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MARIANI’S

Virtual Gourmet


  January 29, 2023                                                                                            NEWSLETTER


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Wall Street Never Sleeps


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By John Mariani

NEW YORK CORNER

By John Mariani

GOING AFTER HARRY LIME
CHAPTER
By John Mariani

NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR

By John Mariani



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On this week's episode of my WVOX Radio Show "Almost Golden," on Wed. January 6 at 11AM EST,I will be interviewing +++++ Go to: WVOX.com. The episode will also be archived at: almostgolden.



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Why Don’t More U.S. Italian Restaurants Serve More       Regional Italian Food?

                                       By John Mariani



    There is no question that so many Italian restaurants in the U.S. are now serving food that comes very close to what you will find in Italy. And a whole lot more, meaning nearly every menu offers more or less the same dishes—carpaccio, burrata, cacio e pepe, gnocchi, veal Milanese, ribeyes, branzino and tiramisù—while appending it with dishes that really had their origins in America, including Caesar salad, chicken parmigiana, truffled parmesan fries and cheesecake.
    What’s still missing, however, are more restaurants serving the food of the regions the chefs come from, or, if they are not Italian, at least trying to focus on a region no one else is showing off. For a very long while, beginning in the 1970s, the term “Northern Italian” and “Tuscan grill” were tossed around with next-to-no basis. “Northern” was simply a way of suggesting a restaurant’s food was lighter than the traditional Italian-America “red sauce” food like lasagna and spaghetti and meatballs. (France’s
 la nouvelle cuisineclaimed the same thing while its proponents lavished their dishes with beurre blanc and crème fraîche.) It was little more than a farce because the old southern Italian dishes were included on the “northern” menus, while adding items like mushrooms (not wild, like porcini) to ravioli, dressing carpaccio with adulterated truffle oil and convincing guests that imported burrata in brine was a more sophisticated form of locally made mozzarella. Back in 1980 the New York Times restaurant critic Mimi Sheraton praised a restaurant named Il Nido, owned by a Tuscan, as a “triumph of Northern Italian Cuisine,” while praising southern dishes like Roman spiedino, linguine amatriciana, clams oreganatoand zabaglione.

        Some years before opening their New York restaurant Osteria del Circo, the late Sirio Maccioni told his family it was going to serve rigorously authentic Tuscan food. One of this three sons replied, “That means we’re only going to have six dishes on the menu, three of them grilled.” When Circo opened, its menu had a few Tuscan items like Mama Maccioni’s zuppa alla frantoiana and cacciucco seafood stew, but the rest of the menu was made up of lobster salad, rotisserie chicken, yellowfin tuna and crème brûleé. Indeed, the conceptualized “Tuscan grill” concept, like “Super Tuscan Wines,” meant nothing at all except as a marketing phrase. You would be hard put to find Tuscan dishes like pappardelle con lepre (hare sauce), cibreo (a stew made of chicken innards), pappa al pomodoro (tomato stew with bread), stracotto (braised beef) or a pinzimonio of raw vegetables with anchovy dressing.
    A few very rich dishes from Emilia-Romagna appear in the form
 lasagne verde and the dessert called zuppa inglese. But where does one go for marvelous dishes like tagliatelle alla duchesse (with chicken livers), bollito misto (boiled meats), brodetto (seafood stew) an erbazzone (Swiss chard tart)? Venice has given America carpaccio (from Harry’s Bar) and, in a few restaurants, risotto with seppie(cuttlefish but here usually made with bottled squid’s ink), but you almost never run across fegato alla veneziana(calf’s liver and onions). The Ligurian basil and olive oil sauce called pesto is widespread on American menus, but not burrido seafood stew, sbira (tripe and potato) and cima alla Genovese(stuffed veal breast). It would be a rare restaurant that serves just about anything from that far northern region Trentino-Alto Adige whose cuisine is influenced by Austria, like potato spaetzle and sauresuppe made with tripe.
    Owing to the hundreds of thousands of southern Italians from Naples, Abruzzo, Calabria and Sicily, a panoply of their dishes, most with tomato sauce, are readily available. But you can’t find
 timbalo (layered pasta and eggplant) from Campania, the red hot chile pepper-inflected pastas of Abruzzo, the savory licurdia onion soup from Calabria or the paper-thin bread from Sardinia called pane carasau or the culurzones pasta stuffed with peppers and potato.
    There are scores of authoritative regional Italian cookbooks on American shelves containing hundreds of recipes—written by both Italian and non-Italian authors—Recipes from Paradise
 (Liguria) by Fred Plotkin; Venice by Russell Norman; The Cooking of Parma by Richard Camillo Sidoli; Soffrito: Tradition & Innovation in Tuscan Cooking by Benedtta Vitali; Naples at Table by Arthur Schwartz; and Food and Memories of Abruzzo by Anna Teresa Callen.
    As mentioned, many chefs in Italian restaurants were not born in Italy, and in eastern cities fine cooks and restaurateurs from Albania, Montenegro, Slovenia and Croatia have had a major impact on the scene, though few put regional dishes on their menus.
    I like to think, then, that Italian food in the U.S. is on the verge of a new phase when menus diverge from the tried-and-true into better representatives of a country with so many provinces and so many ingredients that we barely get to eat right now.

