Top to Bottom Italy #2: Regions and Cities Part A

As pointed out by many a worthy, Italy is fiercely regional and the food changes quite a bit even a short distance away. However, fed all my life on a mish-mash of different kinds of Italian dishes, it took some time before I started noticing the differences. The differences are not quite as stark as India where the Punjabi finds avial inedible and a true Bengali won't come anywhere near curd rice, but they are quite distinct nevertheless. In this bicycle ride I was going only in one direction, I soon realised that repeats of many things I had loved (or missed out on) were not possible - Florentine lampredotti and Milanese risotto are about as easily available as a masala dosa in faraway Lecce.

I whizzed through six regions in Italy and the one thing they had in common (other than the Indo-Swiss Express) was that, by some strange coincidence, they all had center-left governments. Indeed, with the tiny exception of South Tyrol, my trip turned out to be a perfect cleave between center-left and center -right in Italy; no wonder Draghi resigned within days of my departure. Luckily, the convoluted politcs of Italy has nothing to do with its food. I'm of course, left wondering - what do the center righties know about cuisine that I missed out on?

Please remember again that all food I ate was accidental. No research, no attempt at comprehensiveness, no eating anything that was shoved into my way. I didn't stand in any line longer than five, and didn't have any advance reservations to cash in on. Don't think of these as any comprehensive guide of any kind. 

Lombardy

My journey in the busy and prosperous city of Milan. Unfortunately - weighed as my mind was with the first solo trip ever, fitness concerns and fears that I would upset my tummy - I didn't put quite the heart I usually do in searching out everything edible. The first night, I went to a nearby restaurant based on a google search, where a Bangladeshi steward fed me a decent (but, I suspect, far from the city's best) osso bucco with saffron risotto with a very nice complimentary glass of a local fizzy Spumanti.

The next day, I went on a foodwalk that gave me a wider taste of Milanese food, including a much better saffron risotto (at Lobster & More). This was also the day I discovered the Campari spritz, undoubtedly a lovely drink. Milan, it turns out, is big on this saffron risotto. Sitting in the rice-growing plains of the Po valley, risotto is a creamy, cheesy, meaty pasta dish deriving greatness from the very starchy but firm Carnaroli rice (Arborio is for tourists). The saffron comes from Lake Como in the north of the region, lending the characteristic colour. Parmesan is borrowed from next door Parma, though local Gran Padano is also used occassionally. A fabulously creamy grainy texture, a gentle but insistently addictive flavour - meaty, cheesy, tinged with saffrom, I really wanted another try at it - alas, I never encountered it again. There is risotto everywhere in Italy - creamy rice with various things added to it - but not the superb Milanese version. 

Milan is also home of Bianchi bicycles, the oldest major bicycle maker in the world and also the sponsor of the lovely chain of Bianchi bicycle cafes. Having spent many a pleasant evening in a Bianchi Cafe in Stockholm I was eager to get to the original but alas, the pandemic has been unkind; all Bianchi cafes are now permanently closed. 

Near Milan was Gorgonzola, a town with its spectacular eponymous cheese that I thought would be on my way but I missed it as I sped through golden grass, blue-green wheat fields and generous scatterings of red poppy flowers. I was headed determinedly for Parma, of even greater cheese fame. 

Some 20km from Milan, Pasticceria Lombardia in Melegnano was my first rest stop where three old ladies fed me cappucino and a rum baba. Now baba - sponge pastry soaked with liquor - is actually a French dessert (baba au rhum) that probably landed in Italy through Napoleonic conquest (interestingly, Wikipedia tells me the tiny, unremarkable Melegnano is twinned with Paris). I was later to discover that the baba and its variants are very very popular in all of Italy (not just Naples like the guidebooks will have you believe). This oldladytrio version (uniquely covered with a thin gel) was one of the best renderings, though, and basically inspired me to seek the baba wherever I went. 

