The $110 Appetizer and the Gifts that Followed

Describing Venice as a "labyrinth" has the metaphoric equivalency of calling the Adriatic Sea "moist."  

Remember back to the SATs?  Venice : Labyrinth :: Adriatic Sea : ?

Get my meaning?  Good.  Then you'll understand what a remarkable feat it was even finding our hotel let alone the serendipity of finding one of the best restaurants in the whole city.

We took the train from Florence to Venice (assisted by a few very pleasant gypsies who helped fleece us out of 10 Euros more than they should have) and arrived at a train station.  Not entirely remarkable to itself, as we were traveling by train (see previous sentence), however, only in Venice will the train station be on the bank of a major water way trimmed in grand architecture dating back to the 13th to 18th centuries.  Speaking with the European tourists who frequent the city, we learned of the Vaporetti--the water buses that are the most commonly accessed water transport.  Studying multiple maps, we gained a good sense of what stop we needed and so we settled into the ride--jostling with locals and tourists from around the globe, and getting swept up in the sights of Venice.

We arrived at our stop, but on exiting the vaporetto, we had no markers to indicate which "street" would lead us to our hotel.  Wheeling our luggage behind us, we entered the closest alleyway to us.  As it turns out, everything in Venice that isn't water and isn't a building is either a bridge, a piazza or an alley.  And since the only land transportation is walking, size of alley doesn't really indicate the importance of the alley.  Wide alleys may dead end and narrow alleys may lead exactly where you want to go.  So it was with this alley we chose.  I remember thinking, "this can't be right," because the alley was so narrow I could not wheel two suitcases behind me side-by-side without scraping them against the 4-story buildings defining the passage way. 

We passed restaurants in open piazzas (mid-afternoon, so most were closed for lunch but may have served some light fare) then ducked back into another alley--still without any real idea of our direction.    By happenstance we glanced up an another alley we thought SHOULD be close to our destination, and there it was: our hotel.

We checked in, got the scoop from the boys at the front desk, toweled off (SO HOT and HUMID!) and then went back outside to explore. 

Venice is everything I wanted it to be and so much more.  I could go back tomorrow and enjoy it as if it were my first time. 

Initially, I had a mind to try and live on a budget.  This is probably the financial advisor in me, but I was really trying to shop and eat on the cheap.  At least until lunch on the second day.  We found a good, out of the way place (everything is sort of out of the way: did I mention that Venice is a maze?) and ate some really wonderful cuisine: frutti di mare.  Then everything sort of fell into place in my mind--like finding that one long piece in Tetris that clears all the rows:  I'm ME.  I love food.  Why would I punish us by avoiding some of the best food opportunities in the world?  Budget minded living gets you Olive Garden Venice.

We walked back to the hotel that night and past a little restaurant not 50 feet from the front of our hotel door.  We had passed it every time we went into or exited from our hotel, but with my newly renovated mindset, I noticed a basket of wild mushrooms, including boletes--mushrooms of the finest quality.  I used to hunt mushrooms in New Mexico and those were prizes, if found.  Their locations were closely guarded secrets by any mycologist lucky enough to find them.  Now, here they were, half a world away, and no less prized.  We told the maitre d' that we needed a shower but we would be back soon. 

They set a table for us upwind from the smokers (everywhere is a designated smoking area in Venice, doubly so outside) and we ordered a bottle of wine and asked how the chef recommended the mushrooms.  Like climbing the steps to Heaven, my taste buds ascended to levels of ecstasy they had never before known.  We split a serving of the boletes as an appetizer, then a shared course of risotto with seafood, we shared a small steak and vegetables, and finished with a panna cotta for dessert.  THIS!  This is what I know we deserved. 

We returned the next two nights, playing a repeat of that same theme: The second night having ravioli for an appetizer, a chanterelles risotto, seafood entree, more wine, more panna cotta. The third night we looked to blow out all the stops. 

Flashback:  I remember in college, The Old Towne Ale House had dollar beers and 10 cent wings on Wednesday nights.  Wednesday night became my night of gluttony, damned be the consequences.  And sure enough, the consequences usually damned me, some way, some how, either that night or the next morning. 

A voice in the back of my head may have whispered that this was about to happen again.  On a much larger scale.

Damned be the consequences? 

