Because vitello tonnato is a specialty of the Piedmont region, this dish was on every menu in every restaurant we visited all through our trip. Having said that, it was only one extremely random and casual eatery that had me driven to make it myself as soon as I got back home–so random that I don’t remember the name of it–bummer. Anyway, I’ve made Vitello tonnato lots of times in a very short time since I’ve been back and so far everyone goes crazy for it–I hope you will, too!

 Vitello tonnato is roast veal that’s chilled, sliced paper thin–and served surrounding a generous dollop of tonnato sauce, which is made mostly from canned Italian tuna (packed in olive oil), anchovies and a homemade mayo. After that–each person has their own rendition–adding things like capers and minced fresh garlic. I’ve made mine with those additions–as well as a few others–that makes this sauce extra savory and delicious.

Here is what the dish looks like –and it’s the picture of the first time I made it (the day after getting home from Italy!).

Quite the home-run, if I do say so myself–(although, since this first time, as already mentioned, I’ve added a few savory accoutrements–but we’ll get to that in a minute).

Let’s start with the meat. In Italy, the cut is different than what I can get here in NY. The meat used by many of the restaurants (in Monforte d’Alba) is from a small shop run by a fabulous butcher named “Bruno Ruddolo”–he’s one of the absolute sweetest men I’ve ever met.

Here’s Bruno…

 In addition to being a very trusted (busy) butcher, he’s also an artisan cheese maker–

This (above) is Bruno’s delicious cheese –one of the ones he’s most proud of–it’s made with Barolo wine, from the Nebbiolo grape, which is native to Piedmont.

The meat used for vitello tonnato, in Italy, seemed to be a much larger slab–than the more petite veal tenderloins I use in NY. But Bruno’s meat was impeccable –Here is the meat from Bruno’s shop.

Below is a picture of what veal tenderloin that I get in the US –On this particular night, since I was cooking for a crowd, I needed two. These (below) are about 2 pounds each, and each which will feed 6, when sliced very thin.

Unless you have an ethnic Italian neighborhood near you, you’ll need to special order veal tenderloin. I get mine at Peter’s Meat Market, on Arthur Avenue, in the Bronx. They freeze well so it’s a great thing to have on hand–just thaw it in the refrigerator overnight.

So, (drum roll pleeese….!) here’s my rendition of vitello tonnato–which, I really do think is the best version yet!

Line a baking sheet (two if making two fillets) with aluminum foil, then top the foil with a sheet of parchment paper (preferably unbleached parchment). Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

 Season the veal with salt and pepper–then rub the seasonings into the meat with some extra-virgin olive oil. Add a couple of tablespoons of olive oil into a large skillet and heat the pan, over high heat.

Sear the veal on all sides, turning it with tongs, then remove the meat to a plate. Dump out any oil from the pan, then put it back over high heat and deglaze the pan with 1/3 to 2/3 cup of red wine–use 1/3 cup wine for each fillet being seared (a Dolcetto or Nebbiolo is a great choice!) and reduce it to half it’s original volume (it will be syrupy). Place each seared fillet on the prepared baking sheet and drizzle the reduced wine over the fillet–along with any accumulated meat juices from the plate.

Place the veal into the preheated 325F oven and roast until an instant meat thermometer reaches 130F (stick the stem of the thermometer into the top of the thickest spot –until the tip reaches the center–the dial will quickly register the temperature), around 30 minutes, after the initial sear–but start checking at 25 minutes. (The roasting time will depend largely on the girth of the meat and the initial temperature of the meat before searing. Avoid overcooking!)

Remove the meat from the oven and, soon after (while still warm), roll the meat up (with any juices) in the paper and foil, then chill for at least 2 hours–to make the meat easier to slice. (Roasting can be done a day ahead of serving)

While the meat cools, make the tonnato sauce, which combines ingredients that are just to die for! (As, Rudston, our wonderful guide would say ”la morte sua!!”)

