MARIANI’S

  April 3, 2005                                                        NEWSLETTER

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MY FAVORITE MANSIONS: Villa Serbelloni by John Mariani

NEW YORK CORNER: San Domenico by John Mariani

Frank Perdue R.I.P. by John Mariani

QUICK BYTES

My Favorite Mansions: Villa Serbelloni  by John Mariani

       When Mark Twain visited Italy's northern Lake Country in 1868, he stayed at a hotel on the jutting promontory of Bellagio, where Lake Como splits like a wishbone towards the city of Como on the west and to Lake Lecco on the east.  He did not name the hotel in his book Innocents Abroad (1869), arriving  by steamer to be greeted by local police who placed him and the other passengers in a tiny room to be fumigated against bringing cholera to this reclusive finger of Lombardy. 
    The experience did nothing to improve his demeanor, but upon sighting the clear blue Lake itself, he rhapsodized over Como's attractiveness and its "multitude of pretty houses and gardens that cluster upon its shores and on its mountain sides. They look so snug and so homelike, and at evening when every thing seems to slumber, and the music of the vesper bells comes stealing over the water, one almost believes that nowhere else on the Lake of Como can there be found such a paradise of tranquility."

     Twain did mention that an advertisement for his hotel noted it had "the most splendid view near the Villas Serbelloni," (above, left)  which at that time was a neoclassical holiday villa for a Milanese aristocrat's family, transformed in 1873 into the Grand Hotel Villa Serbelloni (Tel.: 011-39-031 950216; www.villaserbelloni.com).  From the moment it opened, the Villa was considered on of the finest in Italy, with no expense spared to create a marvel of lavish ornamentation, from its fine frescoes and gilding, magnificent public rooms and marble staircases,  Persian carpets, Murano crystal chandeliers. and stucco work.  Over the next century the Villa was much amended and enlarged, and after World War II frequented by a slew of European potentates, as well as Winston Churchill, Roosevelt, the Rothschilds, J.F.K.,  Clark Gable, and Al Pacino. 
     Decades of wear and tear have been erased by current owner Gianfranco Bucher so that today the Villa looks very much as it must have a century or so ago, from the marvelous terrace and reception area through its long hallways flanked by generously large rooms done in period styles (left). A disattached Residence is located in the Hotel private park and offers 13 self-catering apartments, all fitted with one bedroom, bathroom, salon, refrigerator, and cooking facilities, satellite TV , telephone, central heating /air conditioning.

     Half the fun of staying at the Villa is getting to it, winding your way along a serpentine narrow road over which craggy rocks loom over the rippling blue water of the Lake.  (We were spared fumigated, a practice that ended a long time ago.) Then, once you enter the little town of Bellagio itself, you must navigate streets that seem impassable for a donkey much less a modern car, but somehow you never scrape the buildings on either side or snap off your rear-view mirrors. You come to a small piazza,  turn left down a hill, and there is the extraordinary Villa, where my wife and I were like faithful regulars even though this was our first time there.  That night we watched from our balcony as a light rain fell and the  lights still twinkled in the hills as Twain promised they did.

The  Villa (below) cuddles into the hillside here, and its access to the pool area and the Lake itself makes its location irresistibly inviting to anyone who loves the water.  We visited in  autumn so we were landlocked, but we had a marvelous time simply strolling through the village of Bellagio itself, which juts up and down ancient steps lined with very fine and quite fashionable boutiques and ristoranti, leading to a palm tree waterfront that is itself lined with even more fashionable clothing, antique, and silver stores, with cafes and more restaurants with pastel-colored linens and romantic frescoes that make simply having a cup of espresso here an exercise in good taste.
 
   There are two restaurants in the Villa itself, The Terrace, which sets a very refined table of Italian and Lombardian cuisine, and Le Mistral, whose nautical look of varnished wood lends it a jaunty, casual air  ideal for lighter meals.
     I cannot say I share Chef Ettore Bocchia's current infatuation with something called "molecular cuisine," which, under the scientific guidance of a Physics Professor Cassi of Parma University, is an attempt to deconstruct food ingredients into new forms with new techniques I found rather fascinating, but I am not convinced it produced a cuisine preferable to the traditional forms of cooking alla italiana.  Eggs came coddled and stuffed with caviar, encircled by what seemed a beet jelly.  Tempura of lake fish was good and crispy, and best of all was fresh pasta made with soy lecithin dressed with a fish sauce and pork cheek meat.  Also delicious was risotto with ricotta-stuffed zucchini flowers. Only the perfect texture of a turbot cooked in sugar, with leek sauce and potatoes, made it a dish of interest.  Excellent veal cooked at a very low temperature also gained measurably in silkiness and flavor, though the pallid tuna sauce with more soy lecithin seemed unnecessary.  Gnocchi, cooked by some technique I know not of, came out glue-like.
     Then came chocolate mousse made with salt and olive oil (odd), and the evening's piece de resistence--gelato prepared at the table by the chef by beating it furiously in a bowl with liquid nitrogen.  This seemed to take a lot of work to no great purpose.  The ice cream was good, but not as good as the gelati Italians have mastered to be the best in the world. 
       The multi-course dinner at Le Mistral costs 65 euros (about $82), with tax and service included.

