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

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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

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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

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So sorry I haven’t written sooner but you might have gathered from my past blogs, that I’m not the type to just slap something together…And, after getting back from Spain, trying to get my house up and running…Then with the snow, the kids all coming home AND with work, I’ve been unable to finish this–So, before our fabulous trip to Spain becomes a faint memory (and now that my duck confit has just come off the stove…), I’ve decided that TODAY IS THE DAY that I will finally tell you all about our delicious trip. First of all, going to Barcelona to celebrate my birthday sure beats me having to make myself an ice cream cake!

This was our first time in Spain and, being determined to do and see as much as possible, Jon and I really hit the ground running! 

Our flight arrived in Barcelona at 7:30 am...Here, we're in a taxi, headed for the city. The sun was just rising. I was so excited to be in Spain!

We were starving when we arrived at the hotel so we headed straight for the dining room, where there was a breakfast buffet… As soon as I saw the spread of food, I immediately thought of the three things everyone said to us before going to Barcelona…

1) “I hope you like pork!”…

2) “I hope you like shellfish!” …

3) And, “ I hope you’re prepared to eat meals LATE–Much later than you’re both used to!” (Those who know Jon and I know that we live like farmers…we’re up early and in bed early…and we eat somewhere in the middle.)

Boy, they weren’t kidding… on all counts!

After breakfast we headed out, to the famous food market called ”Mercat de la Boqueria” and I must say that it was THE most amazing market I’ve ever been to, anywhere (and I’m a girl that’s been to a lot of food markets…). First of all, it was huge!–And stuffed from one end to the other with an incredible array of gorgeous fresh foods of all kinds and of wonderful quality. Although pictures will never adequately represent the awesomeness of this market, take a look…

Let’s start with pork.

There were many merchants selling all kinds and cuts of cured and fresh pork products. I fell in LOVE with the Spanish version of prosciutto–truly the best I’ve ever eaten. Like in Italy, Spanish dry-cured ham comes in different grades, noted in their prices…

Although it’s hard to read in the photo above, you’ll see the word “Ibeirc” (jambó ibérico), also called “pata negra” which is a type of dry-cured ham that’s only produced in Spain. And, the best of the best is sliced from the hind leg of black Iberian pigs that were fed a strict diet of only acorns.  ( To purchase fine Spanish dry-cured ham online, click here.) But there are many more pork products sold at this market. Actually every part of the pig is enjoyed.

I know–it’s hard to see a pig’s head in a meat-case, but this guy (or gal) above is actually one of the lucky ones for getting to grow into a bigger pig! In Spain, animals are offered VERY young; much younger than those we can get in the US (and even younger than those eaten in France).

Here’s a suckling pig (among other things…), all cleaned and ready for purchase.

There’s also baby goat…

 Although the name for a baby goat is “kid”…When I showed my daughter Jessie this picture, saying ” this is a baby kid”..she looked at me with such a horrified expression that I think I’ll just stick to saying  ”baby goat.” 

The vegetables were just gorgeous and SO abundant! I never saw so many mushrooms, called “Rovellons.”

These (above) are huge porcini mushrooms.

These (above) were one of the most abundant kinds of mushrooms sold…not sure what their name is. They looked a bit like shiitakes but had green spots and streaks running through their gills.  The edges of the caps were also a bit curled.

See…I told you there were a lOT of them! This was clearly mushroom season in Barcelona!

There were many stalls with piles of fresh eggs…

And, not just eggs from chickens. There were all kinds, like duck and quail eggs and even big, dark blue Emu and Ostrich eggs !

Although all the signs at the market describing the foods were, of course, written in Spanish, I found it amusing that here, the sign saying  “Don’t Touch” was written first in English –before the Spanish translation. Good thing, since I (as a typical touchy-feely American) was just about to lift and shake one of those blue Emu eggs!!

Here’s a rainbow-like assortment of  fresh fruit juices…

and lots of candy…

But what finally got us really hungry was the fresh fish! Tons of all kinds of fish…and what was SO amazing was that, although being a fish-monger (in the US) is a man’s job, here at the “Mercat de la Boqueria”  almost all of the fish mongers were women (and they were wielding some crazy-big knives)!

