The Best of Things

The Best of Things

I just hate it when the obvious is stated.  Well, maybe I should offer a disclaimer here, for hate might be too harsh a word.  Simple examples of my dislikes (is that better?) include, “Objects in mirror are closer than they appear”, “Do not take (this drug) if allergic to it” or how about this one when you purchase a to-go cup of coffee: “Caution: contents hot”.  I’ve also included one here, newly minted, that only recently caught my attention.  In red it warns: “Stop! Read Warning Below.”  It came on the wired top to a bottle of Moscato after I’d removed the foil.  When opening a bottle like this, the wired top would seem warning enough.  Not in the case of a bottle of bubbly from litigious California it seems.    Too eager at that moment to get at the contents, only later did I read its “stop what you’re doing” label, located just above the normal government admonition, that warns about drinking when pregnant.  My newly found cap-top words of warning went as follows:  

Moscato Wire Twist-off Cap

“Use caution: chill well before opening. Sparkling wine under pressure. Do not shake. To open, point away from self and others, remove hood, hold stopper firmly and slowly twist out by hand. Never open with a corkscrew or reinsert stopper.”

All that was missing was an adviso to wear safety goggles and issue a verbal warning in advance of attempting to open the bottle.  I suspect that may be coming soon.  I guess there is always someone unaware of what seems obvious.  Someone, for instance, like that person on a flight who has never seen or worn a seat belt. 

By now, I should know better and stick with Italian brands of bubbly.  For a change of pace on a hot afternoon, there is nothing like the cooling finish of a sweet goblet of Moscato.    A blue bottle of Italian Bartenura or the fizz factor (without the added wiring) of easy to find Cupcake, also Italian, are both satisfying, and it would appear far less explosive.  

Backyard Shady Break for Moscato

I don’t ride horses, but if I did, I’d be sure to look under the saddle for those burrs I’m warned about.  Another particular irritant that gets to me and which I may have mentioned in passing in another scribbling has to do with asking me for my ID to check my age while buying a beer when my senior status is so obvious.  Another recent example was the time I tried to catch up with Maria Elena on a hospital visit.  She had a few stops to make and I was not sure which clinic she was in when I arrived.  My first stop was at the laboratory where she had to give a blood sample for an upcoming physical.  No big deal.  I told the receptionist I was her husband and asked if she was there or had already gone.  She refused to tell me whether she was or was not, falling back on the HIPAA Law as her reason not to cooperate.  I persisted.  I asked again stating how ridiculous this was.  After all, I wasn’t asking for the details of her medical history, just whether or not she was there.  It didn’t seem much to ask from my side of the counter.  Had HIPAA somehow broadened from strictly the protection of medical information into the ensnarling legalistic malaise of things like restraining orders?  What if this was an emergency and I needed her ASAP?  Something in the hasty reasoning of my appeal must have gotten through a hairline crack in her legalistic armor.  As she waved me away with the flip of her hand, indicating that I should sit in the waiting area, she said, “Sit over there, she’ll be right out”.  Aha!  This was apparently OK, some pseudo-language designed to get around her sticky adherence to rules that she was comfortable with.  She’d managed to answer me without directly answering my question.  By my estimate, she was well suited to be a politician since they never seem to answer a question directly.  It was kind of like that game, “Am I hot, am I cold”, we played when we were kids – can’t tell you where it is, only if you’re close or not.  Such is my world of the obvious and correctness.  You can now appreciate how sensitive I am to what I judge to be ridiculous rules and tedious processes.  Maria Elena is amazed I survived all those years in the once-upon-a-time Strategic Air Command, an organization jam-packed with rules.  By this point, I must be in my rebellious, certainly roguish stage.

It will be on an upcoming return trip to Italy that we’ll skip all this supposed techno-efficiency, over cautiousness, and protectionism in exchange for what I’ll call a simpler lifestyle.  There are rules of course, especially in big cities like Venice, Bologna, and Rome which we’ll visit once again.  With all the cameras, when I do break a rule, I do get caught.  In may take a year or so after the fact, but I’ll still get an occasional ticket for going down a senso unico (one way) street.  But for the most part, the rules are muted and far less intrusive in countryside villages like Calitri.  I find people there are more self-reliant, life is lived simpler, absent constant warnings and where responsibility goes hand in hand with a calm honorable disposition.  People go so far as to greet you with a barrage of kisses, something I’m still getting used to, even now.  I’m not sure, but to a passing observer, it might cause them to entertain the idea we were going to move in together.  I’d wager that life’s most unadorned descriptor there might be “slow”, certainly down quite a few notches from U.S. norms.  In anecdotal evidence, I’ve had Calitri friends, working temporarily in the U.S., return home early because of the U.S. pace of life.  

