Pot Roast Italian Style: Brasato all'Amarone

Hello everyone! Sorry for yet another long delay between posts. I've been settling in for the last few weeks of my trip here in Rome, mostly trying to get some translation work done.

While the weather here is still pretty warm, it is definitely beginning to feel like Fall (even moreso back in Cassino, which is where I took the pictures for this post). To me, Fall is the time for hearty, slow cooking dishes--which also have the added benefit of keeping your kitchen roasty-toasty. To that end, I decided to make the northern Italian version of pot roast: Brasato all'Amarone.

As usual, mine did not turn out quite so pretty

This recipe isn't complicated, but it does have a fairly long list of ingredients, and you do need to start it a day in advance. Now, the traditional way to make this recipe would be with a bottle of Amarone wine, and a nice rump roast. I went in a slightly different direction, mainly out of necessity. First, Amarone is hideously expensive, even here in Italy. Perhaps if I lived in Venice I could find an affordable bottle, but I was not about to spend more than 30 Euro (on the low end!) on a bottle of wine that was going to be used for cooking. Instead, I went with a Valpolicella Ripasso, which is a close relative of Amarone.

I don't know whether this label is available in the US, but you should be able to find a Ripasso of some kind in most liquor stores.

These wines are prepared in a slightly different fashion, which is what helps to give this dish its distinctive flavor. The grapes used to make Amarone are allowed to shrivel substantially on the vine, partially turning them into raisins and concentrating their flavor. In a Valpolicella Ripasso--made from the same type of grapes as Amarone--the grape juice is poured over the crushed grape skins from Amarone, imparting some of that concentrated flavor. The best part is that a Ripasso will run you around $15 a bottle (though you could spend more), and you'll still get some of that Amarone flavor that would be absent from any other type of wine. I also used a different cut of meat. The meat selection at my local grocery store varied greatly from week to week, and most of the time they had no type of beef roasts whatsoever. I eventually settled for one labelled "Muscolo di Bovino"--Beef Muscle.

Presumably it could be found on this chart...somewhere

It worked out pretty well, though the meat was a bit dry when it was all said and done. The sauce, however, was incredible, making me confident that with the right cut of meat this would be a home run. Here are all the ingredients that you'll need: ~2lb rump roast (I used one about half this size, and I'm sure you could go a bit bigger without changing anything else), at least one bottle of Valpolicella Ripasso (You need a whole bottle for the cooking, and if you want wine to drink with dinner, you want to drink the same thing), 2 onions, 2 shallots, 2 carrots, 1 stalk of celery, whole cloves (I used 3), whole dried juniper berries (I used 7, and they should be available in the spice aisle), 1 bay leaf (I actually got to use fresh, but dried will work fine), 1 sprig of rosemary, ~1 tbsp butter, some flour, and of course salt, pepper, and olive oil. As I mentioned, you'll need to start this recipe a day in advance in order to give the meat plenty of time to marinate. I let it go a full 24 of hours and it was fine, so don't be afraid to give your roast a long soak. To begin, make all of your veggies and spices go from this...

to this.

Leave the clove whole, but crush the juniper berries a bit in your fingers.

Take all those lovely veggies and put them in a pot (or other container) with the entire bottle of wine, about a tbsp of olive oil, and the rump roast.

Cover, put it into the fridge, and walk away for a good long time, at the bare minimum overnight. When this mixture has had a nice long time to get acquainted, take out the beef, pat dry with some paper towels, and then dredge through some flour liberally salted and peppered. Brown the floured beef on all sides in a sautè pan/braiser/dutch oven (again, cast iron would be ideal here) in a little olive oil.

Once nicely browned, pour in the marinade with all the veggies and herbs. You don't want the meat to be completely submerged; somewhere around 3/4 of the way is probably ideal.

This would probably have been better with a larger cut of meat.

Bring the pot to a simmer, put on the lid, and then simmer for the next 3 hours. After the meat has cooked through, remove the roast from the pot. If you have an immersion blender now is the perfect time. If not, a fine sieve would work well too. I sadly had neither, and so had to make do with a colander. You want to pass this sauce through your sieve (or just blend it up), after having removed the bay leaf and the woody stalk from the rosemary. This should make your sauce nice and thick; if it's still too thin, you can add a bit of flour. Finally, add the butter to the sauce, and slice the roast into rounds and return it to the sauce. Taste to adjust the seasoning (you may need some more salt and pepper). Serve with a nice soft polenta, or some mashed potatoes. The sauce had a great herby, earthy flavor, with some brightness added by the menthol-y flavors of the bay leaf. As I mentioned earlier the meat wound up being a bit tough for me, but with a quality roast I seriously doubt this would be the case.

My sauce wasn't quite as silky smooth as I'd have liked, thanks to the lack of a sieve or blender, but it tasted damn good.