 



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Bar Tulix NYC Brings New Ideas And Dashing Decor To Soho By John Mariani




    The reason that so many ethnic restaurants in America have such similar menus is because they have become sheer comfort food, not least in Mexican restaurants where you’re as likely to find burritos, quesadillas and nachos at Taco Bell as at an upscale restaurant with a décor of serapes, sombreros and Día de los Muertos puppets. Indeed, Tex-Mex fare is far more widely served in America than regional Mexican food. There tends to be more variety in Southwestern cities like Phoenix, Santa Fe and Tucson, but 21stcentury Mexican food is still rare.
    Thank goodness, then, for the new Bar Tulix NYC, which opened on the edge of Soho last year, describing its cuisine as “coastal Mexican,” serving far more seafood than fish tacos. It’s an enterprise by chef Justin Bazdarich (of Oxomoco in Greenpoint and Speedy Romeo in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn) and restaurateur John McDonald of Mercer Street Hospitality (Lure Fishbar, Bowery Meat Company, and Hancock St.). Their experience in attracting a clientele begins with terrific design in a 65-seat dining area with a colorful bar that glistens with shelves of liquors that include an impressive number of tequilas, mezcals and sotols.

    As you can imagine there are several takes on the margarita. (Putting “Bar” in the restaurant’s name was not an idle decision.) Polished tile walls, rose-colored floor, hanging orange lamps that throw convivial light, dark green booths, highly colored banquettes and tall windows with a display of recycled amber wine bottles hasn’t a decorous cliché to be seen. (There’s one prime booth that allows in an uncomfortable draft of winter cold.) The night I visited the place was more than half full but not that noisy, excepting some unwarranted piped-in music. Unlike the dark and deafening Cosme, you can have a good night out at Bar Tulix without shouting. The very affable G-M Thomas McCumber does everything he can to make guests feel comfortable. The menu by Bazdarich and Chef de cuisine Asia Shabazz shows the kind of regionalism rare elsewhere and presents it all with color and flourish but no pretense. The salsa trio with crisp tostados contains habanero, guajillo and salsa cruda ($12) gets you off on a spicy route. Tuna tostaditos are dressed with mayonnaise blended with chintesle, a condiment of smoked pasilla Oaxaca chilies, seeds and dried shrimp as made in Mixes, with avocado, radish and hibiscus ($22). A mix of raw seafood ceviche is prettily plated with avocado, rounds of cucumber, grilled pineapple and radish ($25). The Baja-style guacamole with salsa verde, serrano peppers and epazote oil ( $17) gains nothing by adding flavorless microgreens; it may well be that traditional guac cannot be improved upon. Octopus is grilled to a savory crispiness with a dusting of paprika and served with red Lentils, roasted red peppers and creamy hazelnut-studded romesco ($26). Vegetable lovers will be very happy with the agave-roasted delicata squash with pepita pumpkin seed gremolata ($25), and Tulix’s nod to seafood shows up splendidly in succulent branzino that’s encrusted with masa meal, enhanced with a bouquet of herbs, and served in soft tacos with chipotle pepper, cucumber slaw and greens ($31). Generous indeed is the boneless half chicken al pastor with tangy-sweet pineapple jam, a counterpoint of salsa guajillo, cilantro and corn tortillas, which, at $29, is a bargain. So is cochinita pibil of juicy roast pork suffused with flavors of pickled red onion, cilantro and habanero salsa at $34. Another of the heartier dishes here is the braised short rib with black beans, shishito peppers and the nutty Veracruz-style salsa macha, with flour tortillas ($42).Queso fundito ($25) was pricy and a bit bland, despite its inclusion of chorizo peppers. A side of crisp red rice ($9) was delicious, dressed with guajillo and scallions.