For the tonnato sauce, you’ll need:

• 3 extra-large egg yolks, made tepid (Submerge the whole egg in the shell in a bowl of hot tap water for 15 minutes. Separate the yolk from the white and reserve the whites for another purpose.)
• 2 tablespoons strained fresh lemon juice
• 1  to 1 1/2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 4 anchovy fillets, drained and chopped (if salted, rinse well and pat dry)
• ¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
• Vegetable oil (flavorless) as needed to reach 2/3 cup (after first adding the extra-virgin olive oil to the cup)
• One 5-ounce can Italian tuna, packed in olive oil, undrained
• 3 scallions, chopped (remove roots and use all of the white and only 1 ½ to 2 inches of the tender green)
• 1 tablespoon drained capers, chopped, plus more for garnish, if desired
• Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
• Extra sliced scallion greens, or chives, for garnish

Put yolks into the bowl of a food processor with the lemon juice, mustard, garlic and anchovies. Process until homogeneous. Slowly, while the machine is on, drizzle in the combined oils. When done, the mixture should be emulsified and should look like a soft mayo.

Add the tuna with the oil from the can, the scallions, capers and black pepper. Process, by pulsing, until smooth. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

To serve, lay the thinly sliced meat (very thin) on the sides of a plate (so it looks like carpaccio) and spoon some of the sauce into the center. Place some thinly sliced red and yellow roasted peppers on the open sides of the plate (sometimes I’ll add some sliced, pitted calamata or oil-cured olives and a little extra-virgin olive oil to the peppers). Garnish the sauce with some snipped chives or scallion greens and a few more whole capers, if desired. (If you want a thinner sauce, you can stir in a tablespoon or so of water–but the consistency I’m showing you is how it’s done in Piedmont and how I like it best.)

Ta-dahhhh! (Leftover veal stays good for several days in the fridge– Try to slice only what you need since unsliced meat always keeps better (for longer). Also, leftover tonnato sauce is a great dip for raw vegetables and hot, freshly broiled slices of garlic toast.

Tags: authentic Italian recipes, canned tuna recipes, cooking with Italian canned tuna, veal tenderloin recipe, vitello tonnato recipe

As reported yesterday, one of the many things I watched being prepared and thoroughly enjoyed eating was Bruna’s poached pears. They were actually amazing–and one of the highlights for me–which isn’t easy since this meal was truly terrific from top to bottom.

This is what the pears looked like right before serving…

Now, don’t get all hung up on perky looks–tight skin, etc.–that is the opposite of what you want here. These pears, which started out hard, were poached extremely gently–for a VERY long time–so, when done, they are meltingly tender.

Since Bruna had the pears started before I arrived, I really wasn’t sure of the exact amounts –and she indicated that she saved the poaching liquid from each batch in the refrigerator and simply added to it for each subsequent batch–So, when I got home from Italy and wanted to recreate these luscious pears, I had to experiment until I got them just perfect…And, here’s how I did it.

Take hard winter pears (that are at room temperature) and place them into a nonreactive pot. The pot size should fit the pears in a single layer on the bottom of the pan. Once you’ve secured the pan, take the pears out and set them aside. (For 4 to 8 pears, I use a 4-to 6-quart enamel-coated cast iron pot.)

Pear note: I’ve done this recipe several times. So far, my favorite type of pear to use is this one (below)…

What’s most important, when choosing pears, is their texture at the onset, which should be good and firm! This way the fruit can withstand long, slow exposure to very gentle heat, which is what will impregnate them with all of the wine’s goodness.

Add two bottles of Nebbiolo or Dolcetto wine (which is the grape most noted for being grown and turned into wine in Piedmont) to the pot and add 1 cinnamon stick, 6 cloves and 4 whole cardamom pods, crushed (my addition), and 6 rounded tablespoons of granulated sugar (3 rounded tablespoons for each bottle of wine). Stir–bring the wine to a bubble, stirring occasionally–then add the pears, put the cover on and leave it slightly ajar.  