Seriously, give this a try this Fall/Winter. There are a lot of ingredients and you need to start the night before, but it's super simple in execution. I had to fudge so many things and I was still happy with it; imagine if you did it the right way!

Until next time!

Kings of Wines, Wines of Kings: Piemonte

Hello again readers! I've been doing quite a bit of grading for my class lately and, as any grad student knows, this is a task made much easier with a glass of wine in your hand. So, it seemed like a good time for a new wine post. Facebook also keeps reminding me that it's been seven years (groan...) since I was first in Italy during my semester abroad in Alba, a small town in the Piemonte region, near Torino. I thought I'd use this post to talk about the famous wines of this northern region, often considered to be the best in Italy.

Before Italy unified in the 1860s Piemonte was part of the Kingdom of Piedmont-Sardinia, ruled from Torino (better known in English as Turin, of Shroud fame) by the House of Savoy. These Savoy kings would go on to unite Italy into the modern country (with the help of Count Cavour and General Garibaldi, of course), and for a brief time the new country was actually ruled from this northern capital.

Piemonte is home to a large number of DOC and DOCG wines, and several of these are considered among the best wines of the world (and certainly the most well-known). Along with Toscano and Veneto, it's one of the principal wine regions of the country (in terms of quality, if not in volume).. Let's start with the inspiration for the title of the post: Barolo.

The areas of Piemonte that have DOC and DOCG regulations

Often referred to as "the king of wines and the wine of kings" thanks to its popularity among the nobility of Savoy Torino, Barolo is the most well-known Piemontese wine, though in terms of volume it is extremely low. One of the first Italian wines to receive DOCG status, Barolo has a number of very strict production guidelines, including a lengthy aging period (38+ months, 18+ of which must be in wood barrels rather than the bottles) and a very limited geographic zone of production (as you can see above. The area is only 5 miles across at its widest point). Furthermore, the wine must be made of 100% Nebbiolo grapes. This grape is the most famous in Piemonte, and is also notoriously difficult to grow properly, budding early and ripening very late, and requiring a very dry climate just before harvest in late October. In addition to the difficulties in producing the wine, Barolo really needs to be aged for a significant amount of time after release to really be ready to drink, due to the very high levels of harsh tannins. A decade may be long enough, but the best vintages can hold up for much, much longer, half a century or more. These wines tend to be bold and intense, with lots of earthy notes along with some fruit, depending on the producer and the style. The stereotypical way to describe the aroma is "tar and roses". The small volume of production, need for long aging, and international reputation mean that Barolo doesn't come even remotely cheap; expect to spend at least $100 on a ready-to-drink bottle of the good stuff, and the sky is the limit from there. I honestly can't make a recommendation for what producer to try, as this is well outside of my price range (even here in Italy you won't find a decent bottle for under 50 euro), and quite frankly unless you are a real oenophile it's probably not worth the price of entry, except maybe as a display of conspicuous consumption to those around you. All that being said, while Barolo is undoubtedly the top dog in Piemonte, there are lots more choices that come with much less sticker shock, and much more value.

A glass and decanter of Barolo. Note the light color, which is a characteristic of the Nebbiolo grape.

If Barolo is the king of wines, then Barbaresco--a close relative--would be the queen. Produced in an even smaller zone just to the north and east of Barolo, Barbaresco shares a number of characteristics with its sibling. It too must adhere to strict geographic limitations (a zone even smaller than Barolo) and aging requirements (2 years total, at least 1 of which must be in the bottle), and it too must be 100% Nebbiolo. Compared to Barolo, Barbaresco tends to be more approachable at a much younger age. Though still very tannic, these tannins tend to soften years earlier, the tradeoff being that they won't be able to age for quite as long. It's all relative though; you still want a bottle with 5+ years on it generally speaking, and a good bottle will still hold up for about 20 years. As for cost, for the very best examples you would still need to spend hundreds. But, you can get an excellent bottle of "Produttori del Barbaresco" for $20-30. This bottling is made by several of the Barbaresco producers in concert with one another, rather than only being from a single estate. 2010 was a particularly excellent year for Nebbiolo grapes, and is just hitting the sweet spot now. It will hold up for another decade at least, as well. I've had this specific bottle before, and it's probably the best wine I've ever tried. Expect intense, spicy aromas, with a good amount of fruit along with more spice on the palate. I'd also recommend decanting (or at least uncorking the bottle and pouring a bit into a glass, to increase the surface area) for at least 2 hours before drinking, as this really lets the wine open up a bit. If you don't, the tannins can be overpowering.

