WISTFUL IN SEATTLE, OVER ASPARAGUS

 

With the coming of June the citizens of Washington State’s Emerald City are emerging from a long, gray winter. Our eyes sparkle as we happily salve our first sunburns of the year, buckle-up our Birkenstocks, and begin firing up our barbeques.

Well, not all eyes are sparkling. Fresh asparagus lovers are shedding a tear or two.

In Washington State, the end of May coincides with the disappearance of fresh asparagus from our farmers’ markets. Ten months of building anticipation– of that first asparagus-Sauvignon blanc pairing of the year, the delightful cream sauces, pasta dishes, and luscious pizzas that we made with this delicate yet rich “jumbo sprout”, those delicious grillings that we created, with no help other than from a dash of extra virgin and a dusting of sea salt–- suddenly gives way to another ten months of wistful waiting. 

We shrug. Ahh, it tastes so good– but it’s all so ethereal.

And yet, those asparageic memories will remain, fresh in mind…

 

ROOTS OF THE PASSION FOR ASPARAGUS: THE SPARGELFEST 

These joyous memories date back over a decade, back to when our appreciation of asparagus was suddenly deepened.

We had been taking the “long way” to visit our friend and gifted RITROVO® producer, Josef Reiterer, located in the Dolomite mountain village of Molten/Meltina (German and Italian referents; the bilingual residents’ principal language is German in the northern, politically independent region of Alto Adige). We had been taking our time getting to Molten, turning up from the Adige river valley whenever we could, following vineyard-flanked “wine roads” that climbed to the stupendous medieval castles towering over it. Our mission was simple: see as many castles and taste as many of the region’s vaunted white wines as we could, on the wat to Molten.

It was gorgeous mission. Each castle had its own charm and historical significance, and every approach was a trekker’s dream-come-true: a good workout which invariably rewarded us with a gasthaus of some sort, serving delicious fare and plenty of good wine. Perfect.

We were already enchanted by the region when we reached Terlan/Terlano, from where the step ascent to Josef’s village of Molten would begin.

But there, in the central square, we came face-to-stalk with a two stories’-tall, inflated white asparagus, symbol of Spargelfest. 

Spargelfest, Terlan’s festival of the white asparagus, has honored this pale yet plump, luscious spear for generations, in part due to its organoleptic qualities but also to its symbolic ushering-in of …

Spring.

It greeted us upon our arrival, then offered itself up to us numerous manifestations, everywhere we went. Everywhere– Every eating establishment in Terlan seemed to have its own, specialized, absolutely delicious, spargel-based dish. It was almost surreal at first, but soon it became  a gastronomic odyssey. Everything came up asparagus! We delayed our departure for Molten for a day, in the mean time sampling our way through Terlan (after obligatory photos of us, each taking our turn standing next to the giant white asparagus) and delicious marvels served there, all starring the village’s Springtime pride-and-joy.

Later, upon our arrival in Molten, Josef Reiterer continued the festivities, taking us to a rustic gasthaus/osteria where we were served more variations on the same theme. He treated us to a memorable, springtime plate of the region: thickly-trunked green asparagus, carefully steamed al dente and generously buttered (butter being the preference over extra virgin in the north of Italy) then capped with hand-carved, mountain-raised speck.

And it wasn’t over yet. The next day, further northward in Bolzano, we were treated to fine, asparagus cuisine at its best, back to eating white asparagus but this time freshly cut and gently scalded, then uniquely-sauced according to a special, regionally unique recipe (below), Salsa Bolzanina. Though Josef had warned us that the Salsa Bolzanina would be ‘heavy’, its rich, egginess punctuated with shaved horseradish was remarkable– especially when paired with Traminer Aromatico, from nearby Andrian/ Andriano (see www.weinstrasse.com).

Asparagus as we had known it would never be the same.

Nevertheless, memories are to be made, too, aren’t they? Mmm…

Ci ritroviamo,

Ilyse and Ron Post

RITROVO®

L’amore for Italian Cheese and Condiments

Part of our professional sommelier studies in Italy was the study of food. For millennia wine itself has been considered a basic element of the Mediterranean diet—“liquid food”, so to speak—describable in terms of nutritive quality, flavor characteristics, regional diversity, and intrinsic balance. The next step was simply to study other foods, starting with cheese, a natural companion to wine.

What a delightful step it was. In exploring the world of cheese we learned that not only is it one of humankind’s most important foods, but its worldwide inventory is also is testament to how humans have converted environmental adaptation into an edible art. Italy itself boasts about 400 different, known cheeses, each cheese communicating distinct senses of place, culture, and pairing with other foods.

