Fambam in Italy

The Italy Plan was formed a few years ago: take Nana Marge (my grandmother) to see the country of her ancestors. It would require lots of walking and many flights of stairs – bad news for a woman with bad knees, but a couple of years and a couple of knee replacements later, Nana Marge was kicking and ready to roll. The itinerary was for a three-week tour throughout Italy, all fourteen of us. That’s right, one – four.

We roll hella’ deep.

Before their arrival, I had been in Florence for a week, cramming in every bit of Italian cuisine knowledge I could get my hands on:

• an all-day wine tour through the Chianti region,
• 4 cooking classes,
• and countless balsamic and wine tastings.

My family joined me in Florence and we trained down to the Amalfi coast for the first leg of our trip.  We stayed at a small, lemon villa right on the coast and visited the charming coastal towns of Maiori, Positano, Ravello, Sorrento and of course the Island of Capri. I got to practice some of my new pasta skills there in the villa’s kitchen.

My brother, Sam, and I on the Amalfi Coast.

Not a shabby view from our villa.

The family was buried in Italian food.

After a few days of relaxation in the Italian sun, we visited the ancient city of Pompeii and then dropped in for lunch at  L' Antica Pizzeria da Michele, in Naples.  Many consider it to be the best pizza in the world. Julia Roberts thought so in the movie, Eat, Pray, Love.

Views from the ancient city of Pompeii.

The ancient people of Pompeii even knew beef was king.

L'Antica Pizzeria da Michele, a landmark from the movie, Eat, Pray, Love.

Damn good pizza.

Then up the peninsula to the capital city, Rome. We took in the Coliseum and the Vatican along with every other tourist in the world.

Warning for those headed to Rome – be ready to fight your way through densely packed crowds in tight and enclosed spaces.

Rome requires a lot of walking! We found a seat whenever and wherever we could.

Sam and I at the Coliseum.

In Rome, we did the obligatory dinner at Alfredo’s, home of “the king of noodles” and Fettuccini Alfredo. The restaurant has long been a celebrity hotspot, indicated by the numerous photographs of stars hanging on the walls. It was my cousin Mitchell’s birthday and he was honored to dine with the original gold fork and spoon gifted to Alfredo by Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks.

The birthplace of Fettuccini Alfredo

JFK even liked the spot.

Next to Venice where we dined at Harry’s Bar, home of the Bellini and Carpaccio – thinly sliced raw beef dressed in a tangy mayo sauce. It was formerly a hangout for expats and celebs including Ernest Hemingway, Orson Wells, and Charlie Chaplin. One night, Mitchell and I veered away from the family to visit the Casino on the Grand Canal – we didn’t stay very long, but we did feel like we were in a James Bond movie.

The cousins taking on Venice!

Beef carpaccio at Harry's Bar.

The last leg of our trip was a week in Tuscany at a villa near Montalcino. We did little day excursions throughout the countryside, but the best was definitely our time in Panzanno visiting the Le Fonti vineyard and dining with Dario Cecchini at Officina Della Bistecca.

The family at Dario's.

We were given the seats of honor, right in the middle of the table next to all the meat.

Sam and I visiting A winery in Panzano.

We couldn't leave without a small tasting!

As our time in Italy came to a close, we made our way to Milan, but not without a surprise departure to Sumirago. (the village where my nana's family came from)  As luck would have it, our bus broke down right as we entered the village.  All fourteen of us spilled out of the bus and onto the cobbled street - nearly doubling the town's population, but the best thing of all, as we were waiting for a rescue bus, we became acquainted with an old man on the street who, as you guessed it, was Nana Marge's kinfolk!  It was a wonderful surprise.

Our Italian Fambam was an epic vacation - a trip of a lifetime.  It was good to see my family after traveling alone for two months. As they made their way back across the Atlantic, I grabbed my pack and rucked-up for my journey back to the land of wine and cheese for some more in-depth training in charcuterie.

Doin' It Like Dario

This wasn’t my first gig in the restaurant industry so I acclimated rather quickly at Officina Della Bistecca, Dario Cecchini’s famed steakhouse. By the end of the second week, I had the system down.  My days were filled with serving patrons, flippin’ burgers, or washing what seemed to be an endless pit of plates, wine glasses, and silverware. On a good day, I would make money in tips. Most of the time, that meant two or three Euros, but sometimes we would have gracious patrons and I would stroll home with fifteen Euros in my pocket and be happier than a blind squirrel who had just found an acorn. With a room and meals provided by Dario, I was living pretty cheap in Italy.  Life was good.

One morning as I made my way through the macelleria to the restaurant, Riccardo stopped me. That day, he was top dog and manning the butcher counter since Dario was in Chicago for a culinary television gig.