The 2011 is also quite good, and the 2006 should be *superb*, if you can find it

In addition to these two powerhouses, you can also find wines simply named "Nebbiolo", made of the same grapes and often in the same locations as Barolo and Barbaresco, but that don't adhere to the same production guidelines. These wines are meant to be consumed much younger (within a few years of bottling, usually), and accordingly they tend to be much more fruit-forward and approachable. You may be asking yourself how much of the differences between these three Nebbiolo-based wines are based on snobbery and people with more money than sense. This is probably partly true, and consumer expectations certainly can shape the wines that get made. In addition, however, some grapes are much more susceptible than others to variations in geography and climate (referred to as terroir), and Nebbiolo happens to be one of those grapes. The Piemonte region also varies greatly over small distances, unsurprising given that is at the foot of the Alps.

Nebbiolo is hardly the only grape grown in Piemonte, even if it is used in the most famous wines. One of the local favorites of the region is Dolcetto, which translates to "little sweet one." Make no mistake though, the wine is definitely dry. This grape is typically grown on the less desirable areas of vineyards, where Nebbiolo would typically not thrive. The grape is much easier to grow, and the resulting wine much less fussy than those mentioned above. It is also much darker in color, much more purple than the brick reds of Nebbiolo wines. You can expect flavors of black fruits (think black cherry, raisin, prune, etc.), still with a healthy serving of tannins. Unlike Barolo or Barbaresco, these wines are definitely not meant to be aged, and you should be looking for bottles that are just a few years old. Expect to pay $13-20 for a bottle in the US. Dolcetto is easy to drink and fairly light, so don't overthink it. Order a pizza and drink up.

Compare this color to the Barolo above

The last of the major red varieties produced in Piemonte is Barbera. One of my personal favorites, Barbera is another varietal that is much more for everyday drinking rather than special occasions.  In some ways it's the opposite of Dolcetto: it has flavors of red fruits and berries instead of black fruits, and has pretty low tannins and high acidity, instead of higher tannins and low(ish) acidity. The high acidity means that it pairs well with lots of foods. It's planted in other regions of Italy as well, and is one of the highest volume grapes in the country. Unlike most other Piemonte grapes, it's also grown around the world, with excellent examples even from the East Coast of the US (try Woodhall's, from Maryland!). For a Barbera d'Alba or Barbera d'Asti, you can expect to spend $13-20, though you can spend much more if you want to.

In addition to these very well known reds, Piemonte produces several world-class white wines. The most famous of these is now simply known as "Asti", though you probably know it better as Asti Spumante. This is a sparkling wine similar in some ways to Champagne, though it gets its carbonation in a different manner. This wine is made from the Moscato grape, and is often made as a sweet dessert wine. Like many sparkling wines, Asti is generally produced as "non vintage," meaning that no year is indicated on the label. This means that the product is going to be pretty consistent, bottle to bottle, year after year. In the US, you'll find this bottle in almost any liquor store, for under $20 a bottle.

Related to Asti is a wine called Moscato d'Asti, also made from Moscato grapes and also generally a sweet wine. The biggest difference is the level of carbonation. Where Asti is very carbonated, Moscato d'Asti is known as "frizzante," fizzy. Think Coca Cola vs. San Pellegrino and you've got the idea. This can be quite a tasty wine, and much higher quality than much of the Moscato that occupies so much US shelf space. The "d'Asti" part is important, as this means that the wine is made in the Piemonte area and not just from the Moscato grape. Even Cupcake makes a Moscato d'Asti these days, so you don't have to break the bank for something authentic if you like sweet wines.

Just not this. NEVER THIS.

To finish up, I want to touch on a white wine that I discovered over the summer from Piemonte. Unlike the above two, this is a dry rather than a sweet wine, and it's produced a bit farther to the east in Piemonte. Before most of Italy's white wine for export came from the Veneto (as the overwhelming majority of Pinot Grigio in the US does), Gavi was the "standard" Italian white. I was pleasantly surprised when I tried it, as it was a nice change of pace from the now-typical Pinot Grigio. I found it to be a little more full-bodied (though not so much so as a Chardonnay), but still crisp and refreshing. I don't know how easy it may be to track down, but it's worth looking a bit.

That should do it! I hope to have a new food post up in the next couple days, and on Friday I'm off to Rome!. Thanks for reading.

The City of the Caesars and Sultans: Constantinople (aka Istanbul)

Hello everyone! I'm currently wrapping up my little vacation to Istanbul, so this seemed like a good time for a new history update. This is my second time here, and I had much more time to explore and really take in the city. I've been thinking quite a bit about the city as it used to be, i.e. Constantinople. Of course, thinking about Constantinople is part and parcel of being a Byzantinist, but it becomes much more real when you're actually standing in the "Queen of Cities" as it stands in the 21st century.

Human settlement in what is now Istanbul dates back thousands of years, as you would expect in such an important location. Situated on the straits of the Bosphorus--the thin channel of water separating mainland Europe from Asia Minor--the site has always had great value for regulating the trade between the Near East and the rest of the Mediterranean world, as well as controlling the only entrance to the Black Sea. In the 7th century BC, Greeks from the city of Megara founded Byzantion, which would be the name of the city for around 1000 years. Then, in 330 AD, Constantine changed everything.