Turn the heat down very low (as low as it goes) and let the pears float in this very hot liquid for (depending on the size and firmness of the pears) 4 to 6 hours! (Yes, that’s right.) These pears are very accomodating, as long as you don’t cook them with any aggression.

Important to remember: If possible, work the flame so that the liquid in the pot doesn’t visibly move–Every once in a while, uncover the pot, use your finger to poke the top of the pears to check their tenderness–and twirl them so that the exposed tops of the pears switch positions with the bottoms–giving them equal time in the hot wine. You can also shimmy the pot gently by the handles–which will help them to reposition without risking injuring the fruit.

If you are working with a stove where you don’t have a great deal of control over the heat generated by the burners, use a flame tamer once the pears have been added and the wine has been allowed to come back up to a very hot temperature–Then, just allow the pears to tell you how done they are, as you check them–Use your instincts here–longer or shorter–it’s up to you, your stove and your pears.)

Over this time, you will notice that the wine is slowly reducing and becoming more concentrated–this is good! The skin on some of the pears will start to appear a bit dimpled–but the skin on some will still look taut. The important thing to look for (to feel for) is tenderness–The pears should look swollen and feel very supple–as they say–”like butta.”

When the pears feel extremely tender–the wine is reduced and getting syrupy–take the pot off the heat and let sit for 15 to 30 minutes (which encourages the syrup to cool down and get a bit sticky–which is what you want.

Using a slotted utensil, remove the pears to a platter and immediately sprinkle them liberally with granulated sugar. The sugar will stick to the pears and make them look like a Christmas ornament! Expect the sugared pears to become a bit more dimpled as they cool.

Let them sit out–at room temperature–until you serve them. (These can be served warm, at room temperature–or chilled.)

My favorite way to serve these pears is at room temperature (or even a bit warm)with slightly sweetened crème fraiche…Take a container of crème fraiche and whisk in a few tablespoons of super-fine granulated sugar (this sugar instantly dissolves), along with a few drops of pure vanilla extract. Keep it in the fridge until ready to serve, then drizzle some on top of the pears.

Here is what my pears look like…

Let the syrup cool–strain it and store it in the fridge in a screw top jar–This stays for weeks! Then, the next time  you want to make these pears, just pour this into the pot–add more wine–repeat the spices and sugar–and, once the mixture comes to a boil–add the pears and follow the same poaching procedure. I hope you love these pears as much as I do–and I hope Bruna would be proud of my rendition.

Enjoy! (And please, DO tell me if you try them–and let me know if you need any further clarification)! More to come about my fabulous trip to Italy…

Tags: bruna alessandria, cooking with wine, Dolcetto wine in recipes, how to poach pears, Nebbiolo wine in recipes, poached pears, recipes using wine

See, I told you I’d be back soon! 

Ok–We flew, from JFK International airport and landed in Malpensa, the airport in Milan.  Our first two nights were at Relais San Maurizio, a gorgeous spa/hotel (that is a converted Monastery) that’s in the area of Piedmont –a  2 hour car ride from the airport.  Going to a spa was a great way to soften the effects of jet-lag while also breaking up a long trip from the city to the country side, which is where we would spend most of our trip. 

Our first dinner in Piedmont was in the hotel–and it was AMAZING. Ristorante di Guido da Costigiole is a wonderful family-owned restaurant, located in the cellar of the hotel and is still used for wine making and ageing. And, it was here that Jon and I, for the first time, got our first real whiff (and taste) of gorgeous white truffles–And trust me, this was the first of many on this yummy trip. 

The next day, with Rudston Steward (our wonderful guide from Trufflepig) we had a tour of the town of Alba, where we got to go to the very famous truffle market. 

Here are both white and black truffles, displayed in long rows of glass cases, for people to examine, select, weigh and purchase. 

This guy (the big one) had, to me, the best specimens… 

This is me and Rudston (our guide)– 

Can you believe the size of these truffles?! 

