MARIANI’S

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  June 7,  2020                                                                                            NEWSLETTER



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Marin Hingle, Rachel Brosnahan and Tony Shalhoub in "The Magnificent Mrs. Maisel"


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IN THIS ISSUE
DAL PESCATORE RE-OPENS
By Geoff Kalish

NEW YORK CORNER
LOVE AND PIZZA
CHAPTER ELEVEN

By John Mariani


NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR
INTERVIEW WITH FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA
PART ONE
By John Mariani

 
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DAL PESCATORE
RE-OPENS
ITS DOORS



Via Runate, 15
Canneto sull'Oglio, Mantova, Italy

39-0376-723001

By Geoff Kalish


 

    Unless you’re attending one of the September weekend sessions of the Palio horse race in Isola Dovarese (population 1,158), there would seem little reason to visit the tiny village of Canneto sull’Oglio in Italy’s Cremona Provence (about an hour’s drive east of Milan).  On the other hand, the village provides an excellent spot to spend a night when visiting the nearby Dal Pescatore restaurant, which 12 years ago John Mariani, writing in Esquire magazine, proclaimed as the best in the world.
    Also, the town is less than a half-hour car ride to the Museo del Violino (a “must see” for music lovers). Of note, on our recent visit to the restaurant, we spent the night at a hotel along Isola Dovarese’s main square, Hotel Palazzo Quaranto ($135 a night for a spacious suite including breakfast), where for another $35 the owner personally drove us to and picked us up from Dal Pescatore (eight minutes away). That was better than the last time we visited the restaurant, when the GPS  in our rental car stopped working and only a by a bit of good luck did we make our luncheon reservation on time.
    One of only 11 three-star Michelin Guide restaurants in Italy, Dal Pescatore (“from the fisherman”) was opened in 1926 by Teresa and Antonio Santini, a local fisherman and winemaker and his wife, he a self-taught chef whose recipes, like pike with parsley, anchovies and capers, still turn up on the menu. With the next generation of Santinis, Giovanni and his wife, Bruna, the restaurant morphed from a simple tavern named “Wine and Food,” serving mainly fried fish to locals and a bevy of visitors out on Sunday outings, to a trattoria serving meals to visitors from as far away as Milan.
    In 1974 the next generation of Santinis, Antonio and his wife, Nadia, from Vicenza, changed the name to Dal Pescatore, and after travels to famous European eateries on their honeymoon, they decide to enhance the ambiance of their restaurant to have more space between tables, fewer walls and more windows, but also to maintain the concept of “light cooking” of primarily local ingredients. As then, Nadia is in the kitchen and Antonio runs the front of the house.  With the changes, the restaurant began receiving accolades, even outside Italy, with a slew of awards like listing in the Relais & Châteaux Guide, a listing in Les Grandes Tables du Monde and those vaunted three Michelin stars. And, as expected, the next generation of Santinis continues the tradition, with son Alberto joining Antonio in overseeing the dining area and son Giovanni and Alberto’s wife, Valentina, joining Nadia in the kitchen, all upholding the tradition of great, yet simple, fare and gracious service.
    So, what can one currently expect from an establishment so high on a pedestal? First, a greeting at the door by Alberto or Antonio that makes you feel like you’re a regular, followed by a glass of Champagne enjoyed at your leisure in a plush anteroom. Next, a guided entrance into an airy dining room overlooking plush gardens and the Oglio River. The large room contains only eight tables, set widely apart with starched white cloths, fine Ginori and Waterford china and Riedel wine glasses. The only sounds are those of the river in the distance and the hushed voices of servers and other patrons.
    Once seated, guests are presented with a multi-page wine list that not only provides a wide range of excellent Italian vintages but many top-producer bottles from around the world, followed by a menu featuring three price fixed offerings, ranging from five courses for $165, including tax and service,  to one of ten courses for $275, as well as a  two-page listing of à la carte entrees.
    To best experience the fare, I highly recommend the fixed price multiple course options with each member of a group choosing a separate menu and sharing. But no matter which path you take, the service is knowledgeable and professional, with adequate time between courses to reflect on the flavors of the dishes served, yet no annoyingly long pauses in the progression of the fare.
    As to the food itself, do not expect big bold, tongue-tingling flavors with exotic spices and sauces. Rather, expect artfully presented food made with the best ingredients (the more local, the better), cooked with subtle spicing and to perfect degrees of doneness. For example, a simple salad of tomatoes and eggplant with basil, just picked from the garden outside the window, and a drizzle of double-virgin olive oil was bursting with the fragrant scents of a just-blooming forest. A generous slice of a chilled lobster terrine with caviar and ginger root tasted of the ocean; delicate tortelli filled with pumpkin and Parmigiano brought a scent of vanilla and a lingering flavor of hazelnuts;  lasagnette (a narrower version of lasagna) with cuts of prized Fassona beef, spinach and mustard greens (a dish that could be quite heavy in other hands) showed elegant, complex flavors of beef and herbs; a citrus fruit sauce heightened the pleasant acidity in a serving of moist sea bass fillet.
    A dousing of a reduced mix of Cabernet and crushed blueberries tamed the strong flavors of a medium rare saddle of venison that did not have the chewy texture often associated with this cut of meat; a serving of roast pigeon (often bland elsewhere) was brought to life with the addition of bacon and thyme and a coating of a red wine reduction laced with sweet cherries; a selection of full flavored and mild, yet rich, cheeses contained no clunkers. And an amaretti semifreddo cake with a scent of coffee and chocolate topped with a rich sabayon was a decadent way to conclude the meal.
    Of note, for wine we chose a bottle of Speri 2011 Amarone that showed a bouquet and flavors of plums and cassis with notes of cherry and anise in its finish, which matched the flavors of the food quite well. And following the meal, we (like most guests) were invited into the kitchen to meet the family, a great finishing touch to a memorable dinner.
    So, is Dal Pescatore still the best restaurant in the world? If not, it’s very, very close.