A statue of Constantine in York, England, a one-time capital of the Roman Empire

In the early 4th century, the Roman Empire was a lot different than what you probably imagine. The time of Augustus was long gone, the Mediterranean world had been wracked by nearly a century of civil war and political usurpation, and the so-called "barbarians"--that is, anyone who lived outside the borders of the Empire--were pressing on the Roman frontiers to greater and greater effect. In the past many of the emperors had been politicians and even philosophers; now, only a soldier could be expected to hold onto the throne. In response to these problems--known as the "Crisis of the Third Century"--one of Constantine's predecessors, Diocletian, instituted massive reforms to the Roman system, including dividing the power of the emperor. Instead of a single emperor, Diocletian created a "college" of 4 emperors, who could more effectively govern the sprawling Imperium Romanorum.

This is the famous porphyry statue of the tetrarchs, which you may have seen if you've been to St. Mark's Basilica in Venice. It was looted from Constantinople in 1204 by the Venetians.

Each of these emperors would be responsible for a separate section of the empire, and each would rule from a city of their choosing (based on strategic importance, of course). The city of Rome was no longer the seat of the empire, and it took on a purely symbolic importance. Instead, the "capital" tended to be wherever the emperor based his court.

Not the best map, but you can see a number of these imperial capitals. Notice how there aren't any along the southern Mediterranean: that's because there weren't any invasions coming from that direction, thanks to a little thing called the Sahara Desert.

This system of tetrarchs worked by having the 2 senior emperors (the "Augusti") name their subordinates (the "Caesares"). When the senior emperor died, his junior would be elevated and then pick a new junior emperor, and so on and so forth. For a while this worked very well, and the problems of the Third Century became a thing of the past. Then, Constantius died in England while serving as the Augustus of the West. His Caesar should have taken his position, but Constantius' troops instead declared his son, Constantine, to be the new emperor. This was for all intents and purposes an illegal usurpation of power, and it set into motion a series of periodic civil wars that would last for nearly 20 years. When the dust settled, Constantine had eliminated all of the other members of the system of the tetrarchy, and the Roman Empire once again was under the rule of a single man. Shortly thereafter he set out to found a new capital--remember, Rome hadn't been strategically significant for decades (at least). He settled on the city of Byzantion, completely rebuilding the city in the process, and renaming it first Nova Roma, and eventually Constantinople (the city of Constantine). He also moved various artifacts from around the Roman world to his new capital in order to increase the prestige and beauty of the city (as did his successors), some of which can still be seen here today.

The Obelisk of Theodosius, which is actually an obelisk constructed by Thutmose III (15th century BC) perched atop a marble pedestal made during the reign of Theodosius (4th century AD). This was placed in the Hippodrome, the chariot racing circuit in Constantinople.

The Serpent Column, originally placed in front of the Delphic Oracle to commemorate the Greek victory over the Persian Empire at Plataea in 479 BC. Until fairly recently (the 17th century is recent when you're talking about ancient history) it's 3 heads were still attached, but now they're located in the city's archaeological museum. This is near the Obelisk, in the Hippodrome

At the time it wasn't clear that Constantinople would be anything more than a short-lived tetrarchic capital (the system had worked so well, why wouldn't it return after Constantine's death?), but as it turned out this would be the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire for over 1000 years, only to then become the capital of the Ottomans for more than 400 years more. As you may or may not know, the city continued to be called Constantinople (or Konstantiniyye, in Turkish) throughout the Ottoman period, and was only formally named Istanbul after the formation of the Turkish Republic in the 1920s. It was, after all, in the best interests of the Ottomans to identify their capital with the defeat and capture of the former Roman Empire.

Since the name change, Constantinople is generally only used in reference to the song, much to the chagrin of Byzantinists around the world (as well as the Greeks)

The city's location meant that it would always be very strategically important, and the Roman Emperors created an incredible system of defense to ensure that it would remain in their hands indefinitely. The walls constructed by Constantine were rendered obsolete in less than 100 years, but the new walls of the 5th century would stand unbreached for 1000 years, until the advent of gunpowder in European warfare. Even then, it took one of the largest cannons ever fired (with a caliber of over 600mm) to breach these formidable defenses. It's hard to overstate how incredible these walls were; they were so well constructed that when there was an earthquake in 1999, the original sections of the wall were undamaged while the recently restored parts collapsed. Not bad for 1500 year old technology.

