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Posts Tagged ‘Udine’

Cormòns: Rental Car Fiasco

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , on June 3, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

Rosa Mistica in CormonsHaving taken the train from Trieste back to Udine and dropped our bags off at Hotel Principe, Mike and I set out for our very first Italian rental car adventure. Mike was to be the designated driver for this trip, since I don’t drive (at least not anymore, though I did learn as a teenager). A few weeks earlier, Mike “learned” how to drive a stick-shift using his aunt’s truck, so we thought we were well-prepared.

The plan was to pick up our car—it was a tiny Fiat Punto—and drive to Cormòns for lunch. Mike’s driving lessons, however, proved to be far less than adequate. After finally getting the car going, with countless jerks and starts and to the tune of a dozen locals honking at us, we managed to make it a couple of blocks before stalling in a rotary. As Mike was desperately gunning the engine, a polizia car passed us and paused briefly, the officers turning their heads to stare at us in utter disgust.

We finally made it out of Udine but realized that Mike needed somewhere to practice before battling the urban traffic again—someplace like a large, empty parking lot. We found just the place behind a massive warehouse on the side of the highway. Here, Mike could practice using the clutch without feeling any pressure. As he was getting the hang of it, the Fiat advanced forward a few feet at a time, until the wheels hit the curb and we could go no further. Then the trouble really began: we couldn’t figure out how to shift into reverse! This was certainly problematic, I thought, panic beginning to set in. I had learned to drive on a stick, so I was familiar with where reverse should be, but it simply wasn’t there. After a half hour of feeling dumbfounded, I had the brilliant idea of pulling the owner’s manual out of the glove compartment. Reading in Italian, I learned that in order to shift into reverse, you needed to pull up on the stick’s collare (collar). Finally, it all made sense, and we both felt like complete idiots.

Duomo in CormonsWith a great sense of accomplishment, we then drove the rest of the way to Cormòns. After a quick visit to the Duomo di Sant’Adalberto and the Chiesa di Santa Caterina (better known as Rosa Mistica), we stopped for lunch at Trattoria Al Giardinetto. To begin, we were served several complimentary antipasti: lardo (cured fatback), pâté of oca affumicata (smoked goose), and a gnoccho di ricotta (ricotta dumpling) with tomato and zucchini purée (plated for a patriotic red, white, and green effect). For my first course, I had the cjalsòns, which were filled with potatoes, speck, and sage, and served in melted butter with pancetta and aged Montasio. Mike ordered the orzotto (barley cooked “risotto-style”) with shrimp and artichokes. Next, I had the goulasch (again, there was no tomato in the sauce, though I did detect some spicy paprika and fennel) served with späetzle verde (tiny German-style spinach dumplings), while Mike had asparagus wrapped in smoked pork with a potato tortino and horseradish sauce. After finishing our meal, we stayed at our table for a long time, delaying the inevitable drive back to Udine.

Once we had returned to Udine, we stopped by several other car agencies, but as I had expected, automatic transmission was simply not available. A period of moodiness followed, as we lay in our hotel room, contemplating whether we should cancel all our plans for the next few days. Finally, Mike got up the nerve to take the car out for another spin. We drove around the block at least a dozen times before returning to the hotel with a bit more confidence.

Udine's Piazza della LibertaOn our way out to dinner, we joined our friends Steno and Liviana at a bar in Piazza della Libertà. Over glasses of prosecco, we chatted and exchanged gifts. I had brought them a batch of homemade cookies with white chocolate chips and dried cranberries—flavors I thought they would find to be rather exotic. Liviana gave me two books: the cookbook Le Ricette Tradizionali di Trieste by Maria Frausin, which I had just seen in a bookstore in Trieste and fortuitously passed over, as well as Guida di Udine by Maurizio Buora, a guide to the city’s history, art, and architecture.

Afterward, Mike and I returned to Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo for dinner. I had the tortellini al ragù (looking back, I’m not sure why I ordered something so un-Friulian—perhaps I just needed a break from my research) and sarde in saor with polenta, while Mike had spaghetti alle vongole and frico con polenta. When we left the restaurant, the sky had darkened, warning us of an impending storm. As lightning flashed to the north and thunder rumbled threateningly, we hurried to make it back to our hotel before the rain started.

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Castello di Gorizia

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , , on April 29, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

Castello di GoriziaThe first time I visited Gorizia, it was a bitterly cold February morning, the sky overcast and gloomy with the threat of impending snow. Now that it was May, conditions were perfect to get my essential—and oft sought-after—“blue sky” shots of the city. I took the train from Udine, and even though it was only mid-morning when I arrived, the sun had already begun to beat down with fierce intensity.

After stopping for a photo of the onion-domed Chiesa di Sant’Ignazio, I headed directly to the hilltop Castello di Gorizia, whose entrance was guarded by a rather morose-looking winged lion of Saint Mark. As I made my way through the medieval castle’s three floors, I encountered few tourists but hordes of schoolchildren. Among the rooms were a kitchen, dining room, chapel, and numerous exhibits of weaponry. The castle’s ramparts afforded a splendid view of the surrounding countryside, even across the border into neighboring Slovenia.

