MARIANI’S
VIRTUAL
GOURMET
APRIL 14, 2024
NEWSLETTER
Founded in 1996
ARCHIVE
"Still Life" by Pierre Bonnard
❖❖❖
THIS WEEK
BARCELONA PART TWO
By John A. Curtas
NEW YORK CORNER
RIVERPARK
By John Mariani
THE MAGDALENE LAUNDRIES
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
By John Mariani
NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR
WILL A.I MAKE WINE WRITERS SUPERFLUOUS?
By John Mariani
BARCELONA PART TWO
By John A. Curtas
Paella
Dinner at Can
Culleretes (supposedly the second
oldest restaurant in Spain) was punctuated by
a surly teenage waitress and a hostess with
all the charm of a hemorrhoid. But the
historic rooms (since 1786) were a sight
to see and the tariff soft, especially wine,
with bottles costing what a glass does in Las
Vegas. This held true in both Barcelona and
Madrid, in restaurants both humble and
hi-falutin'. Our dinner for four (with enough
food for six) came to €252, including two
bottles of wine.
The food, though, a decent mixed seafood
grill and lots of stewed proteins, was one
b-flat taste sensation after the next. The
charms of Culleretes's famed brandade-stuffed
cannelloni (right) also escaped us, with every
leaden bite confirming that under-seasoning must
be a rule
in Catalan kitchens. We also left wondering if
cured fish, olives, and eggs are the three-chord
rock of Catalonia, and whether there is some
kind of law against not
serving anchovies in Spain.
Can Solé 1903 redeemed
things with sparkling paella
served by friendly folks who seemed genuinely
happy to have us. We had booked on-line about a
month out, and as soon as the doors opened, we
were shown to the best seat in the house, 
right in the
front room, from where we could watch the steady
stream of patrons as well as various dishes
flying forth from the kitchen, all of it washed
down with pitchers of white sangria. Can Solé is
only a block from the marina, so the salt
essence of the shore permeates the food and
setting. Seafood always tastes best within
eyesight of an ocean, and our paella proved the
point as the salt air seasoned every bite. A
steal at €43.
What you'll find in these old-school
Barcelona establishments is sticker shock in
reverse. Barcelona may be a tourist town, but we
saw little evidence of price-gouging. It also
didn't take long to figure out 
what
a bargain wine is in Spain. The most expensive
Spanish wine on the Can Solé list was €34 euros.
At Can Culleretes it was €29.50 for a very good
Priorat red. Even in fancy joints, the pricier
offerings were often well under €100. All of it
a welcome respite from the eye-watering wine
prices on this side of the pond. Lunch for four,
including two bottles of wine (Corpinnat and
Albariño) and sangria, came to €298 euros.
Good values abound, even in the high-rent
district. Such was our experience at Gresca
(below), a sliver of a gastro-pub a
few blocks west of the tony Passeig de Gràcia, 
Barcelona's
grandest avenue. A row of four-tops lines one
cramped wall, leading to an open kitchen that
straddles a second, parallel, space. The few
waiters scramble between tables while a
half-dozen cooks toil away, churning out small
plates (not really tapas, despite what the
Internet says) that were the most compelling
dishes we had in Barcelona–-rabbit kidneys,
sweetbreads, bacon-thin bikini cheese toast, cod
"gilda" pintxos,
grilled quail (below), all of it so
toothsome we were fighting over the last bites.
Everything washed down with excellent wines from
regions we barely know made by producers 
we've never
heard of, which is why God invented sommeliers.
It was a menu showcasing both ingenuity and
restraint—a rarity in "modern" restaurants these
days. Cooking this sophisticated will always
merit a higher tariff, but ours still came to
only €120 per person, including three bottles of
wine.
If Gresca made us feel like an
in-the-know local, Lomo Alto brought out
our inner carnivorous connoisseur. What first
resembles a slightly antiseptic butcher shop
leads to a stairway up to a second floor of
capacious booths
designed for one thing: to showcase the best
beef in Spain. Before you get to your
dictionary-thick steaks, though, you'll first
plow through some beautiful bread, three kinds
of olive oil, "old cow" carpaccio
with smoked Castilian cheese, and some of
the softest artichokes known to man.