The shape of the peninsula made Constantinople a tough nut to crack. There were formidable sea walls on the sea of Marmara, a chain guarding the natural harbor of the Golden Horn (plus more sea walls), and a nigh-impenetrable system of defense by land

The land defenses as they would have looked in the Middle Ages. First a moat, then a shorter wall with towers, then a MASSIVE wall with even more towers. All the ramparts would have been filled with soldiers shooting arrows and throwing other projectiles at you as well, of course.

What's left of the walls today, with the modern restorations of course.

Such defenses were necessary, as the city would be subjected to siege after siege, about once every 50 years starting in the early 7th century. While much of the city's Roman elements have been lost as a result of the 4th crusade in 1204 as well as the Ottoman period from the 15th-20th centuries, there are still some impressive remnants to be seen. At the top of the list is the Hagia Sophia, the Church of Holy Wisdom, constructed by Emperor Justinian in the 530s. For the next 1000 year, it would be the Christian church in the world. After the Ottoman conquest it became a mosque, until it was turned into a museum in the 1930s.

The minarets are obviously an Ottoman addition

It's hard to get a sense of the scale, but this place is HUGE

One of the more famous aspects of the building was the dome, which was said to appear to be suspended from heaven when the light hit it properly. You can get a sense of this at the very top of this picture.

Most of the Byzantine decorations are either destroyed or covered up (as Islam prohibits figural representations in their places of worship), but some can still be seen. This is one of the seraphim, the highest order of angels who protect the throne of God. They have 3 pairs of wings, 1 for flying and the remainder to shield their body.

Various mosaics remain as well, this being one of the most famous

While in the Middle Ages Constantinople was covered in churches, today there isn't much left to see outside of the Hagia Sophia; most of them were converted into mosques and remain as such today. There are exceptions of course (Google "Chora Museum" to see the best mosaics that remain in the city, or "St. Mary of the Mongols" to see the only church that existed in the 15th century, was never converted into a mosque, and remains a church today), but a great deal of the Byzantine city--especially the parts that were still in use in the 15th century--is gone forever. Modern archaeology has uncovered some real gems though, such as the mosaic floor of the palace used in the 6th century:

Speaking of palaces, the Ottoman palaces are some of the best preserved elements of the city's second imperial phase (unsurprising, since this phase ended less than 100 years ago). The old palace of the Ottomans is known as Topkapi, and parts of it date back to immediately after the conquest in 1453. It covers a large area of the oldest parts of the city, where the old Byzantine imperial structures once stood. Today it serves as a museum, and houses a number of interesting pieces of Ottoman art and military technology.

It's a pretty huge complex...

...and the view from the innermost parts is phenomenal

Other parts of Early Modern Istanbul that survive can be found around the city, such as inside some of the mosques and especially in the Grand Bazaar and Spice Markets, which you really have to see to understand. By the 19th century though, these aspects of the Ottoman Empire, and especially Topkapi Palace, were increasingly seen as old-fashioned and out of touch with the rest of European society. As such, Sultan Abdülmecid decided to build Dolmabahçe Palace, across the Golden Horn from the oldest parts of the city. Unlike Topkapi this palace was thoroughly European, and built to rival anything in the West.

The largest chandelier in the palace, gifted by Queen Victoria

Bearskin rugs, a gift of Tsar Nicholas II

The opulence is INSANE

I think that should do it for this update. It's hard to sum up a city like Istanbul in a blog post; it's really a special place that needs to be seen to be understood. Tomorrow I'm back in Cassino, and in two weeks I'l be off to Rome! Thanks for reading.

Fun with Funghi: Risotto ai Porcini e Tartufo

FINALLY I can update again. Sorry for the long delay folks, my internet has been absolutely atrocious for a while now. I've been plugging away at my work at the monastery (hard to believe I've been here over a month now), though you never make as much progress as you want to. The internet seems to be working pretty well today, so it's time for a new food update!

The weather here has started to turn, and it's feeling more and more like Fall every day. Taking this into consideration, it seems like a good opportunity to cover some good Italian comfort food: risotto.

Carnaroli rice, shortly before fulfilling its destiny as a delicious risotto

The history of risotto is somewhat contested, but the traditional story as that it was introduced in Milan by the Spanish in the early 16th century. This first style, risotto alla milanese, remains a classic, but it requires saffron, an ingredient that is one of the most expensive substances in the world by weight. Unlike almost any other style of risotto, it is served alongside the main course, traditionally osso bucco. That's all too rich for my blood (plus I don't know how to track any saffron down here), so I'm going with another classic, risotto ai porcini e tartufo. Traditionally this would be a primo, a first course before the main course consisting of some kind of meat or fish and a vegetable side dish. A whole pot of this stuff is more than enough for an entire meal anyway, so this is a bit non-traditional I guess.

Much prettier than what I made, but this is what you're going for.