     The next day we drove into Como itself (below), which dates well back to Roman times. After Emperor Frederick Barbarossa rebuilt it in the 14th century, its fortunes were ever afterwards  tied to the ups-and-downs of Milanese history.
     The city spreads in an arc around the most southern part of the Lake,  and the waterside parks, with their benches and strolling lanes and restaurants are enchanting places to take the evening's passagiata, when the people of the town walk slowly arm in arm in seeming time to the quiet lapping of the water.
      Como has a splendid 14th century Gothic cathedral, quite light and majestic, with fine paintings by Bernardo Luini.  There is also the charming Romanesque churches of San Fedele  and the Basilica of Sant'Abbondio worth visiting in the city's center.  Shopping seems a major preoccupation in the city, and there are several god, unpretentious restaurants in town, including the waterside Ristorante Terrazzo Perlasca (8 Piazza De Gasperi; 031-300-263), which specializes in seafood of the region (below).  My wife and I settled down to a pretty white-and-yellow striped table set with flowers and overlooking the harbor below.
    We began with a salad of tender octopus and tiny shrimp that was everything I love about Italian seafood and all I sigh for when I'm anywhere else.   Ravioli with fontina and a meat filling was delicious, and fillet of a "big lake fish" (laganello) was dredged in flour and cooked quickly in butter and white wine.  A mild hot sauce had a happy effect on nice fat prawns cooked to perfection.  We drank a lovely white wine made from trebbiano di lugana grapes, paid our bill of about 40 euros ($50), and, the shops having reopened at three, went shopping until it was time to head for the next Lake just as the sun was turning the clouds above the mountains into purple haze.

      Back in 1988 there were very few Italian restaurants in the U.S. that even hinted at the new refinement found in the best restaurants in Italy in that decade.  There was Palio in NYC, Valentino in Santa Monica, Rex Il Ristorante in Los Angeles (since closed), and Spiaggia in Chicago, and that was about it.  Palio, with its Sandro Chia murals, elegant dining room, and comprehensive wine list, set high standards in NYC under owner Tony May, who sold it to his chef in order to open San Domenico NY that year at Columbus Circle.
      The name San Domenico was originally tied to a restaurant outside of Bologna that had established itself as one of the most creative and innovate ristoranti in Italy.  For a while the original’s great chef, Valentino Valentini, shuttled back and forth, but when that relationship ended, May brought in a series of superb chefs who have not only maintained the San Domenico style but also personalized it with every passing year.  Theo Shoenegger (now at Patina in L.A.) and Paul Bartolotta (soon to open in Las Vegas) were followed by Odette Fada  and the current chef de cuisine Benny Bartolotta.
      San Domenico NY recently shed its image as a too-formal place to dine without losing a shred of its dignity.  The new décor (left) is smart, the lighting excellent, the captains, now out of tuxedoes, into suits and ties, have a youthful bounce, and the restaurant has attracts a younger crowd.  Tables are judiciously set apart from one another and two walls of banquettes.  There is also a private party room down a few steps.  The table settings are of the finest linens, silverware, and stemware, the lighting perfect so that you can see the famous faces who dot the room, including a lot of CBS personnel and frequent visitor and neighbor, Luciano Pavarotti.  What has not changed is the fabulous winelist.  Neither has Tony May’s commitment wavered, helped immeasurably by the  presence of his lovely daughter Marisa (below),  one of the most ebullient hosts in New York, and manager Romeo Gobbi, a veteran of Le Cirque and his own Limoncello restaurant.