Then the steaks appear in the center of
the U-shaped booths, the carving starts, and you
are transported to a higher level of beef
eating. We did a side-by-side of two steaks—vaca vieja
chuleton, a rib steak aged both on the
hoof and in the fridge; the other, a very lean,
60- to 80-day aged rib of
Simmental beef from Germany. Neither was cheap:
€145 and €118, together amounting to about €300
of grass-fed beef split among four people. As
compared to an American steakhouse, I'd give it
an A- for food (the Simmental was as chewy as
overcooked octopus and not worth the fee) and
high marks for service, despite the sterile
décor exuding all the hospitality of a hospital.
But I'll remember that rib steak and those
starters for a long time, and will never forget
that the Spanish way to cook beef is basically
to yell "fire!" as the meat is leaving the
kitchen.
NEW YORK CORNER
450 East 29th
Street
212-706-4131
By John Mariani
Photos by Svetlana Blasucci
Talk about
hiding in plain sight! How did I miss a striking
venue with a Kips Bay panorama on the East River
that’s been around for fifteen years?
Perhaps until recently there
wasn’t much to say about Riverpark’s huge dining
room way at the end of a closed-off street
complete with off-putting security guards within
the vast Apella by Alexandria event space tower,
across from Bellevue Hospital. There
had, however, been a renovation not long ago and a
revamping of the restaurant and kitchen, now under
chef de
cuisine Kishen Jagmohan, who has a special talent
for blending Eastern and Western culinary flavors
and techniques in refreshing ways.
Created by
Backal Hospitality Group, Riverpark (there
actually is a parking lot) is a dauntingly
dramatic space with soaring ceilings, sculptural
lighting that flatters everyone beneath it,
caramel colored leather chairs and windows that
wrap around the room for maximum effect. The
tables are made from polished golden wood and are
set with soft-glowing lamps. The
ever-changing cityscape of Queens lights up as the
East River flows quickly by.
The dining room seats 85, meaning the space
between tables is generous, with 76 seats outdoors
on The Terrace and a 150-seat private dining room.
For its location on the river, but on a grander
scale, it compares for New York panache with the
River Café in Brooklyn 
and
Water’s
Edge.
Chef Jagmohan was born and
raised in Guyana, which draws in the food of other
South American nations like Brazil, Venezuela, and
Surname as well as Caribbean overtures. You can
readily taste those international influences
throughout his cooking, as when pristine tuna
carpaccio ($24) is laced with pickled chilies,
yuzu wasabi aïoli and a rice cracker. A
beautiful blue crab
soup has the sweetness of butternut squash, the
spice of red sorrel and the texture of fregola ($19),
while gambas
al ajillo begins with jumbo shrimp cooked
just till tender and lashed with garlic, white
wine, red paprika and served with the Spanish
crushed tomato-on-toast called pa amb
tomàquet ($24).
You quickly receive good
focaccia with olive oil and soft butter. You might
also start off with a platter of charcuterie,
including house-made chicken liver pâté.
There is a changing four-course tasting
menu, which I enjoyed along with à la carte with
my guests. First course 
was
seared tuna served at room temperature with
grilled cabbage, soy aïoli, and house togarashi chili
seasoning for spark. Second course was a two-hour
egg whose yolk flowed over sunchoke and
chanterelle mushrooms. The third was a spiced
confit of pork belly with plenty of fat on it,
shaved asparagus and brightly colored arugula
pesto. For dessert, lemon cheesecake and mousse
torte.
Everything
has wonderful color. There are a couple of pasta
dishes as main courses, including a toothsome
gnocchi incorporating green garlic and served in a
hearty braised lamb reduction with preserved
tomato, parmesan
crumble and a lovely roasted red pepper puree
($32),
Jagmohan
chooses well-fatted scallops, sears them quickly
and serves them with caramelized salsify and a grenobloise
puree of root
vegetables ($43). 