Now, some of you reading this are probably thinking that you've heard of risotto, and it's waaaaay too complicated for you to try making. Put this out of your head! There's no reason to be intimidated by this dish; the only vaguely difficult thing is that you need to be attentive while you're cooking. This is not a set-it-and-forget-it dish: you'll need to be watching and stirring for around 20 continuous minutes. Otherwise though, it's easy-peasy. Another misconception that I'll dispel here at the outset: while you may have seen (or even eaten) risotto at a restaurant that holds its shape, that's really an overcooked dish. You don't want a soupy final product, but you want it to "ooze" a bit. The key to making a good risotto is using the right kind of rice (more on that in a moment), and keeping the solid to liquid ratio correct so that the starch in the rice gets converted into a delicious, creamy sauce (almost a gravy) that connects all of those individual grains of rice. If you wind up with something that's about the consistency of fried rice, you've gone too far. It'll still taste fine, but it shouldn't be the goal.

I'm sure this tastes good, but booooooo.

With all that being said, let's get started. For hardware, you'll need a couple pots, one for the risotto itself (if you have a cast iron dutch oven that would be ideal, but don't use it if it's very large and you're not making a large batch. Anything with a little heft to it will be fine) and another to keep the cooking liquid simmering. You also want a ladle as well as a wooden spoon, and of course a knife. Here's my setup:

You can also see the cooking fat melting down here.

As for the actual ingredients, you need rice (either Arborio, Carnaroli, of Vialone Nano. In the US you'll probably only see Arborio), olive oil, butter, a few cloves of garlic, a small onion, some white wine, vegetable broth and/or mushroom broth (I'll get to that), dried porcini mushrooms, parmesan cheese (please don't use the shelf stable junk in a can), and either a black truffle or some kind of prepared black truffle sauce. You should be able to find the porcini in most grocery stores (try either Wegman's or Graul's for those of you in Baltimore, and Kroger should carry them in Ohio). The truffle/truffle sauce may be harder to track down, and you could omit it if you want to. It adds a really great, earthy flavor though. One last note: I don't have any proper measuring equipment here, so I've mostly been eyeballing everything and going by the weight indicated on the packages. This might make it a little tricky to match my exact recipe, but think of it this way: I didn't measure *anything* and it turned out great, so don't sweat the details. To begin, you want to soak your dried mushrooms in hot/warm water for at least 15 minutes or so. I used 50g of mushrooms (a little less than 2 oz), and you want enough water to cover the mushrooms plus a little bit more. Once they've soaked, remove the mushrooms from the liquid and chop them up, but SAVE THAT LIQUID! You basically have mushroom stock now, and it's super tasty. Strain the liquid, preferably through some cheese cloth, as there will likely be a little bit of grit. I unfortunately couldn't do this so I tried just carefully ladling out the liquid without disturbing the sediment, but I still had a little bit make it into my food. Don't be like me, strain the liquid! Also finely dice your onion and garlic. You should have something along these lines:

Meanwhile, put your heavier pot over low heat and with about a tablespoon of olive oil and about 2-3 tablespoons of butter. This seems like a lot, but like I said, this is comfort food! Also, put your strained mushroom liquid into your other pot, and get it simmering. You will need this either simmering or right on the verge for the entirety of the cooking process. Once your butter is melted, add your onion and garlic (along with a little salt) and sweat them. You aren't looking for color here, you just want to soften the onion up.

Try to avoid any errant bits of mushroom. Again, don't be like me!

Once the onion starts looking a bit golden, add in about a 1/4 cup of white wine (dry white wine, of course), and cook until the onion has basically melted. At this point, it's time to add your rice. I used about 300g, which was about half of a small box. Again, this probably isn't super helpful, but this was enough rice for 2 main dish servings. I'm guessing you'd want around 2-3 cups (dry) for 4 people, and I would also double (piu o meno, as they say here) the other ingredients. Add the rice directly to the pot, right from whatever package you bought it in: DO NOT WASH IT. If you rinse the rice, you'll lose all that starchy goodness that makes risotto, well, risotto. Once you've added it, mix it all together thoroughly. The goal here is to get every single grain of rice coated in the oil, butter, garlic, and onion mixture. You'll be able to tell when you're done with this step, as all of the grains will be nice and glossy, and very lightly toasted. What you don't want, though, it to get any color on the rice. That can be very delicious, but again, it's not risotto! If you've stirred and stirred and the grains still don't look coated, you need a little more oil.

Next, add in those chopped porcini mushrooms and stir it up until well mixed:

Looks like wild rice, right?

After all mixed, start adding your simmering mushroom broth. It is SUPER important that your broth be hot, or the rest of the recipe isn't going to turn out right. Also, you only want to add enough to cover the rice mixture. It should look sort of...swampy, if that makes sense, but you don't want the rice drowning in liquid. Too much liquid will turn this into ordinary rice pilaf, instead of creamy risotto. The small amount of liquid turns all that starch into a creamy sauce, so don't drown it!

