Virtual Gourmet

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THIS WEEK
ST CROIX,
Part One

By John Mariani

NEW YORK CORNER
PICCOLA CUCINA OSTERIA SICILIANA
By John Mariani

HÔTEL ALLEMAGNE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
By John Mariani

NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR
THE BEST WINES
FOR THANKSGIVING
By John Mariani

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ST CROIX

By John Mariani

Now that the sulfurous sargassum algae (below) that engulfs the beaches of St. Croix’s the northern and eastern shores in summer are gone, it is time to think about visiting the island, one of more than 50 U.S. Virgin Islands. Christopher Columbus landed there in 1493. Today, tourism is its number one industry, but since St. Croix has never had the cachet of St. John and St. Thomas, it is far less crowded and a good deal more affordable for snow birds.

My own trip this past summer, while on research for a novel––when the rusty-colored sargassum was very much in evidence––I found the two main towns, Frederiksted and Christiansted, sleepy, while the green hills above them are dotted with small and large private homes that have a gorgeous view of the surrounding area and the Caribbean. In town there is a continuing development going on of structures hard hit in the last century by a series of hurricanes––several during the 1990s alone––that crippled local industry, including the once vast sugar cane plantations.

St. Croix has had a history of conflicts and mixed races. Columbus never made a settlement on the island he named Santa Cruz, nor did the Spanish ever fully occupy the territory. Intratribal wars and disease ultimately eliminated both the Carib and Taino indigenous people, so that the Dutch, French and English settlers who followed in the 17th century, repopulated St. Croix with African slaves to work what grew to 200 immensely profitable sugar plantations for Denmark. A by-product of that industry was rum, led by Cruzan, whose distillery dates back to 1760 (and now a tourist attraction), leading to the island’s “Golden Age.”

But the Virgin Islands’ devastating hurricanes damage in the 19^th century and laborers’ rebellions destroyed most of the plantations. No longer productive, the three islands were sold to the United States in March, 1917 for $25 million in gold coin, to be re-named the U.S. Virgin Islands. A decade later their inhabitants were granted U.S. citizenship.

After World War II, many native inhabitants emigrated to the U.S. to seek work but few ever returned. Only with an increase in tourism and the opening of the HOVENSA refinery were enough jobs available to attract Crucians and other islanders to St. Croix. But then refinery closed down in 2012. Agriculture outside of sugar was always minimal, so that nearly all the island’s food still needs to be imported. Thus, tourism remains St. Croix’s principal industry, making up 60% of the island’s GNP.

For naturalists St. Croix’s with its mountains, subtropical rain forests, coastline, shrub lands and coral reefs has much to offer, supported by the Salt River Bay National Historical Park and Ecological Preserve and the St. George Village Botanical Gardens.

Frederiksted (left) and Christiansted are about the same size (though the latter with a larger population) and lie on a southwest to northeast diagonal, but you can drive around the whole island in a couple of hours. Frederiksted is a concise and colorful grid of streets, where the municipal government is located. It is called the Freedom City for having been the site of the emancipation of slaves in 1848. It is now where the deep water cruise ships dock, though since hotels are few, people come mainly for a day trip.

The Christiansted Historic Site consists of six structures from the 18^th century, and the town was once home to Alexander Hamilton’s mother, who spent a spell in the local jail here.

Deluxe hotels are rare on St. Croix, with The Buccaneer Resort (right) outside of Christiansted, dating back as a plantation to 1733 and as an inn run by the Armstrong family since 1947, spread over 340 acres, and has long drawn a celebrity clientele including Lauren Bacall, Kirk Douglas, Helen Hayes, Michael Jackson and Ben Gazzara.

I stayed at the Hotel on the Cay (below), which is located across from Christiansted and reached by a ferry that takes two minutes to cross the harbor. That in itself is the primary draw, and the place was in the midst of much-needed renovation. The rooms are modest, there is no restaurant, but on weekends a beach tiki bar gets very lively.

