Notes from Ravello: Chocolate Eggplant

This beautiful trip to Campania (the south of Italy) is not all about food, but also about music, discovery, brief encounters with strangers, valuable time with friends, shopping, Duomos, ancient gardens, walking, hiking, and oh, did I mention food? On what promises to be a splendid day of boating along the Amalfi coast from Minori to Positano, I am perched upon a terrace hanging over the sea, at our lovely Hotel Rufolo in Ravello. For my primo colazione, I try a cornetto with homemade quince jam (very sweet!), a few slices of boiled ham and a delicious roll with sweet butter and coarsely ground orange marmellata –also fatta en casa (homemade).  I am enjoying the sweet, bitter, and salty notes this morning against a double dose of strong espresso.  But alas, this is not all about food.

Cool-ish weather the last few days (with ominous dark clouds at times), had us opt for a hike around Salerno on Sunday.  We visited the grand hotels (once palaces) along the “gold coast” of Ravello and ended in the magnificent gardens of the Hotel Cimbrone, the perfect stage set for the wedding that was to take place there.  We hiked to the outer reaches of the town, passing organic vegetable patches, grape arbors, and olive trees.  We saw hanging “cucuzza” (slender green squashes 3 feet long) which we ate stuffed and steamed one evening (and stuffed, fried and doused in tomato sauce on another.)  Day turned into night and the small piazza in the center of Ravello feels smart with tourists (hardly any Americans) who come for the music festival each summer.  In the evening, one may roam the gardens of the Hotel Rufolo and visit the tiny museum with its curated show of famous fashions from the opera.  (I am reminded of a time decades ago in Florence when Arthur Schwartz and I were guests for dinner in the home of “Biki” – the couturier of Maria Callas.)

Perchance to sleep and then a beautiful drive to Salerno – a real city with a sprawling University, the magnificent Duomo di San Matteo, and the Giardino della Minerva, which we visited in honor of my friend, Dale Bellisfield, clinical herbalist and health care practitioner.  Circa 1305, the garden of Minerva is the oldest botanical garden in the Western world and the model upon which all European gardens were developed. One of the plants was the extraordinary “rucola” (arugula) which we have been eating, and it tastes nothing like the arugula we have come to know in the states.  Rubbed between our fingers, the earthy, verdant perfume lasted all day.

A ferry ride to Amalfi:  The flakiest, crunchiest sfogliatelle filled with pastry cream at Pasticceria Pansa (doing business since 1830), and a quick dinner of alici (anchovies) in the style of Amalfi – lightly fried and “glued” with a bit of cheese.  My husband loved them as he did the provolo – smoked cheese grilled between large lemon leaves.  For dessert?   Chocolate eggplant. But more about that later. Ciao, ciao.

Tastes of the Week (Italy Edition)

July 17th-24th, 2011 This week’s tastes all come from southern Italy on our summer holiday.  In the charming towns of Ravello, Minori and the lesser-known village of Scala, we have eaten well, sometimes superbly, and always with an eye to authenticity.

In the town of Minori, we sampled the two famous pastries of this area. One is the delicious, rum-soaked baba (here it is also available drenched in a syrup laced with limoncello), and the now-celebrated cake of pastry maestro Sal de Riso – made with ricotta and pears.  It was as good as Arthur Schwartz said it would be.  Arthur and Sal have become good friends because of Arturo’s many trips to this area.  In the same town, in the tiny main square in front of the yellow Baroque church (Basilica S. Trophimenae), we had for the first time, the famous fresh pasta of the Amalfi coast known as scialatielli. At ristorante Libeccio, we drank a fabulous and unexpectedly dry, sparkling rose from Greco di Tufo.  It was the perfect accompaniment to the local pasta adorned with an abundance of super-fresh seafood (including mussels, squid, and tiny razor clams), to the primal fresh vegetable soup, and a one-ingredient salad of arugula (the best and freshest!) with a squeeze of the extraordinary lemons of Amalfi and extra-virgin olive oil.