Chiesa di Sant'IgnazioFor lunch, I chose Ristorante Rosenbar based on the description in my guidebook, Ristoranti, Osterie e Frasche del Friuli–Venezia Giulia by Ermanno Torossi, which listed a number of Mitteleuropean dishes at the restaurant. It was therefore a surprise to find that the menu consisted primarily of seafood.

I started with the baccalà mantecato, simply because I find this creamy salt cod purée irresistible. Unfortunately, the portion was rather miniscule, served on a couple cut-out circles of dry white bread. Next, I had the sardoni apanadi (breaded sardines). Locally called sardoni barcolani, these are actually European anchovies—not true sardines—and are plentiful in the waters off Trieste. Butterflied, breaded, and fried, these tiny fish were accompanied by two pieces of asparagus.

For dessert, I wanted to try the koch di semolino con mele (semolina cake with apples) that was listed on the menu, but the waitress informed me that it wasn’t available. So on my way back to the train station, I found a fantastic bakery and bought a slice of kugelhopf. Often called cuguluf in Friuli, this cake is baked in a Bundt pan and may contain raisins, nuts, or a swirl of chocolate. Of course, I chose the chocolate-marbled version.

For dinner that evening, I returned to Udine’s Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo. For the very first time—since my previous trips to Friuli had all been in winter—I was seated in the restaurant’s outdoor courtyard. With a bucolic grapevine-covered trellis overhead, the area provided a tranquil escape from the noise of the city streets. I started with the gnocchi verdi: green, herb-flecked dumplings that were quite rich and doughy. This was followed by salted herring served with onions and polenta. For dessert, I ordered the gubana, a dried fruit- and nut-filled spiral cake that the restaurant served bagnata—soaked in grappa.

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Interview with Gianna Modotti

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on April 22, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

Cividale's Chiesa di San FrancescoMy second meeting with cooking instructor Gianna Modotti was scheduled for mid-afternoon, so I had the entire morning free. As I pondered my options over a late breakfast, I considered going to Tavagnacco, a town not too far from Udine and known for its white asparagus crops; however, after consulting the schedule, I found I had just missed the bus and would have to wait an hour for the next one. So I decided instead to make another quick visit to Cividale—the town was familiar, it had plenty of medieval character, and the train was leaving in 15 minutes. That gave me just enough time to grab my bag and head across the street to the train station.

Every so often over the years, I would occasionally have an “off” day, when plans don’t run smoothly and decision making is virtually impossible. Well, this would turn out to be one of those days. I arrived in Cividale, and after wandering past the town’s main landmarks—the Duomo, the Tempietto Longobardo, and Piazza Paolo Diacono—I discovered a path leading down to the bank of the Natisone River. At the emerald green water’s edge, there was a small, pebbly beach, and I sat here until lunchtime, listening to the rushing of the currents and feeling myself being pulled into a state of inertia.

Cividale's Piazza DiaconoI was hoping to have lunch at Osteria Alla Terrazza, because not only do they serve a number of traditional Friulian dishes, but the atmosphere is friendly and casual—an important consideration when dining alone. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that they were closed on Wednesdays. What followed was a routine that I repeated all too often in my travels: pacing a town’s streets, searching for the “perfect” restaurant. In this case, it was critical that I taste at least one Friulian dish; otherwise, from a research standpoint, it would be a wasted meal. With just over a week left on my trip and still a long list of recipes I needed to sample, my restaurant selection was more important than ever.

To my disappointment, quite a few restaurants in Cividale were closed that day. Of the ones that were open, I couldn’t find a single menu that featured traditional Friulian cuisine. In frustration, I headed back to Udine. Once there, I circled the city center for nearly an hour, unable to settle on anything—every restaurant I passed was either closed or filled with smoke. At long last, I happened upon Osteria Alla Ghiacciaia and was seated at a shady outdoor table overlooking one of Udine’s ancient canals. Able to finally relax, I ordered the herb-filled ravioli, which was topped with melted butter and ricotta affumicata. Next, I enjoyed a plate of white asparagus, abundant this time of year, served with an egg salad dressed lightly with oil and vinegar.

Gianna Bellina ModottiFollowing my late lunch, I had no time to spare before meeting Signora Modotti. On the way, I grabbed a gelato (cioccolato and stracciatella—two of my favorite flavors) to savor on the long walk to her house. She greeted me with the same irresistible smile and, just like the previous afternoon, welcomed me into her home with the warmth and hospitality that I encountered so often in Friuli.

I was prepared with a list of questions that had come up in my efforts to translate recipes from Italian into English—mundane details such as how many grams of baking powder were in a bustina di lievito, and if it was in fact baking powder and not baking soda. I also came prepared with the list of recipes that I intended to include in my book and was relieved to know that it met with her approval.