Piedmont (Alba) is also known for Hazelnuts–This is where Nutella was born. 

Every place we ate they served a specialty of this part of the world–Tajarin (a thinner version of a tagliatelle) with butter (sometimes sage) and a big fat pile of thinly shaved white truffles. 

This pasta dish isn’t just popular in restaurants–Below is a common “Sunday” activity. Pasta making in the town square! 

And whenever we ate–whether in a person’s home or in a restaurant, we were always presented with a bowl of white truffles to sniff, choose and have shaved on our pasta. Before you think I’m rolling in money…truffles are a fraction of the cost here–This was at lunch–I think–I actually don’t remember because, although the size of the truffles (and my clothing) varied, this picture could have been me at every meal! 

After one night at a hotel in the heart of the city of Alba, the next morning, we drove deep into the countryside, to the heart of Piedmonte, and stayed at a truly magical place, the Villa Beccaris, in Monforte d’Alba. These next three days were so much fun, I could barely catch my breath …and were truly transforming for me as a cook. 

Before leaving for Italy, I had described what I wanted to experience to Rudston (our guide). I said something like this: “I want to be in the kitchen with anyone that really loves and owns the craft of cooking and baking–I didn’t care where. I said “Rudston, please don’t get stuck in “chefdome”–I want to be with mammasitas, balaboostas, grandmas! —Anyone that lives to cook  and bake delicious things!! ” I also said that I want to go truffle hunting. 

Well, to say I hit the “mother load” is quite the understatement. 

Rudston had arranged for us to spend the day cooking (and eating) in the home of Bruna Alessandria, who several years ago was one of the famous “Mothers” at the Restaurant “Le Madri.” She lives in a small farm-house in Monforte d’Alba. Here she is… 

And here (below) is Bruna’s mother, Maria, who just turned 90! Bruna lives with her mother in the same house where she was raised. 

But that’s not all–Bruna also lives with her two brothers Aldo and Flavio–who are both truffle hunters! Below is a photo of me and Aldo–and he’s holding a photo of one of his beyond amazing truffles!  

And, in addition to the the cat and a couple of dogs (and chickens), there was Mickey–an eleven year old Lab. who is their star truffle hunter! 

Mickey and Aldo are a great team!….I’ll write more on our truffle hunt in an upcoming blog. 

This day was all about cooking with Bruna. 

The first thing Bruna got started was the Bagna Cauda, a hot, garlicky dip, to serve with raw and cooked vegetables.  

Bruna’s Bagna Cauda starts with A LOT of thinly sliced garlic… 

The garlic was covered in water and boiled for 4 minutes, then drained (to remove some of the strong taste–you can see why, when using so much garlic). 

Then Bruna covered the garlic with olive oil (pure not extra virgin, which Bruna says is too heavy and strong) and slowly brought it to a simmer, over low heat.  She let this cook approximately 30 minutes, then stirred in some anchovy fillets (only a fraction of the amount of anchovies to garlic.)  

Rudston would translate for me since I don’t speak Italian. 

Then, she cooked this very, very gently, stirring frequently so the anchovies and garlic don’t scorch–Stirring was Mama Maria’s job for most of the day–who stayed glued to the best spot in the house (it was a cold, rainy day)–next to the wood burning stove. 

While the bagna cauda simmered–Bruna got started on the carne cruda (raw veal (extremely lean and of high quality) sliced and chopped (by hand!). 

First the meat is sliced 1/3 inch thick. 

Then the slices are cut into small cubes. 

Then the cubes are chopped (“CHOP, CHOP, CHOP”)– This is not like chopping vegetables where the handle of the knife comes up but the tip of the blade stays down…no, here, the entire knife is lifted up and the heavy blade is dropped down repetitively in one direction, then back to the beginning–to “CHOP, CHOP, CHOP”). She did this (for quite some time) until the meat was chopped small but still had integrity–this is a rhythmical process–the sound was like music (to someone like me, anyway…). 