Here’s a woman filleting anchovies by-hand. She worked so incredibly fast and, was so adept, that she often didn’t even look down, while working.

There were tons of fresh fish stalls …

They sold EVERY part of the fish. Even…

Fish eyes for sale! (Ew...)

And, the shellfish display was amazing…

Gorgeous scallops in their shell.

Fresh stone crabs!

A bunch of razor clams.

By now, Jon and I were ready to eat and would soon experience our first bit of drama (remember, we had only been in Barcelona a few hours…). So, hungry and straddled between US and Spanish time-zones, we sat down at a “counter” type of seafood restaurant that was positioned right smack in the middle of this open market (there were many such restaurants) where everything is prepared in front of you and, to eat, people sit on raised stools, while getting to watch their food cook.  (Such fun…until)

So, we ordered and, as we often do, we  shared …

Langostines and razor clams...

In addition to the above, we also ordered a whole fish (small and white-fleshed), butterflied and pan-seared…Really good.

So: It was only 11:30 am (!) and there we were, eating freshly prepared, delicious food and drinking yummy Spanish wine! (Quite different from our usual suburban mid-morning existence.) We were incredibly happy and already feeling in the groove of being in Spain.

After lunch, we continued on our brisk walk through the streets of Barcelona–and happened to fine another food market almost as amazing as the first. All of a sudden, as we were traipsing  around, trying to penetrate the crowds of people in the market,  my neck started to itch. I stayed quiet about it–thinking it was just my scarf that was irritating my skin. After about 15 minutes, I started to itch on my cheeks and behind my ears…my back was getting itchy, too.  I turned to Jon and said “can you just take a look at me?–I’m itching.” Well, that was it. He said “you have hives all over your face and neck!”

Hmmm…I (we) immediately knew the culprit…

We both panicked–Remembering that ONE TIME (years ago). It all came rushing back.

Although I eat tons of shellfish (of all kinds), years ago, we were at a wedding and, after drinking white wine, eating crab claws and after I danced up a storm, I ended up in the emergency room of a Long Island hospital. Seems I have this very odd allergy to certain types of shell fish –but ONLY when I drink white wine combined with certain types of strenuous or stressful situations (like dancing and, I guess (now), walking briskly in a different country, after being up all night–and then eating and drinking at 11 am…. (Weird, I know…)

So… because I was far away from home (and so frightened that I might end up looking like this)…

We hurried back to the hotel and asked to quickly see a doctor, which I did. (Doctors still make house-calls, in Barcelona!).  The only thing is, he didn’t speak English and I don’t speak Spanish or Catalan.  Thankfully, we had a date to meet Remy, our guide, to discuss what we were going to do for our week in Barcelona. Her eventual presence (and her ability to translate) really helped me to trust a man that I couldn’t communicate with. Having said this, I did need to let him give me a shot AND a pill BEFORE Remy showed up…(Believe me, with three kids and a dog that depended on me, back in the US, this was all very scary.) Anyway, miraculously, the medication worked and although completely exhausted, I had survived my first health-hurdle of the trip. 

Jon and I took a long afternoon siesta, then showered and went out to for a 9:30 pm dinner, which we loved. (We were feeling so– Spanish!)

About the restaurants we experienced: Although we had lots of amazing food that we adored,  I’m not going to give you a blow-by-blow on all of the meals we had in Barcelona, but I will tell you about my favorite meal– One that I can honestly say was the best meal of my life!

(I will, at the bottom of this post, create a list with all the names and contact information for all the restaurants we enjoyed as well as the sites I feel you shouldn’t miss. That way you can just copy and paste that part onto a Word document.)