We told the maitre d' that we'd be back in 45 minutes and asked if we could have what had become our table.  We cleaned up and changed, and made our way back.  Our regular server had the night off, but we had seen tonight's server the previous nights and he had been prepared for our evening--looking forward to it, even.  We asked what he recommended for a bottle of wine to which he said the maitre d' recommends a very special bottle for us.  We accepted the personalized recommendation.  Let the stop blowing begin.  I asked about the mushrooms for the day, and there was a special treat: in addition to the chanterelles of the previous night, they also had a very beautiful, very large and very fresh truffle from the mainland. Truffle risotto?  Fillet with a truffle sauce?  We elected to have a simple saute of chanterelles for an appetizer, cuttlefish and pasta, the fillet et truffle and then we'd decide on something for dessert. 

The mushrooms came out of the kitchen and our waiter presented us two plates, as opposed to our customary one.  He hadn't been serving us the previous nights, and I hadn't thought to tell him that we share the courses. (In all honesty, each serving was exceedingly generous.  There would be no way we could each have eaten that much food without sharing, and we wanted to try as many dishes as we could.  Hence: sharing.)  We indicated our preference to our new waiter, but the appitizer damage was done.  And since we weren't really ordering from the menu, we didn't know the price.  We didn't think (want?) to ask, either. 

Damned be the consequences.  We ordered another bottle of wine.

We smiled and joked with the staff, with other patrons (Hello, John "James" Bond 006 3/4.  We agree, you didn't quite make it.) and passers-by.  We watched as people passed, women dressed to impress in their short dresses and high heels, staggering not at all on the cobbled walkways, the families with beleaguered children (or sometimes parents) in tow, the young, the old, the wealthy, the middle class, all flowing like water through the passageways of Venice. 

The hours passed and our evening started to wrap up.  My beloved excused herself to the women's room and our waiter and some of the staff joined me at the table.  I expressed my gratitude for the hospitality and the wonderful cuisine of the last few days.  I discovered that all of the ingredients are as local as possible and some--like the chanterelles, boletes and truffles--may be found wild.  They then presented the bill.

I would love to believe that I had a good poker face.  I knew the tab would be high.  I know I held it together well enough, because everyone was still smiling as my beloved returned with the maitre d',  having been introduced to our chef.  I paid the tab and kept the receipt.  Later I discovered the appetizer--those lovely chanterelles, hand picked and lovingly prepared--came to 75 Euros.  The rest of the dinner, the bottles of wine, all added up to a pretty penny.  Damn those consequences.

Rather than leaving, our maitre d' invited us inside (completely empty--for all the bustle of the restaurant, everyone wanted to sit outside) and offered us limoncello.  We sat and sipped and talked of good food and travel.  We shared some of our favorite recipes, and they presented us with a cookbook.  We shook hands and embraced as appropriate and we took our leave.  We waddled up to our room to go to bed for our last night in Venice.  The gondoliers still paddled through the tight canal, four stories below our window, their lanterns looking like fireflies dancing over the water. 

We reflected: the food was wonderful, the people were terrific.  The bill was large but worth it and the cookbook was a charming gesture of the hospitality of our hosts.  From one family who enjoys food to another.  The consequences were not that damned bad.

Here are a few interpretations of our favorite Venitian cuisine.  Buon appetito!

Sauteed Chanterelles
If you're lucky enough to get fresh chanterelles, that's great!  If you can't, don't despair: they dry well and can easily be reconstituted.  Simply simmer for 5 minutes in water, or white wine and water, or broth.  Remove from the heat and let stand, submerged in the liquid and covered for 10 minutes.  When they've softened, trim off the tough stem ends.  Reserve the liquid to flavor other dishes (like risotto).

1 1/2 cups fresh or reconstituted Chanterelles (I'm partial to Golden, but Black are also available and delicious)
1 1/2  tablespoons of Butter
1 large clove of Garlic, minced
1 small Shallot, sliced very thin
1/4 cup Dry White Wine
1 tablespoon Parsley, minced, plus a few whole leaves for garnish

(If the mushrooms have been reconstituted, saute them in a dry skillet for a few minutes to steam out most of the residual liquid.  Then continue.)  Melt the butter in a skillet on medium high heat until it stops foaming, then add the garlic and shallots.  Stir gently for 60 seconds (or one minute--your choice.  I'm not picky.) then add the chanterelles.  Saute for 2-3 minutes, moving them gently, occasionally.  Add the minced parsley and saute with the chanterelles for another minute.  Add the wine and reduce the heat to medium low.  Let simmer for 3-4 more minutes. 

Garnish with a couple of whole parsley leaves and serve hot.