The Italian penchant for a slow pace is all-encompassing.  To buttress against the threatening appearance of a McDonald's on Rome’s Spanish Steps, Italians invented “Slow Food”.  That a fast food giant could open its doors in the heart of food-obsessed Rome symbolized the vulnerability of older values to bold, new, mega-corporate methods.  It also spoke to the danger of fast food eroding Italy's ancient culinary culture.  In a nation of food lovers, where eating is considered a social moment, such an assault could not go without notice, unaddressed.  This movement isn’t restricted to the obvious, i.e. food and hours spent at table, but encompasses life choices to include a slower pace of living.  Slow Food identifies with foods that are geographically specific and produced by methods that protect their diverse identity.  The movement encourages farmers to revive old environment-friendly methods of cultivation and grow organic and natural foods.  Don’t even mention genetically modified GMO foods; It’s dangerous to go there.  In addition to an emphasis on culture, Slow Food encourages campaigns to promote native food production since these methods help teach history and promote community.  Since its inception in 1986, the movement has spread across the world as a counter to the churning consumption-oriented world we increasingly live in.  The ultimate goal, though it may appear hedonistic at first glance, is to promote the idea of food, in addition to a way of eating, as a source of pleasure, culture, history, identity, and of a true lifestyle … and let’s not forget its preparation where cooking approaches an art form. 

Representative of this emphasis on regional identity and native food production is the humble San Marzano plum tomato.  This tomato gets its name from the town where it was born, San Marzano sul Sarno, located in the Campania region of southern Italy approximately 22 miles south of Naples.  They thrive primarily in the environs of Mount Vesuvius, in the communities of Salerno, Naples and neighboring Avellino in the coastal Campania region of Italy, within an hour’s drive from us in Calitri.  It’s the fertile soil of this area that makes the difference.  Obviously rich in volcanic ash from centuries of deposits, it also contains needed phosphorous and potassium.  I recall how we were told while visiting France’s Chateauneuf-du-Pape that watering the grapevines there was strictly forbidden.  With or without water, it’s hard to believe anything could grow in such dry soil, strewn as it was with rocks the size of baked potatoes.  The regiment for San Marzano tomatoes is entirely different.  The Mediterranean microclimate in this coastal Campania area is temperate with high humidity much of the year as well as affording a high-water table.  Moisture is important to San Marzanos.  The presence of different depth springs supplies water for irrigation from wells that feed directly from underground aquifers. 

San Marzano tomatoes are intensely red.  They feature a meatier elongated body, almost to a point in fact, that to tomato geeks, distinguishes them from Roma and other conventional plum

Meet the San Marzano Tomato

tomatoes.  Their thick skins and firm flesh make them easy to peel (if you ever had to), while fewer seeds make them sweeter and less acidic.  It is this low delicate acidity, along with a lower water content, that makes them ideal for crafting authentic Italian cuisine.  Zero fat and cholesterol are added bonuses.  The resulting sauce is thicker, with a more concentrated tomato flavor, creating a distinctive combination of both sweet and tart flavors.  It is easy to sense that these tomatoes are different, the crème de la crème.  In my hand, right from the can, their texture is noticeably soft to the touch.  With just a little pressure, they simply collapse into a rich ruddy slush making them the lifeblood of any pizza and certainly my spaghetti sauce.

It was in Calitri, I recall, that our friend, Titti (T-T), tutored us about tomatoes.  Her advice was to always use whole peeled San Marzano tomatoes, the choice of chefs, foodies and pizzaioli the world over.  We were cautioned to never use crushed tomatoes since it is uncertain, whatever the brand, what is exactly in the can.  I can identify with that.  It’s kind of like that American breakfast treat, scrapple, typically made of pig offal, such as the head, heart, liver, entrails and other leftover trimmings.  I tried scrapple once at a New Jersey counter.  Thinking back on it, I recall promising myself that I’ll have it again in the far, far distant future and believe me, I had to roam a little to come up with these kind words.