Brava, Bruna! 

Then the meat gets chilled–so it can relax–until it gets seasoned and promptly served.  

To season the meat, Bruna added a generous amount of olive oil (again, she used pure oil for it’s neutral taste). She would fork the oil into the meat gently–to keep the texture light–she would squeeze in some fresh lemon–and a little salt–then taste–then add a bit more oil–a bit more lemon–a bit more salt–then fork it in and taste again and finally (when not dry but not wet–when you taste just a bit of lemon–and just the right amount of salt–she deemed the mixture “perfecto!”– 

Bruna took a round biscuit cutter and used it to fill with the meat mixture to create uniform servings–actually (since this was the first time I ever had carne cruda and wasn’t sure if I’d like it–I asked for a small portion–So she took out a smaller cutter… 

 Mine is the baby in the middle. 

To serve, the meat was showered with shaved truffles. Shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano is what to use when there are no truffles to be had. 

Geeze, I could get used to this! I couldn’t believe how delicate the flavors were–and how light and gorgeous the texture. I had seconds! 

Before we ate (while the chopped meat was chilling–Mama Maria continued to stir the bagna cauda (with the cat on her lap)–Flavio was on the couch and Aldo was dealing truffles…) 

Bruna put two large boards over the dining table. She lugged out the pasta machine– 

And she went to work on her pasta dough… 

She used the machine to cut the dough into tajarin (long, thin, yellow strands), which she served tossed with yummy butter and… (what else?) MORE shaved white truffles! I’ve made this wonderful pasta, and several others, many times since I returned from Italy. I will show you how to do this very soon. 

After we ate the carne cruda, the tajarine w/ tartufo bianco, then Bruna came out with the bagna cauda –hot–accompanied bya big platter of assorted vegetables (raw bell peppers, endive, cooked potatoes, beets and crusty bread)–Grissini (long bread sticks, which are another food native to Piedmont) were also on the table–and were on every table we ate at during our trip–a recipe is coming. 

Then came dessert–Hard winter pears that Bruna poached for hours in Nebbiolo wine with some cloves, a broken cinnamon stick and a little sugar (a grape native to Piedmont). 

For me, this was one of the highlights of the meal and, when I got home, I quickly wanted to recreate it–So, tomorrow, I will share a recipe that I adapted, in honor of Bruna. 

What a delicious amazing day! 

 I love you Bruna, Maria, Aldo, Flavio, Mickey and…el ghatto! Grazie mille!! 

Tags: bagna cauda recipe, bruna alessandria, carne cruda recipe, Italian food vacations, Piedmont, Piedmonte, tajarin, tartufo bianco, truffle trips, trufflepig

Did you ever experience something that you felt was really personally transforming–and then wanted to share it (talk about the experience) with others but the thoughts and feelings felt so big–too big to begin? Well, that’s how I’ve felt about my recent trip to Piedmont, Italy–which was just before Thanksgiving (thus the reason why you haven’t heard a peep from me since my last blog about making duck confit!).

So, first, I want to apologize–I’ve recieved many sweet, kind (and concerned) emails asking me “where are you??” Please know that I’m never “missing” because I don’t want to connect–I just sometimes become very filled with what’s going on around me and, quite honestly, ever since this past trip (and then with the holidays), I’ve had an incredibly hard time getting out of my kitchen –not a bad thing–it’s because I’ve been having so much fun (no joke)!  I will admit, though, that the continual nagging question “should I or shouldn’t I tell you every little thing about my fabulous trip to Italy?” has helped to keep me in a continual state of procrastination with this blog. Sorry about that.

First of all, I’d like to share why these kinds of journeys are so special to me.

