Back in the 1980s there was a rush of interest in Tuscan cooking that seemed to have more to do with style and fashion than what was actually la cucina Toscana.  It began when the fashionistas poured into Milan (which is not in Tuscany, but Lombardy) and the designers, publishers, buyers and models began frequenting three Tuscan restaurants there—Bagutta, Bice (left) and Da Giacomo, all within a spiked heel’s throw of the fashion houses where the spring and autumn shows were held. They drew an international crowd and plenty of movie stars, and by the time Bice opened an outpost in New York in 1987 Italian designers like Armani, Missoni and Dolce Gabbana had supplanted French couturiers as the most exciting and innovative in Europe.
     The menus were very basic, with reliable Tuscan dishes like bistecca alla Fiorentina, pollo alla mattone, and tagliatelle con lepre (hare), eaten with Tuscan wines like Chianti and Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. So, there grew a myth about Tuscan food being the best and the most stylish, as well as being lighter than the food from, say, Bologna or Naples. To be sure, Tuscan food is fairly simple, with a few hearty dishes like stracotto beef stew and cibreo made with chicken livers and cockscombs. Grilled meats and game are staples, and the wines of the region do indeed go well with all of it.
      The term “Tuscan Grill” had no particular meaning, but was attached to a lot of good and bad restaurants in America, while the fad faded at the better restaurants in big cities. So, I thought it was time to bring the subject up to date by interviewing  Giovanni Mazzei (below), whose story is really one worth sharing. You have probably heard of Giovanni’s family’s property—Castello di Fonterutoli. Over the past ten years, he has moved away from the "family business" and started his own wine, Ipsus, which was finally launched last year after years of research (including into biodynamics—a certification that Giovanni is working towards). With two vintages now out (2015 and 2016), Ipsus is rapidly establishing a reputation as a "cult" wine among connoisseurs. 

 

As a general rule, do you believe that the food of a region goes best with the wine of the region and why so? 

I think it does to some extent. Being able to match the purity and traceability of a region’s food and wine, both born from the same land, helps to express different aspects of the same place. That is what is so enchanting about Tuscan farming; we are so proud of our region and what it has to offer, and we share that through our produce. I do also believe that the hallmark of a good wine is one that expresses itself perfectly on its own, and this was a major consideration when making Ipsus. 

What are the aspects of Tuscan cuisine that distinguish it from the cuisine of other parts of Italy?

The prompt seasonality of our cuisine is quite unique. With different ingredients showing their best at specific points of the year, there is always a different recipe that is “in season.”  In the late summer we include tomatoes in a lot of dishes, as they are perfectly ripe; for example, la pappa al pomodoro, a traditional Tuscan bread soup (left). For the colder months, one of our specialties is eel. At our agro-tourism farm Il Caggio, we cultivate a small amount of eel that we collect during the winter to roast on the fire. It’s a staple of the Tuscan household and the wood fire is used a lot during the winter, roasting boar, wood pigeon, and vegetables, including zucchini, asparagus and radicchio. 
     Our cuisine is based on a vast variety of fish, meat and vegetable dishes, stemming from a lot of history and executed with a lot of creativity. They are dishes that absolutely require local ingredients. Our history has led to the simplicity of our cuisine, but it is through this simplicity that we are able to get creative in how we cook and assemble dishes.

 

How does the terroir of Chiantis like Ipsus make the wines a perfect match for the cuisine you just described? 

Like our farming, wine growing in Chianti involves the subtle input of man into nature to get the very best out of it. We are not just growing grapes, we are grooming the land to show off our terroir in our wine—that is what creates the perfect pairing, as our farmers are doing the same. The 6.5 hectares of Ipsus vineyards are divided into six plots, all situated within a little enclave, or “clos,” with the exposure south-east to south-west. Our vines are over 35 years old, and our soil comprises a mixture of clay schist, calcareous marl, and alberese rock fragments, while we benefit from a well-ventilated Mediterranean climate. As well as the altitude, the calcareous marl and the alberese rock fragments contribute the silky tannins, minerality and complex aromatics. The clay, alongside the altitude, definitely contributes to the unique freshness of the wine.
    Combine all the elements and you have a wine that is light but with lots of structure, tension and an array of unique and elegant aromatics. The uniqueness and variations of our terroir leads to a complex flavor profile—aromatics of blackberries, pine needles and flowers, cherry, pomegranate, blood orange, star anise, cinnamon, crushed stones and dried flowers.
    In terms of taste, I wanted with Ipsus to create a wine that is constantly evolving while it’s in your glass. Not only does this make it a very entertaining wine, which matches the Tuscan way of living, but also works extremely well with our dynamic, seasonal cuisine. Indeed, the Tuscan way of living is all about living with nature. Leonardo Da Vinci (left), Botticelli, Donatello, Giotto, Masaccio, Brunelleschi, Beato Angelico, Pontorno, Ghirlandaio, Vasari  would never have been the masters that they were if they weren’t fully integrated in the beauty of Tuscan nature.

