Disco Birthday Breakdown (Part 2)

“Meglio non avere una storia che averne una noiosa.”

Better to have no story than to have a boring one – From the label of a bottle of Castello, a Friulian beer

As our blood sugars depleted while we meandered the fleeting shade of Lecce’s not so grand avenues near the station, I knew I could count on a secret weapon to get this birthday celebration started properly and assuage the demise of our collective spirits. My weapon of choice was; the Pasticiotto! This absolutely compelling oval of shortbread filled with pastry cream is essential to any nutritious Leccese breakfast and I was certain that each participant in this day of honor would be well served by ingesting one of these bad boys and washing it down with some of the killer locally roasted Quarta Caffe. We sat down at the famous Avino Caffe looking out over the expanse of Piazza Sant’Oronzo (one of the largest Piazzas in Southern Italy) with the ancient 2nd century Roman amphitheater to our left and the latest billboard sized fashion ad to our right, I felt immediately at home and at the same time had that all too familiar inquisitive feeling of: how did the object on my left lead to the object on my right? The temperature was now starting to climb quickly and as we crushed down our pastries followed by a béchamel bomb called a Rustico and we were off and running to get our Baroque on!

Of course we polished off 1.5 liters of water in the first hour of walking and Juliet and I hammered down a second Quarta Caffe as we proceeded to attack each sight in Lecce with renewed vigor all the while ducking the sun and staying close to the shadows cast by buildings, ancient walls, gelaterie, and very large tourists. At one point, in the famous Piazza Duomo, which has been recently uncovered from restoration, we had less than 30 square meters of shade and the remaining ocean of a piazza was bathed in Sahara-like sun. We had no choice but to run, cameras, water bottles, and books all trailing behind us as we fled to avoid scorching our non Pugliese hides. The rewards of shade on this day kept the hangovers at bay and after about 2 full hours of this dance our appetites began to return and the real reason for today’s excursion, the truth behind the early morning jog, the noisy nosy train ride, and the satanic sunshine was close at hand. It was now that the real promise of today could finally be realized. We were on our way to one of the culinary gems of Southern Italy, Ristorante Alle due Corti.

As we rounded the corner to the restaurant with our faces shaded from the violent sun and road crews ripping through 8 inches of concrete and cobblestone I was afraid my hopes of feeding this birthday bunch would soon be dashed on the rocks like my beloved polpo alla griglia (olive wood grilled octopus made from fresh 8 leggers that have been bludgeoned upon the rocks to be tenderized after being caught). Nevertheless, as the dust was beginning to blur the map on the iPhone we saw the cheesy rose embossed sign of the world's first restaurant with a Unesco Heritage cook. That's right, the Mamma making the goods in this joint is certified legit' and her food is a joyous ride over comfort and satisfaction.

The AC was just at that 75 degree level that creates boat loads of sweat on hot bodies, and the two guys in this group were hot with temperature and in need of a sink. My wife quickly reminded me that I knocked the holy hell out of my head the last time I was here on the 6'2" entrance to the restroom and so keeping my 9th concussion in mind I ducked into the restroom for a wash and a glance down at the toilet I should have needed after 2 coffees and 2 waters, but didn't , because I was at negative hydration long before I reached the charmingly short little pee room.

I managed to keep my head from being severed as I strolled refreshed from the bagno and gazed about at the standard issue wood tables with grandma's antiques on the wall. The Italian restaurant is not often a bastion of feng shui and this place was no exception. Tables are all close together to make for better eavesdropping and to allow two servers to manage more guests than 5 waiters would in the states. Ahh, the salaried server, only as busy as he has to be and rarely as nice as he could be. I am not a fan of Italian restaurant service and I know many Italians who aren't either. If you are an employer keep this in mind; incentive is the mother of good service. Give me a 38 hour work week, a low salary, a pension, 4 weeks of holiday, and at least 2 days off every week while throwing a bunch of ding- dongs who rarely speak my language at me, and I would very likely not give a shit either about being friendly, attentive, suggestive of specials, and especially about turning tables. In fact, I would hope that you would really just need the minimum of interaction and then leave me the hell alone and camp out all night at your table until I needed you to get the hell out so I could close down the dungeon, pop a Red Bull, then light a camel as I put on my scarf climb on my Vespa and putter off to the disco hoping to drown my day-to-day misery with techno and some ice-cold Coca-Cola. I swear there must be heroin in the Coke over here because they love to drink Coke any time day or night.