 

Open Wednesday – Sunday for dinner; Thursday – Sunday for lunch.


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NEW YORK CORNER
By John Mariani
                                                           

LOVE AND PIZZA

    Since, for the time being, I am unable to write about or review New York City restaurants, I have decided instead to print a serialized version of my (unpublished) novel Love and Pizza, which takes place in New York and Italy and  involves a young, beautiful Bronx woman named Nicola Santini from an Italian family impassioned about food.  As the story goes on, Nicola, who is a student at Columbia University, struggles to maintain her roots while seeing a future that could lead her far from them—a future that involves a career and a love affair that would change her life forever. So, while New York’s restaurants remain closed, I will run a chapter of the Love and Pizza each week until the crisis is over. Afterwards I shall be offering the entire book digitally.    I hope you like the idea and even more that you will love Nicola, her family and her friends. I’d love to know what you think. Contact me at loveandpizza123@gmail.com
—John Mariani


To read previous chapters go to archive (beginning with March 29, 2020, issue.

LOVE AND PIZZA
 
 

By John Mariani

Cover Art By Galina Dargery


CHAPTER ELEVEN


Galleria Vittorio Emanuele at the Piazza del Duomo

 

  Between classes, study and meals, both women skimmed the dozens of Italian fashion magazines that piled up around the dorm—there were 10 women and five male students that semester—and, while it was still February, Nicola and Catherine spent a good deal of time visiting the smaller Milan boutiques to buy winter scarves and boots that were only occasionally on sale, saving their money for the new spring clothes.
        They didn’t go to flea markets, but they bought a lot of knock-off stuff from the African street vendors.  For, although Catherine could have bought pretty much anything she wanted, she wanted her dorm mates neither to envy nor resent her.  She had tired of that game with her socialite acquaintances back home and it was one of the things she sought refuge from in Italy.
    Even after only a month in the city all the girls in the dorm began to bemoan the prospect of their gaining weight because most of them ate out almost every night, finding the city’s food stunningly delicious and amazingly cheap.  Besides Nicola and Catherine, three other girls had become pathfinders in trying to find new, out-of-the-way places to eat, although nearby Paper Moon had become their local pizzeria—even though they were disappointed that the restaurant wouldn’t deliver to the dorm, as every pizza store around Columbia University did.  Paper Moon’s owners, the Maginis (left), always greeted the American girls with great warmth, especially when they came en masse, and they doted on Nicola most of all because they both had connections to pizzerias, and they would compare notes on ingredients and technique.
      Whenever the girls ate at Paper Moon they ordered five or six different pizzas—the traditional margherita with mozzarella, tomato and basil; another with crescenza cheese and pistachios; another with egg and ham, and so on.  Having been hooked that first day in Milan on the pizza with mozzarella, Gorgonzola and leeks, Nicola invariably ordered that one for herself.
    So Nicola, Catherine and the three others—Jenny, a girl from Missouri studying archeology; Suzanne, from D.C. studying poly-sci; and Mercédes, from Buenos Aires, in pre-med—would make their forays into the city each night, saving calories at lunch by subsisting on espresso and sharing skinny panini sandwiches, or maybe just some hot chestnuts roasted over charcoal by a street vendor, then ordering with abandon at dinner, always trying the specials of the house along with traditional dishes.
    Most of the time the girls would frequent the small, usually family-run trattorias but still dress up—and share clothes—a bit more than they would have back in New York, assessing how the Italian girls carried off their particular style with such artlessness—what the Italians call sprezzatura—the casually tied scarves, the beautiful loafers and winter boots, and tight-fitting, slightly flared dark blue jeans. 
       
After noticing that the young Italian women in their neighborhood would wear the same outfits over and over,  even twice a week, the Americans saw that the Italians’ outfits were always mixed with a different scarf or bag or jacket from a suit. Yet the Italians always looked perfectly stylish, whether headed for school, work or dinner.
       
After a while Catherine realized she’d brought more clothes with her to Milan than most of these Italian women had in their home closets.  Nicola, on the other hand, blended in more easily with the Italians, with not so many clothes, all easily adaptable for mixing.  Indeed, most Milanese who met her thought she was Italian, and Nicola spoke to them in their language, although she was hesitant because of the Neapolitan accent and  colloquialisms.
       