Cjalsons di PontebbaI began by asking about her childhood growing up in Pontebba, and she responded by giving me her hometown’s recipe for cjalsòns. Each town in northern Friuli has their own version of this filled pasta, and most contain a combination of savory and sweet ingredients. These, however, were unquestionably sweet, with a filling of dried fruit, ricotta, and cinnamon. (Mike and I were planning on attending Pontebba’s Sagra dei Cjalsòns the following week, and I was looking forward to trying those cjalsòns for myself.)

patate in teciaAs we discussed each recipe, many points were clarified. For example, I had apparently mistranslated the instructions for the Triestine dish patate in tecia and ended up having disastrous results trying to flip it like a pancake. Signora Modotti explained that the dish was meant to be stirred rather than flipped—a fact I realized for myself later that week, when Mike and I would be spending several days in Trieste.

GoulaschWhile I appreciated learning her opinions about certain recipes—for instance, she never used pancetta in frico con patate and only used fresh plums in gnocchi di susine—at times it only served to confuse rather than clarify. A good example was the continuing debate over whether Friulian goulasch contained any tomato. I could have sworn I tasted tomato in my very first plate of goulasch and had read several local cookbook recipes that listed either tomato sauce or paste. But ever since then, I had been asking each and every restaurant, only to hear the same answer: never tomato, only paprika. Signora Modotti gave the same response, and so my quest for the truth continued. (By the end of my research process, I did finally receive a satisfactory answer from a small buffet in Trieste. More on this later…)

baccala in rossoAnother burning dilemma was the preparation of baccalà alla Triestina. Some versions were baked while others were cooked on the stovetop. Some recipes called for potatoes, others tomatoes, and still others included olives, anchovies, and/or raisins. To confuse me even further, the term baccalà alla Triestina was also sometimes used for what Venetians call baccalà mantecato. Signora Modotti gave me her recipe, which contained potatoes, anchovies, parsley, parmesan, and tomato paste. (Like the goulasch quandary, it would be some time before I settled upon a recipe that best exemplified the dish. In fact, I decided not to even title it baccalà alla Triestina. Following the lead of Cesare Fonda’s Cucina Triestina, I compromised by using both tomatoes and potatoes and naming it baccalà in rosso, while calling my salt cod purée baccalà in bianco.)

Our meeting lasted four straight hours, and I left with a massive headache. As usual, my concentration was extremely intense as I struggled to follow Signora Modotti’s Italian. Although she spoke the language quite properly—unlike other regions that have distinct dialects, Friulians historically spoke Furlan and learned Italian only while attending school—my fluency was still somewhat lacking, and it took great effort on my part to understand thoroughly all she said.

Being Wednesday, my old stand-by, Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo, was closed, so I ate a quick dinner in the subterranean Osteria Alle Volte: grilled scallops followed by duck breast with asparagus in a balsamic sauce. Perhaps it was the anticipation of Mike’s arrival, but I suddenly realized that for once I was feeling lonely. Most of my trips to Italy had been solo ones, and I genuinely loved the freedom of traveling alone. This time, however, I was truly looking forward to having some company—especially at the dinner table.

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Cooking Class with Gianna Modotti and the Sorelle Simili

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 15, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

Gianna Bellina ModottiAround mid-afternoon on the following day, I took a long walk from my hotel to meet Gianna Bellina Modotti, who ran a cooking school out of her home on Via Palmanova. I fell in love with the elderly woman at first sight. She was tiny, with curly, white hair, sparkling eyes, and a warm smile that lit up the room. Immediately, I wanted to adopt her as my nonna.

Signora Modotti had invited me to attend a cooking class that afternoon as her guest. I was disappointed that the subject was not going to be Friulian cuisine, which was naturally her specialty. Instead, the famous Sorelle Simili were in town teaching a course on pizza and pasta. The twin sisters, Margherita and Valeria, grew up in Bologna, working at the family bakery and later opening their own cooking school. In addition, they traveled throughout Italy teaching cooking courses and were the authors of several popular cookbooks.

Sorelle SimiliThe sisters, also elderly, were slender, wiry, and a bit hunched over from decades of kneading bread. The pair began the lesson by demonstrating their technique for making pizza dough, and with Signora Modotti and her daughter assisting, they turned out several different kinds in a matter of hours: tomato and mozzarella, zucchini and stracchino (a soft, creamy cheese with a slight tang, similar to cream cheese), potato and stracchino, and apple and stracchino. The apple pizza was the most unusual of the bunch; sprinkled with sugar and a splash of rum, it would definitely qualify as a dessert.

Sorelle SimiliIn addition, the sisters prepared a calzone-like focaccia farcita all scarola that was stuffed with escarole, raisins, capers, pine nuts, olives, and anchovies, as well as a pasta dish from their native Emilia-Romagna, roselline romagnole. For the latter, the sisters demonstrated their herculean strength by rolling the pasta dough by hand using a rolling pin as long as a broom handle. I was amazed at how paper-thin they were able to roll the dough without using a machine! The dough was cut into rectangles and layered with slices of prosciutto cotto (cooked ham), mortadella, and Fontina. After a sprinkling of Parmigiano-Reggiano, these were rolled up jellyroll-style and sliced in half. Cuts were made in one end of each roll to give it the appearance of a flower. Finally, the little “roses” were baked in a béchamel sauce laced with a little tomato paste.