We had a little room left for two desserts: A chocolate cake ($15) was a rich success, the tres leches, though moist, lacked the caramel richness I’d expected ($12).

Bar Tulix appends “NYC” to its name, too, which suggests there might be others to open in New York or elsewhere—they have Lure Fishbars in Chicago and Miami—and I can imagine they will be welcomed by anyone anywhere who may still cherish old-fashioned guac but who will be enticed and excited by the uniqueness of the food here.

 

 







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GOING AFTER HARRY LIME
By  John Mariani


 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

         For the third time in a week, David Greco watched the DVD of The Third Man, stopping and starting the disc, going back and forward to check something in a scene, listening closely to the dialog and taking notes.  He’d also re-read Greene’s novella, which was different enough from the final screenplay in small ways.  
        
David was amazed at how much he was enjoying doing the research, for although he’d made his mark as one of NYPD’s most intuitive detectives, he was at its best in interviews and interrogations, putting two and two together, knowing who was lying and who was telling a facsimile of the truth, which was never one thing.
         David was also well aware of the many colorings of honor and admiration, allegiance and betrayal in criminal activity all at work in The Third Man.  Harry Lime had been Holly Martins’s best friend, going back to college, and when told of Lime’s perfidy, Holly refuses to believe it, then believes some of it before believing all of it. 
        
David had seen that in his own work with the mob: the disbelief among wives, children and family members that their husband, father, uncle, friend could possibly be a murderous monster. Then, when the shock of recognition came, there was the moral agony of betraying a loved one or a friend who had already betrayed you.  Within the Mafia, and all the rest of the mobs for that matter, the concept of omertà was sacrosanct—a code of silence that demanded utter loyalty and forbade, under penalty of harsh punishment or death. 
        
David had seen firsthand the results of not obeying that code of silence—the stranglings, the dismemberments, the drownings, guys hung up on meat hooks, and the horrific revenge taken on a stool pigeon’s family. Still, even as a lapsed Catholic, David could compare the mobs’ unspeakable acts  to the torture and murder used for the same reasons by religious zealots demanding total allegiance--Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, and all the rest.  Equal butcheries based on some warped idea of honor and secrecy.  Actually, when he thought about, he’d never heard of the Mafia ever burning anyone alive at the stake.
         David had often turned mobsters to give state’s evidence against the capos, hoods like John Gotti, who back in ’91 was put away for life on the testimony of a wiseguy named
Sammy `the Bull’ Gravano.  Most of the time, murderers like Gravano copped a plea rather than go to prison for life; other times they ratted out because too many of their friends had been rubbed out.  David had helped put some of those who testified into the Federal Witness Protection Program, which changed their identities and sent them out to live in humdrum developed communities in the southwest. 
        