Some say that Tuscan cuisine is very simple and not as interesting or rich in diversity as other parts of Italy, such as Veneto, Lombardi, Bologna, Naples and Sicily. Do you think this is true, and is simplicity a Tuscan virtue? 

Simplicity is indeed a Tuscan virtue , but the diversity in our produce is also equal to none. For example, in Tuscany there is an incredible selection of different tomatoes available in the markets (like the Fiorentini or Pisanello) that we would use for different dishes. Living in central Italy between the Mediterranean Sea and the Apennine mountains, we benefit from amazing access to many different ingredients, from fish to zafferano (saffron, right). Our originality is born from our dedication to the land. Every season, every year we are looking at what we can do from what we have around us.

 

Why does Tuscan bread lack salt?

Tuscan cuisine is quite salty, so this balances the meal. But looking back on history: There are also various stories about periods where there were salt shortages, or high salt taxes, and so the people instead baked bread without it. This resulted in the Tuscan people looking to other flavorful and salty foods in our cooking, bringing us to today, with good balance between these foods and our bread.

 

What are the innovations in Chianti, and Ipsus, that have changed it for the better over the last 10 years and how can a Chianti Classico compete with the so-called super Tuscans? 

First, viticulture has seen significant change in the last 40 years. In Chianti Classico we witnessed a real revolution that brought us to an incredible selection of biotypes of Sangiovese (right), which for me is really the key to creating the style of wines that I am looking for—a “Tuscan purity.” Over the 15 years since we purchased the vine parcels around Il Caggio, we have acquired more knowledge on how to let the vines express themselves, and how to interfere as little as possible throughout the winemaking process. This to me is how to achieve a true expression of Chianti Classico.

 

Can you recommend some good Tuscan cookbooks in English? 

Pellegrino Artusi’s La Scienza in Cucina e l’Arte di Mangiar Bene (“Science in the Kitchen and the Art of Eating Well”) is the “bible” of Italian cuisine. The book was first published in Florence in 1891. I would also recommend the infamous Tuscan character Fabio Picchi’s 2016 cookbook Papale Papale: Ricette Che Salvano l’Anima (“Papale Papale:  Thoughts and Recipes to Nourish the Soul”).

 

How is Agro-tourism doing in Tuscany in the Covid era? 

Even with Covid-19, we have seen a growth in agro-tourism within Tuscany. I do believe that, due to the pandemic, people are desperate to pursue family, nature and artisan values, and I think that agro-tourism has continued to accelerate as it is the best way to be surrounded by, and engaged with, nature.

 

What do you like to cook and do you choose the food first and then the wine, or the wine first and then the food? 

My favorite dish to cook is risotto. When you are making a risotto, you really make it. You are not baking, boiling or roasting; you have to be there with it constantly, otherwise it is ruined. It’s the same principles as winemaking. You always have to be around the vines, constantly monitoring them in order to get the best out of them. It is very romantic.     Surprisingly, I choose the food and the wine almost independently. I pick a wine that I am eager to try or am particularly enjoying at the time, and otherwise try to let go of strict food and wine pairings. I think if the food and wine come from the same soil, the same spirit, then you should be able to enjoy them together.

 

Can you recommend some of the best restaurants in Tuscany, the finest and the really favorite trattoria’? 

Le Panzanelle in Radda in Chianti Classico. Ristorante Padellina in Strada (left) is also great. It is run by brothers, Alvaro and Rolando Parenti.  Alvaro has a passion for Dante (the Medieval Italian poet and philosopher), and he often emerges from the kitchen to recite from heart verses from the Divina Commedia to the dining room. 

