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Piedmont, Italy: A Region of Good Taste

 

Eating is an everyday passion in Piedmont, whose residents are quietly and fiercely proud of having at their daily command many of the world's finest ingredients: red wines to rival the greatest in France, lush fresh cheeses and butter so good you want it on everything, sensual white truffles and deep-flavored chocolate that gourmets cross continents to find. 

 

Forget red sauce.  Piedmont's cuisine is rich, with white sauces, not red, and plentiful butter, as befits Italy's closest neighbor to France.  The exquisite pastry tradition and also careful attention to sauces are seen everywhere and are maximized by extreme pride in chef techniques that are known throughout Italy.  Pride of place goes less to pasta (though it's pillowy soft and beautifully handmade in Piedmont) than rice: buttery risotto rules in this rice-producing region all along the River Po.  As for garlic, don't look for much of it--except in the lusty, potent warm bagna caoda, a savory "warm bath" for dipping vegetables and Piedmont's flagship dish.     

 

Every Piedmontese family has secret addresses for a winemaker tucked into the steep, castle-topped hills of Barolo who will give them a private taste of the latest vintage, or a restaurant 45 minutes into the hills where a grandmother still makes the most delicate pasta for Sunday lunch.  It's no accident that the world leader in conserving traditional cuisine, Slow Food, was born and still has its internationally powerful base in Bra, 45 minutes from the capital, Turin.

           

Here's a dream meal made up of the most typical dishes--each utterly different from the other, from rustic to refined, from delicate to powerful--and each an irreplaceable piece of Piedmont.

           

Start with bagna caoda, a first course that can easily become a meal.  The name is for a "hot bath" for raw vegetables, a communal dip, a condiment, a way to come together over a fragrant, exhilarating sauce.  The vegetables are simple but fresh, and bright-flavored: carrots and celery; lightly licorice-scented fresh fennel; and two symbols of Piedmont--cardoons, which look like long, elegantly ribbed, light green ribs of celery and taste like crunchy, gently flavored artichokes (a close relative); and peperoni "quadretti," square red bell peppers admired for their full figure and full flavor.  Everyone dips these spears, a la fondue, into the bath of olive oil, garlic, and anchovies, which slowly infuse over a low flame until all the flavors meld into a savory and strong dressing that the Piedmontese want on everything.  That is, they make a meal of it, putting it on boiled potatoes and the starch that kept the region alive for centuries--polenta, made with the golden cornmeal ground between rough round stones from ears of corn that still dry every fall in picturesque triangular wire cribs on every Piedmont farm.

           

White truffles, precious beige nuggets that look cocoa-dusted, are the subject of an annual international food frenzy, and so rare that they would seem far removed from the earthy power of bagna caoda.  If you've ever eaten a musky wild mushroom, or had wild garlic in springtime, or licked a few grains of the finest sea salt, you have the beginnings of an idea of the flavor of white truffles.  The scent is delicate but pungent, pervasive, and powerfully attractive--many compare the first taste of white truffle to falling in love. From late October through early January the world beats a path to the glorious wine country of the Langhe, south of Turin, to drink the great red wines of Italy--Barolo, Barbera, Barberesco, and Dolcetto--with truffle menus that cost, appropriately, the earth.  Unlike the far more common black truffles, which are always cooked, white truffles are served only raw, grated in beautifully veined shavings that fall in a rain over a bed of something soft, welcoming, and wonderful.  That could be risotto, made with Piedmont's proud arborio or carnaroli rice, or tajarin, the Piedmontese version of tagliatelle, made with outrageously egg-rich dough that results in satiny, light noodles.

           

The forests produce great wild mushrooms, too, like ovoli and porcini, which some gourmets value almost as highly as truffles--or the classic butter and sage, sauce that shows the Piedmontese love of butter (yes, there's a lot of butter and egg in Piedmont cuisine; leave your cholesterol count at home).  Mushrooms or butter and sage are classic with risotto and tajarin.  Or, to enjoy that satiny pasta, you can have the Sunday lunch par excellence: plin, tiny, thumbnail-sized "folded" agnolotti filled with veal, beef, and pork, so exquisitely made that the usual dressing is nothing more than butter.

           

The main course is monumental, and usually eaten only in restaurants, because it takes time and expertise to make: bollito misto, all sorts of cuts of beef, veal, and pork served from a steaming silver cart sliced with care for each diner and accompanied by Piedmont's special "bathing" sauces, or bagnetti.  These are named for their colors, which happen to match those of the Italian flag green, pungent with parsley, anchovies, and garlic; red, with tomato and piquant spices; and sometimes a Piedmont specialty, cogna--a sweet, lightly spiced chunky marmalade with quince and pears cooked in red wine that is the local chutney. 

           

No choice for dessert.  You have to have hazelnuts and chocolate--the pairing that Corby Kummer, author of The Pleasures of Slow Food, the definitive history of the movement, calls "confectionary's finest marriage."  Piedmont grows the world's most sought-after hazelnuts, Tonda Gentile delle Langhe--the ones the finest candy makers in every country pay a premium for because of their flavor and subtlety.  Torrone, or nougat, is universal in Italy but special in Piedmont, because the hazelnuts are indisputably the best; even the most elegant restaurants wield a cleaver to a big bar and pass the broken bits. 

           

Mixed with flowing, silken chocolate, hazelnuts gave birth to Nutella, the addictive spread born in Piedmont that conquered the world.  Nutella was born in Piedmont only 40 years ago, but generations of children all over the world couldn't live without it spread on toast or crackers, and neither could their parents.  It has all the nutritional value of peanuts, after all, plus melted chocolate, and what could be better?

           

Gianduiotti could be.  These mini-ingots, individually wrapped in gilded paper, are the true consummation of the hazelnut-chocolate marriage:  not-too-sweet chocolate mixed with a paste of toasted ground hazelnuts to make impossibly mouth-filling chocolates whose flavor lasts and lasts.  Spectacular Art Nouveau cafes and gorgeously detailed artisan chocolate shops throughout Piedmont and especially in the capital, Turin, offer their own competing versions of the best gianduiotti.  Leaders include Peyrano, Stratta and Guido Gobino, who buys and roasts his own cocoa beans to make his own blend.  Some cafes even put their own secret version of Nutella at the bottom of the espresso cup to make a hazelnut-flavored version of a Piedmont classic: the bicerin, a cup of layers of espresso, chocolate, and whipped cream.  A bicerin is heaven in a glass cup.  A foamy, bittersweet, rich bicerin, as Corby Kummer promises, will be your last and best taste of Piedmont--and the one guaranteed to bring you back.  Turin can rightfully claim title to having perfected the art of chocolate.  Chocolate based desserts and chocolate shops throughout Piedmont reflect aristocratic breeding and intensity, paying tribute to the recipes and techniques, passed down through families since the 1600s.  If good chocolate is a guilty pleasure, the chocolate of Piedmont is the original sin.