The owner of the Hotel on the Cay also owns the historic Christian Hotel directly across the harbor on the boardwalk. The suites here are a bit more upscale, with a splendid view of the sea, and there is a commendable restaurant downstairs I shall be writing about soon.

The boardwalk (below) itself winds for a quarter-mile and is lined with eateries and bars, with music booming out of them and crowds of tourists and locals interacting over Brew STX beers made on island or Caribbean cocktails with names like Painkiller, Bushwacker and plenty of island punch, all made with Cruzan rum. Behind the boardwalk there are some restaurants and a few boutiques.

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NEW YORK CORNER

PICCOLA CUCINA OSTERIA SICILIANA

194 Spring Street

646-478-4788

By John Mariani
Photos by Noah Feck

You can be forgiven if you get confused trying to find the right Piccola Cucina in the West Village, because it is one of three within a breadstick’s toss of each other. There’s one on Thompson Street and another around the corner on Spring Street and adjacent to that one is the newest, Piccola Cucina Osteria Siciliana. (There’s another uptown, in Brooklyn and still another in New Jersey.) The way to spot it is to see the line outside the door of people waiting for a table.

Chef-owner Philip Guardione opened his first trattoria in 2008, and this, his newest, is most focused on Sicilian fare, with a fond nod towards Catania, his birthplace. He had been executive at Milan’s Four Seasons Hotel before moving to New York to create his mini-empire. Sommelier Alfio Scrivano, who also fills in as manager, racing from place to place, draws on a company wine cellar of 4,000-bottles, so he has been able to cull a list of Sicilian labels from Etna Sud, Etna Nord, Messina and Ragusa.

“PCOS” is a small fifty-seat room, rustic and pleasantly lighted, with votive candles on the tables. Once inside, at least from seven till nine o’clock, you’ll be hit with a blast of noise, both human and broadcast, and, this being an osteria, it’s a bit cramped. I’d aim for an 8:15 table when the place starts to empty out on weekdays.

For anyone seeking a balance of traditional Italian and regional cuisine, the menu skews towards small plates, between $17 and $29, including the pastas, elaborate breads and focaccia. We began our dinner with savory arancini alla Catanese, pool ball-size fried rice balls filled with stretchy mozzarella and a meat ragù. Plump involtini of swordfish are rolled with burrata and served over sweet cherry tomatoes and basil sauce.

Increasingly in Italy crudi have become popular, not least along the Sicilian coastline, and PCOS serves three kinds. I liked most the carpaccio marinated in citrus yellowtail dressed with green olives, a pretty yellow tomato sauce, crunchy capers and a touch of oregano.

There are eleven pastas on the menu––a cook near the window makes them all––added to with nightly specials, so we tilted toward the regional, like the excellent, traditional maccheroni alla Norma with meaty eggplant in a bright tomato sauce topped with ricotta cheese, and the busiate noodles with a pesto of ground pistachios topped with black squid ink. Hot and spicy ‘nduja sauce distinguished homemade ravioli stuffed with broccoli di rape and burrata cheese in a sausage ragù.

The only disappointment were the flat paccheri noodles alla Nerano e fiori di zucchini, a limp dish because the out-of-season zucchini blossoms had little flavor.

Clearly PCOS knows its guests come for the small plates and the pastas, so there are only three main courses, including the inevitable grilled branzino with olive and caper sauce drizzled with lemon, which I have to say it was one of the best of so many I’ve had in New York—plump, succulent and with the hint of the saline sea.

A skirt steak with mashed potatoes and chimichurri was only okay, as was a somewhat dry Milanese pounded chicken breast.

Enjoying a Sicilian cannoli is requisite here, but the dessert not to miss, though not Sicilian, is an tiramisù made at your table with lady fingers topped with mascarpone and dashed with espresso and dusted with cocoa powder.