By the end of the five-hour class, my brain was exhausted from struggling to follow the instructors’ Italian, and I was perspiring from the heat of Signora Modotti’s basement kitchen. Even though it was past my dinnertime, I was quite sated from all of the delicious pizza and pasta samples. Nevertheless, I stopped on my way back to Hotel Principe to indulge in a refreshing gelato di limone.

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Food Shopping in Udine

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , on April 8, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

Udine's Torre dell'OrologioTraveling to do research for a cookbook sounds like a dream job, but in fact, it can be hard to keep up the pace. With a limited schedule, I usually found myself running nonstop, visiting a different town each day and attempting to see as many of the sights as humanly possible. Occasionally, though, I needed to give myself a break. This was one of those days, in between my excursion to Arta Terme and my upcoming meeting with cooking instructor Gianna Modotti.

I decided to spend the morning exploring Udine’s markets, bakeries, and food shops. I began in Piazza Matteotti, whose farmer’s market stands were overflowing with a bounty of spring produce: mushrooms, fava beans, artichokes, and the celebrated white asparagus from Tavagnacco. (This market has recently been relocated to the newly renovated Piazza XX Settembre.) From there, I headed to my favorite cheese shop, La Baita, where I bought an etto (100 grams) each of the three types of Montasio: fresco, mezzano, and stagionato. Next, I wandered a bit more around the city center, peeking into every food shop and bakery I passed. I ended up buying some prosciutto di Sauris and formaggio di malga at Alimentari Tami Galliano and a selection of small rolls—zucca, noci, patate e rosmarino, and patate e formaggio—at Panificio Pasticceria Bacchetti.

When the shops began closing their doors for the afternoon, I returned to my room at Hotel Principe for a picnic lunch. I unwrapped my cheeses and spread my feast before me on the bed. The sight was mouthwatering. As it was still too early in the season for fresh formaggio di malga (cheese produced during the summer in the mountain dairies of Carnia), the slice I had purchased had been aging since the previous summer. It was quite firm and had a flavor reminiscent of aged Asiago.

Montasio cheeseThe three types of Montasio were easy to discern. The fresco (aged 2 to 4 months) was soft, creamy, and white in color, with a mild, delicate flavor. The mezzano (aged 5 to 10 months) was golden in color, firmer, and a bit more piquant. The stagionato (aged over 10 months) was extremely sharp and hard like Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano.

Produced at the Wolf Sauris factory in Sauris di Sotto, the prosciutto was sweet with just a hint of smokiness. The rolls were soft and fresh from the oven—the potato rosemary roll went especially well with the cheese and prosciutto, while the pumpkin roll with walnuts and raisins made a nice dessert.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon sorting my notes and reading through my new Friulian cookbooks. Earlier on this trip, I purchased Vecchia e Nuova Cucina di Carnia by Gianni Cosetti and Friuli in Cucina by Adriano Del Fabro. Today, I added to my growing collection the heavy tome La Cucina del Friuli–Venezia Giulia by Alessandro Molinari Pradelli—an encyclopedic compendium of Friulian recipes. By now I had compiled a list of those recipes that I felt were most characteristic of the region and that I planned to include in Flavors of Friuli. In addition to tasting those dishes in restaurants, my goal was to gather as many published recipes as possible, in order to jump-start the recipe-testing process once I returned home.

Osteria Al Vecchio StalloFor dinner that night, I was determined to try someplace new. My plan “A” was a restaurant I had read about in my guidebook called Trattoria All’Allegria, but unfortunately it was closed—or rather nonexistent behind a wall of plywood and scaffolding. (It reopened several years later as a chic hotel and restaurant.) My plan “B” was the nearby Osteria Al Canarino; however, this one turned out to be filled with smoke and old men—not a comfortable environment for me. (Anti-smoking laws were not passed until the following year, 2005.) Therefore, predictably, I ended up back at Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo, where I felt right at home. I started with a bowl of sfregolotz agli spinaci. A recipe I had discovered in Gianni Cosetti’s cookbook only that afternoon, these were misshapen, pea-sized, emerald-green gnocchi topped with ricotta affumicata. Next, I ordered the cevapcici: tiny, finger-shaped sausages that are especially popular in the neighboring Slavic countries. They were served with polenta, chopped onion, baby greens, and a bitter red pepper purée called ajvar.

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San Daniele: Ristorante Alle Vecchie Carceri

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 1, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

Ristorante Alle Vecchie CarceriThe morning after the Arta Terme festival, I returned to Udine. My bus pulled in promptly at noon, and my plan was to enjoy a leisurely lunch somewhere in the city and spend the afternoon practicing la dolce far niente. But after dropping off my bags at Hotel Principe, located conveniently next door to the bus station, I made the impromptu decision to return to the station and grab a bus to San Daniele. The ride would take only 45 minutes, and I would arrive just in time to have lunch at one of my favorite restaurants, Ristorante Alle Vecchie Carceri.