There
are a seasonal fish for two at market price, but
I went for the rich flavors of black sea bass
grilled and cuddled with snap peas, bacon,
pickled chili, pea puree and a dash of black
vinegar for acid ($42).
These are
imaginative, sumptuous dishes that are as
delicious as they were delectable just to look at.
Executive Pastry Chef Jamai Brown follows through
with desserts ($14) like chocolate Paris-Brest
with hazelnut ganache, coffee caramel and vanilla
ice cream; lemon cheesecake mousse; and
irresistible sticky toffee pudding with banana ice
cream. There are also five cheeses offered ($10
each or all for $45).
The long wine list is remarkably inclusive,
with bottles from Hungary, South Africa, Armenia,
Greece and Israel, as well as an abundance of
offerings from France, Italy and the U.S., with a
good number of wines under $100, and mark-ups on
the rest are remarkably fair at about 100%, even for
many good Burgundies. Still, the list needs
trimming, especially among white wines that date
from a decade ago: a Sancerre from Domaine Pierre
Martin from 2018 was clearly over-the-hill.
There are also about 30 wines by the glass
($15-$31) and 20 beers.
Riverpark’s young service staff is amiable
and knowledgeable about the food but they need to
be shoo-ed away from congregating at the bar after
nine o’clock, when guests have to call across the
room to get their attention.
I can imagine how glorious the view will be
from inside and out Riverpark as spring warms up.
I just wish I’d known about it years ago.
THE MAGDALENE LAUNDRIES
By John Mariani
Professor
Porter continued, “By the time
of the Great Depression, which affected the
entire world, the Irish economy was
in a desperate shambles, and the Sisters of
Charity were taking in at least a
hundred young women a year.”
“When did the abuse begin?” asked
Katie.
“Probably around that time, 1930s,
‘40s, and after the war. You have to remember that
Irish Catholicism had become
very punitive, drifting away from the positive
preachings of Jesus Christ,
which were all about love, forgiveness, repentance
and redemption. The parochial
schools run by the Irish replaced that view with
the idea that all men were
sinners and women were temptresses, weak in moral
integrity, all of them bound
for hellfire.”
This was not really news to Katie or
David, who had gone through parochial schools
where the principal concerns of
the clergy were focused on the Sixth and Ninth
Commandments—“Thou shalt not
commit adultery” and “Thou shalt not covet thy
neighbor’s wife,” which by
extension included any and all sins of the flesh,
from masturbation to abortion
and homosexuality, any of which were mortal sins
that would send the sinner to
eternal damnation.
Porter then said, “Beyond what I’ve
told you, I haven’t much in the way of details on
what happened inside those
asylums except that the women had no say in
whether they went in or got out.
Those decisions were made entirely by the girls’
families or courts or the
parish priests. They changed the girls’ names once
inside. And if a girl went
in pregnant, the baby would come to term and be
taken away from the girl and
put up for adoption.
She’d never see her
child again.”
“Why did they become laundries?” asked
Professor Mundt.
“Laundries were profitable, for one
thing. They did all the laundry for the churches
and convents. It was very hard
work, punishingly so, but very easy and cheap to
set up as opposed to, say, a
textile factory or a workhouse. And, of
course, it had always been considered ‘women’s
work.’ I’ve
heard it said that one reason the
Magdalene Laundries eventually died out was
because washing machines made them
obsolete. I’ve seen figures that suggest at least
10,000 women and girls passed
through the laundries between independence from
Britain in 1922 and the closing
of the last one in
1996.”
Katie asked if there was good
documentation on all Porter had told them. He
replied, “I wish there were.
We’re getting info from individuals, interviews in
the newspapers with former
inmates, but there has yet to be a serious,
in-depth study of the asylums and
their history. I know of little or nothing in
American scholarship.”
“And do you know anything about this
discovery of a mass unmarked grave on Church
property with hundreds of
unidentified bodies?” asked David.