Something like this is what you're going for.

From here on out, you'll need to be paying close attention to the pot. After adding the broth, stir the simmering mixture near-constantly until the broth has been absorbed into the rice mixture, at which point you add more broth, and so on and so forth. Each time you just want to add a small amount of liquid, just enough to cover the rice. If you run out of mushroom broth, use (simmering!) vegetable broth, or even water in a pinch. Again, there are no firm measurements here: use however much liquid is necessary. You will probably be done this process after about 20 minutes. You want the rice to be "al dente" (which literally means "to the tooth", which really doesn't tell you much), cooked through but with just a slight bit of snap to it. What you don't want is mush, so don't overcook! The only way to tell when this is done is to taste it periodically. If you find yourself in the unfortunate situation of there still being too much liquid in the pot and your rice is basically done, you can crank up the heat and stir like crazy to compensate. This should be a last resort though, it's easy to overcook the rice! When the rice is done, take the pot off the heat and stir in a little more butter (about a tablespoon or so, maybe a touch more) and a generous helping of grated cheese, at least a cup. Then, add your truffle/truffle sauce. I used about a tablespoon of a prepared truffle sauce; if you're using fresh, you would shave it and then add to the mixture. This is what it should look like, more or less:

Those little black flecks are the truffles. Be careful, they have a very powerful flavor, so go easy on them!

This smelled so good that I couldn't wait to eat it long enough to take a picture of the completed plate! Seriously, you need to try this. You could very easily substitute other ingredients for the mushrooms and truffles, but you need to try making it this way at least once. As for what to drink, you could go a couple different directions. You could try a nice acidic white like a Pinot Grigio, to cut through some of the fat in this dish and really let the earthiness of the mushroom and truffle shine through. Alternatively, you could go with a light-ish red, like a Valpolicella, to add a little fruit and freshness to the dish. Personally though, especially if you are including the truffles, I think you need to go with a big red from Piemonte (the region best known for truffles), something made from the Nebbiolo grape. If you're a real oenophile (and have deep pockets) you could drink a nice Barolo, or if you aren't familiar at all with the wines of the region you could try a more simple Langhe Nebbiolo. For me, I think the best option lies in between, with Barbaresco. It's not cheap, but this is not an everyday meal either. The rich, earthiness of these wines work really well with the above risotto, and it's what you'd drink if you were eating this dish in Piemonte. I'll be covering the wines of that region in my next wine update, so keep your eyes peeled.

On Wednesday I'll be heading to Istanbul for a week (to get around that pesky "no more than 90 days in the EU" rule), so my next history update will deal with that area rather than Italy. *Hopefully* I'll be able to update twice in the coming week, but we'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading!

Toscana and Lazio, Red and White: Wine from Central Italy

Sorry about the lack of updates lately everyone! My internet has been pretty atrocious all week, and so getting a post written and uploaded has been impossible. To make up for it, today's wine post will be a two-for-one. I'll be covering 2 different regions of Italy, one very well-known for wine and the other almost entirely ignored: Toscana and Lazio.

We'll start with Toscana, better known as Tuscany in English. In many ways, Toscana is responsible for the entire modern Italian wine industry. Though Italy has always been a large producer of wine--and a small portion of it very well regarded--for about the first 3/4 of the 20th century most Italian wine was seen as substandard much too old-fashioned. Grapes were grown using out-of-date agricultural techniques, wines were made using traditional methods for no reason other than tradition, and the overwhelming majority of Italian wine exported from Italy was something like this:

Cool bottle, but the contents may as well be vinegar

All of this began to change with the emergence of the so-called "Super Tuscans" onto the scene in the early 1970s. The regulations developed by the Italian government in the 1960s (the IGT/DOC/DOCG hierarchy that I discussed in my last wine post) in many ways cemented bad wine making processes. Chianti, for example, was required to be made with at least 10% white grapes, which made it very fruity and drinkable, but closer to juice than a sophisticated wine for the international market. The "Super Tuscans" were wines produced with more modern techniques, and often including grape varieties not native to Italy, such as Cabernet and Syrah. They didn't qualify for the much coveted governmental designations, but they were good. And priced accordingly, of course.

The very first Super Tuscan, Tignanello, with 1971 being the first vintage. A bottle of the most recent vintage (2012) will run you about $70-80 in the US.

The successes of the Super Tuscans, which were really being seen by the early 1980s, completely changed the Italian wine industry. Rather than adhere to the strict government regulations, wine producers began to produce the best wine possible regardless of technique or grape varietal. By the 90s they actually managed to convince the government to change these regulations, creating the IGT designation which allowed for much more variety in the production of a region's wine. Though the DOC/DOCG rules are still somewhat problematic, particularly in Toscana, Italy now produces a wide variety of wines that can stand up on the international market--thanks to the Super Tuscans of the 70s and 80s.