You would think from my bantering here that I was not happy to be here, but in fact I was completely jazzed as I was about to fully get my eat on and it began with a plate of breaded and ever so perfectly fried hunks of vegetables. Green beans, peppers, mushrooms, carrots, zucchini, and even some artichoke on occasion are all fried beautifully here at the  Due Corti....(to be continued)

Disco Birthday Breakdown (Part 1)

“Meglio non avere una storia che averne una noiosa.”

Better to have no story than to have a boring one – From the label of a bottle of Castello, a Friulian beer

It was 03:45 am and my wife Juliet and I were pushing a 2005 Audi A4 wagon on the very busy SS16 from Monopoli back to our villa in Capitolo.  Cars filled with mostly drunken disco douche bags were streaming by at 150 kilometers per hour and we were making at best 10kmph into a headwind.  This was clearly a dangerous situation and we were in fact, out of gas and ¼ mile from safety.

The day had been scripted by the gods of decadence as we awoke far too early from our previous night’s excessive consumption, in order to catch a train to Lecce.  Me, my wife, and two American companions embarked on the 20 minute walk to the train station, having only 15 minutes to make the train.  One of my friends was celebrating her birthday and I was feeling the pressure of being the tour guide and responsible for this painful, hung-over half jog as the temperature was already at 90F by 8:45am.  I assured the team that we needed to double time it in order to catch the train, but I could not promise them air conditioning once we got on board.  Much to our happy surprise we made the train and the AC was cranking.  We were, as is often the case in Italia, the main attraction for the locals on their way for another day at the office.  The ladies who were heading down to babysit the bambini were all too amused to sit ears cocked to the sides to hear the not so dulcet tones of our American English.  A nun had taken up residence in the seats behind us and I am certain Rosaries were being said for the protection of the young and the infirmed from the interlopers of Treno 12571.

Hunger was beginning to get the best of the birthday quartet when we landed on the platform in Lecce.  A quick duck into the disgusting filth hole of a restroom revealed some friendly immigrant males making their way into the womens room much to the chagrin of the classy Italian gents in wife beaters and suspenders.  While no fight ensued, we were already dangerously low on hand sanitizer by the time we began to negotiate the sun drenched streets of the Florence of the south.  That term really makes me laugh.  I still even use it sometimes in our marketing materials, but make no mistake, Lecce is not Florence and thank God I say!  Florence is easily my least favorite major city in Europe and I am sure it was 2006 since the last time there has been an Italian sighting there.  I am fond of many things Tuscan, but Firenze is not my bag.  Florence has more pictures of menu items on restaurant walls than the Houston Hong Kong Market.  I come to Italy to meet, work with, argue with, and sometimes even eat with Italians.  In Florence I am rarely given the opportunity to do any of the above and while I am certain I will get a list of GFY and die emails from Florentine acolytes, I simply needed to state my case and now I can move on to really cool towns, like Lecce.

...to be continued

I cook well because I can’t afford Le Bernardin

This essay is my submission to Anthony Bourdain's Medium Raw Challenge. Anthony asked, "Foodies: What does it mean to cook food well?" And this is my answer... If you like what you read, please vote to support my entry as I would love to get published in the paperback edition of his bestselling book, Medium Raw!

As the food porn industry grows via Twitter, Facebook, and the Confederacy of Food Bloggers, I am constantly bombarded by images of places I would love to eat if only I lived rent free and could sell my not so great car in order to pay the tariff.  Seriously, I look at the photos from places like Le Bernardin in New York and I simply drool all over myself thinking of the freshness, the execution, and the final feeling of decadent satiation and then suddenly being crushed by the freight train full of cash leaving my bank account as the server snickers under his breath at the very lack of metal in my very pedestrian bank card.