“Only what’s been in the newspapers in
the early ‘90s, and I haven’t heard of any police
investigation that came up
with anything since then.”
Katie’s journalistic nerves were
pulsing, while David’s detective instincts were
simmering.
“Father Porter, do you remember Joseph
Evangelista?”
Porter’s eyes lit up. “Of course I do.
What a wonderful young man. I was
his
mentor in joining the Jesuits. Heard he was posted
to the Philippines? Have you
been in touch with Joseph?”
In astonishment Porter listened to what
Katie then told him about her friend and how and
why he’d left the order and
how his revelations had actually been what
prompted her to investigate abuse
within the Church.
“I’m sure he’d like to see you,” she
said. “He’s right here in the Bronx, staying with
his parents for the time
being. I could ask him if he’d like to speak with
you.”
Porter said, “Oh, Katie, I really wish
you would. Maybe
I can be of some help
to him. Sounds like he’s been through a lot. And
he’s hardly the first priest
to come to such a sad exit because of this
vicious, ongoing problem within the
Church.”
The four of them spoke a while longer,
and Katie obtained the names of a few people she
might be interested in
contacting with regard to the Magdalene Laundries,
all of them in Dublin. Porter
insisted on being kept in the loop on
whatever Katie and David found.
“It’s
a very dark chapter,” he said, “and most
of it is missing. There’s nothing like an official
history of the Irish Church.
Maybe you can write it, Katie.”
Katie glanced at Professor Mundt, who
was smiling and said, “If anyone can, Father
Porter, it will be Katie. And
David, of course.”
Katie said,
"I think that's better left to Father Porter."
They parted and promised to keep in
touch. Katie and David went back to her apartment
to compare notes and speak
about what was next.
“Soon as I get all these notes into
some kind of order,” she said, “I’ll go to Alan
and try to pry an assignment
out of him.”
David laughed. “Like the professor
said, if anyone can do it, you can.”
Over the weekend Katie worked on her
notes, collating David’s, to come up with a
written proposal that would include
an estimate of expenses. She knew she would have
to argue to have David along
on the assignment, even though Dobell was well
aware of the ex-detective’s
critical importance to the last three
investigations.
On Monday morning Katie went to
the
office and strode into Dobell’s office.
“Well, don’t you look highly intent on
convincing me of something,” he said.
“Whaddaya got? Something big, I hope.”
Katie had learned never to suggest that
maybe hers was not the kind of story McClure’s
usually did—her last two articles almost suffered
that fate—so she said, “How
does an unmarked grave on Catholic Church grounds
in Dublin containing only
female and infant bodies sound for a hook?”
Dobell straightened up in his chair.
“I’m listening,” he said.
Now that Katie had her editor’s
attention, she backtracked in as cogent a fashion
as she could in telling
Dobell about the sexual abuse within the Catholic
Church, about which he
confessed to know next to nothing.
“Oh, it goes on on an unimaginable
scale,” she said, citing figures from her
interview with Sipe, “maybe even
leading straight to the Vatican.”
Dobell was now knitting his brow, his
fingertips tapping together. “Go on.”
Katie admitted such a story was
probably too vast for her alone to cover; it would
take a squad of
investigative reporters and a huge commitment of
time and money. The Times might
launch such an
investigation, but there would still have to be a
pay-off at the end of the
story. Exposing bad priests, nuns and Church
hierarchy had to lead somewhere
very specific, and Katie could tell Dobell wasn’t
there yet.
Katie burrowed in, telling Dobell about
the Magdalene Laundries and leading up to the
discovery of the mass grave.
Dobell fidgeted in his chair. “It’s
certainly a good, ghoulish story,” he said, with
his editor’s nose for a good
headline. “But you say it’s already been written
about in the English, Irish
and Canadian papers? Nothing in the Times,
Washington Post, Boston Globe?”
Katie said “no” three times, adding how
the Globe
had killed a story on
religious pedophilia years before.