Within two weeks they’d found favorite eating spots they could easily walk to, some with menus from other regions like Abruzzi, Sardinia, or Piedmont.  In the Lombardian places they might start off with the paper-thin, air-dried beef filet called bresaola or a salami made from smoked goose breast. Next they might order the stuffed pasta called cansonsei in a rich broth, or the buckwheat pasta called pizzocheri, with Savoy cabbage, potatoes and cheese.  Dessert always seemed too much to bear after such meals—though gelato didn't count.
        For the best cheeses in Milan they’d go to La Latteria on San Marco (above), where, despite a no-reservations policy, a table was always found for the five bella ragazze from America.  If they craved seafood, they headed over to the old working-class neighborhood of Navigli, whose cheap rents and large rooms had increasingly drawn artists.  There, near  Porto Ticinese, they would sit outdoors along the canal at Al Porto (below), where they would just let the waiters bring over the freshest, still wriggling seafood of the day, like the tiny seasonal crabs called moleche that crunched in the mouth,  and the tender octopus called fragoline—“Strawberries of the sea.”
    Occasionally they would pool resources to go to a pricier place like Alfredo Gran San Bernardo on Via Borghese, an elegant but unpretentious ristorante, famous for its Milanese classics—osso buco, risotto alla milanese with saffron-scented-and-colored rice, the crispy rice pancake called riso al salto, and the buttery veal cutlet alla milanese, pounded thin and served with the bone.  On her first visit to the restaurant Jenny fell hard for that dish and seemed determined to try every variant in the city wherever she dined.
    None of the girls had any interest in the so-called nuova cucina, an attempt by a handful of contemporary Italian chefs to imitate the stylish nouvelle cuisine of France. One of them, named Gualtiero Marchesi, had even earned a star from the Michelin Guide for his namesake Milan ristorante, where he exalted caviar and foie gras and would only serve pasta after the main course, which cost a whopping $20.  Even Catherine, who occasionally bought dinner for all her friends, balked at such exorbitance.
    They also never went to the prohibitively expensive Savini (below) in the glorious Galleria Emmanuele II, a masterpiece of urban architecture across from the Gothic Duomo cathedral. Built by architect Giuseppe Mengioni between 1865 and 1877, the Galleria was one of the oldest, and certainly the most majestic, indoor shopping areas in the world, its arches housing fashionable boutiques and open caffés where people spent hours, even in cold weather,  enjoying la dolce far niente—the sweetness of doing nothing.
    The girls loved to window-shop and sit down to have an espresso—which had become an addiction for all of them—always laughing themselves sick when the bersaglieri—a unit of soldiers who even in 1985 wore outrageous uniforms topped with broad-brimmed hats decorated with black capercaillie feathers—ran through the Galleria blowing bugles, a tradition dating back to their founding in the 1830s.   You could hear them coming from blocks away, and the girls would begin to giggle and say, “Here they come!” Then the young men in their crisp uniforms would barrel through the Galleria and the girls would hail them, applaud, wave their arms and shout “Bravo!”  Sometimes Suzanne and Jenny would blow impressively loud wolf whistles at them as they flew by, which always made the young soldiers snap their heads around.
    Savini had opened within the Galleria in 1881 as a beer house, but by 1884 had evolved into an elegant ristorante, which, given its proximity to the La Scala opera house, became a requisite stop for musicians and actors early on, from Verdi to Puccini, and later Toscanini, Eleonora Duse, Charlie Chaplin, Frank Sinatra, Ava Gardner and Grace Kelly.
    Catherine would have loved to have dined at Savini, but she did not want her friends to feel compromised for not having any truly elegant clothes of the kind the restaurant’s patrons showed off, even though she thought many of the bejeweled older women looked like dowagers whose sense of taste stopped somewhere around 1955.  Nicola just shrugged and said the tasseled menu was more continental than Italian anyway and that she had no desire to eat there.
    Of course, there was no shortage of Italian men intrigued by the passel of five American girls, especially since few Americans visited Milan in winter.  Sometimes the men would circle the girls’ caffé table like Indians, others would regard them from the bar and nod, trying to attract their attention, and, a brave few would come right over and, inevitably, ask, “Americani?”
