Cabinet of Curiosities | Issue 05
Of coffee and its overlooked value, great Carbonara debates and vitel tonné, Piemonte's beloved antipasto
Welcome back to The Cabinet of Curiosities my fellow food lovers! To refresh your memory, cabinets of curiosities, or wunderkammers, were small collections of extraordinary objects created during the Renaissance. This is our very own Cabinet of Curiosities, dedicated to all the wonders and peculiarities of Italian food culture.
In this monthly newsletter, you can expect to find 3 pieces by alternating La Panza Piena contributors. Voices and people that you’ll meet gradually, through their narrations, stories on forgotten recipes, hidden gems, deep-dives into unique products and distinctive global perspectives on Italian food culture.
This month’s Cabinet of Curiosities begins by featuring a piece by Francesco Pellegrini, who is back for round two since writing about Lampredotto in Issue 1! This time he narrates a story not many know about: coffee and its substitutes during WWII. What I love the most about having contributors is the amount of knowledge I gain by reading their pieces,I hope you feel the same way. This months’s issue continues with two new voices. First up is Chloe Orlando, who shares the insightful story of carbonara and a restaurant in Rome who doesn’t abide by the “rules”. Last but never least is Marta Risso with a piece on everyone’s favorite antipasto Piemontese—I’ll let you guess what it is. She also added a few tips on where to find the best versions at the end, so be sure to note them down!
- Carlotta Panza, founder of La Panza Piena
The Value of a Coffee
by Francesco Pellegrini: wine lover, obsessed with NY cheesecake and nature photography fan.
Pisa, 10.30 AM. It's a grey day, the type of morning in which the weather doesn't help wake you up.
I try to wake up with the help of a coffee, so I head to a bar in Borgo Stretto, a place I visited often during my University days. I order, pay and put the change in my pocket. From a table not far from the bar counter, a voice announces: "Dé bimbo, you're lucky". Slightly surprised, I turn around and a man, over eighty years old, hints a smile. I ask “how come?”. He replies: "When I was young, during the war, drinking coffee was a privilege reserved for a few... those who couldn't afford it would drink surrogates".
During Fascism, coffee was one of the foods that underwent rationing, limiting its sale in shops, the consumption by customers and, consequently, raising its price.
I then ask curiously: “What are they, what did you drink?”. With long pauses he explains that surrogates were nothing more than low-cost alternatives, much more similar to coffee in appearance than in taste, obtained with the most disparate plants (lupines, figs, soy, carobs, acorns, beans, etc.) but the most common was barley coffee - whose consumption is still widespread today - and chicory coffee, produced by pulverizing its dried roots. The “coffee” was obtained by infusion, using different machines from the Moka that we know and make coffee with daily.
The surrogates would sometimes be mixed with normal coffee - for a higher price - or, the gentleman continues, “our parents would send us to ask the American soldiers, they had lots of coffee, dé!"
The coffee surrogates were real, established brands, such as the Miscela Vecchina or the equally widespread Miscela Frenck Their production continued after the war, with the population now accustomed to that taste.
Only after having listened to that nice gentleman, having left the bar, do I stop and reflect: how many times do we take things for granted that in reality are not? How lucky are we to live in this day and age, and how little does it take to feel a bit "richer"? That gray morning, €1.10 was enough for me.
Not caring about Italy’s Great Food Debate on Carbonara
By Chloe Orlando: foodie in Florence since 1998, cheesecake lover and serial wine drinker
Carbonara might be Rome's most important protégé and cult dish. The golden pasta dish is rigorously made with three ingredients—only three: a creamy sauce of raw beaten eggs, crunchy slivers of guanciale (cured pork cheek), and a generous dose of grated Pecorino cheese. Not to mention, of course, the final touch of ground black pepper. I won’t even begin to share the reactions Romans have if someone were to use bacon instead, or to add some cream. “La ricetta della Carbonara è una” - with the exception of Trattoria al Moro’s version.
In Italy, food traditions are of the highest concern to people. Italians, who can be quite patriotic and conservative, have their own pre-defined schemes on cuisine and recipes and disregard anyone who breaks the rules. The great Carbonara debate is one of the most discussed and most sensitive throughout our country, and not knowing the original recipe can cause great offense.
During my latest trip to Rome I had the pleasure of dining at Trattoria al Moro, a historical restaurant tucked away in a lane near the Fontana di Trevi. Staying true to the when in Rome saying, we ordered their Carbonara—whose recipe took me by surprise.
Their Carbonara, renamed Spaghetti Al Moro, is made with bacon and not guanciale, with Parmesan, chili and perhaps with some butter too, who knows. The only certainty is that the chefs do the exact opposite of what Romans declare to be the only way—and they don’t really care. And what did the Spaghetti Al Moro taste like? The best Carbonara I’ve ever had, yet I wonder what Romans would think of it.
Funnily enough, the first historical references of the existence of Carbonara in Rome refer to Trattoria Al Moro—yet Rome’s population is keen on defending the guanciale, Pecorino and black pepper version as the only true original.
Piemonte’s beloved antipasto
By Marta Risso: sun seeker & photography lover who spends her time tasting traditional Italian dishes.
You can’t say you’ve tried typical Piedmontese cuisine without first falling in love with the timeless vitello tonnato. Thin slices of veal rump served with a tuna sauce: a perfect combination. A handful of ingredients, simple execution, guaranteed enjoyment.
Initially claimed as a typical dish by several northern Italian regions and later confirmed to originate from the province of Cuneo, vitel tonné can certainly boast an influence of French cuisine. The attribute tonné, in fact, comes from the French tanné, meaning coated, enriched. The term is used to emphasize the crucial role the sauce plays in the recipe, refining what was originally a poor dish, prepared with veal scraps boiled in salted water.
Like any other recipe which is considered a culinary tradition, knocking on the door of 25 homes would gather 25 different recipes—all of them considered as unique and true originals. Some cook the veal rump in a bain-marie in white wine, some steam it for at least 35 hours. There are those who add hard-boiled egg yolks to the sauce to thicken it and those who simply add tuna to mayonnaise for a quick-yet-still-tasty version. Then there is no lack of those who add capers or anchovies or even both. In short, everyone has their own recipe and keeps it a well-hidden secret.
So if every cook has their own recipe (it should be pointed out that the category “cook” also includes all those mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, uncles, friends and associates able to perform magic at the stove), all that remains is to try as many versions of vitello tonnato as possible.
For all the buone forchette out there, here are the top 3 best vitelli tonnati I’ve tasted so far.
1. Scannabue - Turin | Perfectly tender meat and a sauce of incomparable flavour and texture. A real treat for the palate!
2. Bistrot Duomo - Alba | An eccentric version of the dish, in which slices of veal rump alternate sweet and sour vegetables. Perfect sauce.
3. Interno Due - Saluzzo | Layers of tender meat studded with irresistible sauce.