Oh…just to conclude on those remaining health issues…

During the one week we spent in Spain, in addition to the described allergic reaction, two days into our trip, Jon caught a very violent stomach flu, which I (two days later) proceeded to catch from him. So, in between the days and nights we each were (literally) confined to bed, sipping ginger ale and nibbling on plain white toast with jelly (I quickly learned NOT to ask for “jam” because,  the word “jam” sounds way too much like jamón, which means “ham” in Spanish (oy vey!)– Believe it or not, we had plenty of time to recover and resume our traisping, eating amazing food and drinking wonderful wine.  (But, during this trip, there was no more shellfish for me!)

OK, about the BEST meal of my life!…At: Restaurant Can Pineda (Sant Joan De Malta, 55 Barcelona Tel: 34-0-93-308-3081)

The location of this restaurant is not easy to find (even by a taxi driver who’s a native of Barcelona!) and it’s not a place that you’d just “find” by taking a walk–it’s on some obscure corner, alone, without shops around it so you’d really have to have heard about it to make it a destination. Whether or not this was a part of why I came away from this restaurant with such an extra-ordinary feeling, I don’t know but I DO know that the food Jon and I experienced felt like an enormous (and fabulous) treat.

This was our second dinner in Barcelona–the first, as you now know, I was recovering from an allergic reaction, so this was really my first night that I felt like “me.” It was about 9:45 pm (we were a bit late for our 9:30 reservation because the taxi driver had trouble finding the address on a map). We walked into the restaurant and, right away, I thought to myself “oh boy, this is going to be less than I hoped for”…the lighting was nothing special (bright–which I tend to not love, especially at dinnertime. I like it dim and candle-lit). The place itself was very simple–nothing at all special to look at and the blue and white ceramic back-splash behind the bar seemed almost Dutch-like–as opposed to whatever I thought would reflect Spanish decor. (To learn more about Catalan culture and cuisine, click here and to purchase authentic ingredients, click here.)

So, resolved to have a so-so meal, we were brought to our table which was in the smoking section. (We didn’t know to ask for a nonsmoking table–but, in retrospect, I wouldn’t have changed a thing–Having said that, if it’s an issue for you, just know that people are even allowed to smoke cigars in this restaurant, so you might want to remember that when you make your reservation…). Just as I was about to sit down, I glanced towards the table to my right and saw two people eating something that made me immediately put on my glasses. They each had before them a bowl with golden strands of fresh pasta that had, perched on top, a pile of thinly sliced WHITE TRUFFLES!!! I looked at Jon and said…”Honey…do you think they’re eating what I think they’re eating?” He said, “I think so…” At that moment, I knew that this night would be filled with edible surprises…and, trust me, it was.

We had an adorable waitress who spoke very broken English (which we were VERY grateful for) and I pointed to what the couple next to us was eating and she nodded “yes” to what I thought they were eating. When she saw my eyes light up (at the mere mention of truffles), she shook her head ”no” to what they were eating and and then pointed to something on the menu that she pretty-much insisted I have. At this moment, after seeing that she understood that white truffles make me extremely happy, I totally relinquished all power to this young woman–trusting her to order my entire meal, along with all the different Spanish wines we enjoyed, by the glass (which was a very good thing, indeed). 

My first course:

A white, oblong plate was placed in front of me. (Did you ever see something edible that made you audibly gasp? Well, my first course arrived and, even before taking a bite, I felt almost dizzy with the anticipation of pure pleasure.) On this plate were two perfectly cooked poached eggs and, each one was sitting on top of a very small mount of what I think was whipped potatoes–but they were a bit more toothsome–almost as if  the creamy potatoes where mixed with some gently simmered grits. AND, on top of each egg was a pile of you-know-what –WHITE TRUFFLES!!  Oh, I’m not done describing this masterpiece….Also on the plate, on the side of each egg, was an sublime slice of seared fois (duck liver)–Can you imagine?? The seasoning was perfect–just a very light dusting of exquisite sea salt–I tell you–this dish was beyond, beyond, beyond! Actually, my food was so good that I can’t even fully recollect what my husband ate–I know it was something high in omegas (either sardines, anchovies or herring–since those foods are, to Jon, what poached eggs, truffles and seared fois is to me).