Fruiti di Mare
Most every culture that exists near the sea has some kind of seafood stew.  I can't think of any that don't, but then again, I'm not really trying.  This is one inspired by the seafoods available locally in eastern Italy, but adapted for the supermarket fish available in the mountains of Colorado.

1 lb Shrimp, shelled and deveined
1/2 lb each of live Clams and Mussels
1/2 lb small Squid, cleaned and cut into rings (and tentacles if you're lucky enough to get the whole squid)
10 Roma Tomatoes, chopped
2 cloves Garlic, minced
1 large Shallot, sliced fine
3 tablespoons fresh Parsley Leaves, minced
1/2 cup White Wine
Olive Oil
Salt
Red Pepper Flakes
1/2 cup Chicken or Fish Stock
Pasta (spaghetti or linguine)

In a large pan over medium high heat, add 1/4 cup of olive oil.  Wait 30 seconds until the oil can be swirled easily in the bottom of the pan, then add the garlic, shallots, 1 teaspoon salt and 1 (slightly rounded) teaspoon of red pepper.  Stir gently in the pan until the garlic has softened. Add the white wine and stock and cover.  Let come to a simmer and reduce heat.   Add the clams and mussels and cover the pan again. (Take care to sort out any with broken shells or which have already opened.)  Let simmer for 10 minutes until the shells have opened. 

Add the chopped tomatoes and 2 tablespoons of  parsley.  Cover and let simmer for 5 minutes.  Add more wine and stock if needed. 

Start a large pot of salted water to boil.  Cook the pasta according to directions.

As you put the dried pasta in the pot, add the shrimp and calamari to the tomatoes and shellfish.  Cover the pot.  Cook for about 5 minutes then stir to mix everything.   The shrimp should be pink and the calamari white.  Cover and remove from the heat.

Drain the pasta, and in a large bowl, combine the frutti di mare and the linguini and toss once or twice with tongs.  Sprinkle with the remaining parsley.  Serve in individual bowls with a little crostini on the side.

Limoncello
My beloved has been making this for years, but has recently changed the recipe. This is a wonderful after dinner liqueur, or you can mix it with sparkling water for a summer afternoon treat.

2 large, organic Lemons
Cheese Cloth and String
a large Glass Jar with a Lid

750 ml Pure Grain Alcohol (Everclear)

1 cup Water

1 cup Sugar 

juice of the 2 Lemons

 

Wrap the lemons in a piece of cheesecloth and tie the ends like a satchel, leaving enough string on both ends to hang a few inches below the top of the jar. 

 

Pour the alcohol into the glass jar. Holding the string ends, make sure the lemon does not touch the alcohol. Secure the string around the mouth of the jar and close the jar tightly.  (If your jar does not have an airtight seal, you can seal the lid by wrapping the seam with adhesive tape.)  Leave the jar in a cool, dark place for 3 months.  (Beauty like this takes time. Deal with it.)

 

When ready, prepare a syrup by combining the cold water and sugar. Simmer over medium heat until the mixture boils and the sugar dissolves completely.  Remove from the heat and allow the syrup to rest until completely cool.

Unseal the jar, remove and juice the lemons. Pour the alcohol into a large jar along with the syrup. Add the lemon juice.  Mix very well. Pour the mixture through a coffee filter into a bottle.

Cork the bottle and let it rest for at least 1 week before using it.  Or as long as you can stand.  I think we waited about 5 minutes. 

Is That A Salume In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy To Be Here?

They say the best things in life are free.  Walking hand-in-hand through a park with the one you love.  Reading a book.  (I finished the Twilight series upon the request of someone who will remain nameless.  And yes, she was a woman.  And yes, I sort of enjoyed them.)  And another of my favorites: new discoveries.

Think back to Bacon-Fest 2010 and in our (my) educational segment, we (I) discussed (told you about) the "cure" that makes bacon, bacon.  But curing meats takes time and space that most people do not have in abundance.  If only there were a place that the average Joe and Jane could go to acquire a broad spectrum of cured meats.  My friends, I have discovered the Shangrila of cured meats, right here in Denver!  Il Mondo Vecchio (essentially, "The Old World," the name indicates their sense of commitment to their craft) resides in an industrial zone of on the outskirts of Denver's downtown.  Located behind a blue collar diner and blue collar topless bar (think blue collar industrial strippers and you'll know what I mean) the humble surroundings belie the grandeur of the product inside. 