Pasticerrias in Italy, I realised, fill everything with a custard cream that is either vanilla, hazelnut-chocolate, pistachio or lemon - croissants, pastries, tarts pretty much anything with a center really. There are lots of options here in all kinds of shapes, sizes and textures across the country but these four fillings seem to remain constant. The nicest of these cream filled concoctions was an unexpected midnight find in Prato near Florence, a Torta della Nonna or "Nonna's pie" (much to the amusement of all concerned, I discovered that no actual grandmother was involved).

Thats it. The Bong-BMC Express was soon to leave Lomardy's riches behind for my next province, though not after at least two more chilled Proseccos had been digested. 

Emilia-Romagna

If one province made Italian food famous, it must be this one. Parmesan is from here. Balsamic is from here. Proscuitto is from. Baloney is from here. Ragu is from here. Massimo Bottura is from here. And here I was.

My first night in Emilia-Romagna was in an Agritourismo just up the road from the town of Parma where I had platefulls of proscuitto. Now in the rest of Italy this merely means ham but in Parma, saying proscuitto usually results in some PDO protected version of porcine perfection One can't really argue with proscuitto di parma - its a beautiful ham, or culatello (a more refined version of the same) but coppa di testa (a ham made from pig spare parts) was unusual and lovely. And the friend of the food was a chilled refreshing prosecco, which if you know your wines will realize comes from the Vincenza region less than a hundred miles away. I personally love prosseco, finding it easy to drink and very refreshing, especially in the Italian heat.

Thre few days I spent in Emilia Romagna was filled with proscuitto crudo, juicy, sweet paper-thin slices of uncooked ham from Parma. It comes loaded on chopping boards (tagliere) accompanied by gnocco fritto, fried pasta resempling square pooris. This particular presentation is unique to this region - you eat it by stuffing the proscuitto into the gnocco fritto.

I'm not going to say very much about Parmigiano Reggiano. Its big, its hard, its made by Sikh labourers, its one of the greatest cheeses in the world and its everywhere. I found it to be Italy's omnipresent cheese so one does not really miss it even when one has left the region (actually one misses it as soon as the last bite is over, but thats another story). Some places here advised me not to sprinkle parmesan because it would overpower every other flavour, which I thought was good advice.

Then there is pasta! For the didacts, the pasta in this region is made from soft wheat grano tenero rather than the harder grano duro durum wheat further south. To make the softer wheat hold together, pasta in the north has egg, unlike the pasta further south. Thos differences however, does not matter all that much to the palate. The flavours of pasta comes from the sauce, and the sauce of this region - people can go to war over it. Even a tourist trap in Modena served a tortellini with bacon and tomato sauce that I drooled about - I can only imagine how much greater Massimo Bottura's restaurants would be (all my efforts to impress them into letting me in failed). Choosing the best pasta in Italy is not necessarily a sensible excercise but in deserted island last meal mode, I think I would choose Bologna. In particular, tortellini in brodo and tagliatelle with ragu are the stuff of recurring wet dreams. 

Of course, this region is also the home of a few other kinds of wet dreams - Ferrari, Maserati, Ducati, and my former favourite Lamborghini. Nowadays I've chaged loyalties, so disdainful eyebrow in place I headed over the mighty Appenines to my next stop.

Tuscany

For me, Tuscany was two parts; Florence with its churches, tourists, beef and tripe, and the rest of the region with its hills, towns, pork and wine. 

I got into Prato near Florence pretty late in the night, and jumped straight into a lampredotto. I have been told since that may people consider it an acquired taste but I acquired it at first bite and repeated the experience in Florence over the next few days. Lampredotti are sandwiches made from the fourth stomach of the cow (which, if you remember, has four stomachs) - found the specificity charming and the taste and texture addictive. Its tripe slow-cooked with vegetables in a broth , then stuffed into a local bun which is then given another quick dip in the broth. There's a spicy red sauce or a green sauce at hand to give it a kick. Florence also has regular tripe (the other three stomachs) and beef neck (bollito), all served in similar fashion. 