When I travel to Europe, I don’t shop. My goal is to get under the skin of a culture by exploring, in depth, the unique cuisine of a particular region. Why? Because that’s how I get to keep it all alive–When I get home and bring to life the cooking techniques that I’ve learned, this enables me to make (and keep) cherished scents, sites and tastes an integral part of my everyday existance–This way, all my cherished experiences in far away places can continue to color my life and, ultimately, to create the feeling of joy–and not just for me.  I’ve found that learning authentic Old World cusine (for modern folks like you and me) is a wonderful way for me to”get” and then, by teaching others, I also get to “give.” I love that. 

So, because this particular 8 day trip was so extensive and so valuable to me (and kept Jon and I so busy that we could barely breathe–in a GOOD way) …and because it would take the length of many blogs to convey every single step–I’ve finally decided to take you, one experience (and recipe) at a time, through my amazing journey.

But, before I do anything, I need to tell you about the fantastic company that designed this trip of a life time, for Jon and I.

Late last spring, when I started to think about where Jon and I should go on our next trip, I started to think about the best meal I ever had, which was last December, in a restaurant in Barcelona. (If you read my blog called “My birthday in Barcelona” you know that I (as are most sane people) am in love with white truffles.” So, I waited for the right moment and said to Jon …Honey, why don’t we go truffle hunting in Italy next fall?” I immediately got really quiet and waited to hear him laugh. (No laughing –Yay!!)

A few weeks later, Jon came home and told me about a company that he heard about from a friend called Trufflepig (There’s no space in-between truffle and pig–just one glorious word.) Now, before you get the wrong idea, despite their name, this company, that’s based in Canada and Paris, “truffles”are not their specialty–The name Trufflepig is actually meant to convey their metaphorical specialty, which is to sniff out all the sources to create a custom-made, dream vacation for their clients (sniffing– truffles– pigs, get it??) It just so happens that my absolute dream vacation would test their ability to provide both, a literal and figurative translation, which they did so perfectly–so beautifully. (BTW: this company is certainly not limited to do “foodie” vacations–they do custom trips that aim to float the boat of clients with a wide range of interests and they do it all over the world, not just in Europe.) Jack Dancy is who you want to talk to at Trufflepig (tell him I sent you)–and Rudston Steward was our more-than-amazing guide, who planned everything from the hotels, to the restaurants, to the very specific people and places that we went in order to build us a trip that was not just dripping in truffles but also filled with culinary adventure, real learning and also resulted in many new friends.

 By the way, when in season (which this was) truffles in this part of the world are like chocolate in Hershey Pennsylvania—There will be more about that to come…)  

So, to begin to finally share with you my culinary growth spurt–I want to start at the beginning with my first request for Trufflepig–before I even left for Italy. Since I wanted to use this trip to learn about the foods of northern Italy–not just about truffles–I did some research. When reading a recent issue of La Cucina Italiana, I saw a book that they recommended that was all about the foods of northern Italy, called “Italian Farmers Table“–which I promptly bought on Amazon.com. (A fabulous book!!!)

In this book, one of the recipes that immediately caught my attention was for “Croxetti” also called “corzetti”–coin shaped pasta that’s embossed on both sides with an ornate design–usually a family crest. When I tried to find an online source for the wooden stamps, I learned that only a very few artisans make them–all in Liguria–which, although it’s not Piedmonte, it was in northern Italy and I was hoping that Rudston (our guide for our upcoming trip) could help “sniff out” an artisan who could make me a custom-made (corzetti) stamp. Rudston went to work and, of course, he came through!–and this was just the very first thing he did to help my dreams come true on this fabulous trip.

Now, it’s time to share with you what I learned! First of all, since I’m sure (if you love to cook) I’ve stirred up your curiosity about croxetti pasta–So, let me give you the name and contact of the wonderful artisan who made me my stamp and sent it from Liguria, Italy. His name is Franco Casoni and his email is: studio@francocasoni.it As soon as I got home from Italy, I emailed Franco the artwork and my stamp arrived about three weeks later. The cost, all in (with postage) was about $65.00)

This is what my stamp looks like when put together (raw rounds of pasta dough get sandwiched in between the top and the bottom):

 Here’s the stamp opened revealing the concave side that cuts coins (rounds) out of the sheet of pasta dough (the other side of this part has my LGK logo embossed on it). The other part has a floral design embossed.