    Depending on the girls’ instantaneous assessment of the fellow, magically transmitted to each other without so much as a glance, they would smile and say “yes” or “si,” and then, if the man were practiced at this sort of thing, he would invite himself to sit down, employing a soulful version of “I do not want to intrude,” putting the palms of his hands together as if praying.  The less assured would enlist a friend to cut down the odds of five women arrayed against them.
    If the women showed interest, they would turn to Nicola to speak to the men in Italian and ask if they spoke English, and if that went well—not that many young Italians, even in Milan, spoke English—the invitation to sit down might be forthcoming.  Then, each of the American girls took it from there.  Depending on how the rest of the afternoon or evening went, the men might win the promise of a date for the next day or the weekend with one or another of the girls, although—unless one of them became suddenly infatuated with the dark looks and eyelashes of Gianni or Piero or Massimo or Stefano—they preferred to stick together, which inevitably led to Gianni or Piero or Massimo or Stefano bringing along a sufficient number of friends for the next rendezvous.
    In fact, in Europe young people generally did not really date one on one, preferring the gregarious company of friends who could split checks, bring them to a new hot spot, and introduce them to new people.  Still, a few of the Italian men seemed convinced by what they’d heard or seen in movies about uninhibited American girls enough to ask them out on an individual date right off the bat and bed down with them before midnight, which was usually a very big mistake.
    Ironically, because the Italian cinema of the 1980s was moribund, and prior to that largely a series of so-called Spaghetti Westerns exported to the States, the American women had little by which to judge Italian men by going to movies.  The assumptions were that the men would be more forward but far more suave about their approach than most American men they knew.  The women also retained a persistent fantasy about the Latin lover who differed in style and sexual experience from their American counterparts, who preferred to play the anti-hero or the bad boy who was really sensitive down deep.
    The idea, often expressed among the women, that “when in Rome do as the Romans do” seemed equally to apply to Milan, and although all of them, except Nicola and Mercédes, had already been through serious love affairs, the allure of the unfamiliar and exotic was palpable whenever they met one of the handsome young Italians.  Often, one or two of the men even kissed their hands, something unimaginable back home, then one or another of the girls would pat her breast and say, “Be still, my heart!” or “Is it getting hot in here?”  Then everyone would laugh and discuss in detail every aspect of the man and every second of his visit.
    “Did you see what beautiful hands he had?”
    “My God, he had such blue eyes for an Italian!”
    “I don’t know anyone back home who dresses that way.”
    “Did you notice how his pants fit?”
    “Well, maybe someone should tell him about deodorants before we see him next.”
     They’d then pretend to fantasize about how they might run away with such a man, packed into his little Fiat 500 (Catherine said, “For me to run off with a guy it had better be at least an Alfa-Romeo.”) eat pasta every day, make love every night, and live in a Tuscan villa with a vineyard and a small flock of sheep.  Children did not appear in those reveries.
     Of course, such fantasies were considered no more serious than those of the men they coveted, who themselves dreamed of romancing a beautiful, very sexy, rich American girl who would implore them to come to America so they might drive around the country in a DeLorean sports car, see places with magical names like Miami and Beverly Hills, buy beautiful clothes and marry into her rich family, and then, il dolce far niente.
      The fact was, all of the girls knew that for the time being pursuing their education in law or medicine or politics or teaching was what they needed to do and intended to finish, even if their current Italian idylls lent themselves to frequent daydreams.
      Nicola, more than the rest of her friends, was an object of fascination for the Italians, first because she was very beautiful and second because she was Italian-American and spoke their language.  But she was more than content to spend evenings together in a group with her friends and new acquaintances.  She had no reason as yet to write anything of importance to her sister Natalie.