Florence, unlike some other cities of Italy, is full of street food - lampredotti stalls of course, but also arancini, porchetta, various other foods of the kind you can carry away and eat while admiring David's muscles. On the streetfood list were the famous sandwiches of All'Antico Vinaio but the endless lines (many turned out to be Indian students from Stuttgart) discouraged me but I found interesting stalls selling colourful snacky stuff all over the place. 

I discovered Mercato Centrale by accident while walking through the San Lorenzo outdoor market crowded with Bangladeshis selling wallets and scarves. It is actually a branded chain of food courts The offering a number of independent stalls around a common seating area, many offering local street food. The Florentian one is on the first floor above a bustling food market. I loved the choices on offer; it seemed a great way to do a quick exploration not just of Florence but also a limted greatest hits of Italy. The big daddy of this is, of course, Eataly (and there is one in Florence) which while excellent quality that just smells of tourist - did not have enough street cred for me to consider visiting.

The highlight of Florence was Bistecca alla Fiorentina, so important it has its own wikipedia entry. Basically a huge, fatty steak of aged beef from the local Chianina cows, comes only in 1kg t-bone cuts and sends you nicely to food heaven - heavy on the belly and just as heavy on the pocket. I went straight to the top steakhouse in Florence - Trattoria d'all Oste - but the most famous steak is Dario Ceccini, not in Florence but in the nearby hilltop town of Panzano. I did actually climb the steep hill the next day but arrived hours before the steakhouse was to open, so reluctantly continued on my way unfed. 

Then there was the Negroni. One of the great pleasures of Florence is sitting "al fresco" near the Duomo at sunset, drinking one of them and watching the world scurry by. Most bars here make a good Negroni, not surprising since this is the city of its origin; my local neighborhood bar (merely the nearest of a hundred) served me excellent ones accompanied by a small flaky, crunchy, cream-filled pastry called aragostine or "lobster tail" that I absolutely fell in love with. Aragostine are everywhere in Florence, yet just a hundred kilometers before this I had not seen them in Lombardy. Siena introduced me to the chewy, addictive ricciarelli, a marzipan cookie that I nearly gave up cycling for. 

Riding south of Florence I headed into the famous hills and valleys and quaint medieval towns of Tuscany. This is the region of Chianti wines and porky stews and cities full of steakhouses. I encountered the rather tasty wild boar (cinghiale) in cold cuts and stews. It is pork, but different - somehow spicier and gamier and more Obelixy. Not that regular pork was ignored - there was very good porchetta, some spectacular local soppresata, fenelly finnochiona and plenty of lovely, peppery Salame Toscana.

I also encountered some utterly spectacular olive oil in San Gimignano, so fragrant that they served it by itself in a small cup. Apparently Tuscany makes very little olive oil but what they make is the best in the world; it was certainly the best I'd ever had (and I've had a few). 

My best food experience was, however, the wine. The rolling fields and picture perfect postcards of  Tuscany are all about vineayards and Chianti and Gallo Nero. At 2-3 glassses a day I drank a fair number of highly drinkable wines, but I also noticed that Italians don't seem very French about food-wine pairing snobbery; they seemed quite casual about it. Fish with heavy red, beef with prosecco, all seemed perfectly fine.

Advice from strangers in Tuscany steered me to Montalcino, and many glasses of their Brunello later I'm deeply grateful for the advice. I can certify that this is a truly, truly spectacular wine. one of the most glorious glasses of red in the world and better, in my opinion, than any other Italian red. I finally decided I did not want it with food, that was just a distraction to such a great glass. Take tiny sips, and let the whole thing swirl about in your mouth and head - that's the best way to drink it. I've had a very few great Bordeaux and only one great Burgundy in my life, and this is certainly in the same ball park. Maybe even in the same bathtub. It's hard to emphasis how rare that is - you drink a glass of one of these fabulous wines, you remember it for the next few decades.

High on Brunello ( and literally high on top of a hill to boot) I head down (again, literally) into the next region - Lazio and its megacity of Rome. 

But that's for Part 2.

#toptobottomitaly #pedaleatrepeat