We shared a second course…

A combination of deeply caramelized fresh mushrooms, flecked with sauteed onions, garlic and studded with lots of small, succulent nuggets of cooked monkfish. The sauce was savory and light, yet sturdy enough to hug each member of the plate. Another winner!

The simple ambiance in this restaurant combined with the level of culinary savvy showed by the chef, along with the warmth of everyone around us, kept Jon and my senses reeling. We were in pig-heaven.

Speaking of pig, our third course arrived (we both were presented with the same dish)… 

Although I was sure that nothing could compare to what I had already eaten, this next course had Jon and I positively giggling like children–no joke. Let me see if I can do this dish justice… On a plate was a golden brown wedge of something that, at first glace, looked like a triangular shaped, 1-inch thick potato galette. Jon and I both used our fork to cut into this and, as we were chewing, that’s when Jon and I started to laugh, as if to say “how is it possible that this meal just keeps getting better??!” 

I noticed the waitress looking in our direction–No doubt she found it fun to watch us so visibly happy. She came to our table wanting to offer any information that she could about what we were eating. She said “pig” and held her hands  in front of her, about one-foot apart, to convey that our dish was made using a very young specimen.  She also wanted us to understand that the chef initially cooked this pig low and slow–and that then, the suckling pig meat was “pulled” and place in between two layers of pig skin–which was then seared and rendered amazingly crisp on both the top and bottom, with an interior that remained incredibly succulent. This was then cut into wedges and served with an intenselyflavored side-puddle of  a burgundy-red, glaze-like sauce that was savory-fruity and perfectly acidic. Although I noticed there were a few roast potatoes sitting to the side of the plate, I chose to save every inch of what was left of my capacity to take in food, for the most amazing pork dish I have ever eaten.  

It was like we had stumbled into this candy-coated land, only the treats offered gave us a very different kind of “high”… So, not wanting to ruin the perfection of how we felt, we declined ordering dessert.

That doesn’t mean that we didn’t have dessert…

We asked for the check and for a taxi. The waitress came back to the table and, instead of bringing the bill, she held a tray with two glasses and two bottles of dessert wine, one white and one red. She poured the white wine into Jon’s glass and, although that one was delish, I was the LUCKY recipient of the red one that was bursting with the flavor of dark cherries. (Again, another best–I had never had a red dessert wine that was so rich-so silky–so very delicious (on the bottle, it said: La Bota De Pedro Ximenez).  Trust me, I could have drank several more glasses of this–they left both bottles on the table but I restrained myself.  

Then, the wife of the chef came to our table with a small, rectangular wooden plate. On the plate were two nuggets, each about 1 1/2 inches long by 1 inch wide and, on the outside, was a flaky (puff) pastry that was dusted with bit of powdered sugar. She, not speaking English, instructed us by motioning, to eat the pastry in one-bite. I “got” that this was imperative (funny how certain things are just understood, no matter what language is spoken.) So, she proceeded to walk away from the table and, just as we each put the pastry into our mouths, she (like clockwork) turned and look straight at me (it was clear that she wanted to see see us experience this pastry in exactly the way the chef intended…). Jon and I, in concert, closed our mouth around this flaky nugget and bit down. That’s when two distinctly different textures burst into our mouths–one was soft, light, creamy and perfumed with vanilla (pastry cream). The  other was just a bit more weighty, very velvety and unctuous (melted bittersweet ganache). And, as my eyes turned from the chef’s wife to  Jon’s face,  for the first time in my life, something edible literally brought tears to my eyes–it was that good.   

The chef appeared…

A very simple-looking man, dressed in traditional chef’s garb (white coat and checkered pants), came out of the kitchen to greet his customers. As he came close to our table, I lept to my feet and pretty-much threw my arms around him and started to babble about how happy I was to have had this meal and about how wonderful he is, as a chef. (Although he, like his wife, didn’t speak English, happiness seems to be a universal language…)

So, after kisses, hugs (even to the waitress) and saying good-night to those at the table next to us, we slipped into our taxi and spoke nonstop about this very special experience, all the way back to the hotel.