David tried to find out as much as he could about what went into The Third Man, how it came about, what Greene’s involvement was, how the final film differed from earlier drafts of the scripts.  He borrowed the Sherry bio of Greene from
Katie and got hold of two recent bios, one of director Carol Reed, the other of producer Alexander Korda.
         Long before ever meeting Korda, Greene had scribbled on the back of an envelope an opening line for an idea: “I had paid my last farewell to Harry a week ago, when his coffin was lowered into the frozen February ground, so that it was with incredulity that I saw him pass by, without a sign of recognition, among the host of strangers in the Strand.”   So, when contacted by Korda for a new screenplay, Greene offered what he called his “Risen-from-the-dead story,” set in London, which Korda insisted be changed to bombed-out, post-war Vienna as a more dramatic backdrop for a Hitchcockian-style postwar thriller.  London would look too much like Belfast, where Reed had filmed Odd Man Out the previous year.
         Risen-from-the-dead stories were hardly original to Greene; Christ’s resurrection was the most salient example, and Charles Dickens’ used the motif in his unfinished novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood.   Indeed, even Sherlock Holmes, after seeming to fall to his death in a struggle with his arch enemy Moriarty in the story “The Final Problem,” bounded back to life—an improbability demanded by his readers--in “The Adventure of the Empty House.”
         There had even been two recent films with a similar plotline:  In 1944 The Mask of Demetrios, based on an Eric Ambler thriller, involved a mystery writer helping to hunt down a criminal thought dead, in a Paris locale; then, in 1947, Ride the Pink Horse--a film Greene had reviewed very favorably--concerned an American who goes to Mexico to find the mobster who killed his best friend, with scenes played out at an amusement park, just as in The Third Man.    
        
Greene went off to Vienna to do research, finding that the city was quickly being restored but still with streets piled with rubble and half-destroyed buildings left from the war.  He stayed at the famous Sacher Hotel (as does Holly Martins in the film) and visited many of the locations he wrote into the script—the Central Cemetery, the amusement park, the sleazy nightclubs, and the sewers, after being been told the Allied Commission had a section called the “Underground Police” that patrolled Vienna’s vast network of sewers used by spies and criminals to pass furtively from one zone to another.
         In his research Greene heard from local contacts about the illicit and fake penicillin trafficking, which gave him the fictional rope with which to hang his character Harry Lime.
         Greene went off to Rome with his mistress Catherine, then to Ravello and Capri to work on the screenplay. 
        
The script finished, Korda, Reed and American producer David O. Selznick went through the process of adding, deleting, altering and shifting details. In the novella the American character was named “Rollo,” but the American actor Joseph Cotton, who would play the role, objected, and it was changed to Holley.  Selznick hated the movie’s title, suggesting instead Night in Vienna, The Claiming of the Body or The Changing of the Chair, none of which Korda and Reed would agree to.
        
“One of the very few major disputes between Carol Reed and myself concerned the ending,” Graham wrote in the preface to the novella a year after the film came out, “and he has been proved triumphantly right.”
         In the novella, after Lime’s burial, Greene had Holly and Lime’s former lover Anna Schmidt walk off together; in the film, Anna walks right by Holly without so much of a glance, all to the sound of the zither music, which became so popular it was named “The Harry Lime Theme.”       
        
Casting was proceeding: Cary Grant was suggested for the part of Holly and Noël Coward for Lime, but in the end, Joseph Cotton got the former role and, despite frustrating delays, Orson Welles finally signed to play Lime.
         David was fascinated by all the anecdotes and details he culled from his research—he underlined pages of text in the books he consulted—but it seemed clear to him that The Third Man had been, like all movies, a collaborative effort, and that if Greene had created Harry Lime based on someone he actually knew, the character had been altered to fit the movie’s action.  Since Greene had originally placed the action in London and had never set foot in Vienna before going there for research in 1948, it seemed unlikely he’d known anyone involved in the black market for penicillin.  David began to think his research might be closing the door on Katie’s project, as well as any possibility of a trip with her to Vienna.

 

   

To read previous chapters of GOING AFTER HARRY LIME go to the archive




©
John Mariani, 2016



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NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR



Is Age Just A Number When It Comes To Aging Wine?