 



©
John Mariani, 2020

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NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR



INTERVIEW WITH FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA
PART ONE

By John Mariani




    It’s likely that the name Francis Ford Coppola in most people’s minds will always be as one of the world’s great filmmakers, whose work includes The Godfather Trilogy, Apocalypse Now, The Conversation, The Outsiders, The Rainmaker and more. But anyone familiar with the pioneering figures in the American wine world knows that Francis Ford Coppola Winery, with brands that range from prestigious labels like Archimedes and Eleanor to his Director’s Cut series, Inglenook and the highly successful Diamond Collection, is one of the industry’s dominant players.
    Winemaking in the Coppola family dates back to the 1920s, when Francis’s grandfather, Agostino Coppola, made wine in the basement of his New York apartment building using concrete vats he constructed himself. Thirty-five years ago Francis and his wife, Eleanor, entered the business of making wine only as an avocation to his moviemaking. While living in San Francisco, they bought the Niebaum Mansion in Rutherford, Calif., on the historic Inglenook Estate, which they have restored over three decades. In 2006 they bought Château Souverain to produce their Diamond Collection and Rosso & Bianco wine brands.
    Among
American wine companies the Francis Ford Coppola Winery now ranks  among the top ten producers of premium wine (suggested retail price of  $10+) and fifth as wine supplier in that category. Coppola also has founded Family Coppola Hideaways, a resort company, with luxury properties in Belize, Guatemala, Italy and Argentina.
    As a long-time admirer of Coppola’s achievements in both cinema and the wine world, I was delighted to have a chance to do a long interview with him and find out how he views both careers at the age of 81.