We loved this time away in Spain– even though many parts were quite unexpectedly eventful. And, although considered “off season,” I think late fall is the perfect time to go to Barcelona (and not just because it was my birthday). The streets, shops and restaurants were much less crowded and, unlike the heat of summer, the temperature was very comfortable. I hope you’ll let me know if you go and if you love it as much as we did!

Most of the meals we had were in restaurants that specialized in Catalan cuisine and didn’t get to go to many of the tapas places we had on our list.  Here is a list of the restaurants we really enjoyed and also some sites to see, in Barcelona. 

First: I want to turn you on to our guide, Remy, who is extremely nice, knowledgeable and passionate (especially when it comes to art.)

Our Guide: Remedios Gimenez: Fluent languages: Spanish, Catalan, English, German and Japanese

email: remy2001es@yahoo.es Tel: 3493 321 43 28, Mobile: 609 159 594

Restaurants in Barcelona:

Can Pineda: Sant Joan De Malta, 55 Tel: 93 308 30 81: The best meal of my life (If you haven’t already, read above to find out why!!)

Maria Cristina: Provena, 271 Tel: 93 215-32-37: This was our first dinner in Barcelona. Unfortunately, even at 9:30 pm, the restaurant was pretty quiet, which was such a shame because the food was amazing! I had (first) a wonderful fois terrine with a salad and then a fabulous dish of slow-roast baby goat in a cava wine sauce (Cava is the Spanish version of Champagne.) Jon had oysters (which, in retrospect, he felt was a silly choice since you can get oysters anywhere…).  He had monkfish with green lentils for his main course, which he adored.

Casa Leopoldo: Sant Rafael, 24 Tel: 93 441 30 14: We had lunch here and it was wonderful. Filled with locals, the menu here is really down and dirty–meaning you’ll find dishes like “pig trotters stew” (which we had and I can’t say that this was my favorite part of the meal…) We had great “pan con tomate” (a very popular accompaniment to meals: toasted bread, rubbed with garlic and fresh tomato), fish, rovellons, salad–and that pig’s trotters stew (ew).   I found this place to be warm and authentic.

Butafumerio: Gran de Gràcia, 81 Tel: 93 218 42 30: This restaurant, that specializes in seafood, is large and, at first glance, seems a bit touristy. We had great fish that was impeccably fresh.  We went here for dinner. 

Can Ravell: Aragó, 313 Tel: 93 457 51 14: This is one restaurant that you would never know is there if not told to seek it out. That’s why you’ll only see “locals” dining there. Only open for lunch, this special restaurant is on the top of a small, family-owned sausage and cheese shop. Actually, you have to go through a door at the back of the shop, then traipse through the kitchen, then you’ll need to walk up two flights on a thin, winding staircase where you’ll finally find the restaurant. A beautiful room, with walls whimsically lined with loads of all kinds of Scotch bottles on one side and wine on the other.  The long, communal tables mean that everyone all sit and eat together. This is a really fun place to experience. Just know it’s only open for lunch and the menu is VERY rich.

Day trip to Girona, Spain: We traveled one hour north of Barcelona (by train) to the city of Girona. I highly recommend doing this. The city is ancient, charming and educational.

Lunch in Girona: Cal Ros: Cort Reial N 9, Girona: Tel: 97 221 91 76: What a wonderful find!! This lovely, family owned restaurant, had amazing food and a soothing, yet ”fine” atmostphere. Upon entering, we saw the wife of the chef sitting at a desk in the front of the restaurant (and her new-born baby was sleeping in his carriage). The BIG portions of food here have equally BIG flavors and we loved everything we ate. Jon’s anchovies were the best we both have ever had and the crisp, round fritters made with salt cod and whipped potatoes were incredibly good. Our main dishes were succulent and satisfying…but what really thrilled us was seeing those at another table eating! An older couple, slurping on garlicky snails…and then on huge braised crabs with pasta, all with such gusto! If you go to Girona, you MUST go to this restaurant for lunch or dinner.