What are your favorite restaurants in Florence?

The finest restaurant in Tuscany, I must say, is Cibreo (below) in Florence. I also like Cammillo, Belguardo, Vecchia Bettola, Sostanza detto Troia (right) and Buca dell’Orafo. 

Do the DOCG regulations still prevent certain grapes from being used in Chianti Classico? Is Trebbiano ever used anymore? 

Yes, producers can use only red grapes to make Chianti Classico, with a minimum of 80% of Sangiovese. Trebbiano is not used in DOCG wines,  but there is a lot of great opportunity for the estates that want to make it on its own [as a white wine], and I’m sure we will witness some great Trebbiano coming out of the region in the future.

 

What is the governo process and it is used anymore? 

Governo is a winemaking technique that started in Tuscany over 700 years ago. It involves saving a batch of harvested grapes and allowing them to partially dry. This is said to increase the richness and stability of the wine. The process is not used anymore in Chianti Classico, and our producers aren’t that familiar with it, but it is still used in some areas of Tuscany.

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         It was a cool evening with a light autumn breeze.  Katie and David got to the marina a few minutes early and asked where to find Iacobello’s boat, named Stella del Mare, Star of the Sea.  As they approached they saw an older man standing aft, looking out at the bay.
         “He’s wearing a fedora?” said Katie, trying not to laugh. “This guy looks straight out of central casting for an Italian mobster.”
         “I told you, these guys love to look the look they pick up from movies. Looks good on him, though.”
         David called out, “Signore Iacobello?”
         The man on the boat turned and waved for them to come aboard, graciously helping Katie over the side of the boat, which for her qualified as handshake enough. David got onboard and introduced himself but no handshake was forthcoming.
         “It’s a beautiful night for a little sailing under the moonlight, eh?” said Iacobello, then he called to a young man onboard to start the engine and loose the boat from its moorings, easing it away from the slip.
         The Stella del Mare was no yacht, probably converted from a fishing vessel, with few signs of refitting or embellishment.  Its engine puttered till they cleared the harbor.  Iacobello said little beyond commenting on the calm water and a moon that was nearly full.
         “So I think I know why you wanted to see me,” said Iacobello.
         “Capone’s gold.”
         “Ah, so you’re what they call a ‘gold digger?’” asked Frankie Switch, looking straight at Katie.
         “In a manner of speaking,” she answered.
         “Well, I don’t have it.  If I did, I’d own a better boat.”
         “Do you know who might, or where it is?” asked David. “We were told by Officer Frascella you talked about it a lot when you were in Philly.”
         “You know Frascella?”
         “Only by reputation and on the phone. Says he was once a runner for the Philly mob and that he heard you say you knew where Capone’s gold was.”
         Iacobello shrugged.  “I have my ideas.”
          “Well, Signore Iacobello,” Katie said in Neapolitan dialect, “could you  share those ideas with us.”
         “Tu parli Italiano?”
         “A little. Con un accento Napoletano, I’m afraid.” 
         Iacobello turned to the man steering the boat and said, “Portarci a quella piccola insenatura vicino a Sorrento.”
         David leaned in towards Katie and asked, “What’d he say?”
         “He told the guy to take us to a little cove near Sorrento.  But . . .”
         “But what?”
         “He wasn’t speaking Neapolitan.  It sounded like Sicilian.”
         “So?”
         “I thought he was Neapolitan and, if he was, he’d be part of the Camorra, wouldn’t he?”
         Iacobello interrupted them and said, “So, Detective Greco, tu parli Italiano?”
         “Not enough to carry on a conversation so I know what you’re talking about.”
         “And you were chief detective on the Italian mobs in New York and you didn’t speak Italian?” asked Iacobello, shaking his head.
         “We had translators who understood Sicilian.  So, can you tell us anything, or not?”
         Iacobello shrugged and said, “And, if I tell you, what can you do for me?”
         David had expected this. “Frankie, I’m an ex-cop. There’s nothing I can do for you. Besides, you seem to be able to come and go as you please.”
         Iacobello laughed. “Oh, sure. And every time there’s a robbery or shooting in Naples, I get a visit from the Carabinieri.  And they treat me with no respect.”
         David stifled his urge to tell the mobster what he thought of him and his murderous past. Respect was something wise guys paid for or murdered enemies for.