How is the current pandemic affecting you and your family? 

We are, as most everyone, sheltering in place, but, given the natural beauty of the Napa Valley, you could consider it sheltering in paradise. Basically, all our kids and their kids are here, and some nephews and their kids, making close to 25 individuals. We are more than aware that many others are suffering under more cramped and dire conditions than found here, and our hearts go out to them and we are most grateful and lucky to be able to be together in such beautiful surroundings. [This past week the winery has re-opened and is holding wine tastings by reservation.]

Did your family drink wine when you were a child?  

As an Italian-American, I confess, I never saw a dinner table that didn’t have wine on it. But I also heard great stories my uncles told me about the days during Prohibition, when the government allowed families accustomed to drinking wine with food to make two barrels of wine in their homes.  My grandfather had seven sons and expected them to help out in making this home wine, but the boys were more anxious to steal the grapes, because fresh fruit was a luxury and they were quite poor. Imagine a single orange divided up between seven boys! There were elaborate schemes of lowering the youngest in a basket on a rope into the cellar where the grapes were kept and, as the old man approached, letting go, with the littlest brother crashing into them. We loved hearing those stories sitting around the table, where we kids were allowed a little wine mixed with 7-Up. 

Did you get serious about wine at some point in his life? 

Those childhood stories made winemaking sound like so much fun. Later in my life, when finally I had earned a little money, I suggested to my wife that we buy a summer cottage in the Napa Valley, hopefully with a few grapevines, and the agent showing us these modest possibilities said, “This isn’t for you, but the Niebaum Estate is being auctioned and that was  the most beautiful wine estate in the world, and this would be a chance to see it.” So we said “sure” and went to see it, but to behold it was to wish it could be yours. We lost the bid at auction, but and eventually that wish, after the success of  The Godfather, came true.  With it came about a 100 acres of premium Napa vineyards—originally they were going to build 60 homes on the hillside, but we bought it—and soon many winemakers were coming by to offer to lease those vineyards, and I said to Eleanor, “Why don’t we just keep those grapes and make wine ourselves?” And she said, “What do you know about how to make wine?” to which I replied, “Nothing, but neither do I know how to make movies, but that hasn’t stopped me.” And so that’s how I found myself in the wine business.  

Many of the Coppola wines are named after women in your life. Why is this the case? 

When our first wines came out under the name Coppola, my mother said “Oh, Coppola this and Coppola that. Remember you’re also a Pennino.” So to make her happy, we came out with a wine honoring her side of the family, Edizione Pennino, a luscious zinfandel. So that set the pace and I began to honor various family members. I made a sparkling wine for my little nine-year-old daughter, Sofia, and told her one day it would be served at her wedding, and then another in admiration of my wife, Eleanor, and I realized that little by little I was turning all my relatives into products.  But they were delicious wines and expressed my love and admiration for my family. 

Tell me about Archimedes? 

Archimedes turned out to be a premium wine. It was a name our family gave to the eldest son. My great, great grandfather named my uncle Archimedes [after the Greek mathematician and astronomer] because he was a great admirer of his mind. You know, Archimedes was the one who first said “Eureka!”  So, when it came to making our best wine, we called it Archimedes. We make under  2,000 cases.

 

Francis Ford Coppola Winery brought many innovations to the wine industry and many firsts.  Upon being told that a non-champagne blancs des blancs would never sell, you did it anyway. How did this occur to you and do you think you have a stubborn streak that made you go ahead with it? 

