesterday ISTAT, the State's statistics office announced that the salaries of dependent workers have stayed just about flat for the past 6 years. Since prices certainly haven't been flat over the past 6 years, this means that most people's purchasing power has declined drastically, and this brings us to Olindo Guerrini (1845 - 1916), who is best known for a collection of poems entitled Postuma (Posthumous) that he published under the pen name Lorenzo Stecchetti in 1877, attributing them to a cousin who'd died of consumption. The book comments scathingly upon the political issues of the times, such as sending farmers to struggle and die in Colonial Africa rather than practice agrarian reforms at home, and casts a penetrating glance at the social customs as well. It raised a scandal and was immediately attacked as erotic and blasphemous; more recently people have decided it's enjoyable. If you're curious, you'll find the text several places, including http://www.rodoni.ch/busoni/bibliotechina/stecchetti.html.

But Postuma isn't why we're here. Rather, shortly before his death in 1916 Olindo Guerrini finished a manuscript entitled L'Arte di Utilizzare Gli Avanzi della Mensa (The Art of Recycling Leftovers), which was published under his own name in 1918. He covers all the major kinds of foods, some of which he felt more promising (as leftovers) than others. For example, he's enthusiastic about the possibilities offered by leftover firm-fleshed boiled or grilled white fish, but thinks leftover small fish, especially when stewed, for example Alla Livornese (with a zesty tomato sauce) is best suited to becoming "the joy of the cat."

One of the best represented foods is beef, and specifically boiled beef. Mr. Guerrini justifies this by saying, "the habit of eating soup, which some say is responsible for the decadence of the Latin races, makes broth necessary, broth that can only be obtained by boiling meat… families driven by need or taste to consume broth frequently are condemned to a lifetime of boiled meat."

The word I translated as "need" is actually hygiene in the Italian, and is a reference to the fact that doctors commonly prescribed broth for those with weak constitutions. I used need because the other reason (which Mr. Guerrini doesn't mention) behind the commonness of boiled meat a century ago was economic: meat was a luxury, and the most those who weren't well off could afford, especially if they wanted to eat meat more than once a week, was the cheapest cuts, which included those from older, tougher animals suited to boiling.

A Few Suggestions, but first a couple of words:
Mr. Guerrini's recipes are by modern standards incomplete; he goes largely by eye and assumes the reader will have a good enough cooking sense to bridge the occasional gap or jump in his instructions. On the other hand, when one is cooking with leftovers, one works with what one has. I have filled fleshed things out some, but feel free to adapt the recipes as you see fit.

Lesso col Risotto
Clean gristle and fat from 1 kilo (2.2 pounds) of boiled beef (if you also have roast beef, so much the better) and cut it into pieces the size of a walnut. Heat a half cup of unsalted butter and 2 ounces of finely chopped cured lard [if you cannot find cured lard use fatty pancetta] in a deep saucepan. Peel an onion, quarter it, and cook it, turning the pieces about in the fat until they are nicely browned but not burned. Remove and discard them, and add the boiled beef. Stir well and simmer the meat for 15 minutes in the drippings, stirring occasionally. Pour 1 1/2 quarts (1.5 liters) of boiling broth over the meat, and stir in a pint (2 cups, or 1/2 liter) of good rice [he doesn't say which; I might go with Roma or Rive rather than a really short-grained rice]. Cover and cook, taking care lest the rice stick and burn, until the rice is done, by which time the dish will be almost dry.

If you want, you can add a little saffron, a grating of fresh nutmeg, or some freshly ground pepper to the rice as it cooks. And, come time to serve it, Mr. Guerrini says to sauce it with meat sauce, or tomato sauce, or whatever else you prefer -- he doesn't say how much, but you'll want at least a cup, and perhaps more -- and then to add a handful of freshly grated Parmigiano, and mix well.

Lesso Colla Crosta (Au Gratin) - Boiled Meat with Crust
Here you'll need a serving dish that can stand up to heat, because you'll be serving the meat where you cooked it.

Heat thin slices of pancetta sufficient to line the bottom of the serving dish (you don't want to really fry them, rather just heat them) and line the dish. They will serve to grease the bottom of the dish and add flavor to the drippings. If you don't have pancetta, make due with a bit of broth, or some butter and a little water. Coarsely chop some fresh mushrooms, or steep and chop some dried mushrooms, and sprinkle the pieces over the bottom of the pan, together with finely chopped onion and parsley, and -- if you like it -- garlic. Cover the mixture with finely ground dry bread crumbs seasoned with salt and pepper, and lay slices of boiled beef (I'd figure 1/4-1/2 inch or 3/4-1.2 cm) over the bread crumbs. Cover the slices of beef with another layer of pancetta, mushrooms, bread crumbs, and so on, and moisten everything with a little broth to which you have added some white wine or rum, if you like. Heat over a gentle flame, and when the dish is heated through well run it under a broiler to brown the top.