[caption id="" align="alignright" width="311"] Read about Le Bernadin on the Keeper Collection blog[/caption]

It is this feeling of panic that I have had on numerous occasions coupled with lingering restaurant guilt that I always seem to have when the wine buzz is gone that leads to the theory that if one can cook well, one can avoid the pain of knowing they cannot afford such guilty pleasures as a great New York eatery.  Let's face it, I am not suggesting you cheap out and cook some half ass ingredients and drink plonk just to save cash.  I am saying if you can prepare foods like the great chefs in the comfort of your own home and you have a wine shop case discount to take the sting out of your Morey St Denis price, you can create some pretty darn good meals at a fraction of the cost of dining in a great restaurant.

[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="230"] Classic starters at a Michael dinner[/caption]

My very close friend LJR and I have cooked some seriously sick (and by sick I mean amazing) meals for some very discerning food and wine folks that wine included would have tipped the scales at over $500 a person at a great restaurant, and we were able to do it at a quarter of this price or less.  Before you get all antsy and accuse me of not seeing the value in the service and attention to detail of a great restaurant; please know that I do indeed realize this and believe very strongly in the whole dog and pony show on occasion.  However, remember the title of my article.  I simply cannot afford to eat like a celebrity, but with the right ingredients, right guests, and the best non restaurant owning chef I know as a best friend, I can have the great gastronomic pleasures of life with relative frequency and still afford the unreal school loans I racked up from over 7 arduous years of college.

I cook well, because I am driven to eat.  Eating is the first thought of my day each day and quite often the final thought in my mind before I shut my eyes.  As my mom always said; I was born with Cadillac tastes and a Huffy bank account.  I have never let that stop me.

The Real King of Southern Italy

Welcome to The Blissful Adventurer, my name is Michael Housewright and I am offering a number of previous pre-blog blogs that I have written over the years, including this gem from my experience working in Sicily in 2006. I am not sure who my audience will be as the blog develops, so welcome and leave me a comment if you enjoy what you read. "Now watch this drive..."

Italy has been THE destination in Europe for almost a decade now, and while the hills of Tuscany still hold the allure for most travelers, I decided to dive into the deep south of Sicily on my most recent Italian adventure to see if I could find an Italy a little more hidden and perhaps a bit taboo. I was longing for crisp suits and fervent gesticulations, I was not disappointed. I spent the month of May in Sicily, working on my Italian (and Sicilian), riding bikes through the fertile crops of oranges, grapes, almonds, olives, and finally driving back to my home base south of Florence. In this month I discovered a lust for life like no other, where the drama of day to day is simply; day to day.

While driving back from Sicily to Tuscany it dawned upon me that sugar might be the most powerful food on the planet, and certainly in Italy. In a Europe that constantly labels Americans as the fat people of the world, I cannot help but notice the copious amounts of sugar advertised, consumed, and habitually worshiped in Italy. Nearly every street corner, every billboard, and practically every other shop advertises or vends something containing enormous amounts of sugar.

For many years, the balance of not eating between meals, the common daily exercise of walks up steep hills, and the quantity of olive oil, wine, and other healthy foods consumed, allowed Italians to balance their sugar intake and remain lean. Today's Italy is replete with scooter riding youngsters consuming gelato, pastry, and sweet coffee at every interlude. Italians, especially the young, have ballooned to sizes not seen since my last visit to a southern Mississippi Sam's club. Italy is getting fat, and they also have malls now, complete with mall rat kids in fad laden faux designer clothing, walking about like some Southern California of my early 80's memories. Of course, as I sat there in the mall happily ingesting my Big Mac and fries (don't roll your eyes at me) looking into the sun-glassed shaded eyes of those 15 -20 years my junior, I thought to myself, perhaps it ain't all so bad. I can get all soap boxed up about the dereliction of man based upon some hack like, half retention of Fast Food Nation or I can think about the idea that a little balance goes a long way in living pretty well.