When we lived in Paris, where my second son, Roman, was born, and I was working on a movie there, Ellie and I used to go to a neighborhood restaurant and always order a blanc des blancs [sparkling wine]. We didn’t have money and it was a far cheaper alternative to champagne. That’s why I later thought we could make one in Napa, and I named it “Sofia” after our precocious little daughter. I remember showing it and offering a glass to the great Mr. Jack Davies, who was making an authentic Méthode Traditionnelle sparkling wine called Schramsberg.  He knew more about sparkling wines than anyone in the valley, and told me I was kidding myself to think I could sell a blanc des blancs called “Sofia” no matter how much I loved my little daughter.  But yes, I guess I am stubborn once I get an idea in my head and I persist, especially when it's about my family.  I was also among the first to make a fine Cabernet blend in the Bordeaux style, and along with Joseph Phelps’s Insignia gave it a proprietary name, Rubicon, so it wouldn’t be designated  (by law) “California red wine.” 

Coppola Winery was also the first winery in northern California to install a swimming pool and a bocce court.  Why, and was this meant always as something for guests?  

That is Francis Coppola Winery in Sonoma, and I was anxious for kids to want to go along with their parents to visit a winery. I used to watch the kids in Napa always jump into the fountain, and when they were told they couldn’t, they would always ask, “Why not?” “Because it isn’t a swimming pool” was the reply.  I think you never go wrong taking kids seriously, so when I built the new Francis Coppola Winery in Sonoma we added a cluster of swimming pools, which turned out magnificently. When the kids want to go, so do the grandparents, who want to be with the kids, and they play bocce, so there’s something for everyone and they stay all day.


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Sponsored by






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 Any of John Mariani's books below may be ordered from amazon.com.



   The Hound in Heaven (21st Century Lion Books) is a  novella, and for anyone who loves dogs, Christmas, romance, inspiration, even the supernatural, I hope you'll find this to be a treasured  favorite. The  story concerns how, after a New England teacher, his wife and their two daughters adopt a stray puppy found in their barn in northern Maine, their lives seem full of promise. But when tragedy strikes, their wonderful dog Lazarus and the spirit of Christmas are the only things that may bring his master back from the edge of despair. 

WATCH THE VIDEO!

“What a huge surprise turn this story took! I was completely stunned! I truly enjoyed this book and its message.” – Actress Ali MacGraw

“He had me at Page One. The amount of heart, human insight, soul searching, and deft literary strength that John Mariani pours into this airtight novella is vertigo-inducing. Perhaps ‘wow’ would be the best comment.” – James Dalessandro, author of Bohemian Heart and 1906.


“John Mariani’s Hound in Heaven starts with a well-painted portrayal of an American family, along with the requisite dog. A surprise event flips the action of the novel and captures us for a voyage leading to a hopeful and heart-warming message. A page turning, one sitting read, it’s the perfect antidote for the winter and promotion of holiday celebration.” – Ann Pearlman, author of The Christmas Cookie Club and A Gift for my Sister.

“John Mariani’s concise, achingly beautiful novella pulls a literary rabbit out of a hat – a mash-up of the cosmic and the intimate, the tragic and the heart-warming – a Christmas tale for all ages, and all faiths. Read it to your children, read it to yourself… but read it. Early and often. Highly recommended.” – Jay Bonansinga, New York Times bestselling author of Pinkerton’s War, The Sinking of The Eastland, and The Walking Dead: The Road To Woodbury.

“Amazing things happen when you open your heart to an animal. The Hound in Heaven delivers a powerful story of healing that is forged in the spiritual relationship between a man and his best friend. The book brings a message of hope that can enrich our images of family, love, and loss.” – Dr. Barbara Royal, author of The Royal Treatment.




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The Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink by John F. Mariani (Bloomsbury USA, $35)

Modesty forbids me to praise my own new book, but let me proudly say that it is an extensive revision of the 4th edition that appeared more than a decade ago, before locavores, molecular cuisine, modernist cuisine, the Food Network and so much more, now included. Word origins have been completely updated, as have per capita consumption and production stats. Most important, for the first time since publication in the 1980s, the book includes more than 100 biographies of Americans who have changed the way we cook, eat and drink -- from Fannie Farmer and Julia Child to Robert Mondavi and Thomas Keller.