Note: Mr Guerrini, who was writing before broilers (even now they are uncommon in Italy) says to cover the pot and put hot coals on the lid to apply heat from above. This technique of applying heat from below and above, called fra due fuochi (between two flames), was common and you often find it in older Italian cookbooks.

Fritto di Avanzi di Manzo Lessato - Fried Leftover Boiled Beef
"This is a variation on many other recipes, but I include it because of its simplicity," he says. Slice and onion and sauté it in butter in a sauce pot. Cut your leftover boiled meat into pieces the size of a hazelnut, add them, season everything with salt and pepper, and continue sautéing for 15 minutes. Serve piping hot.

If you want a more flavorful dish, add several blanched, peeled, seeded and chopped tomatoes, some hot wine, rosemary needles, sliced boiled potato, etc, at which point you'll have roughly a fritto alla cacciatora, which will want to be well peppered and should not be swimming in liquid. If the beef is too firm, marinate it before adding it to the pot.

Lesso Fritto Con Le Cipolle - Boiled Meat Fried with Onions
This is quite similar to the above: Slice two or three onions, and sauté them in butter over a gentle flame until golden. Add the beef, finely sliced, a clove of garlic, and season with salt and pepper. Cook over a brisk flame, and when the meat is heated through and steaming finish it with a good dusting of minced parsley and some lemon juice.

This dish has many variations. You can use lard or olive oil instead of butter, and can also add potatoes, wine, or other herbs and spices. It is also more flavorful if you add a few blanched, peeled chopped tomatoes, before you add the meat because they take longer to cook than it does to heat.

And finally, something summery:

Lesso Freddo Alla Giapponese - cold Boiled Meat Japanese Style
What this has to do with Japan is beyond me, but that's what Mr. Guerrini calls it:
Simmer a number of peeled potatoes in broth until a skewer penetrates easily, slice them, and season them while they're still hot with olive oil, salt, pepper, and vinegar, followed by a half glass of strong wine. Dice your boiled meat and put the pieces in the middle of a serving dish, arranging the potatoes in a ring around them. Finely slice a truffle over all, let the salad rest for a few hours, and serve it chilled.

"It's obvious," he says, "that in this recipe and others that call for them are not a requirement, though they do a fine job of adding class and flavor to leftovers."

If you omit the truffle the last recipe will be frugal, as will the others, and given the times this is a good thing.

Varietals Lost, and Varietals Found
Winding down, some thoughts on varietals. If you're interested in agricultural history, you probably know that wine as we know it now was almost wiped out in the mid-late 1800s. Not intentionally; Europeans have always taken vines with them when they travel, and brought them home as well. So long as the travel within Europe this was good. However, in the early 1860s a shipment of American vines was delivered to the banks of the Rhône, where they were planted and did very well. Then, a curious thing happened: Nearby European vines sickened and died.

The blight spread inexorably, quickly where soils were moist and more slowly where they were sandy or the climate dry, until all of Europe was under its pall and somewhere between 60 and 90% of the vineyards had been wiped out.

Botanists soon understood what was wrong -- the roots of the American vines were infested by a lymph-sucking aphid called phylloxera, which they were able to tolerate, but that was fatal to European vines. Devising a solution, however, took time.

The simplest, to replace the European varietals with American varietals, was unacceptable because the wines made from American grapes are very different, and (to European palates) vastly inferior. Then a French botanist had an idea: Why not graft the vulnerable European vines onto American rootstock that's immune to the bug?

The idea worked, and now, with a few exceptions, all the grape vines in Europe (and most everywhere else) grow on American rootstock. Of course it didn't happen overnight, and this brings us to Predappio, in Romagna: I was having dinner with several other journalists at the Vecia Cantin D'La Pré (which I heartily recommend), when we were joined by Giuseppe Nicolucci of the Azienda Casetta Dei Mandorli. We were talking about the differences between Tuscan and Romagnan Sangiovese-based wines when he said, "Of course you know just about all Tuscan Sangiovese is actually Romagnan."

I looked at him -- I may not be Tuscan, but I live in Tuscany, and the faces of a great many Tuscan producers proudly discussing the merits of their "strictly autochthonous" Sangiovese flipped through my mind.