Let's face it, it is the ruts of life that make us sad, unhealthy, and bogged down in the doldrums of choices we make when we feel we have no choice . In actuality, it is this mind pause, called routine, that draws us to safety, and the feelings of brain calm we feel safety creates.

All of this being said, it is with great pleasure at how difficult it all can be that I begin my real account of investigating this amazing, beautiful island, that neither Genghis Khan nor Ronald McDonald could assimilate completely into the world's in which they, through siege or subliminal advertising brought to the beautiful shores of Sicily.

I begin by recounting a story told to me by a tour guide in Taormina who spoke broken English and actually claimed to hate children.  Well, I am not sure she claimed it, she just spent the better part of the tour yelling at kids in other groups for making noise while she talked into her megaphone. Nevertheless the story goes like this. The Romans were poised in Calabria (mainland Italy’s most southern state) for over 50 years awaiting the death of a great Sicilian King. Upon news of his death and a subsequent Sicilian alliance with the Carthaginians, the Romans came across the straits of Messina and sacked Syracuse.  For the next 2 millennia, Sicily has risen to the challenge of all invaders and melded them effectively into the bounty of the land, the siren calls of her sea islands, and the musicality of language like none other in Italy. Sicily stands majestically under the mountains of fire which at any moment could bring a lava filled interloper to any room in their homes, yet they go about life as if it were going to be forever.

At the same time when my friend and I returned to Ragusa near the end of our Sicily adventure, to discover three people had died in a small plane crash at the airstrip where we were staying in an apartment, it was amazing to see how affected the people were. I would equate the behavior as one of innocence, like that of a child who learns about death in way that is suitable for his/her understanding.  Some were dismissive and playful as the story was sad, “things are worse elsewhere” one blue tooth headset wearing waiter stated (he wore it all evening as he worked, in a perfect suit of course), some were shocked to the point of mindless rambling, and most were simply out of sorts as to wonder why and how someone so skilled, could actually die, as the pilot apparently died from a maneuver even a nascent pilot would be able to complete with aplomb. In essence, the end of life is so telling, to a people whom life is so fervent.  While we are all detached at times from death, and affected dramatically by it at others.  It is the way in which the Sicilian lives without fear that it will end, without a pervasive sense of hiding from life that is so interesting to watch.  Sicilians smoke, drink, eat, argue, shout, drive, lie, and sometimes, even work as hard as any people I have ever encountered. As I reflect on a journey I am ill afforded the luxury of recanting in great detail for this article, I know I am fortunate to have been a part of this land that conquers the conqueror and invigorates the passion for all things alive, even in death.

KitchenAid Christmas Recipe Blog Contest

Hello Readers,

My very good friend Laura Giordano from Puglia and I have entered a really cool team blog contest sponsored by KitchenAid of Italy.  The following blog represents my half of the entry and you may read Laura's story on her blog at A Pinch of Italy.  Wish us luck Blissful Adventurers!

I met Laura Giordano on a warm evening just outside the Bari train station in Puglia, Italy. She and my business partner Antonello had just begun a lovely courtship that year and he had purported that Laura was an exceptional cook on par even with his own mother (an enormous compliment by Italian standards). Laura came running to my wife and I as Antonello was trying to find a spot for the car and I was immediately surprised by her beauty, smile, and the graceful ease at which she moved along the sidewalk in her light jacket, jeans, and tennis shoes. Within minutes we were discussing food together in my broken Italian and her very good English. That evening we would be having the famous panzerotti at a street side café and we were both obviously anticipating the experience and enjoying a moment we would relive time and again.

Laura has now grown into the executive chef for Southern Visions Travel, a company in Puglia Italy that I helped to get off the ground and continue to support, advise, and foster on many levels. My wife and I make yearly pilgrimages to Puglia. In my travels to Puglia I am ever amazed at the wonders of the world of food created by the capable hands of my friend Laura. Just this year Laura prepared the most stunning vermicelli with mussels and a chocolate and walnut torta that left me in the most serene of comas for hours.