"This book is amazing! It has entries for everything from `abalone' to `zwieback,' plus more than 500 recipes for classic American dishes and drinks."--Devra First, The Boston Globe.

"Much needed in any kitchen library."--Bon Appetit.




Now in Paperback, too--How Italian Food Conquered the World (Palgrave Macmillan)  has won top prize  from the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards.  It is a rollicking history of the food culture of Italy and its ravenous embrace in the 21st century by the entire world. From ancient Rome to la dolce vita of post-war Italy, from Italian immigrant cooks to celebrity chefs, from pizzerias to high-class ristoranti, this chronicle of a culinary diaspora is as much about the world's changing tastes, prejudices,  and dietary fads as about our obsessions with culinary fashion and style.--John Mariani

"Eating Italian will never be the same after reading John Mariani's entertaining and savory gastronomical history of the cuisine of Italy and how it won over appetites worldwide. . . . This book is such a tasteful narrative that it will literally make you hungry for Italian food and arouse your appetite for gastronomical history."--Don Oldenburg, USA Today. 

"Italian restaurants--some good, some glitzy--far outnumber their French rivals.  Many of these establishments are zestfully described in How Italian Food Conquered the World, an entertaining and fact-filled chronicle by food-and-wine correspondent John F. Mariani."--Aram Bakshian Jr., Wall Street Journal.


"Mariani admirably dishes out the story of Italy’s remarkable global ascent to virtual culinary hegemony....Like a chef gladly divulging a cherished family recipe, Mariani’s book reveals the secret sauce about how Italy’s cuisine put gusto in gusto!"--David Lincoln Ross, thedailybeast.com

"Equal parts history, sociology, gastronomy, and just plain fun, How Italian Food Conquered the World tells the captivating and delicious story of the (let's face it) everybody's favorite cuisine with clarity, verve and more than one surprise."--Colman Andrews, editorial director of The Daily Meal.com.

"A fantastic and fascinating read, covering everything from the influence of Venice's spice trade to the impact of Italian immigrants in America and the evolution of alta cucina. This book will serve as a terrific resource to anyone interested in the real story of Italian food."--Mary Ann Esposito, host of PBS-TV's Ciao Italia.

"John Mariani has written the definitive history of how Italians won their way into our hearts, minds, and stomachs.  It's a story of pleasure over pomp and taste over technique."--Danny Meyer, owner of NYC restaurants Union Square Cafe,  The Modern, and Maialino.

                                                                             





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FEATURED LINKS: I am happy to  report that the Virtual Gourmet is  linked to four excellent travel sites:

Everett Potter's Travel  Report

I consider this the best and savviest blog of its kind on the  web. Potter is a columnist for USA Weekend, Diversion, Laptop and Luxury  Spa Finder, a contributing editor for Ski and  a frequent contributor to National  Geographic Traveler, ForbesTraveler.com  and Elle Decor. "I’ve designed this site is for people who take their  travel seriously," says Potter. "For travelers who want to learn about special  places but don’t necessarily want to pay through the nose for the privilege of  staying there. Because at the end of the day, it’s not so much about five-star  places as five-star experiences."  THIS WEEK:






Eating Las Vegas JOHN CURTAS has been covering the Las Vegas food and restaurant scene since 1995. He is the co-author of EATING LAS VEGAS – The 50 Essential Restaurants (as well as the author of the Eating Las Vegas web site: www.eatinglasvegas. He can also be seen every Friday morning as the “resident foodie” for Wake Up With the Wagners on KSNV TV (NBC) Channel 3  in Las Vegas.



              



MARIANI'S VIRTUAL GOURMET NEWSLETTER is published weekly.  Publisher: John Mariani. Editor: Walter Bagley. Contributing Writers: Christopher Mariani, Robert Mariani,  Misha Mariani, John A. Curtas, Gerry Dawes, Geoff Kalish, and Brian Freedman. Contributing Photographer: Galina Dargery. Technical Advisor: Gerry McLoughlin.

 

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