        When Chef Fada is away in Italy, chef de cuisine Bartolotta maintains a kitchen of consummate skill and imagination.  A native New York Italian-American, he graduated from the Culinary Institute of America, then furthered his studies at the Italian Culinary Institute for Foreigners, working in various restaurants in Italy before returning to NYC to work at Felidia Ristorante, the Rainbow Room by Cipriani, Vice Versa, and now, for two years,  San Domenico.
      More often than not when I go to San Domenico, I simply leave the ordering up to the chef, except to beg for a few of my favorite dishes long on the menu here.  These include the richest, most delicious risotto I've ever had, cooked with plenty of Parmigano and a lush meat glaze, the rice tender, with every spoonful exuding flavor. I also order the restaurant's signature dish (which actually came to life at the original San Domenico in Italy)-- a large raviolo stuffed with ricotta and an egg yolk that, when briefly cooked,  retains warmth but does not congeal, so that when you put a fork to the pasta, the creamy cheese and the golden yolk run out together.  Sometimes it is also treated to shavings of white truffles in season.  It is a masterpiece.
       Other that than, I leave myself in Bartolotta's hands.  Before he sends dishes out, however, I will be nibbling on the  "pinzimonio," which is basically the kind of carrot and celery crudités restaurants used to serve years and years ago, here with salted and peppered extra virgin olive oil.  I'll peruse the wine list--one of the finest in America for Italian wines.
      On my latest visit the first course was an eggplant and tomato terrine with a lustrous Parmigiano-Reggiano sauce, followed by real scampi wrapped in a potato crust and fried tempura-style, then set on a butternut squash sauce with shavings of sharp pecorino.  Next came Mediterranean octopus with a “cicerchie” bean purée and rosemary-scented oil, the octopus tender as a fillet and grilled with a little charring. We then enjoyed ostrich,  with wild mushrooms and a red wine cherry sauce that gave real spark to this fairly bland meat.
       My favorite entree was a massive bistecca alla fiorentina, one of the best I've ever had in this country, with olive-oil glossed Tuscan white beans.  It was magnificent and a perfect match for the bottle of Biondi-Santi Sassoaloro we were sent.

       There are fine cheeses available, then an array of desserts that include a classic baba au rhum, a tiramisù that puts all others to shame, and a rich, almost black, chocolate polenta cake that is one of the specialties here.

       Nothing on San Domenico's menu is typical, yet none of it is ever anything but very Italian.  The Mays call it Italian Regional Cuisine "Revisited."  It is not French cuisine masquerading as Italian food; it is indeed the truest form of cucina italiana on the east coast and not to go here when in NYC is to miss one of the brightest gustatory experiences of your life.  In fact, after 17 years, I think the food is the best it's been in years at San Domenico NY, and young Chef Bartolotta is to be congratulated.  So, too, are the Mays who never stint in finding the finest for guests who obviously know the difference.                                                                                                                    Tony and Marisa May

FRANK PERDUE, R.I.P.
  
    The death this week of Frank Perdue, 84,  is well worth noting, for no one did more for the proliferation of chicken as something other than a "Sunday dinner" than he.  He had American ingenuity in spades, but he was also one of the food industry's canniest marketers, turning his ungainly physiognomy into a hilarious but believable selling point.  Indeed, Frank Perdue was as much an icon of American food as Col. Harlan Sanders, Chiquita Banana, and Ronald McDonald. 
     His face resembled a chicken's, his nose was a beak, and his high-pitched twang almost sounded like a rooster's squawk.  When he died, he left behind Perdue Farms, which employed 19,000 people and had $2.8 billion in sales last year.
    Born in Maryland, he worked in his father's chicken business when the family switched from egg production to broilers, the significance of which can hardly be underestimated at a time before World War II when a chicken was nearly a luxury item saved for Sunday dinner.  Herbert Hoover even campaigned on a platform that would "put a car in every American garage and a chicken in every American pot."  He won. When Perdue, among others, switched to broiler production, the entire industry changed, providing American with inexpensive chicken for everyday meals.
     Frank became president of Perdue in 1952, developing a method of giving his chickens a pretty yellow color by feeding them marigold petals and food coloring.  By the 1970s he was processing 2 million broilers a week, packing them in ice rather than freezing them, which was then the industry standard.  His mantra "Freeze my chickens?  I'd rather eat beef!" became one of his most famous ad slogans when he began appearing on TV as Perdue's spokesman.  Dressed in a clean white factory coat and cap, he would caress his chickens and, in that cackling voice, speak straight into the camera, with a slight smile on his face, and say things like "My chickens eat better than you do," and his most famous line, "It takes a tough man to raise a tender chicken."
     I never knew Frank Perdue personally, but I did see him several times when I dined at the old, very posh restaurant  Le Cirque in New York--a society-and-celebrity restaurant you would think this hick chicken farmer would look as out of place in as Marjorie Main driving a Mercedes Benz. Yet whenever I saw Frank at Le Cirque, I saw a very different image than that he portrayed on TV.  He would walk in, acknowledged with deference by all Le Cirque's staff.  He was very talk, slim, impeccably dressed in a dark suit and  white shirt, with an expensive watch on his wrist,  looking far more like the head of a major New York bank than a chicken farmer.  And always on his arm was a very beautiful woman--a different one each time I saw him--who appeared far far younger than he.  He would get a good table and dine well, looking as perfectly comfortable in this element as Cary Grant.  Frank married three times, survived by his last, a woman named Mitzi.
      But Perdue never came across as slick.  He played his part well, and it paid off.  Although it's been a while since Frank Perdue made a commercial for his company, he'll always be remembered for his Andy Griffith-like way of selling chicken and making everyone believe that Frank would indeed never raise anything but a good, tender chicken that every American could enjoy every day. It was always fun to think of Frank's face while cutting into his tender yellow chickens. 