On my previous visit, I had shown up—in typical American fashion—precisely as the restaurant was opening to find myself the only customer. This time, however, the restaurant was filled with happy diners, the air abuzz with conversation. Since it was rather late, not to mention busy, I was seated all by myself in the courtyard, which was disappointing at first but ultimately turned out to be quite pleasant and peaceful. Vines of ivy covered the gray stone walls of the former prison, while a border of pink flowers in terracotta pots awarded the impression of a Mediterranean garden.

To start, I was served the chef’s complimentary appetizer of a small mound of polenta topped by two wafers of frico croccante (Montasio cheese crisps), a pile of ricotta affumicata (smoked ricotta cheese), and a sprinkling of poppy seeds. This was followed by an antipasto plate of white asparagus tips, ricotta affumicata, anchovies, capers, and more wafers of frico croccante. Next, I had intended on trying something new but could not bring myself to pass up the irresistible cjalsòns: round, plump ravioli, shaped rather like flying saucers, with a filling made with mashed potatoes, caramelized onion, and raisins. The cjalsòns were served in a generous pool of melted butter and topped with cinnamon, sugar, and ricotta affumicata. Cinnamon sticks and piles of raisins garnished the plate. To finish, I ordered the torta di mele, an individual apple cake, served warm and topped with toasted pine nuts, whipped cream, and a drizzle of vanilla and caramel sauces. As an added touch, the plate was garnished with an artsy stencil of powdered sugar in the design of two forks.

San Daniele in CastelloAfter lunch, I took a walk to the Chiesa di San Daniele in Castello and was pleased to find the church open (unlike my last visit). Under a pane of glass in the floor, I was able to view some of the ruins of the medieval castle that once stood on this site. Next, I revisited the tiny Chiesa di Sant’Antonio Abate, a true gem of a church, often referred to as the “Sistine Chapel of Friuli” for the vividly colored fresco cycle by Pellegrino da San Daniele.

Back in Udine that evening, I returned to Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo for dinner. Of all the restaurants in the city, I found their menu to offer the greatest variety of traditional Friulian dishes, and it had become a personal challenge to work my way through their daily-changing menu.

To begin, I ordered gnocchi di Sauris, which were essentially gnocchi di pane (bread dumplings similar to German semmelknödel) with the addition of some chopped prosciutto di Sauris. In the style typical of Friulian gnocchi, they were served in melted butter and topped with ricotta affumicata; however, like much of the gnocchi served at Al Vecchio Stallo, I found them to be rather heavy and bland. Next, I had the pitina all’aceto balsamico, a variation on the traditional salame all’aceto, where slices of salami are sautéed (often with onions), simmered in vinegar, and served with polenta. This version used pitina, a cured meat from the mountains of Pordenone province that is often made with mutton, goat, or venison. The seasoned, ground meat is rolled into balls, dredged in cornmeal, and placed above a fogolâr (fireplace) to smoke. The pitina comes out gamey and smoky, and the vinegar in the dish helps to cut the fattiness.

Here is my version of salame all’aceto, which may be prepared with any type of salami you like:

Salame all'aceto2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
8 ounces salami (about 2 inches diameter), sliced into eight 1/2-inch rounds
1/4 cup red wine vinegar

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion; cook and stir until it begins to soften, about 8–10 minutes. Add the salami slices; cook until brown, about 3–5 minutes on each side. Add the vinegar. Reduce heat to low; simmer until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 5 minutes. Serve with polenta.

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Pordenone and Sacile

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , , on March 6, 2013 | 1 Comment »

PordenoneIt was now May—the type of sunny spring morning that soothes you with warm breezes and energizes you with the scent of anticipation. The previous evening, I had arrived in Udine after my routine 5-hour train ride from Milano. Mike would be joining me in about a week, but for now I was on my own. After a leisurely breakfast of frutti di bosco yogurt and a roll with apricot jam, I crossed the street to the train station for my first trip to Pordenone.

The ride was short, about 30 minutes. I could tell we were approaching the city as the train crossed the Noncello River and began to slow down. Walking through the streets toward the centro storico, the feeling was urban, modern, and uninspiring. Once I reached the main thoroughfare, Corso Vittorio Emanuele, the mood changed. Elegant shops and endless porticoes lined this bustling yet somehow tranquil street. Most remarkable were the Venetian-style palazzi, whose façades were decorated with vivid frescoes. Some were in disrepair, the paint faded and peeling, but others had been restored to their original brilliant colors. At the end of the Corso, stylish city folk took their espresso breaks in an al fresco café facing the Palazzo Comunale. This town hall building, also known as the Municipio, featured two pinnacle-topped towers and a clock with symbols of the zodiac. Across the piazza towered the campanile of the Duomo di San Marco. Inside the church, the congregation was preparing for the inauguration of a restored 18th-century organ.

It was still early, so I continued walking a little further toward the river, which was bordered on both sides by a stretch of trees. Under the bridge, ducks were napping in the shade alongside the emerald green waters. Here, it felt like a bucolic oasis as the city’s noise and traffic faded away. I sat on the bank and rested my legs until I heard the church bells chime noon.