The staggering variety of Tuscan DOCs and DOCGs

Along with Piemonte and the Veneto, Toscana is one of the 3 great wine producing regions of Italy and, as you can see from the above map, there is quite a wide variety of wine produced there. While a lot of this isn't seen in the US, much of what does make it across the pond stands among the very best wine in the world. I obviously won't be going over all or even most of these, but I'll touch on a few of the most famous and highly regarded. Let's start at the top: Brunello di Montalcino.

The city of Montalcino

"Brunello" actually refers to a specific variety of grape, but after extensive testing it was determined that this supposedly unique grape was actually Sangiovese, a grape used in most of the red wines in central Italy. There are references to the wine going all the way back to the 14th century, though wine in those days would have been very different from what we enjoy today. In order to qualify as DOCG Brunello, the wine has to spend a minimum of 2 years in oak. Brunello is regarded as one of Italy's greatest wines (much like Barolo, which I'll be discussing in a future post), and prices naturally follow. A bottle will set you back around $100 if it's from a quality producer. As for what to expect, Brunello tends to be fairly fruit-forward, like many new world wines. Be warned however; the tannin in this wine (that sort of mouth-puckering quality red wines have) mean that you should probably be drinking vintages that are at least 10 years old; in fact, these wines can stand up to decades of aging. Moving on to a less well-known but no less impressive Tuscan wine: Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.

The city of Montepulciano

Like Brunello, Vino Nobile is made primarily from the Sangiovese grape, though up to 30% can come from other local sources. In terms of character it's quite similar to Brunello, though a little less rich and a little more earthy. It's also much, much more affordable: if you can track down a bottle it should run you around $20. It also requires (and can tolerate) less aging than Brunello; you probably want to drink it within 15 years or so. Last but certainly not least are Chianti and Chianti Classico.

Fava beans optional

Chianti is surely the best known Tuscan wine, and as I mentioned above it was also responsible for the poor international perception of Italian wines. "Chianti" actually refers to a specific region of Toscana that was first formally delineated in the early 18th century by the Duke of Florence, Cosimo III de'Medici.

I'm speculating, but it looks like old Cosimo may have been a victim of the inbreeding of European nobles...

The area he specified is what is now the Chianti "Classico" area. The popularity of Chianti led the Italian government to make some...questionable decisions in the 1960s, hugely expanding the traditional zone and elevating the entirety of it to DOCG status, a designation that wasn't really warranted. As a result, lots of low quality wines got to call themselves by a prestigious title, and Chianti's once-great reputation became less and less valuable. While this continues to be a problem, if you stick to Chianti Classico you get something closer to what caused all the fuss in the first place.

Green is the Chianti region, and the yellow is Chianti Classico

Any liquor store in the US will have Chianti, and most likely several bottles to choose from. Like Brunello and Vino Nobile, Chianti is made primarily from the Sangiovese grape. It tends to be a bit less tannic than either of the above, and has some spice (like cinnamon and clove) to it, as well as red fruits like cherry and raspberry. If you're looking for something to go with your spaghetti, this is your wine. High acidity and its balanced nature makes Chianti perfect for Italian food. You can find Chianti all over the price spectrum, but I think that the $15-20 range will get you the most bang for your buck. I would also recommend sticking to Chianti Classico; it's not that there aren't perfectly nice non-Classico bottles, but if you stick to the Classico you'll get a better idea of the unique properties of the region. You're likely to see a huge variety of labels, but I like Ruffino quite a bit. You can identify the non-Classico variety by the image of a medieval knight on the label, but the Classico looks like this:

If you want to see what central Italian red wine is like, Chianti Classico is the perfect introduction. But now, we move from one of Italy's best-known regions to one of the least: Lazio. The Italicized version of ancient Latium, Lazio is the region in central Italy just south of Toscana. Home to lots of fascinating history (Rome is here, after all), it's not a region particularly known for its wine. Much of the wine here is produced by large factories, and the quality tends to be on the low side. There are some gems to be found though, at least if you like white wine. The geography and climate make the region better suited for whites than reds, but most don't make it out of the country. If you happen to see some wine from Lazio in the US, it's probably Frascati.

Though I've never heard it called "the king of white wines" before, it is quite tasty

Dry, refreshing, and easy-drinking, Frascati is produced in the hills just south of Rome. It's made from Malvasia and/or Trebbiano grapes, and is generally a very pale yellow color. You can expect flavors of orchard fruits like apple and pear, and some minerality as well. And the best part: you shouldn't have to pay more than $10 for a bottle. You generally want to buy the newest vintage that you can find, as this isn't a wine meant for long aging. This wine is for drinking, not for thinking.

That should do it for this update. Assuming my internet holds up, I hope to be posting more regularly moving forward. Thanks for reading!