         “There’s nothing I can do about that.”
         Iacobello looked David squarely in the eyes and said, “You had a big reputation in New York, eh? You had respect from your friends and maybe even some of the wise guys gave you credit for having balls.  But don’t for a minute think you weren’t hated by the wise guys. They hated you for turning guys by threatening them, hated the goddamn wiretaps, and we all know why some of the guys were never even arrested and how the guys on your side got rich off the mob.”
         “I wasn’t one of those crooked cops.”
         “Maybe not, maybe so. But you’re still a disgrace being an Italian going after Italians. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
         David was seething but felt that any insult to Iacobello would kill any chance of finding out more information on Capone’s gold.  Then again, he was beginning to think this whole meeting was a farce.
         “Frankie, if you have something to tell me, tell me.  If not, don’t waste our time. It’s been a nice night sailing around the bay but we’ve got work to do.”
         Iacobello chuckled and said, “Okay, Detective Greco. Here’s what I know.”
         “What you know or what you believe?” asked Katie.
         “Prendere per quello che vale la pena.”
         Katie turned to David and translated: “Take it for what it’s worth.”
         “What I do know,” Iacobello began, “is that the gold went to Italy.”
         “How did they get it here?” asked David.
         “I have no idea. They had planes and ships in those days. It didn’t come over in Al Capone’s pockets.”
         “And what do you think happened to the gold when it got here?”
         “It came here, to Naples, or at least somewhere in Campania.  The capos here all say that. You remember Vito Genovese? He had control of the gold.  They say he sold it to the Americans when they pushed out the Germans, then he went back to America and set things up there.”
         “So, you’re saying all the gold was shipped back to the U.S. by Genovese and the federal officials?” asked Katie, realizing that Iacobello had only snippets of the story correct.
         “No, what I heard was that Capone saved some of it somewhere for after the war.  Kept a stash away from the Camorra.  The rest Genovese sold back to the feds.”
         Both Katie and David knew there was nothing but a kernel of truth to Iacobello’s story, which had probably been embellished over the years as part of mob folklore.
         “So that’s all you know?” asked Katie, speaking Neapolitan.
         Iacobello nodded and shrugged. “That’s about it. The Army and the feds got in bed with Genovese and you know the rest of the story. What I could never figure was why Capone didn’t try to collect the money for his own family.”
         David was not about to tell Iacobello anything more about Capone’s plan for extortion and collection of the reward.  “So, we’re done here, Frankie?”
         “Not quite yet,” said Iacobello, then, in Sicilian, to the boat pilot, “Va bene , si fermano qui.”  The pilot shut down the engine, which sputtered to a halt.
         Katie grabbed David’s arm. “What’s going on?”
         David said nothing but pushed her away from him.
         Iacobello said, “Ah, before we go back to Naples, I want you to meet a mutual friend.”  In Sicilian he called out, “Uscire, Giovanni!”
         From below deck emerged a man in American bluejeans and t-shirt.  It was John Frascella, with a pistol in his right hand.
         “So we finally meet in person, Miss Cavuto, Detective Greco. And my friend Frankie.”
         Katie’s mind was racing but David knew exactly what was about to happen.
         “Y’know,” said Frascella, “I wasn’t sure you believed me when we spoke on the phone, but I alerted Frankie here if he found out you were coming.  He had a friendly cop at the airport monitor things and report back if you arrived.  Then Frankie called me and I rushed over, just to meet you two.”
         “With a Beretta in your hand?  Not your police revolver?”
         “C’mon, I left that behind when I left the force. Picked this beauty up as soon as I got to Frankie’s place. The new M9, military issue, beautiful gun, not too heavy, nice long magazine.”
         “So how’s this going to go down, Frascella?” asked David.
         “Well, first you put your hands in the air, then the pilot here ties you both up.  Then I think Frankie’s going to ask me to shoot you.”
         Katie gasped and said, “But I thought you guys never shoot cops!”
         Frascella laughed and said, “We usually don’t . . . on the cops’ own turf.  But now we are far far away in sunny Italy.”
         “Why now?” asked David. “I’m of no interest to you here.”
