The Italian Trail

Paul Murray

Photo right: Paul Murray with his new book on Leipoldt. Click on the photo or the book jacket (left) to order your copy on kalahari.net

Friends came for dinner on Friday night to the rooms in an 1852 Victorian Gothic building. Learning to cook alla casalinga (home cookery) has never left the cook wanting when having to whip up something simple for a dinner party. I recall, with great affection, the cuoca of the boarding establishment in Pensione California, next to Palazzo Pucci in Florence, teaching me some of the basics of Italian cooking. As a student studying Italian Literature at the University of Florence in the late seventies, I often found preparing minestrone or rolling out pasta to be a good break from Dante and Leopardi.

Giovanni’s Deli in Greenpoint is a good bet if you are looking for a “one-stop Italian shop”. Specialities such as almond biscotti for dipping in Tuscan vin santo, as well as olio d’oliva are readily available. Even with a wide range of local and imported olive oils Giulio Bertrand’s Morgenster is a worthy choice. Its acclaim lies in its low level of acidity.

When I commented once to an Italian on the merits of Tuscan olive oil, an outraged Ligurian was convinced that the oil from his province was superior by far. The height at which the olives grow there, coupled with the cool air from the coastline, give it the edge over other olive oils, according to him.

Inter-provincial rivalry in Italy over cookery, food and wine is as strong today as in medieval times. For instance, the memory of the Battle of Montaperti fought in 1260 by Florence against Siena and Pisa lives on. This accounts for the continued hate between Florentines and Pisans. Whilst some place the blame fairly and squarely on Sienese shoulders — their soldiers dared to open fire on the Carroccio, the holy wagon that accompanied medieval Italian armies where a priest celebrated mass during the battle — others make the Florentines the culpable party. At a crucial moment of the Battle one of their rank’s sudden defection, and cutting off the hand of the ensign bearer of the Florentine cavalry in the process, caused the tide to turn.

There are not many places in the world whose rich convivium around food is so entrenched in history as that of Italy!

Let’s start with the “pane” (bread). Italian bread is traditionally so nice that even the Roman satirical poet, Juvenal, suggested that in order to keep the masses contented, they should be given “panem et circenses” (bread and games). Without bread, how could one possibly engage in the delight of scooping up the remnants of the tomato sugo at the bottom of the pasta dish, without the scarpetta — the little shoe, made out of a piece of bread placed between finger and thumb?

To “fare la scarpetta” in Florence is to do so at one’s peril, like the time I was enjoying a simple meal at Buca Lapi in Florence! The interruption from a Florentine gentleman soon put a dampener on the delectable experience, when in a state of fury he rose to his feet and announced: “Signore, no! Usi la forchetta! E stata inventata dai fiorentini!” (Mister, no! Use the fork! The Florentines invented it!). How was a foreign student to know any better than scoop up the sauce from the plate with the scarpetta?

The authoritative voice might have sounded convincing at the time, but upon further investigation I found his claim to be false. The Florentines did not invent the fork! The Egyptians, Greeks and Romans used large forks in ritual ceremonies and in cooking. Excavations at Pompeii and Herculaneum reveal that forks were used as eating utensils. The enraged Florentine gentleman was confusing the invention of the fork with the fact that the young Catherine de Medici, when she went from Italy to France in 1533 to marry Henry II of France, introduced the fork to France for the first time!

Whilst one can debate which civilisation invented the fork, one thing is certain: you need it to twirl the strands of spaghetti or fettucine around the tines. (I once read an article in a journal that said that Italian psychologists are apt to judge your character based on the direction you twirl your fork, clockwise or anti-clockwise. The former means you are normal, whilst the latter will certainly certify you as crazy!)

Tradition in Italian cooking is an inseparable part of eating. Do we realise that when ordering coltoletto alla Milanese, we are indeed eating an absolute favourite of fifteenth/sixteenth-century uomo universale — Leonardo da Vinci?

Cape Town and its environs boast a strong tradition of fine, long-standing Italian restaurants. Dario and Angelo at the Harlequin Restaurant in Parow have been there for close on four decades. In that time nothing has changed — not the colourful characters Angelo and Dario, nor the décor, and certainly not the traditional Italian cooking. Favourite dishes are osso bucco, pheasant, quail, fish and crustacean platters. Dario was trained in his home town, Rome. Angelo’s culinary expertise hails from San Colombano, renowned for its cookery schools. At no extra cost, you might be entertained to an Italian aria or two from Angelo’s trained tenor voice as he sings La donna é mobile.

Nino da Genoa, formerly of Melville, Johannesburg, currently proprietor of Primi Piatti, a place of abounding energy, continues the fine convention of hearty Italian cooking. His presentation of food to patron is pure passion. Dough pizzas are paper thin and adequately topped and never overly so.

Ezio and Franco’s La Magica Roma in Pinelands is always packed and prides itself on its casalinga (home cooking). Romano of Mamma Roma in Newlands provides a splendid table, with a choice of accompanying Italian wines.

The late Aldo of Novati epitomised the truly passionate way in which Italian restaurateurs engage with their patrons. This philosopher-chef and his gentleman’s standards in Italian cookery were uncompromising. He is sadly missed to this day.

The spirit of Enrico of Enrico’s lives on in Stellenbosch, in the Decameron. Owner Mario was a close friend of Enrico’s, who inspired his love for cooking. It’s a real favourite among winemakers and food conoscenti, as well as with acclaimed writers such as Etienne van Heerden. Porcini in season provides an extraordinary sugo for the well-prepared pasta, with a choice of home-baked breads and a selection of the best wines that Stellenbosch has to offer.

One of the all-time favourites is Italian Giorgio dalla Cia’s Meerlust. Pasta Mario is delectable. Last night I asked for a portion, but with a touch of emulsified anchovy. Now he calls it Pasta Paolo.

The Friday evening in The Garret ended with coffee and a round of grappa, except for those who preferred a corretto (coffee with grappa). Catullus, the Roman poet, reminds us of the fact that if you eat in an Italians’ own home, you will dine well. Such is the pride taken over, and the tradition of, Italian cookery. It is seldom fancy or over the top. Neither is it expensive.

No wonder they say in the Venetian tongue, “If you want to eat well, follow a priest!”



LitNet: 10 May 2004

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