Other than simply walking around and enjoying the beautiful city, here are a couple of sites to see in Barcelona:

La Pedrera of Caixa Catalunya (The Gaudi Museum): Provença, 261 Tel: 902 202 138 You will also be able to see Antoni Gaudi’s very unique style of architecture, simply by walking on the streets of Barcelona!

Museu Picasso (Picasso Museum):Montcada, 15-23 (www.museupicasso.bcn.cat ) Tel: 93 256 30 00

While in Girona: Museu d’Història dels Jueus (a facinating Jewish Museum): Forςa, 8 (www.girona.cat/call ) Tel: 972 21 67 61 (admission is free on the first Sunday of each month.)

Tags: barcelona, Barcelona city, Barcelona restaurants, food market in Barcelona, Gaudi Museum, Girona, Mercat de la Boqueria, Picasso Museum, places to go in Barcelona, Restaurant Can Pineda, Restaurants in Girona, spain

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Oh well. This weekend, Jon and I were ”supposed” to go on a (very) short fishing trip. The kids are all in their respective places (school and work) and, for the very first time, I agreed to put Mango (our 3 year old Lab.) into doggie camp and we were going to Montauk, Long Island for a much needed, teeny-weeny vacation. Of course, that’s not to say that real fishing is easy–it’s not! But it’s really FUN!

Last March, we went to the Bahamas for a week and fished ALL day, every day …

We're fishing off shore and I have a big one on the line...

Me and my big-fat Mutton Snapper!

Here's Jon with his big fat Mutton Snapper...

Here's Jon with his amazing Grouper...

Here's us with our "double catch" of Wahoo (we both had them on our lines at the same time!) If you've never eaten Wahoo, it's an incredibly meaty, succulent and delicious fish...

Each night, we would go to a different neighborhood restaurant near the marina and have the chef cook up our catch.

Jon and I caught these all in one day!

After fishing, each day, the first mate on the boat would fillet the fish and then, after sharing our catch with him and the captain, we would take the rest to a local restaurant. What we couldn't eat, we happily shared with the kitchen staff...

Ever since this trip, it’s been really hard to call any fish “fresh” after having experienced the perfection of “just caught” fish.

Anyway, we didn’t get to go fishing this weekend. The weather forecast turned bad so  instead of having two days on the water, Jon (who, I knew, felt really bad) came to me and said (as if this would be as good…) “Hey, Laur…let’s go apple picking and we’ll take Mango with us!”

“Gee… ok,” I said.

So, we drove a bit over an hour upstate and traipsed through a huge orchard filled with tons of trees that grew a vast variety of apples. In just over an hour of picking, I must say, we did pretty well! We filled three large plastic bags, which wasn’t easy–especially considering that many of the trees were already well “picked-through” and whatever was left  were dangling higher than we were tall. Plus, we were also trying to manage a large (and very busy) dog on a leash.

Mango was so happy that we didn't go fishing...

After walking back to the car lugging both, our apples and mango, I realized that during all the reaching and bending, I lost my reading glasses!  (Anyone that knows me intimately, knows that losing my glasses is NOT an uncommon occurrence…) Jon, being the sweet man that he is, actually agreed to go all the way back with me…trying to retrace our steps through a gazillion trees, searching  for my glasses–which was really so silly, considering they had transparent frames and were completely unable to be seen (especially not by me, without my glasses!). So, after finally saying  ”bye-bye” to my specs we got in the car, drove down lots of winding dirt roads, headed back to the front gates of the orchard where we were required  to pay a whopping $50 for our “apple-catch.” (I silently started doing the math, trying to figure out how expensive this day was now that I ALSO  had to replace my glasses…)

So, we drove home and then came the inevitable, after a day of picking.

What will I DO with all of these apples??