         Iacobello stepped forward and said, “Oh, we have no fear of you anymore, but some debts need to be paid.  You put a lot of our guys away.  We couldn’t touch you at the time because of that bullshit code that you never kill a cop. But now, you’re not a cop and I can do whatever I want with you.”
         Katie was shaking as the pilot started to tie her hands with plastic  rope.
         David appeared calm and said, “I was never even in Philly, Frankie. And I never went after anybody in the Camorra.”
         Iacobello feigned shock. “But, Detective Greco, I was never in the Camorra. I was Cosa Nostra, Mafia.”
         Then Katie understood why he’d spoken Sicilian, not Neapolitan.
         “Then what are you doing living in Naples?” asked David.
         “I like it here. I’m retired, like you, but sometimes I do favors for old friends, and since the Camorra guys don’t like Mafia anywhere near Naples, I’ve kind of blended in.”
         “And Frascella was always working with you guys,” said David.
         “Such a smart asshole you are,” said Frascella, waving the Beretta. “I never left the mob behind in Philadelphia. I tried—God knows I tried—to get into the rackets squad, just so I could be the mob’s guy on the inside, but it didn’t work out. Funny thing is, when I was out taking pictures at Capone’s house, it really was a coincidence that I was there when Katie was there. I only learned about her when Cunningham began asking me questions about my being out there. But from what I learned from Cunningham, and, of course, from buttering you up on the phone, I knew it would go real well for me if I could have a hand in whacking you outside the United States.”
         “Johnnie’s got a real future with us,” said Iacobello.
         “So,” said David, “this was never about Capone’s gold for you two creeps?  This was all about getting to me?”         “Yeah,” said Frascella, “and sadly, Katie here is going to have to be collateral damage. Shame to waste such a good-looking woman. The two of you, two American tourists, will just . . . disappear over the side and the Carabinieri will inform your families, do a little investigating, make a report, close the file. Over and forgotten in six weeks.”
         “And just to make it a little easier for you,” said Iacobello, “it was mostly bullshit about me knowing anything about the gold.  The Genovese story was true, I think, but I have no fuckin’ idea if there’s any gold around here.”
         “Well,” said Frascella, matter of factly, “time’s about up, my friends. Y’know, I really did admire your work, Detective Greco, and who knows, if I ever did make it into the rackets squad, maybe I’d grow up to be just like you.”
         The pilot hadn’t had time yet to bind David’s hands, which were not above his head but held at shoulders’ height.
       Frascella raised his gun right in front of David’s eyes. With furious speed David slammed his right hand against Frascella’s arm, knocking it to the side, where David’s left hand caught the wrist and turned it with enough force to make Frascella drop the pistol. Then David brought his left hand to Frascella’s elbow and his right to his wrist and brought Frascella’s arm behind his back, forcing Frascella to crumble in pain. 
          David then smashed Frascella’s head to the deck as hard as he could, then again and again. The boat pilot was terrified and backed away below deck, but David saw a flash of steel in the moonlight. Frankie Switch had pulled out a switchblade knife and lunged at David.
          David ducked the thrust and dropped to the deck, then grabbed the pistol and slammed it into Iacobello’s fist, sending the knife flying across the boat, where it landed in the bulkhead.
          “This is where it ends,” said David, telling the three men to put their hands up.
         Frascella started to move a little, moaning deeply, and David could see a good deal of blood flowing from the downed man’s  head.
         Iacobello bellowed at Katie and David, “So what are you going to do? Shoot us all? Bring us back to the police on my boat and say we tried to kill you? Your fingerprints are all over the gun. We’ll say you tried to shoot us.  And Frascella is an ex-cop just like you.  And I still know some people who will make this whole thing go away.  You got no fuckin’ proof of anything.”

        David knew what Iacobello said had a lot of truth to it. 
      “He may be right, Katie,” said David, pointing the gun at the three men.  “We’re in his neighborhood and there are no witnesses onboard.”
      “Oh, yes there is,” said Katie. “What was it Al Pacino said in Scarface? ‘Say hello to my leetle friend!’”
       And with that, Katie took her voice recorder out of her pocket.  It was still running.