The Cabinet of Curiosities | Issue 09
Of special tuscan "fichi"; historic mountain establishments and their polpette cups and purposeful Panzanella family recipes.
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.
Although September marks the end of summer and of the holidays for most people, I’ve always welcomed it with new energy, excited for the things to come and new projects to bring to life. It was around this time last year that I began thinking about introducing a series of contributors to La Panza Piena and to create a dedicated newsletter — and look how far we’ve come! This month’s issue opens with our most avid writer, Francesco, who pens a story close to his heart, of an incredible Tuscan product unfamiliar to most people; next up is the returning Alberto who once again takes us to his Veneto to share a historic establishment in Veneto, another address worth saving for your next trip in the area. To round up the male-lead issue is the lovely Marianna with a deep-dive in la panzanella, aka one of the best summer dishes to have ever been created. Don’t forget to check out our map with all the newsletters addresses and hidden gems!
- Carlotta, founder of La Panza Piena
Wow, che fico! The Tuscan “gem” you didn’t expect
by Francesco Pellegrini: wine lover, obsessed with NY cheesecake and nature photography fan.
When contemplating what a traditional Tuscan product might be, almost everyone would answer in unison: "bistecca!" "vino!" or one of the many traditional cheeses or cured meats. Few - perhaps very few - would answer “fichi!”. And no, I’m not talking about handsome guys who conquer you with their extraordinary accent…we are talking about figs, the fruit.
Carmignano, a town with a rich history of winemaking, has always had the ideal climate for figs. Although this wonderful tree has always grown on Prato’s hills, it has remained a marginal agriculture when compared to vines and olive trees, consequentially limiting its production and knowledge beyond the town.
Eaten since the time of the Roman legions, who used them as “emergency” food, dried Carmignano figs have reached us today by merit of local farmers for a similar reason: they are a great source of caloric intake and perfect for an energizing snack.
The most suitable variety - and the most cultivated one - to produce dried figs in Carmignano is the Dottato.
Harvested in the last days of August, the figs are cut in half lengthwise and left to lie under the sun for a few days, then placed to dry definitively in a cool, shaded and dry environment for a month. Alternatively, they are placed in dehydration machines. The finished products are known as Picce, and are achieved by combining two halves of a dried fig with anise seeds in the middle, giving the fruit a unique aroma.
This historic practice in the town of Carmignano survives as a result of producers like Siro Petracchi who have dedicated their lives to promoting the ancient cultivation and enhancing production. A strong focus is placed on the versatility of fig trees, whose fruit can be consumed fresh, dried, in the form of jam or juice, spirit and its leaves within herbal teas.
Whether you enjoy them as a sweet conclusion to a meal, as an energy boost or paired with a slice of prosciutto crudo, Carmignano’s figs are a wonder worth discovering next time you’re in the area.
Cosy tales of tolls, mountains and polpette
By Alberto Trame: Passionate about Italy’s gastronomic and wine heritage; curious about every story in the realm of food culture.
This story begins on 1st March 1865, when Giuseppe Zanella takes over the postal service from Bribano to Agordo, two small mountain towns in Veneto, near Belluno, on behalf of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
Giuseppe and his brother managed postal and public transport services through the area, with stables where couriers could exchange their horses, the traces of which are still visible today. They would also collect tolls on the adjacent road, from which the name of the business originates, as stanga stands for “barrier” to recall one of the original functions and the presence of a barrier along the road.
Flash forward to today and Locanda Alla Stanga is a restaurant, bar and small hotel that has been passed down for four generations since Giuseppe and is renowned all over the region for its excellent quality. Patrizia and Luca are the hands, heart and soul of the Locanda nowadays, which is part of Veneto’s list of Locali Storici: activities that have a significant historical and cultural relevance and that have been family-run for over 40 years.
One of their dishes stands out amongst the rest: polpette, oval shaped meatballs which are flattened slightly and cooked in butter.
Legend has it that since Alla Stanga’s opening in 1865, there hasn’t been a single day in which they ran out of polpette. To celebrate their favorite dish, the owners have created a yearly Meatball Cup which takes place each winter: individuals or teams can sign up and whoever has eaten the most meatballs by the end of the season wins.
Buttery polpette aside, the Locanda serves the most incredible fresh pasta as well as warm zabaione and polenta, which are made expressly upon order over the fire of their historic larin. Tucked in a hoof-shaped side room, a larin is a fireplace which is open on all sides and stands central, surrounded by benches on which people traditionally gather around to cook, warm up, eat and drink. Luca can be spotted manning the zabaione whisk or neatly folding fresh pasta every day, as he barely leaves his kitchen and passion.
As if all the above were not enough, the Locanda also boasts a small wunderkammer with a collection of traditional mountain tools, clothes and skis and a shop, Tote su — the local dialect for “come pick up” — which sells an incredible array of local products, from homemade grappa to fresh bread and the restaurant’s signature dishes.
The historic establishment is a melting pot of ancient crafts, tales of the past, traditions and recipes that are jealously guarded and yet simultaneously a place whose legacy and heritage lives on in the present with devout respect, fond memory and dynamic modernity.
La Panzanella
by Marianna Pitonzo: pasta girl, professional eater and Italian food opinionist.
Going to my nonna’s house for lunch was always the most exciting culinary experience, especially when panzanella was on the table. Everything she made delighted the palate, but everyone in our family agrees that her panzanella was at the top of the list. To this day, I have yet to find one that measures up. After all, everyone knows that come la fa la nonna non la fa nessuno (no one cooks it like nonna).
Placing the dish in a category isn’t simple, but most define panzanella as a cold bread stew. Like most Tuscan dishes, panzanella originated centuries ago from the hands of farmers like my nonna. Instead of discarding stale bread, they would soak it in water to soften it, squeeze out the excess liquid, break it up and add olive oil, salt, vinegar and raw vegetables. The classic recipe includes red onion, cucumbers, tomatoes and basil, although there are many variations.
While the ingredients are very simple, the execution requires some practice. First, the bread must be hard enough to break your teeth. Second, to avoid a soggy panzanella, you must ring out the water with the strength of a thousand nonnas so the bread is damp, not wet. I recently tried making it. Unsuccessfully. My bread was too fresh, so post-soak and after endless squeezing, it became a big unappetizing lump of dough that resulted in a much better meal for our chickens.
Nowadays the main goal in cooking is to make good food, but before, everything in the kitchen needed to have a purpose. And so, my failed attempt, while frustrating, made me realize that the purpose of panzanella isn’t to make panzanella, the purpose is to use your old bread. In an age where food waste is the norm, we could stand to learn a lesson from the farmers of the past.