Increasingly New York’s ever increasing Italian trattorias are diverting to regionalism, and southern Italy in particular is having its day. And at Piccola Cucina it is a molto buon giorno indeed.

Open for lunch and dinner daily.

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HÔTEL ALLEMAGNE
By John Mariani

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

        There was silence in the room for quite some time, then Katie asked, “So no one knows if she ever came back to Paris?”
         Dr. Baer shook her head and replied, “I think she was too ashamed of her time at Hôtel Allemagne. If she actually survived Dachau—the Nazis tried to kill all the prisoners before the Allies arrived—she might have gone somewhere else to live. Who knows?”
         “So, you never heard from her again,” asked David.
         Baer shook her head.
         “And what happened to the Hôtel Allemagne after the war?”
         “Nothing. It never closed. It was bought by new owners and renamed the Victoire, but the old owners’ family bought it back and kept that name.”
         “So what do you make of someone checking into the Hôtel Victoire under the name ‘Louise Jourdan,’ then leaving and not coming back that night?”
         Baer smiled very faintly and said, “It could be that this person was the one who put the virus into the hotel’s air ducts that evening.”
         Katie looked at her very intently and said, “Dr. Baer. . . are you Louise Jourdan?”
         Baer laughed softly and said, “Do you think I look that brave? Do you think, as a physician, I would endanger the lives of so many people after so many years, just to close down that hotel?”
         “I think that if Louise Jourdan had returned to Paris and understood how the viruses worked after the first three attacks, that she might get the idea of crippling a place that was once such a symbol of Nazi brutality. If she was able to somehow obtain the virus.”
         “If she had the means to do such a thing,” said Baer, “I can imagine it, yes. You are Americans and cannot understand how deeply the hatred of what the Germans did to Paris is still ingrained in my generation. I am glad to see no one was killed in this incident, but I, among many who lived through the war, am not unhappy to see that horrible hotel shut down and the family that owns it hurt financially. It’s little enough punishment for them.”
         Katie and David recognized that Baer less than subtly was admitting to the crime of poisoning the hotel, but that any further investigation would been in the hands of the Sûreté.
         David tried to dig a bit deeper, saying, “Forgive me, Dr. Baer, but it does seem more than suspicious that someone looking very much like you, using the name Louise Jourdan, attacked the hotel at the same time you are planning to leave permanently for Israel.”
         Baer zipped up her attaché case, took a deep breath and said, “Well, I didn’t tell you everything. I am going to Israel to live and work there, but it is also because I am suffering from terminal cancer and will probably not survive the rest of this year, so I want to do some good while I can. As a Jew, it has long been my desire to be buried in Israel. I have accomplished everything here in Paris that I can. I have no family. No children. It is a good end to a long life that has not been without its secrets. That is all I will say. Now, if you will forgive me, I must hurry to catch my plane from Charles DeGaulle.”
         “One last question,” said Katie. “Why did you agree to give us this interview just before leaving Paris?”
         Baer smiled, put her handbag on her shoulder and said, “The world needs to know the whole story, and you said that you will be writing one that goes beyond what happened this past month. I hope you do, Madame. But if you do not, I believe you will do the right thing.”
         Baer shook the Americans’ hands, said “Au revoir,” and left the Institute to find a taxi to take her to the airport.
         Katie looked nonplussed at David. “Do we try to stop her?”
         “And turn her over to Borel? I can’t say that after hearing that story about Louise Jourdan that I want to keep a dying woman from going to Israel for the time she has left. And really, what evidence do we have? This was more like a deathbed confession than it was hard evidence. Just because she might have checked into the Victoire, then left is not exactly reason to arrest her. There’s no video on her, like they had on Massot, no connection to the Marseille mob, to the Russians or the Syrians. And there’s no proof she used the Russian virus she had in the lab or created a newer, milder form.”
         “So, we just keep our mouths shut?”
         “Katie,” said David, “I know you are very serious about protecting sources, and so you probably shouldn’t even consider telling the police what you heard. And I’m not feeling much like a bonafide policeman to act on what I heard. While I might call Borel tomorrow, after Baer is safely out of France, it’ll be up to him to go further. I expect he will, but he’s never going to extradite Baer once she’s in Israel. She may die before all the legal shenanigans play through. So, I say we get a good night’s sleep and see how we feel tomorrow.”
         Katie put her hand on David’s chest and said, “That’s exactly what I hoped you would say.”