"Yes," Mr. Nicolucci continued, saying one of the first Italians to learn how to graft European vines to American roots was a Romagnan named Angelo Sansoni, known as Esciop, the gun, because he was so quick with his hands: With the help of a couple of assistants, who handed him the materials, he replanted vineyard after vineyard in Romagna, and also worked extensively in both Chianti Rufina and Chianti Classico, planting cartload after cartload of Sangiovese vines from Romagna.

This was of course several generations ago by now, and has faded from memory. However, if the vines gave good results they, or cuttings propagated from them, are still there. In short, the pedigree of some of the finest Tuscan Sangiovese vines may not be as pure as we think it is.

Hearing about Esciop set me to thinking: Italy now boasts more grape varietals than any other country in the world. Some are outstanding, e.g. Sangiovese and Nebbiolo, some are excellent supporting actors who complement the stars (and are called uva complementari for this reason, for example Canaiolo, Colorino, or Negrara), and the vast majority are simply there, growing untested and unevaluated in old vineyards. Some of this unevaluated majority may be superb, and some may not, but it was all good enough that someone in the distant past thought it worth grafting onto American root stock.

I can't imagine how rich and varied the Italian ampelographic (a fancy word meaning the classification of grape vines) panorama must have been before phylloxera wiped almost everything out. Actually, I take that back:

During my trip to Romagna we visited La Sabbiona, a winery not far from Faenza that is bringing back from the brink of extinction a varietal known as Sauvignon Rosso. Not Cabernet Sauvignon, which is a cross between Cabernet Franc and Sauvignon Blanc, but a red Sauvignon that survived the phylloxera outbreak thanks to a guy known as Centesimino, who liked the vine enough to plant it in a pot on his balcony. There it survived, until the folks at La Sabbiona heard about it, and were intrigued enough to try propagating it, grafting it onto American rootstock, and planting a vineyard of it. Since the name Sauvignon Rosso is used as an alternate name for some other Italian varietals, they registered it as Centesimino, and now some other wineries are beginning to take an interest in it as well.

And well they should; La Sabbiona's first few vintages were variable, with some wine that was very good and some that was nondescript, and then they realized that the good wines came from cold falls and tried cooling the must during fermentation, a practice used to maintain the freshness of the bouquet that's more generally associated with white wines. The result is most impressive:

La Sabbiona Sauvignon Rosso IGT Ravenna 2006 is deep ruby and has an eye opening bouquet that unleashes an extraordinary blast of black currants and gooseberries mingled with black currant jam and some strawberries. It's got the same sort of impact one gets from a Rosenmuskateller, combining great power with seductive grace. On the palate it's rich, and fairly sweet, with powerful black currant fruit supported by smooth sweet tannins that gain direction from some India ink and graphite bitterness, while the finish is long and clean. It's an extraordinary discovery, of the sort you'll be happy to serve friends who don't mind conversation grinding to a halt and people concentrate on what's in their glasses.
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This wine is aged in steel. There's also a Centesimino that goes into oak:
La Sabbiona Rifugio Ravenna IGT Rosso 2004 is deep black cherry ruby with brick rim. The bouquet is fairly intense, with black currant fruit supported by cedar and airy sea salt with some greenish vegetal notes and spice. Very nice, though it doesn't have the explosive impact of the 2006 Sauvignon Rosso -- If I hadn't tasted the other first I would have been very impressed, and as it was I was nodding my head. Grows nicely in the glass, too, with the fruit gaining in intensity. On the palate it's full and rich, with powerful black currant fruit supported by deft sweet tannins that gain direction from India ink bitterness, and flow into a rich black currant finish. Most impressive, and perhaps a little better balanced on the palate than the unoaked wine, which is instead more opulent. But both are captivating and fascinating, and well worth a detour if you're a wine lover and happen to be visiting Romagna. For that matter, La Sabbiona also has a nice agriturismo.
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Bottom line: In Italy, we think we're rich, enologically, and we undoubtedly are. But we don't know what we lost thanks to phylloxera. Nor, for that matter, do any of the other European countries with longstanding winemaking traditions.

This time's proverb is from Bassano Romano, in Lazio, and is earthier than some: Pe' cchi nun se ccontenta da' zzinna da' vacca, c'è quilla do' toro - For those unsatisfied by the cow's udder, there's always the bull's (ahem). In other words, be happy with what you have.

A presto,

Kyle Phillips
Editor, The Italian Wine Review
http://www.italianwinereview.com
Want to comment? Drop me a line at Kyle@cosabolle.com

PS -- Please forward this to anyone you think would enjoy it! If you would like to read past issues (nothing in them really gets stale), you'll find recent ones at Cosa Bolle.Com, http://www.cosabolle.com, and older ones at http://italianfood.about.com/blbol.htm.