                                                                                                                                                                         --John Mariani

YET ANOTHER REASON THE FRENCH ARE DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF US

"Customers who reserve a table at Alinea can expect disorientation, confusion, and intellectual vertigo from the moment they open the front door."--Pete Wells, "Brain Food," Food & Wine (March 2005).

 

* On April 6,  NYC’s Sea Grill Chef Ed Brown will host a 5-course dinner, complemented by Napa Valley's Clos Du Val, with  guest speaker John Clews, winemaker and vice president of vineyard and winery operations. $85 pp. visit www.theseagrillnyc.com.  Call  212-332-7600.

* On April 20 Fabio Trabocchi, chef de cuisine of Maestro at The Ritz-Carlton, Tysons Corner, VA, will transform the restaurant  into an Italian marketplace where guests can explore and sample offerings from several of Le Marche’s most distinguished family-operated farms, wineries and more, culminating with a 5-course dinner featuring recipes from Chef Fabio Trabocchi’s upcoming book, Chef of Le Marche: Recipes from the Secret Italy.  $95 pp.  Call 703-917 5498.

 I will be hosting a very special and, I think unique, cruise event this summer from June 4-16 on the  S. S. Crystal Serenity.  I have chosen some of my favorite places in the whole world to visit and dine at, including Alain Ducasse’s illustrious three-star Louis XV restaurant in Monaco, and the enchanting Don Alfonso on the Amalfi Coast.  You will be treated to the finest these and other dedicated restaurateurs have to offer in their unique way.     I will be telling you everything worth knowing about the food and wines of the regions we visit—Dubrovnik, Barcelona, Monaco, Florence, St. Tropez, Sorrento, and Rome—including the best places to find haute cuisine to the most charming trattoria or the liveliest bistros and cafes.    
     My wife Galina, co-author with me of The Italian American Cookbook (which we’ll sign copies of), will also be giving an exclusive cooking lesson onboard I know you will enjoy.
    Between relaxing and enjoying yourselves onboard and coming with us to the loveliest sites and restaurants in the Mediterranean, you will have a unique and memorable trip and, I hope, become as familiar with these glorious places, cultures, and people as I am.     Galina and I look forward to seeing you onboard in June!    For details, go to http://www.festivalsafloat.com/html/mariani/letter.html
-- John Mariani
  

MARIANI'S VIRTUAL GOURMET NEWSLETTER is published weekly.  Editor/Publisher: John Mariani. Contributing Writers: Robert Mariani,  Naomi  Kooker, Kirsten Skogerson,  Edward Brivio, Mort Hochstein, Lucy Gordan, Suzanne Wright. Contributing Photographers: Galina Stepanoff-Dargery,  Bobby Pirillo. Technical Advisor: Gerry McLoughlin.

 John Mariani is a columnist for Esquire, Wine Spectator, Diversion and the Harper Collection. He is author of The Encyclopedia of American Food & Drink (Lebhar-Friedman), The Dictionary of Italian Food and Drink (Broadway), and, with his wife Galina, the award-winning new Italian-American Cookbook (Harvard Common Press).  

 Any of John Mariani's books below may be ordered from amazon.com by clicking on the cover image.

copyright John Mariani 2005