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NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR

THE BEST WINES FOR THANKSGIVING
By John Mariani

It is incumbent for every wine writer to compile a list of various wines that will go with the trimmings of a Thanksgiving dinner, which is a tedious exercise in an effort to cover so many bases.

As I’ve noted before, no one wine can match up with everything from spicy stuffing and sweet potatoes with marshmallows to Brussels sprouts and pumpkin pie with nutmeg.

So this year I’ve decided to give you my own bucket list of favorites, any one of which I’d drink with a turkey dinner because I know the bird itself should be the main consideration.

One basic rule should be that sweet and vegetables flavors will compromise the big, tannic flavors of Cabernet Sauvignons, as well as the more voluptuous Grand Cru Burgundies. High alcohol wines above 14.5% will neither enhance nor be enhanced by the taste of the turkey meat, especially white. And while white wines may have their place with the appetizers and are amiable enough to serve with turkey and vegetables, you could choose any of ten varietals, from Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio to Riesling and Sauvignon Blanc with the same result.

So here are some of my favorites, chosen on how splendidly they match with the turkey itself.

My first choice would be an Aloxe-Corton, the stepsister of the always pricey Corton, which can easily cost $500 and much more. A good Aloxe-Corton, with slightly less body, maturing faster and costing as low as $40, like the bottle from Bouchard Per & Fils and rarely rising above $90, like Louis Latour 1er Cry Les Chaillots.

Also from Burgundy are the delicious aged Beaujolais––not the unfinished party wine called Beaujolais Nouveau, but the top tier Cru from specific villages: Saint-Amour, Fleurie, Chiroubles, Moulin-à-Vent, Morgon, Régnie, Brouilly, Côte de Brouilly, Juliénas and Chénas, each expressive of the Gamay grape, at about 13% alcohol, with the fruitiness that marries perfectly with turkey dinner (even cranberries), and costing $20-$50 a bottle. Producers to look for include Domaine Jean Foillard, Louis Jadot and Georges Duboeuf. (By the way, I just tasted the newly release Beaujolais Nouveau and it has much more body and structure than usual, with plenty of fruit. Great pizza wine!)

As I’ve had more than occasionally written, my favorite New World Pinot Noirs come from Oregon. There are some superb examples out of California’s Sonoma Valley, but they tend to be overripe and often don’t taste much at all like Pinot Noir. For all reasons viticultural and professional, Oregon keeps the varietal in fine balance without sacrificing body or the grape’s true flavors. Many cost under $60, so look for those by Aeris ($15) and Patricia Green Cellars ($50. The top of the line and very much worth it is from Beaux Frères ($70).

Syrah can also work wonders for turkey, provided it’s not too tannic, as it so often is from Australia. I very much like the three Syrahs produced in Washington State’s Columbia Valley by Itä (48), which at first glance looks very dark, but, with only 13.3% alcohol its acids, sugars and aromas are of medium body, as is the case in the better Walla Walla vineyards.

And after the turkey is removed from the dinner table and the desserts come out, I can think of nothing lovelier than to match a Port to pumpkin pie or pecan pie.
Dow's 2018 Late Bottled Vintage ($30) is so well priced for this delectable wine from the Symington Family Estates, Late Bottled indicates it is a single-vintage aged in oak for four to six years before bottling, making it ready to drink upon release and not be kept for months. It is, therefore, more accessible than traditional vintage and not as massive or need years more to mature.

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