 Below (although it’s hard to see) is the other side of the part that cuts the dough into coins (showing my logo).

So, first you need a nice and firm-yet totally supple– pasta dough… (2 cups OO flour, 2 extra large eggs, 3 extra-large yolks, 1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt).  

After dividing the dough into pieces, you’ll roll it out using a pasta maker only through the second setting (but do it three times!). (Although I love rolling pasta by hand, you won’t be able to get smooth coins out of scraps of dough–so it’s best to use a machine, whether hand-cranked or electric). So, divide the dough into quarters and, working with one piece at a time, flour the piece and roll it through the first (widest) setting four times, folding and flouring in between–this strengthens it. Then, go to the second setting and roll it through three times, flouring when the dough feels at all sticky. Then, lay the sheet out and cut out coins (rounds), using that side of the stamp.

Now, take the rounds of dough and place them over the inverted side that you used to cut. Place the other part of the stamp on top of the round of dough and “press” to emboss it with both, your insignia and the design that’s on the other side (By the way, all of this design stuff is all up to you–you design it, Franco makes it and sends it!

After lifting off the top part,  you can see the floral design on the top of the dough. The bottom side of the dough has my LGK logo

Here are my little bubalahs drying…don’t you just love them?!

Place the coins onto a floured sheet pan (I place a silicone mat on a baking sheet and rub some flour into it). Leave them out to dry for 1 hour or longer before cooking them in plenty of boiling, salted water for anywhere between 10 to 15 minutes. This will depend on how long you’ve let them dry before cooking them.

Before putting the coins in boiling water, have your sauce started…

Melt some butter in a 3 1/2 quart, wide, sloped saucepan. Add a good handful of pine nuts (pignoli) and, saute the nuts, stirring frequently, until both, the milk solids in the butter and the nuts turn a toasty brown (not black–just nice and golden brown).  Remove the nuts with a slotted spoon to a bowl. Add to the browned butter, 2 cloves of garlic (minced or pressed through a garlic press), a generous splash of cream, a double generous splash of good homemade chicken stock and a tablespoon or so of chopped marjoram (use fresh oregano, as a substitute–a couple of chopped sage leaves (called “salvia” in Italian) is also good. Heat the liquids and butter together to release the flavors of the herbs and to get things piping hot–then add the cooked pasta coins (make sure they’re tender first!) and, if needed, thin the sauce with pasta water.

Once the pasta is added, stir in the toasted nuts and a good handful of freshly grated parmesan…

Shimmy the pan to help everything dance together well, then hurry up and eat! BEYOND DELICIOUS! (Serve with extra grated Parmesan and a competent pepper-mill passed at the table…)

So, although I couldn’t meet the artisan Corzetti stamp maker (Franco Casoni) when in Italy, that didn’t mean that I couldn’t eventually cook using an authentic, hand-made tool–by him,  just for me. 

The Point: Although I know that it probably seems very odd to start a blog all about the best parts of a trip –with something that happened once I got home (and not even from the exact territory where I traveled)–but I want to illustrate how this amazing company, Trufflepig, not only respected my desires but made it their mission to create the experience of a lifetime–And I just couldn’t go into all the wonderful things about this trip without saying a big fat public THANK YOU to those at Trufflepig!

The next blogs will be all about truffles, (including truffle hunting), tajarin, carne cruda, grissini, vitello tonnato, agnolotti dal plin, candied poached pears, hazelnuts–So many delicious, gorgeous experiences–with interwoven recipes all inspired by this trip to Piedmonte, Italy. I’ll be back (very soon)! (Yay, my blogging slump is officially over!)

Tags: corzetti stamp, franco casoni, homemade pasta, homemade pasta recipe, how to cook corzetti pasta, how to cut corzetti pasta, Italy, Piedmont, truffles, where to find a corzetti stamp