Vecia Osteria del MoroEarlier, the wrought-iron sign of Vecia Osteria del Moro caught my eye, so I headed straight there for lunch. I was also attracted by the menu posted outside which listed many traditional dishes; inside, however, I found there to be no written menu at all. Instead, the smartly-dressed waiter rapidly recited a list of three or four choices each of antipasti, primi, and secondi. I always find great pleasure in perusing a menu at my leisure, taking my time to make a decision, so these no-menu situations typically leave me rather flummoxed. While the casual style is something I appreciate in theory, in practice my brain tends to exert all its effort in translation—so that by the time the list is finished, I’ve already forgotten many of the choices.

Being the season for white asparagus, my ears perked up at the mention of an appetizer of those tender ivory stalks wrapped in prosciutto, as well as a pasta course of three mezzalune stuffed with asparagus and cheese. I also had the baccalà alla Vicentina, which was served with grilled polenta. It was a familiar dish, typical of the province, Pordenone having been part of the Venetian Republic longer than the rest of Friuli. Unfortunately, this version was tough with lots of bones.

On my way back to the train station, I took a detour to find the unusual campanile of San Giorgio—a tall, Doric column capped by a statue of Saint George atop a ball. Then, from Pordenone, I took another train westward to the town of Sacile.

SacileBuilt at a fork in the Livenza River, the town sits amid a small network of canals and bridges, shaded by willow trees and Venetian-style palazzi. It was quite a walk from the station into the centro storico. Just like Pordenone, the streets were lined with graceful porticoes, but here there was much more greenery about. No wonder Sacile was once dubbed the “Garden of the Serenissima,” suggesting a resemblance to the region’s former capital, Venice.

By this time of day, all stores were closed. There was an air of calm about the town. The breezes off the river felt refreshing in the mid-afternoon sun. As I approached the Duomo di San Nicolò, I noticed a series of yellow markers hanging across the river; as it turns out, kayaking is very popular here. Further on, as I stood admiring the tiny, hexagonal Chiesa della Madonna della Pietà, I noticed the soft melody of birds chirping in the trees. How appropriate, considering that Sacile hosts an annual festival of songbirds called the Sagra dei Osei.

Back in Udine, I headed out for dinner. The air now held that indefinable scent of impending rain. The sky was growing dark, as it should at 7:00pm, but I sensed a storm in the near future. Not wanting to get caught in a downpour, I hurried to the nearest familiar restaurant, Osteria Alle Volte, where the dishes are always refined and interesting, even if not traditional Friulian. Down a set of steps from the street, the dining room gave the impression of an underground cave, with stone walls and a vaulted ceiling. To start, I ordered the timbale di polenta e Montasio, a precisely molded mound of warm polenta and cheese, surrounded by rolled slices of icy cold smoked goose breast, drizzled with balsamic vinegar, and served on a bed of arugula. Next I had the cjalsòns—four large half-moons of pasta filled with a tangy cheese, swimming in melted butter, and topped with ricotta affumicata.

When I emerged from the subterranean dining room, the streets were damp and the air still moist from the showers that I had fortunately missed. Groups of men wearing olive green Alpine hats milled about the Piazza della Libertà. Preparations were underway for the upcoming weekend’s beer festival; however, I had a different agenda—the next day I would be going to Arta Terme for the Festa dell’Asparago di Bosco, del Radicchio di Montagna e dei Funghi di Primavera.

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Carnevale in Muggia

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , , , on February 25, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

Muggia's Piazza MarconiThere was to be no respite from the weather—it was still pouring rain on this final Sunday of Carnevale. My plans were to watch the famous mask parade in Muggia, so I set out, braving the elements once again. I took the train to Trieste, then a bus to the town of Muggia. When I finally arrived, several hours later, I was perplexed to find no crowds milling around waiting for the parade to begin. Did I have the right date? Yes, large banners advertising the celebration lined the streets along my route to the city center. I reached Piazza Marconi where, on an unassuming, white memo posted outside the orange and yellow municipal building, I read the words: the parade was cancelled, rained out, postponed until the following Sunday. My spirits sank. The very next day I had to return to Milano for my flight home, so I would miss the Carnevale Muggesano.

Carnevale MuggesanoAs I wandered around in disbelief, struggling to come to terms with this latest setback, I stumbled into Muggia’s tourist office. It was filled with memorabilia from past parades; tables were covered with boxes of snapshots and postcards for sale. I rummaged through, trying to imagine myself in the midst of the action. Instead of the typical Carnevale images of masked figures in elegant Baroque attire, Muggia’s parade seemed to be characterized by bizarre and quirky themes—townspeople were costumed as cartoon figures, farm animals, and platters of food. The other thing that stood out was the absence of masks. I learned that Muggia has forbidden the use of masks in its parade, except when absolutely necessary.