First, a little examination of salumi, and charcuterie.  Charcuterie is the general term for any kind of cured meat (although most reference pork), curing through any combination of salt, spices, processing, heating and drying.  Bacon, salami, pâté and sausage are all examples.  Salumi is the Italian representation of charcuterie.

Meats were first cured and dried to eliminate the possibility of bacteria and other beasties from eating, breeding and ultimately spoiling the food.  Without as much moisture, and with the addition of spices and salt, some cured meats can be kept near room temperature for many years.  Now we have refrigeration, so we don't need to cure meats the way we once did.  We still love the flavors and textures, however, so salame, coppa, prosciutto all remain on our menus.  Curiously, although we want to stop meat from spoiling, many of the best meats are actually fermented before they are cured.  Hhmmm.  Interesting. 

Jason Molinari has a good blog on curing meats.  Several others discuss the various types and flavors.  Start your education anywhere, but start your exploration in your mouth.  Take advantage of Mondo's Loading Dock Fridays.  Every Friday, from 2:30(-ish) to 6:30(-ish) they provide tastings and tours.  And every other Friday, my new buddy Joe Beggs can be found serving up smoked meats in slider form.  If you're in the neighborhood, stop by.  If you're not (and you're probably not), make a special trip--you'll be happy you did!

This morning's Breakfast Rustica includes Sweet Coppa, Prosciutto, Cured Duck ("raw," as well as cooked like bacon), fresh sliced peaches and sourdough toast with our friend's Raspberry Jam.  (Thanks Stephanie!!)

Mmmmmm ...... Milk Jello

Some desserts deserve more recognition than they receive.  Panna cotta is one of those under-recognized, overlooked, and often neglected delectable treats. 

While we stayed in Stresa Italy, a little village on Lake Maggiore in the Piemonte region at the base of the Italian Alps, H and I fell in love with the local cuisine: fresh homemade gnocchi,  delicious cured meats, soft and hard cheeses and local wines.  (Note: wine is often cheaper than water for table service!)  And, as it turns out, Piemonte is also the likely birthplace of panna cotta, or "cooked cream." 

Panna cotta shares certain similarities with custards: a sweetened and congealed milk base.  The milk and cream are simmered lightly allowing the fats to begin to tighten into twisting bonds (like what happens when cream curdles in your coffee-- but without the sour milk flavor, and less chunky).  Unlike custard, however, there are no eggs and we don't continue to bake the fats in the oven.  Panna cotta, is therefore lighter, more ethereal, and frankly far less complicated to make.  Its flavor stands up well by itself, rich and creamy, but panna cotta most often provides a sumptuous background for fruits, sauces and other flavors. 

Without all the heat and the eggs of a custard, panna cotta uses gelatin as the structural agent.  In spite of popular rumor, gelatin is NOT made of horses' hooves, but is an animal byproduct.  For a really good time, read all about what it is and how it works, here.  The original jelling agent was most likely boiled fish bones, but fortunately for us, powdered gelatin is much easier to use and without flavor.

Surprise your friends and family.  For dessert tonight, try:

Panna Cotta

1 cup Whole Milk

2 3/4 teaspoons Unflavored Gelatin

3 cups Heavy Cream

2 teaspoons Vanilla Extract

6 tablespoons Sugar

pinch of Salt

Pour the milk into a medium sauce pan and sprinkle the gelatin evenly over the surface of the milk.  Let stand for 10 minutes to allow the gelatin to hydrate.  Get the rest of your ingredients ready and also fill a very large mixing bowl 1/2 way with ice and add enough water to let the ice cubes float off the bottom.  Get another bowl ready that is small enough to fit inside the large bowl, and large enough to hold about 6-8 cups of liquid.  Also set out the ramekins or cups you will use for chilling.

Heat the milk and gelatin on medium high heat, stirring constantly, until the temperature reaches 135 degrees on an instant read thermometer.  Remove from the heat and stir in the sugar and salt until dissolved.

Pour the milk mixture, the heavy cream and the vanilla into the smaller of the two bowls and place that bowl into the ice water bath.  Stirring constantly, chill the mixture to 50 degrees. 

Pour the finished mixture into the cups, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 4 hours. 

To serve, dip the cup into hot water for 15-20 seconds, making sure not to let any water spill into the panna cotta.  Wet your finger and gently run it around  the edge of the cup loosening the panna cotta's hold.  Turn out onto a serving plate and top with your favorite syrup, sauce, fruit, nuts, etc.  (In the finished picture, H made a Sangria Syrup!)