At the Ristorante dei Cavalieri in Scala, we sampled traditional dishes done in a slightly updated way, by chef Lorenzo Mansi.  There was sartu – a traditional Neapolitan rice dish baked in a mold.  Here it was surrounded by a thin coverlet of eggplant, filled with rice, provola, bits of chicken and meat.  Often it is filled with peas, mushrooms, sausages or chicken livers.  We also had a dish called gateau di patate – generally made as a sformata (a mold of potato, mozzarella, and bits of prosciutto), here was a more fluid, creamy version, almost risotto-like, or deconstructed.  It was delicious, if not quite the potato “cake” it should have been.  My husband had paccheri with seafood – another classic tubular pasta from this area.  Our friend’s birthday cake – served with fanfare – was a credible version of a Caprese cake (made with cocoa and almonds) – a classic from the Amalfi coast.

At Cumpa Cosimo in the town of Ravello, we ate gnocchi alla Sorrentino, a fabulous sausage smothered in melted provola, and a bit of tiramisu, offered by the ebullient Netta Bottone, the owner.

The best pizza so far was eaten at midnight, under the fireworks, inches from the sea in the town of Atrani on the evening of the feast of their patron saint.  The entire town came out to participate in this yearly event.  The pizza was da morire (to die for) – especially the one with tomato, anchovies and garlic.

Lots of wine on this trip: falanghina, fiano, and nameless but delicious dry, fresh, slightly frizzante reds. D.H. Lawrence spent lots of time here, as did Wagner (an all-Wagner concert last night at the Ravello music festival) with the superb (and very beautiful soprano), Martina Serafin.

Notes from Ravello

It is almost noon in Ravello on Friday afternoon, July 22^nd.  We are overlooking the Gulf of Salerno way up above the cliffs of Ravello -- not far from the former home of Gore Vidal and just steps away from the cooking school of Mamma Agata.  Perched on the balcony off the bedroom of our friend’s home, we gaze upon the tiny coastal beach town of Minori, across terraced hills to the never-ending expanse of a very blue sea. It is calm yet exciting to be here.  It is cool in the evenings, enough for a sweater, and magical enough to reconsider both where and how one lives. I am wearing “borrowed” clothes.  One of our suitcases (mine!) never made it from Rome to Naples.  Perhaps it never even left New York.  It might even be making a trip of its own, independent of me and my needs. It’s an odd feeling not to have your “stuff” but liberating in its own way.  As the days go by with no clue to its whereabouts, I am less optimistic of ever finding it, but maybe there will be good news along the way. Is this the way one feels about a child when they leave home?

Most liberating about this trip, however, is the lack of aforethought. Little planning and little research abandoned for in-the-moment pleasures.  It is the time of the Ravello Music Festival and so we had lunch, catered by Gino Caruso (the former owner of the Hotel Caruso and grand-nephew of the great singer Caruso) in the garden of our friend’s villa – our lunch guests were Wynton Marsalis and most of his orchestra. Pretty cool talking about music with these guys, as we sipped local white wine interrupted with fresh “hard” peaches (the required peach for this drink), gorging on fabulous pizza prepared in the wood-fired oven on the terrace, prepared by our very own pizziaolo, no less, slender fresh anchovies which I twirled around my fork as though they were spaghetti, the ubiquitous caprese salad – fashioned from scarlet local tomatoes, fresh mozzarella and basil, marinated calamaretti, the size of your pinky nail, and limoncello flavored with anise (great).  The wife of Gino Caruso makes a “dry limoncello” which is a simply fabulous idea.  I am eager to try it as the syrupy lemon elixir for which this area is famous can be very sweet!

In the evening, we joined our new friends for what was one of the most exciting concerts I’ve ever been to.  Wynton Marsalis and the Jazz at Lincoln Center orchestra in the amphitheater of the gardens of the Hotel Rufolo.  It was a packed house – under a royal blue sky, overlooking the sea, with the moon rising ‘round midnight, behind a large cloud. Wynton played his heart out, the others followed.   Then, a small reception – with adequate pizzettes and abundant prosecco -- and a long walk from the town square down hundreds of steps to…bed.