Now, for 2010 we decided to put a little twist on our holiday traditions. My wife is a nurse and was forced to be on call at the hospital this Christmas and therefore we could not leave town to visit family as is normally the case, so Laura and Antonello decided to spend their first Christmas away from Italy and visit us here in Houston. It was apparent that some great culinary bridges were to be built over this holiday and when Laura presented me with a blog contest to share the story of our friendship and a family recipe for Christmas, I had to accept the challenge (because I knew the results would be amazing).

Laura and I pondered ideas for Christmas dinner and decided we should marry our 2 cultures in some way. We considered some of my family dishes and ideas from my grandmother as well as things from Laura’s past and settled on something that would be just perfect: an old family recipe from Laura’s mother from Naples: Anolini al Brasato. These scrumptious half-moon filled pastas are stuffed with the braised pulp of a beef roast and loads of parmigiano cheese then cooked, buttered, and served with a reduction sauce made from the beef braise (basically the core and essence of pure beef, if demi-glace is blood, then this reduction sauce is plasma J). Of course to give the dish a 2 continent pedigree we would use only an incredible piece of Texas grass-fed beef to impart the most decadent flavors.

Not only were we making this amazing pasta from Laura’s wonderful Mom, we were also doing some huge Texas steaks, root vegetable mash, and a little tomato and mozzarella di Bufala (from Campania) stack, and 2 outstanding bottles of Italian vino: the 2004 Brunello di Montalcino from Il Poggione and the otherworldly Graticciaia from Puglia’s top tier Vallone winery. This was going to be an elegant Christmas day meal for 4. Of course, as luck would have it, my wife was called in to work on Christmas morning with no timetable for a return and so when she made it home in the late morning we settled for sausages cooked in bacon fat with eggs over easy cooked in the fat of sausage and bacon and served over Anson Mills white polenta and jack cheese. This was one of the most decadent Christmas brunches (albeit impromptu) I have prepared and a good stomach prime for the big feast of the evening that followed.

In between meals of course there were stockings to open, Christmas packages as well, and some PS3 Calcio to be played (I was cheated). Then we went on to prepare the stunning meal (bear in mind that the brasato was begun several days in advance and doing this whole process in one day could be a bit masochistic)

Nevertheless, the meal was sublime and the Anolini were like the most delicate pillows of down filled with the velvet hammers of meat essence and cheese. Laura’s and my friendship extends over 2 continents and is bound inexorably by our enormous curiosity for eating, cooking, and finding creative ways to spend more time eating and cooking. I only wished I looked as good in an apron as she does. Ti saluto Laura Giordano!

Here is the recipe for Anolini al Brasato.

For the Filling

2 Eggs Beaten

1 2lb Beef Roast (I like eye of round and prefer grass-fed, but any flavorful beef roast can work, you just may have to adjust your cook times) This roast will be used to create the decadent braised stock/sauce only.

3 thick slices of killer bacon (do not use crappy bacon, it sucks) or imported pancetta (about 5 round slices) I like to cut these into small pieces with scissors for even cooking.

7 tbsp Butter (unsalted)

4 tbsp Butter (for finishing the pasta)

¼ cup finally chopped onion

¼ cup finally chopped carrot (I like to grate mine)

¼ cup finally chopped celery

¼ cup Tomato Paste (once again do not use crappy store brands, try one from Italy)

3 ½ quarts of good quality beef broth (I like to make my own with beef short ribs, but feel free to use a high quality and preferably organic variety from the store) Keep simmering on the stove until ready for use.