Getting them to this pristine state and into cans is tightly regulated by both Italian and EU laws.  This dual certification, on the order of a Papal imprimatur, began in 1993 when DOC protection was extended to San Marzano tomatoes.  Like DOC wine certification, DOC protects the reputation of regional foods and eliminates unfair competition and any chance of misleading consumers with non-genuine products.  The protection was expanded under the EU's Protected Designation of Origin, D.O.P (Denominazione d’Origine Protetta) beginning in 1996.  Like other products made in Italy, such as Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, Prosciutto di Parma ham, and another stand-out, Balsamico di Modina vinegar, San Marzano tomatoes must have a DOP label or else the product is suspect.  The concept of “Champagne” vs. “Sparkling Wine,” or the chance of buying a fake Rolex watch, lie along the same lines.  Today, many products exist with labels claiming they are San Marzano tomatoes, but unless the DOP label is present, these products are not authentic.  

Their growth and harvesting regiments are also meticulously regulated.  As may be said, it’s “a long row to hoe” from seed to shelf.  It begins with strict cultivation guidelines.  Requirements include that the tomatoes be grown vertically in rows, with the fruit not touching the ground.  While the plants may be pruned and clipped, there are strict yield allowances per acre.  To aid in the growing process, plants are tied multiple times, which at 6-7 feet, allows them to grow to their fullest capacity.  Harvesting begins when the tomatoes have matured and have reached full ripeness.  Hand-picking is a must and occurs usually in the evenings when the sun is setting, mostly for the benefit of the harvesters, not the tomatoes.  This can be as early as July and continues until the end of September, sometimes later.  Guidelines state that true San Marzano tomatoes must have the traditional oblong shape, measure 6-8cm in length, and have a uniform, bright red color.  The tomatoes are then steam-peeled, an all-natural process that has been used in Italy for centuries.  In a similar vein, I recall my mother, her hands approaching the color of her tomatoes, peeling away after she’d remove one from a steaming cauldron.  They are then packed whole or cut in half but are never chopped or diced.  Finally, they are put only into cans, never jars, which helps to distinguish them from imitations.  Again, it is illegal in Italy for a product to claim to be San Marzano tomatoes without being in compliance with these requirements.

A consortium of regional manufacturers is responsible for safeguarding these regulatory requirements because individuals, as well as commercial growers, try to replicate the San Marzano tomato in other locations.  Imitations are even grown in the USA.

Where My San Marzano Tomatoes Originated

It is not sufficient that the seeds come from the San Marzano region.  The actual cultivation process and soil from that area are also needed to make a San Marzano tomato authentic.  This is why it is not possible to reproduce their special flavor by buying San Marzano seeds from Italy and attempting to plant them elsewhere.  God knows the number of time Maria Elena has tried to duplicate a recipe in the U.S. she so successfully can make in Calitri but fails.  The ingredients, right down to the water and soil, just aren’t the same.

Here in the US, the CENTO brand of authentic San Marzano tomatoes is readily available.  In order to aid consumers to trace the authenticity of their tomatoes, this company goes so far as to stamp each can with a little-noticed code.  With this code, the marvel of Internet lets me see the exact farm lot where the tomatoes in my particular can were picked.  When I checked with Google Earth, our last can came from a small plot in an area we are familiar with, close to the Centro Commerciale Vulcano Buono (Good Volcano Mall) in Nola, outside of Naples, and the home of friends in Saviano.  Talk about a down to earth, long row to hoe, from there to me!

In addition to the prestigious San Marzano tomato, there is another San Marzano.  In this case, it is a lesser-known San Marzano, actually a wine from that region of southern Italy, Puglia, especially kissed by the sun.  As was the case with the naming of the San Marzano tomato, San Marzano wine likewise takes its name from the town of San Marzano di San Giuseppe lying east of the port city of Taranto.  I found this vintner interesting right from the start because of their clean, simple but classy labels.  They catch the eye and draw you in for a closer inspection.  One of the labels is simply a series of sequential dates beginning with the year 1962 and extending over fifty years.  The wine’s name is appropriately Collezione Cinquanta (Fifty Collection).  It is a 50-50 blend

San Marzano Collezione Cinquanta Wine

of two Puglian red grapes, Primitivo and Negroamaro.  Together these two grapes remain staples of Italy’s “heel” region where this wine originated, and where, it could be argued, all present-day Italian and French wines combined, thanks to the early Greeks, originated.  1962 marked the year when 19 local winemakers, whose families had farmed the land for generations, banded their livelihoods together like true founding fathers to start Cantine San Marzano.  By 1992, the enterprise had emerged from a provider of bulk commodity wine used to improve other wines, to a full-fledged award-winning brand. Today their cooperative has mushroomed to 1,200 winegrowers and 13 labels, including olive oil. 

