Why Italians Love to
Talk About Food is a lovely book recently translated into English. It's written by Elena Kostioukovitch, a
Russian who has lived in Italy for many years and who translates Umberto Eco's
books into her native language. Accordingly, it's wonderfully literary, so much
so that I'm a bit saddened that FSG chose to produce and market it in a way
that would convince some purchasers that it might be a cookbook or a coffee
table book. Yes, the color
photographs of idyllic Italia are nice, but this is a book meant to be read
more than looked at, and it's a little too square (shape-wise, not
attitudinally) and glossy to be curled up with on the couch. After all, Kostioukovitch peppers her
short chapters on each of Italy's culinary regions with quotes from, and
references to, Goethe, Stendhal, the Futurists, the Old Testament, and
renaissance and medieval records.
These chapters are separated by short essays on miscellaneous topics including
pasta, the Jews, Slow Food, and an incredible litany of 'preparation methods'
worthy of Georges Perec.
I
bring up the book in this forum because it's got me hungering for all morsels
and gulps Italian. Last night I
happily re-heated a Trader Joe's Quatro Formaggi pizza––made in Italy!
I've
long been a fan of the drinkable and mineral-driven wines from the Veneto, so I
was pleased to read that Kostioukovitch describes Venice in the following way:
'Indolence, elegance and gloom: these legendary traits of Venetian life,
celebrated in British, American, and Russian poetry, are reflected in the
city's characteristic cuisine.' If
that's what the food is like, imagine how the booze must taste.
Not
only did I imagine it, I experienced it first hand the other night with Corte
Gardoni's Le Fontane,
a nice bottle
from the Bardolino D.O.C. in the western part of the Veneto. Red Bardolino is made of grapes similar
to the more familiar Valpolicella (there are white and rosé versions too), but
it's usually done in a lighter style.
This Kermit Lynch import was most remarkable for its perfume: both
ethereal and slightly musky, it reminded me of drawing rooms, spring, midnight,
and gently-rolling hills, in no particular order. Its light body makes it good partner with all kinds of food;
I was lucky enough to drink it with fava beans and feta cheese over barley with
sausage, along with roasted beets and tender black kale grown by the South
Central Grower's Co-op (all prepared, I must say with some pride, by my girlfriend
Brigid).
The
label depicts a beautiful landscape reduced to an arrangement of flat rhomboid
and triangular shapes. It instantly reminded me of the first hilarious episode
of Adult Swim's Xavier Renegade Angel,
in which Burbury, Connecticut contracts a computer virus, rendering the entire
town and its inhabitants, well, an arrangement of rhomboids and
triangulars. Unlike our hero
Xavier, at least we haven't reduced ourselves to swallowing the stuff the
Burbury ruffians spit at us. Stuart Krimko
Corte Gardoni, Le Fontane, 2008 Bardolino. $11.75 at your
favorite enlightened wine shop.
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