It’s not that I don’t like going fruit picking (I love it) but this particular time, my inner voice kept nagging….”Boy, right now, Jon and I could be toting our big fat fresh fish to a restaurant AND I could be staying in a hotel with turn-down service. This was supposed to be a vacation day!…”

Of course, Mango was thrilled as she lay splat on the floor of my kitchen, completely pooped after our day out in the fields…

After cleaning all the apples, I went to bed. (I was just as tired as Mango– I’ll spare you the photograph…)

Anyway, the next morning, I made the logical choice when about to wrestle with a ton of apples… I decided to make applesauce. So, I cleaned them all up and seperated out the small ones (and all of the red delicious apples) for eating and used the rest for the sauce.

Today, it would be the smooth kind (instead of the chunky type that I also make).

Although I usually use Macintosh as the base (the ones that I cook and mash), because we had so many varieties, I used them all (Ida, Cortland, Macs…and some others that I haven’t ever eaten before.)

I cored them and cut them into wedges (I discard the core but leave the skin on to add a rosy color to my sauce–not to mention that it would take me about a decade to peel all those apples!) The best tool to use when working with lots of apples is an apple corer/wedge cutter (If you’re a mother, you probably have one of these in one of your kitchen drawers. If not, it looks like this… )

An apple corer/wedge cutter.

How to use an apple corer/wedge cutter

I used a 16-quart pot and filled it to capacity with cored, cut up apples. I added a hefty splash of apple juice. (Actually, this time, I used apple cider, purchased from the orchard. I usually just use unsweetened apple juice.) I stuck several cinnamon sticks down into the apples, covered the pot and turned the heat to high. As the apples cooked…

I occasionally uncovered the pot and would try to turn the apples so that some of those wedges more exposed to bottom heat would be rotated to the top. I also used a potato masher on the apples, trying to help them to break down.

Once all the apples became good and hot, they started to reduce and became easier to mash.  I just kept (occasionally) opening the pot, turning the apples and mashing them down.

It didn’t take long before the apples completely surrendered their texture (boy, that sentence makes me feel powerful…) and it was now time to transfer things to a food mill. So, I positioned a very large food mill over a very large bowl.

And I have quite the food mill…

This is a HUGE food mill that I purchased years ago from a restaurant supply store. It was pricey and I felt guilty but since I never (ever) seem to make a small batch of applesauce, and because I always had a really hard time positioning (straddling) a smaller food mill over the large bowl, I caved in and bought this big one. I’ve never regretted it…Having said this, all food mills are not easy to clean (especially this gargantuan one) unless you understand how to take it apart and put it back together. (I finally learned so PLEASE email me so I can help you…)

As you churn the apples in the food mill, pick out the cinnamon sticks. If a stray one gets in there, don’t worry,  it won’t hurt anything but they can’t go through the holes and just slows things down a bit. Then, to the bowl of pureed apples, add some pure vanilla extract, ground cinnamon, freshly grated nutmeg and sugar (all to taste). Then add a pinch of salt (salt always helps to release sweetness).

Then, ladle the applesauce into very clean quart-size jars and let it cool to just warm. (I drape a sheet of wax paper over the top, as it cools). Then put a piece of plastic wrap over the top of each jar and attached their lids…and into the fridge they go! If you don’t have enough refrigerator space, you can always process the jars in a boiling water bath. To learn about the tools and how to do this properly, read this blog.

So, the applesauce was finally put to bed and I was about to head to my office to write when Jon came into the kitchen and said with a smile “Honey, quick, come outside to see the big fat figs that are ripe and just waiting for you to pick them off the tree!” Now, if you’ve ever grown figs successfully…and if you’ve ever (then) had a season that failed to produce, you know how exciting this moment was (and what made it even sweeter was that Jon saved this for me).

So, I went outside and, there they were.

How sweet it is!!....

Today's "pick." (YAY!)

This morning, as I laid in bed thinking and reflecting on this past weekend, I was no longer feeling robbed of a fishing trip. Instead I was filled with gratitude.  I have Jon as a husband and best friend who always supports my growth (he continues to buy me new glasses) and he never stops helping me see the bright spot in everything.

The Point: Although great vacations inevitably end and new ones can unexpectedly get canceled, great relationships can provide us all with everyday access to how amazing it feels to get the “catch” of a lifetime.

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