My disappointment was slightly mitigated when one of the representatives offered me a free CD of official photos from the previous year’s parade. Feeling slightly more cheerful but not in the mood to scope out a new restaurant in the rain, I headed back to the unfortunately named Lilibontempo Trattoria Ex-Hitler for lunch. When I had dined here on my first trip to Muggia, I received a warm welcome from the owner, who had spoken in length about the region’s cuisine and described in full detail the preparations of two recipes. This time, the restaurant was packed, and Lili was preoccupied—too much so to remember me, it seemed. I ordered the same dish as before, the Gran Piatto Istria, a lackluster assortment of local seafood specialties. Then, after an hour’s effort, I finally grabbed Lili’s attention long enough to get my check and pay my bill.

Osteria Al Vecchio StalloAfter a return bus to Trieste and train to Udine, it was nearly time for dinner. Once again, I walked through the door into Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo precisely at 7:00pm. Instead of being seated at what was becoming my table, I was seated in the bar area. It was still the weekend, and they were booked with 8:00 reservations. I started with an order of gnocchi di susine (plum-filled dumplings). As I cut my way into the first of three giant balls of potato dough, my fork finally found a small prune in the center. The dough was thick and bland, and I longed for more fruit. Melted butter and cinnamon added some sweetness but did little to enhance the overall flavor. My sarde in saor that followed were much tastier. The sardines were huge, marinated in vinegar and onions and served with polenta. Anti-smoking laws had not been passed yet (that happened the following year in 2005), so I was anxious to finish my meal as quickly as possible. I was, in fact, out the door by the time the 8:00 dinner rush arrived.

My mood was somber on my walk back to my hotel. Not only did I miss out on what had promised to be a fantastic Carnevale celebration, but my trip was coming to a close. The next day I would endure the five-hour journey back to Milano, where I would make my usual rounds of visiting the Duomo and getting an order of melanzane alla parmigiana from Rosticceria Fontana. After an early bedtime and restless night sleep, I would wheel my single piece of luggage across a dark, deserted Piazza del Duomo to catch the first airport shuttle to Linate. Although I was anxious to return to the comforts of home, I was already looking forward to my next trip three months later.

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Carnia in Winter

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , , on February 12, 2013 | 1 Comment »

Tolmezzo's DuomoLast night at dinner, my friend Liviana had mentioned it might be snowing in Carnia today, so I dressed in extra layers. Five layers on top and three on the bottom may have been overkill, but the past few days were close to freezing! I sat on the upper level of the double-decker bus for an optimal view of the landscape. Zooming along the autostrada, we spotted the town Gemona del Friuli in the distance, crossed the Tagliamento River, and then bored through mountain tunnels to arrive—50 minutes later—in Tolmezzo, the gateway to the Carnian Alps.

A short walk brought me to the center of town and the Duomo di San Martino. With a modern façade completed in 1931, this 18th-century church features a gold-gilded white interior and an angel perched atop its campanile. Snow-capped mountains loomed overhead as I strolled along the town’s narrow streets. Every so often, a few flakes of snow drifted from the overcast sky.

After my brief walk, I made my way back to the bus terminal and took the next bus to Arta Terme, only 15 minutes away. Unfortunately, it seemed that everything in this tiny town was closed except for the tourist office. There, I got the information I needed about the festival (Festa dell’asparago di bosco, del radicchio di montagna e dei funghi di primavera) that I was hoping to attend in May. Next, after a 20-minute hike to Piano d’Arta, the upper half of Arta Terme, I was disappointed to find everything closed there as well. (As I would later learn, summer is peak season for most towns in Carnia, with the exception of those with ski resorts such as Ravascletto and Forni di Sopra.)

I returned to Tolmezzo just in time for lunch and chose Antica Trattoria Cooperativa for its variety of traditional dishes. Although it is not typically Friulian, I ordered a pasta dish called casunziei simply because it sounded so intriguing. Typical of the Dolomites in the neighboring Veneto region, these half-moons of thick pasta were filled with fresh ricotta tinted bright pink with beets, served in bubbly brown butter, and sprinkled with poppy seeds and ricotta affumicata (smoked ricotta cheese). I also chose to partake in the restaurant’s elaborate self-service buffet of side dishes, filling my plate with potatoes, onions, tomatoes, carrots, zucchini, eggplant, artichokes, and beans.

Afterwards, I got up the nerve to ask for the casunziei recipe. The owner, Patrizia Bonora, responded, “Non c’è problema, fra 5 minuti.” So I waited and waited, but she didn’t seem to have any minuti to spare. As I lingered at my table, a scruffy, old man in the corner asked the waitress in his rasping wheeze for “un cognac, così buono come Lei” (a cognac, as good as you). Feeling a bit uncomfortable with his sleazy vibe and afraid he would start hitting on me next, I approached Patrizia with the excuse that I needed to catch my bus, and we agreed to stay in touch. I never did get that recipe!

Osteria Al Vecchio StalloWhen I arrived back in Udine, it was still extremely cold and windy. After a brief late afternoon nap—from which I always found it difficult to rouse myself, especially on dark, winter evenings—I set out for what was becoming my customary fall-back, Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo. It was early—seven o’clock sharp—and the wrought-iron lamp above the door had just flickered on.