As Italian regional food researchers as well as cheese lovers in general, we became interested in cheese condiments. Condiments are the complimentary elements of a dish or meal that bring its primary flavors into harmony and balance. Especially in the case of aged cheeses, condiments are fundamental to extolling the cheese’s particular characteristics. We first studied Italian cheeses and condiments in Rome, nearly fifteen years ago, during a Slow Food course on wine-condiment-cheese combinations.

Burrata: gentle yet unforgettable

We began the evening with our first slice of Burrata (for more information on Burrata see previous posting), part of an unforgettable wine-condiment-cheese combination. By nature Burrata is rich yet inititially-subtle, and its patrimony of flavors and aromas could have been easily overpowered; however, it was paired with a moderately-chilled glass of Locorotondo, itself of medium body and acidity. The “condimental bridge” for this pairing was a drizzling of mildly-peppery, mid-early harvest extra virgin olive oil from the Castel del Monte zone near Bari. The effect: extraordinary! With a last, palate-freshening sip of Locorotondo, the students at our table simply exchanged silent, smiling nods as we shared this treasure from Italy’s mezzogiorno.

Puzzone di Moena: strong aromas, generous flavors

Later in the evening the course made a strong step forward. We tasted “the big stink”, translation for the term Puzzone. Puzzone too, is derived from cow’s milk, though its powerful aromas owe to high altitude grazing in Dolomite mountain range malghe (pastures) or grazing stations, these particulary malghe located in the regions of Trentino and Alto-Adige. We tasted (and smelled) Puzzone, noting that it would need a stronger counterbalancing act. Its strong aromas and herbaceousness were complimented by a lovely Trentino Lagrein and a northern Italian chestnut honey.

Bruss: not for the faint-of-palate

Moving up a few notches in strength and piquancy we tasted Bruss, one of Italy’s rarest and strongest cheeses (which we later imported). Though Piemonte is known both for its aged wines and cheeses, bruss is truly unique, Bruss is historically formed from a conglomeration of odds and ends of other Piemontese cheeses, accented by the mixing-in of left-over grappa then left to age several months in small, terra cotta pots. Nearly 15 years (and as many washings) later, the empty Bruss pot that we had taken home still retains some of its sharp, liquory aromas. A seemingly difficult combination was achieved through a robust pairing with a fine Barbera, after we had dipped the Bruss on typical grissini breadsticks (much like the ones we now import from Tenuta Castello). A cugna, red wine chutney just like the Il Mongetto mostarda d’uva that we import today, cleansed our fragrant palates.

Chef Balin and his aged cheese-and-condiment cart

Not long after our introduction to the study and appreciation of Italian cheeses and condiments we went with one of our Piedmontese producers to Da Balin, a restaurant in the village of Vercelli in the Po river delta which is both the largest rice-agriculture zone in Europe and neighbor to the wine production zone of Monferrato.

Chef Balin a consultant risotto chef for for Tenuta Castello, our award-winning, organic and hand-weeded risotto rice producer, had just served an incredible meal for his incredibly-late American guests. We settled back, stuffed-to-capacity with course-after-course of an expertly-prepared meal.

Not another bite. Nope.

And yet…

We heard the screeching echo of little wheels on their rolling approach through Chef Balin’s Kitchen.

Then we saw it: Chef Balin returned, wheeling out a gurney-sized, dessert-style cart laden with layer cake-like slices of aged, pungent favorites such as Gorgonzola, Castelmagno, Taleggio… by the time the cart arrived at our table the cavernous dining room around us had already been re-populated—this time crowded with the aromas of seasoned cheeses.

Flanking the cheeses were two more files. Lined-up were cheese condiment containers of various colors and sizes: an array of fruit-based vinegars including a tiny, bulbous bottle of 100 year-aged Balsamic; variations on Mostarda d’Uva, the region’s slow-cooked, tar-like equivalent of Piedmontese chutney with a base of Barbera red wine; honeys of different colors and consistencies.

Suddenly, our appetites returned.

Ci ritroviamo (we’ll get together again).

Ilyse and Ron

RITROVO

Nettles

One of the great joys of living in Italy is enjoying its multitude of open-air markets. At a glance, these canvas bazaars for agriculturally-based regional commerce are not unlike our own farmers markets in Seattle. Notwithstanding, there is a particular unfolding here in Italy’s central village squares and inner city neighborhoods that lends to their markets an orchestral quality.