“Look, Katie, I trust your instincts,
but at the moment budgets are tight. This damn dot
com bubble cut into a lot of
media advertising, and this story would cost a
great deal to do right.”
Having already paid for the trip to see
Sipe and having paid in the past for her trip to
London on her last story,
Katie felt slighted by the idea she would have to
offer another carrot to
Dobell. Yet she felt so strongly about the story
that she said, “Look, Alan, if
David and I—”
“I knew David was going to come into
this conversation at some point.”
“If David and I pay our own way to
Dublin,” she continued, “like we did to London and
La Jolla, and
you like what we find, put me on
assignment and pay for my expenses, and I’ll write
a great story, okay?”
Dobell hated this kind of
arrangement.
With a freelancer on spec
it was one thing, but for a lead investigative
reporter he didn’t like to say
no. He put up his hands and said, “Let me think
about it, Katie.”
“Think hard,” she said. “Call me
mid-week?”
“Lemme see.”
*
*
*
Mid-week came and
went, and Katie thought that by Friday she was due
the respect of an answer
from Dobell. Still, she didn’t want to bug her
very busy editor, and Friday was
a closing day, when everyone in the office worked
until midnight to get the
monthly magazine to bed. Katie
procrastinated
until it was too late on Friday afternoon to call
and disrupt the closing.
But she didn’t have to.
Her phone rang and it was Dobell. He
didn’t even say her name.
“Well, looks like you’d better fly to
Dublin ASAP.”
“What? Why?”
“It just came across the AP wire. Two
nuns from that Magdalene Laundry place turned up
dead, and not in a nice way.”
“What do you mean?” Katie grabbed her
pen and notepad.
“Whoever murdered them had a really bad
temper. One of the nuns was strangled with her own
rosary beads and the other
one had a classroom wooden pointer driven through
her heart.”
© 2019
❖❖❖
Will A.I. Make
Wine Writers Superfluous?
The task of most
wine writers is to try not to say the same thing
over and over to describe varietals that by their
very nature all share the same flavors, albeit to
different degrees. It’s hard to imagine that anyone
actually reads the descriptions in Wine Spectator,
Decanter or Wine Advocate
of, say, two dozen Chenin Blancs that all use the
same verbiage merely switched around, especially
when most readers merely glance at the numerical
ratings, which themselves will always hover around
the same scores. This one gets a 92, this one a 91,
this one a 90, on and on.
As a wine writer
myself, I struggle with this problem, but also try to
avoid all those silly similes about how a wine tastes
of “cigar box,” “Meyer lemons,” “horse urine” and so
on, as wonderfully satirized by Evelyn Waugh in Brideshead
Revisited (quoting two characters):
“… It is a little shy wine
like a gazelle.”
“Like a leprechaun.”
“Dappled, in a tapestry meadow.”
“Like flute by still water.”
“… And this is a wise old wine.”
“A prophet in a cave.”
“… And this is a necklace of pearls on a white
neck.”
“Like a swan.”
“Like the last unicorn.”
Instead I like to give the reader more of a
sense of place and history about a winery, what the
owners try to do and what methods—type of oak,
filtering, yeast, alcohol level, aging, etc.—they put
in their tech data sheets. I never give
numerical ratings.
Having spent an arduous afternoon recently
writing about California Chardonnays, I mentioned to
my son, an avid wine drinker, that I try hard but
often fail to make my descriptions much different from
one another. With about two clicks of his iPhone and
five seconds later, he showed me how Chatbot took my
text and transformed it into ten variations—all of
them sounding eerily like me. After recovering from
the shock—I needed a good slurp of wine—I realized
that A.I. is destined to mimic human writing and
individual writers in ways we cannot yet fully
comprehend.