The waiter, beginning to recognize me as a regular, showed me to the same table as my last couple dinners. The elderly signora was already seated in her usual corner spot, tucking into a bowl of comfort food. Craving something warm and comforting myself, I ordered orzo e fagioli (barley and bean soup), followed by the baccalà con polenta. This salt cod stew was simmered in milk with notes of cheese and cinnamon, deliciously salty and creamy without being overly fishy. As I would later learn from chef Mario, the dish was based upon the recipe for baccalà alla Vicentina. Just like the casunziei I enjoyed at lunchtime, it was one of many dishes that had made its way from the Veneto into the kitchens of Friuli.

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Gorizia: A First Glimpse

Posted in Travel in Friuli, tagged , , , , , , , on February 4, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

Gorizia's Chiesa di Sant'IgnazioAfter good night sleep, I woke to sound of rain pattering against the shutters. At breakfast, the server, Luciana, said there had even been a light dusting of snow at daybreak. Fortunately, by the time I left Hotel Principe and crossed the street to the train station, the pounding rain had turned to a mere drizzle. This would be my first visit to Gorizia, located on the Slovenian border and one of Friuli’s provincial capitals.

On the train ride, I was struck by an unusual sight: a giant chair, several stories high, sitting by the side of the road. It turns out that we were passing by the Italian Chair District, often called the Triangolo della Sedia (Chair Triangle), as it is made up of three towns, Manzano, San Giovanni al Natisone, and Corno di Rosazzo. Reportedly, 80% of Italian-made chairs are produced here—including, as it turns out, the ones sitting in our San Francisco dining room.

From Gorizia’s train station, it was about a half-hour walk to the center of town. Digital signs recorded the temperature at 5°C. I stopped briefly to visit the rather plain, white-washed Duomo but was more interested in seeing the stunning Chiesa di Sant’Ignazio. Recognizable from afar by its set of blue onion domes, the church opens up to a Baroque explosion in gold, amber, and rosewood hues.

Gorizia's CastelloAfter pausing to admire a row of purple and white cabbages gracing Piazza della Vittoria, I hiked to the hilltop Borgo Castello, the medieval district dominated by a fortified castle dating back to the 11th century. Given the gloomy weather, I decided to forego the castle tour on this visit. (My next trip, planned for May, would see clear skies and a more expansive view from the castle’s ramparts.) As well, Gorizia’s oldest church, Chiesa di Santo Spirito, was closed.

For lunch, I headed to Trattoria Gostilna Alla Luna, where I was hoping to taste some of the region’s Slavic-inspired dishes. Given Gorizia’s proximity to Slovenia, the city has adopted many Slavic words and customs: a gostilna is the Slovenian counterpart to the Italian trattoria or osteria. To start, I ordered gnocchi di pane, which is Friuli’s version of the German semmelknödel. These oval bread dumplings were served con sugo all’arrosto, in a light, brothy gravy. Next I was pleased to try cevapcici—tiny, grilled sausages that were inspired by the Middle Eastern spiced meat patties brought to southeastern Europe by the Ottoman Turks. Especially popular in the Slavic countries, they are even considered a national dish in Bosnia, Serbia, and Bulgaria. These cevapcici were served with grilled polenta and a rather bitter red bell pepper sauce called ajvar.

It had become my custom, as part of my research, to ask restaurants and bakeries about their recipes. Until this day, I had always been welcomed warmly, and most Friulians seemed thrilled that an outsider had taken an interest in their local cuisine. (In fact, just the previous day, a bakery in Cividale had given me the gift of a cookbook.) Today, however, was the first—and only—time that my inquiries were ever met with disregard. When I asked the waitress if she might tell me how the cevapcici were made, she responded with a smirk, “No,” and disappeared to a corner where I spied her whispering to the other staff.

The day was so frosty—both the weather and the waitress’s reaction—I decided to take the train straight back to Udine. On my way to the station, my friend Steno called to invite me to dinner, along with his wife, Liviana.

That evening, the pair picked me up at my hotel and drove to Hostaria Alla Tavernetta, where I had recently dined alone on Valentine’s Day (and there had been a mix-up with my order). This meal would turn out to be so much more enjoyable! Steno strongly recommended the orzotto ai funghi (barley cooked in the style of risotto, with mushrooms) followed by guanciale di maiale (pig cheeks) served with potatoes, both puréed and roasted. To finish, we shared a tray of pineapple slices for dessert—this seemed to be an exotic treat for the couple.

Flavors of FriuliIt was during this meal that I started formulating the structure of my book, and Liviana was my inspiration. She spoke in great length about the region’s cuisine and described what were, in her opinion, four culinary regions: Venezia Giulia (Gorizia and Trieste, plus the entire coast), Carnia (plus the Giulian Alps), Friuli (Udine and the Collio), and Pordenone. Later on, I decided to simplify it a step further and settled upon three geographical areas: northern mountains, central hills and plains, and southern coastline. Over the next year and a half, I would continue to explore the nooks and crannies of glorious Friuli-Venezia Giulia, falling in love at every step of the way.

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