The pre-dawn quiet is broken by the faint beginnings of today’s commercial crescendo, as muffler-less vans begin converging on the market site. The market begins to form as these decrepit vehicles arrive from the surrounding country side, each laden with that morning’s offerings of produce or cut-rate domestic offerings but all carrying, piggy-back style, the familiar swaddling of poles, canvas, and rope atop that will be unstrapped and staked unto temporary places of business.

The vendors spill out of their vans and the crescendo increases. They are long-familiar, serenading one another with song, familiar greetings and lively banter as they knit their canvas commercial patchwork together. The tune tightens as the morning’s preparation continues, as the vendors intently arrange their merchandise and stack their crates. Dozens of tiny espresso spoons tink-tink-tinkle in unison in their respective cups, as the vendors stir sugar into steaming espressos hustled out from their preferred barriste just as the first customers begin to arrive.

The earthy intermingling of fresh espresso and freshly arranged vegetables signal the beginning of the market’s  activity. It will quickly become a full-blown cacophony by mid-morning, a boisterous din of vendors hawking their wares, each periodically soloing-out a call-to-action, for shoppers to come over to where the greens are freshest, the fruit is ripest, the selection is best

Yet by 11:30 the decrescendo begins. Mothers and grandmothers disappear, one-by-one, with bags and two-wheeled carts stuffed with the day’s cooking. The whisper of street sweepers’ brooms signals an end to today’s open air market; by the the time the first waves of mid-lunch heat begin to beat down on the market place all trace of its morning’s activity will have been re-crated, reloaded, and driven away.

In these hustling hubs of instant commercial activity each vendor has his or her own offerings and style of attracting customers. In our particular market, in Piazza Alberone in Rome, growers or vendors would call out about their regional specialties: the sliced meat man from Norcia with his prosciutto dolce and jars of olives and plastic tubs of fresh ricotta, the tiny yellow apple lady from Palestrina whose fresh eggs were sold wrapped like china cups in layers of newspaper, a wizened old gentleman with the tough microgreens called “misticanza,” ten types to a scoop—a botanical garden for the plate. Going to this market and picking the most appetizing offerings of the season became a life ritual, a daily foraging tied to the seasons and the search for inspiration for that day’s meal.

Back home in Seattle in my local farmers market, I become grounded every season by its spring opening. Last week, for instance, inspired by a bed of nettles cream served under a seasonal slab of halibut at Beato Restaurant, I dashed to the West Seattle farmers market to seek out my own bag of fresh, gnarly nettles to blanch and cook. Nettles are an almost laughable local vegetable, a food that shows that people were once so poor and hungry that they foraged in fallow lands near their habitations, found this stinging plant, and turned it into something edible. We had eaten nettles for the very first time in a creamy pesto at our country trattoria Da Mimmo in Rome and now here we were eating them in season again here at the refined Beato. Weedy nettles, then, are a local food, born of a poor person’s cuisine in at least two of our favorite local cultures.

And these stinging nettles, once boiled in salting water and drained, offer anything but an impoverished flavor. They are like an aged spinach, deep and earthy, with the aroma of a fine dry green tea. Naturally my Italian palate moved me to blend them into a hearty green pesto, which I used to fill pita pockets and spooned over hot La Romagna umbricelli pasta. Try them sautéed under local fresh haibut, or end-of-winter Washington potatoes, colcannon style.

RECIPE

Nettles Pesto Italian Style
Ingredients:

¼ pound fresh nettles leaves
½ cup Tenuta Cocevola Extra Virgin Olive Oil
¼ cup Radici of Tuscany Organic Wild Pinenuts
1 tsp. Casina Rossa Sweet & Salt
¼ cup finely grated parmigiano reggiano cheese
Casina Rossa Limited Edition Salt

Bring a pot of water to boil. Add some Casina Rossa Limited Edition Salt. Place the nettle leaves directly from your container into the pot of boiling water taking care not to touch them with any bare skin. Allow to boil for about ten minutes, until well cooked. Drain and rinse for several minutes under cold water. Squeeze several times to allow all water to be removed. Cool completely.

In a food processor place the pinenuts, salt, cheese and olive oil. Pulse for a few seconds to chop coarsely.

Coarsely chop the cooked and cooled nettles leaves. Process for a minute or so with the other ingredients until a smooth cream is obtained. If mixture is too thick, add more extra virgin olive oil.

Serve over La Romagna plain Stringozzi, La Bella Angiolina trofie pasta, or olive leaf pasta.