When I see that a wine has been aged in oak for six to twelve months, I get excited.  For me, the dry woody tannins add incredible depth to red wine.  The cantina’s Collezione Cinquanta meditates in oak barrels for twelve months.  In fact, it is classified as a vino da meditazione, a “meditation” wine.  This designation was new to me.  For red wine, in a single word, it attempts to describe a wine aged for a long period, that when opened, is meant to command quiet respect for its complexity and composition.  In an almost meditative act, here again, Slow Food comes into play.  The wine essentially asks us to slow down and take a moment to contemplate what this wine represents.  Respect is due to those behind the label, the timely and timeless methods employed, and the child of the sun and earth … the contents of the bottle.  To get it this good, modern tricks of the trade include terms heard around wine tasting venues like maceration and cold-soaking.  Maceration is a technique where seeds and grape skins are left in contact with the wine for a longer period in order to increase color, flavor and tannin structure, especially when introduced after the grapes have fermented.  Sometimes maceration goes so far as to remove the seeds after a period of time to control potential tannin induced bitterness.  It’s a balancing game to extend the life of the wine without introducing a bitter taste.  Cold soaking is another way to intensify the wine’s color without adding to fermentation time. Chilling the crushed “grape must” hinders further fermentation while encouraging a slow, soft extraction of color and flavors from the grape skins.  Together, they work to create a complex and well-made wine well suited for ageing from three to, hard to fathom, one hundred years.  

In addition to DOP designations of their wines, as was the case of the San Marzano tomatoes, their 11 Filari Primitivo di Manduria has earned the high honor of D.O.C.G, rare to southern Italian wines.  Denominazione di Orgine Controllata e Garantita (D.O.C.G) is the highest designation of quality among Italian wines.  It guarantees a wine’s origin much like DOC does, however, the regulations for D.O.C.G designation are tighter and more restrictive.  As examples, maximum permitted grape yields are lower, and each wine must pass an in-depth technical analysis and tasting regiment to receive this seal of approval from the Italian Ministry of Agriculture. 

Again, its name may seem peculiar but when drawn in for closer inspection, it is filled with meaning.  It denotes eleven rows (11 filari), only eleven, of Primitivo vines planted in red limestone-streaked soil.  This ancient, yet at the same time modern grape, Primitivo, meaning “primitive”, may be an appropriate name for these vines that are at least sixty years old, part of a lineage that extends eons.  After being left to dry on the vine, the grapes are harvested manually.  Maceration takes place for ten days using native yeasts.  The yeast is local to the vineyard, something we’ve found common practice, at least in southern Italy.  Again, this wine is aged in oak barriques for twelve months.  The result is an intense ruby red colored sweet nectar with garnet shades.  Whether you favor Dionysus’ or prefer Baucus’ gift to mankind, wine is the elixir of good times meant for sharing.  The folks at San Marzano do their best to share it worldwide.  Look-out world, finally, here comes Puglia!

Are there other San Marzanos?  There is at least one more I know of, San Marzano Oliveto.  It is a community of just over 1,000 people located in the province of Asti, of Asti Spumante fame.  That’s another rather well known Moscato derived sparkling wine, this one from the northern Piedmont region.  Its distinction revolves around neither tomatoes nor wines, but olives, as part of its name, oliveto, infers, but I’ll “go slow” and defer that discussion for another time.  There is plenty of

How About Some of my San Marzano Pasta?

value to the Slow Food movement, to slow everything in general.  Caught up in it as we are here in the States, it is difficult for us to notice how entrenched we are in a fast-paced life.  The rest of the world, however, does not consistently move to this tempo.  Quite the opposite, the more we see of the world, the more it appears to follow a slow adagio harmony.  We first noticed it on our initial visit to Italy.  Even before that, even before the explosive proliferation of cell phones, computers, telecommuting and the pace they promote, I’d caught myself saying how we as a country needed to get back to carbon paper, typewriters and just slow down.  Take time to relax and savor a chilled glass of Moscato in the shade of a backyard tree.  Sometime later, having transitioned to a D.O.C.G bottle of Italy’s finest, crowd out other thoughts.  Instead, focus and be mindful to relish just that moment, as along with the wine you twirl a forkful of fresh pasta awash in the red goodness of a San Marzano tomato-based sauce.  For now, I’ll put it off just a bit.  It’s time to go cut the grass, but thankfully, I won’t be using a push mower as I did as a kid.  After all, there are some limits to this slow business! 

From that Rogue Tourist

Paolo