My friend, today, you do the presentation at Officina like Dario.

Then he added,

In Italian.

This was an extraordinary honor. During every service at Officina Della Bistecca, Dario announces his presence with a series of blasts from his brass, Italian horn. This is the cue for all the employees to parade out of the kitchen and assume their place behind the main presentation table. With two huge porterhouses elevated above his head, Dario welcomes his guests and introduces his staff. Then, in his booming voice, he presents the bisteccas to his patrons.

Vi presento LA COSTATA ALLA FIORENTINA!

I had first seen this presentation on YouTube, back in college when I was working on my butcher shop business proposal for my entrepreneurial class.  Each time Dario picks up those steaks for the presentation, his passion for his trade radiates and fills the room. Even after seeing it countless times, I still find myself getting goosebumps. It’s always one hell of a show.

As soon as Riccardo uttered the words, “in Italian”, I went into a state of panic. My Italian was still atrocious. I’m not going to lie – I tried to get my debut pushed back to the dinner service so I would have a little extra time to practice. Then Riccardo handed me a sheet of paper where he had hand written the spiel and reassured me that I would do fine.

Go practice – You have one hour.

I hate being unprepared.

Practicing behind Officina Della Bistecca

I ran upstairs and grabbed Zac, my roommate and fellow stagista, and headed for the parking lot. I needed space to practice. Zac, who is half American, proved useful in helping me memorize the Italian verbiage. After what seemed like a split second, they called for me.

As I made my way through the parking lot towards the restaurant, Samu and Orlando drove up. I gave them the spiel, hoping the last rehearsal would do me good. Orlando rolled his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

Not very reassuring.

Word must have spread that the Texan was doing the presentation because almost as many employees as patrons were in attendance. I walked up to the butcher’s block, grabbed the two huge steaks, and began….

The King of Beef Does Porchetta

Viva la Ciccia… E chi la Stropiccia!

Dario has always sung the praises of beef. The hallowed halls of his macelleria (Italian butcher shop) are decorated with paintings and sculptures. Each in some way pays homage to the king of meats:

Beef.

On a normal day, beef is all he deals with. You won’t find chicken or fowl in the display case. You won’t find a lamb carcass hanging in the walk-in. You want a pork chop? He doesn’t sell those either.

People travel halfway around the world to feast on the Bistecca alla Fiorentina at his table. He ships these same steaks to many parts of Europe. Even though he is known for his beef, Dario is also a master when it comes to pork.

Dario uses pork in three of his dishes:

A massive ball of whipped Lardo.

• Burro de Chianti - or butter of Chianti is a seasoned pork lard. Dario spreads it lavishly on crostini and baked potatoes. I’m in love. After having tasted burro de Chianti, I’ll never ruin another baked potato with butter again.

• Tonno de Chianti - or Tuna of Chianti are pork hams that are salted, then braised in white wine and liquids. Tonno de Chianti is a component of the Accoglienza plate at McDario.

• Porchetta - a boneless pork roast where the body of the pig is de-boned, seasoned, rolled and cooked. Porchetta is another component of Dario’s Accoglienza plate.

On day three of my staging at the Celle, Samu taught me how to prepare the porchetta for Dario. We each grabbed a knife and a side of pork and got to work. Samu began by cutting just beneath the spare ribs and eventually worked his way up to and around the vertebrae – he was left with a beautiful, boneless pork loin and belly. After a few extra minutes, I finished up with my side of pork. Samu said our work, for the most part, was done so we loaded the pork sides into the refrigerated Mercedes van and made our way back up to the macelleria.

The master took over from there – with a high-output torch. Now don’t confuse this high output torch with a puny, little creme brulee torch.

This baby could burn down a house.

Once the hair was scorched from the skin,  Dario turned the sides of pork over and gave them a heavy dusting of seasonings:

• course ground sea salt,
• a variety of fresh Tuscan herbs,
• and a copious amount of crushed garlic - Dario likes his garlic!

I think we have enough Rosemary...

Behind the seasoning, he rolled up the sides of pork into what I can best describe as a cowboy’s bedroll. As he rolled, he scored.  He cut long incisions down the length of the carcasses, allowing for a tighter roll.

Then when everything was nice and tight, he hand-tied butchers string along the length to keep everything in place for cooking.

IMG_4087

After 4 hours in the oven at a high temperature, the two rolls of porchetta came out with a beautiful,golden-brown skin. We placed two bricks at each end of the rolls to elevate them above their drippings to keep the skin nice and crispy. That night, Dario’s diners enjoyed some of the freshest and most savory porchetta in all of Italy. I’d like to think that I was a small part of this Italian culinary tradition.

And of course, olive oil.