14 oz. Parmigiano Reggiano cheese (grated freshly that day)

3-4 Tbsp Extra Virgin Olive Oil

¼ tsp Cinnamon

¼ tsp fresh ground Nutmeg (if you must use pre-ground I will look the other way)

4-5 whole cloves

Salt and Pepper to Taste

1 ½ Cups Decent Red Wine (I like Salice Salentino from Puglia)

1. Bring the beef roast to room temperature by leaving covered on counter for at least 3-4 hours. Season the beef with salt and pepper

2. Heat a Dutch oven or large heavy bottomed pan over medium high heat and Melt the butter and add the olive oil.

3. As soon as the oil is hot and the butter fat is melted away add the vegetables and cook over medium high heat until slightly soft (about 2 minutes)

4. Add the bacon or pancetta to the pan and until it begins to render slightly

5. Add the roast and brown on all sides making sure to move the vegetables and keeping the heat high enough to brown the meat rather than steaming

6. Add the tomato paste and cook till it begins to give off an orange tint

7. Add the wine and cook for 1 minute

8. Add the beef stock (making sure you have enough to fully immerse the roast if not, add some water as the roast must be completely submerged in order to braise properly)

9. Add the cinnamon and the cloves

10. Cover the Dutch over and simmer/braise for 4-6 hours at very low heat

11. Remove the roast and allow it to cool (the roast can be used as main course for your meal with root vegetables and peas as it is finished for this recipe. It should completely fall apart when pulled with a fork)

12. Strain the stock from the Dutch oven through a fine mesh sieve pressing the pulp through as much as possible without getting whole pieces of vegetables. It should be pretty thick

13. Now place the strained sauce into a large saucepan and reduce to about 4 cups of thick decadent (very dark brown) sauce

14. If you want to really make a special plate you can strain again or leave as is:

15. Divide the stock in two portions

16. Take half of stock (at least 2 full cups) and mix in the parmigiano and once it has cooled slightly the beaten eggs (so they will not curdle). Mix this till light and fluffy with a wood spoon. Set aside and keep cool for filling the Anolini pasta.

17. Keep the remaining stock/sauce on low heat and becoming even thicker over the next hour down to 1.5 cups.

For the Pasta:

14 oz 00 Flour (look for this in finer grocery stores and specialty markets)

5 Egg Yolks (break the eggs precisely and retain the 5 shell bottoms)

5 Egg shell bottoms filled with water and rested on the counter

We created the pasta completely by hand. This recipe could also be made by machine and use a pasta roller; however, I will explain how we made it completely by hand.

1. Measure the flour and place in a pile on a workable cool surface like stone, marble, or a butcher block (well floured)

2. Form a nest in the top of the flour that will hold the egg yolks and place all 5 in the nest

3. Begin working the flour and whole yolks together with a fork until fully incorporated but not yet dough

4. Now, with the hands begin kneading the dough adding one egg-shell of water at a time as the dough becomes dry and crumbly

5. Once all the water is incorporated and the dough is spongy and pliable, knead a few moments more to make and leave in a ball

6. Allow the dough to rest covered by a kitchen towel for 30 minutes at room temperature.

7. Begin rolling the dough out into thin sheets about 18-22 inches in length and 10-12 inches in width. This will take several attempts and the work surface must stay very well floured.

8. Once you have sheets, cut the sheets into 3-4 inch wide strips of very thin pasta

9. Use an espresso cup or cookie cutter with a small round diameter to cut rounds of pasta and place rounds on a well floured baking sheet. This recipe should make between 60 and 100 individual Anolini

10. Begin filling the discs of pasta with about  1tbsp. of the filling prepared above. The pasta should hold just enough filling to easily fold in half into a half-moon shape.

11. Once all the Anolini are filled and folded, use a table fork to crimp the edges closed as it is essential the filling does not leave the pasta during the cooking process.

12. The filled and crimped Anolini should be on a floured baking sheet and ready for cooking

a. May be finished 1 hour before cooking

To Prepare:

1. Bring a large pasta pot of water to a boil

2. Add a generous pour of Kosher salt to the boiling water

3. Add the Anolini in batches (about 20-30 at a time) and cook till they float + another 30-40 seconds

4. Remove from heat and place in a buttered dish kept ever so slightly warm

5. When all the Anolini are finished cooking toss with the remaining butter and place 8-12 on warmed plates smeared with 1-2 tablespoons of the remaining concentrated sauce

6. Serve immediately with an aged Aglianico (Taurasi from Campania is a good option)