I don’t think that Shakespeare or James Joyce
should be turning in their graves just yet (they
already have to worry about monkeys tapping on
typewriter keys), but the question is why do we need
wine writers to drone on about the same varietals when
Chatbot or other A.I. machinery could turn out
more-than-acceptable prose that few people are going
to read anyway. Here, for instance, are ten of the
renderings Chatbot provided me within five seconds,
all variations on what I actually wrote:
"In
this Sonoma County Chardonnay, you'll find a beautiful
blend of warmth from the region and the refreshing
qualities of cooler areas. It boasts superb citric
acidity, lacks any hint of caramel, and its oak is
delicately toasted, offering a delightful edge. Pair
it effortlessly with swordfish.""
“Discover
the essence of Sonoma County in this Chardonnay, where
warmth meets the crispness of cooler regions, sans any
artificial elements. With its vibrant citric acidity,
absence of caramel notes, and subtly toasted oak, it
perfectly complements swordfish."
"This
Sonoma County Chardonnay epitomizes the best of both
worlds – the cozy warmth and the refreshing coolness –
without any artificial enhancements. With its
impeccable citric acidity, absence of caramel tones,
and just the right touch of toasted oak, it's a
flawless match for swordfish."
"Experience
the pure essence of Sonoma County in this Chardonnay,
where warmth and coolness harmonize effortlessly,
devoid of any artificial influences. Its lively citric
acidity, lack of caramel overtones, and subtly toasted
oak make it an ideal pairing for swordfish."
"In
this Sonoma County Chardonnay, you'll taste the
perfect balance of warmth and coolness, untainted by
any artificial additions. With its refreshing citric
acidity, absence of caramel nuances, and subtly
toasted oak, it's a superb accompaniment to
swordfish."
"This
Sonoma County Chardonnay captures the essence of its
terroir, blending warmth with coolness naturally,
without any artificial intervention. With its bright
citric acidity, absence of caramel flavors, and gently
toasted oak, it's an ideal match for swordfish."
"Indulge
in the authentic flavors of Sonoma County with this
Chardonnay, showcasing the harmonious fusion of warmth
and coolness, free from any artificial enhancements.
Its crisp citric acidity, lack of caramel influence,
and subtly toasted oak create a perfect synergy with
swordfish."
"Experience
Sonoma County's terroir in every sip of this
Chardonnay, where the interplay of warmth and coolness
shines without artificial additives. Its lively citric
acidity, absence of caramel hints, and delicately
toasted oak offer an impeccable complement to
swordfish."
"This
Sonoma County Chardonnay embodies the true essence of
its origin, marrying warmth and coolness seamlessly,
without any artificial interference. With its zesty
citric acidity, absence of caramel notes, and just a
hint of toasted oak, it's an exquisite pairing for
swordfish."
"Savor
the authentic flavors of Sonoma County with this
Chardonnay, crafted to showcase the natural harmony
between warmth and coolness, untouched by artificial
flavors. Its vibrant citric acidity, lack of caramel
influences, and subtly toasted oak make it an ideal
partner for swordfish."
Fortunately, A.I. would have a tougher time capturing the prose I write for other articles that are more than mere descriptions of a wine. So, I think I have a few more years left in the game.
❖❖❖
WELL, CHECK ANOTHER ITEM
OFF MY BUCKET LIST!
“I
Baked the Bisquick Coffee Cake So You Don’t Have
To” By Gabrielle Scelzo (March 29, 2024). Eater.com
❖❖❖
Any of John Mariani's books below may be ordered from amazon.com.
The Hound in Heaven
(21st Century Lion Books) is a novella, and
for anyone who loves dogs, Christmas, romance,
inspiration, even the supernatural, I hope you'll find
this to be a treasured favorite. The story
concerns how, after a New England teacher, his wife and
their two daughters adopt a stray puppy found in their
barn in northern Maine, their lives seem full of promise.
But when tragedy strikes, their wonderful dog Lazarus and
the spirit of Christmas are the only things that may bring
his master back from the edge of despair. WATCH THE VIDEO!
“What a huge surprise turn this story took! I was completely stunned! I truly enjoyed this book and its message.” – Actress Ali MacGraw
“He had me at Page One. The amount of heart, human insight, soul searching, and deft literary strength that John Mariani pours into this airtight novella is vertigo-inducing. Perhaps ‘wow’ would be the best comment.” – James Dalessandro, author of Bohemian Heart and 1906.
“John Mariani’s Hound in Heaven starts with a well-painted portrayal of an American family, along with the requisite dog. A surprise event flips the action of the novel and captures us for a voyage leading to a hopeful and heart-warming message. A page turning, one sitting read, it’s the perfect antidote for the winter and promotion of holiday celebration.” – Ann Pearlman, author of The Christmas Cookie Club and A Gift for my Sister.
“John Mariani’s concise, achingly beautiful novella pulls a literary rabbit out of a hat – a mash-up of the cosmic and the intimate, the tragic and the heart-warming – a Christmas tale for all ages, and all faiths. Read it to your children, read it to yourself… but read it. Early and often. Highly recommended.” – Jay Bonansinga, New York Times bestselling author of Pinkerton’s War, The Sinking of The Eastland, and The Walking Dead: The Road To Woodbury.
“Amazing things happen when you open your heart to an animal. The Hound in Heaven delivers a powerful story of healing that is forged in the spiritual relationship between a man and his best friend. The book brings a message of hope that can enrich our images of family, love, and loss.” – Dr. Barbara Royal, author of The Royal Treatment.
 |
The Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink by John F. Mariani (Bloomsbury USA, $35) Modesty forbids me to praise my own new book, but let me proudly say that it is an extensive revision of the 4th edition that appeared more than a decade ago, before locavores, molecular cuisine, modernist cuisine, the Food Network and so much more, now included. Word origins have been completely updated, as have per capita consumption and production stats. Most important, for the first time since publication in the 1980s, the book includes more than 100 biographies of Americans who have changed the way we cook, eat and drink -- from Fannie Farmer and Julia Child to Robert Mondavi and Thomas Keller. "This book is amazing! It has entries for everything from `abalone' to `zwieback,' plus more than 500 recipes for classic American dishes and drinks."--Devra First, The Boston Globe. "Much needed in any kitchen library."--Bon Appetit. |
"Eating Italian will never be the same after reading John Mariani's entertaining and savory gastronomical history of the cuisine of Italy and how it won over appetites worldwide. . . . This book is such a tasteful narrative that it will literally make you hungry for Italian food and arouse your appetite for gastronomical history."--Don Oldenburg, USA Today. "Italian
restaurants--some good, some glitzy--far
outnumber their French rivals. Many of
these establishments are zestfully described
in How Italian Food Conquered the World, an
entertaining and fact-filled chronicle by
food-and-wine correspondent John F.
Mariani."--Aram Bakshian Jr., Wall Street
Journal.
"Equal parts
history, sociology, gastronomy, and just
plain fun, How Italian Food Conquered the
World tells the captivating and delicious
story of the (let's face it) everybody's
favorite cuisine with clarity, verve and
more than one surprise."--Colman Andrews,
editorial director of The Daily
Meal.com. "A fantastic and fascinating
read, covering everything from the influence
of Venice's spice trade to the impact of
Italian immigrants in America and the
evolution of alta cucina. This book will
serve as a terrific resource to anyone
interested in the real story of Italian
food."--Mary Ann Esposito, host of PBS-TV's
Ciao
Italia. "John Mariani has written the
definitive history of how Italians won their
way into our hearts, minds, and
stomachs. It's a story of pleasure over
pomp and taste over technique."--Danny Meyer,
owner of NYC restaurants Union Square
Cafe, The Modern, and Maialino.
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MARIANI'S VIRTUAL GOURMET
NEWSLETTER is published weekly. Publisher: John Mariani. Editor: Walter Bagley. Contributing Writers: Christopher
Mariani, Misha Mariani, John A. Curtas, Gerry Dawes, Geoff Kalish.
Contributing
Photographer: Galina Dargery. Technical
Advisor: Gerry
McLoughlin.
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© copyright John Mariani 2024