                                                                        By John Maria


The colloquial comparisons made to fine wine as to it improving with age never really meant all that much, short of those big brawny Bordeaux designated crus that did need at least a few years in barrel or bottle to achieve maximum maturity. Just what that maximum might be is a slippery question, because if you wait too long even those wines may have passed their peak and begun to decline. For as often as I’ve been impressed with a great old Bordeaux or Burgundy twenty, thirty, even fifty years old, I have been just as disappointed to find many well past their prime, which leads those insistent on believing the old myth about aging to mutter, “Well, I am surprised it still has some life to it,” which is like telling a friend on life support how well he looks under the circumstances.
      Aging, in any case, has become more difficult to assess as wine technology improves. Before temperature-controlled stainless steel tanks, 99% of all the white wines in the world were at their peak within a year or two of their production, and only vintage Champagnes can really gain by carefully monitored aging in ancient cellars. So, too, the use of new, more hygienic, smaller oak barrels like the barrique have decreased greatly the possibility of contamination in the wood of large, frequently used barrels. Nevertheless, most fine white wines come to market within two years of bottling.
The last but perhaps most important factor is the fact that modern wine producers want to get their product to market ASAP after bottling, thereby making them easier to drink than in the past, when harsh tannins might have taken years to tame and harmonize with the other elements. Gone are the days when estates held back their wines for a decade or more, except for saving a few bottles as “library wines” to show off to esteemed visitors.
    One of the most striking examples of this was when, in the 1990s, I had a chance to taste a 1929 Château Mouton-Rothschild, a vintage considered one of the best of the last century. I swirled the glass, sniffed and definitely got a whiff of mustiness, but the first sip revealed that, indeed, it still had some life in it. Ten minutes later, however, having absorbed oxygen from the air, it went downhill fast and the last sip was anything but one of the great wines of the century. (Which gets into another topic I’ll discuss at another time as to whether you should decant a wine in advance of tasting it.)
One of the most striking examples of this was when, in the 1990s, I had a chance to taste a 1929 Château Mouton-Rothschild, a vintage considered one of the best of the last century. I swirled the glass, sniffed and definitely got a whiff of mustiness, but the first sip revealed that, indeed, it still had some life in it. Ten minutes later, however, having absorbed oxygen from the air, it went downhill fast and the last sip was anything but one of the great wines of the century. (Which gets into another topic I’ll discuss at another time as to whether you should decant a wine in advance of tasting it.)
    Visit any wine store and you’ll find that the vast majority of white wines are from a vintage only a year old and may never have spent any time in an oak barrel. With reds, two years is the age on the label most of the time. I don’t blame producers who have huge capital investments in storage to want to get their wines into the markets ASAP, and, because of those technical advances I mentioned, the wines will be perfectly ready to drink upon release. As someone who drinks these wines on an everyday basis, I have derived great pleasure from them. A 2019 Mt Brave Merlot ($95) is based on a grape that is known for its softness by its nature, and this three-year-old was velvety and fruit driven, having spent 21 months in barrel, then bottled without filtration, which preserved elements of flavor that might otherwise be lost. Another Merlot 2019 I like right now is from Walla Walla, Washington’s L’Ecole No. 41 estate ($40), a 36-year-old winery known for Merlots. It was barrel-aged in 35% new French oak for 18 months. Merlot needs acid and this example had high natural acidity from a vintage whose weather was freezing by mid-October.Napa Valley’s La Jota released a 2019 blend of 81.5% Merlot, 11.5% Petit Verdot and 7% Tannat ($100), from a vintage with “uneventful” autumn weather than allowed for longer hang-time for the berries, spending 21 months in 62% new French oak, coming in at 14.5% alcohol. Novelty Hill, in Oregon’s Columbia Valley, released a 2020 Merlot ($26), a warmer vintage, adding 3% Cabernet Sauvignon for a little more body and 2% Malbec for a deeper intensity.     I could easily give similar examples of French, Spanish and Italian wines, and the vintners of South America tend to release their wines quite young.You might ask if any white wines are worth aging for many years, and the answer is very few, which would include some of the most illustrious Burgundies like Meursault, Corton-Charlemagne, Montrachet and a handful of others; Cru Chablis can also gain flavor after five years but not much longer; in Italy only one winery, in Abruzzo, named ValentinoValentini, makes a long-lived Trebbiano d’Abruzzo. Of course, intensely sweet dessert wines like French Sauternes and Barsac, German beerenauslese and trockenbeerenlause definitely need to age to gain maturity and acquire nuance. Vintage Champagnes do not last forever, however, and despite those (especially the British) who like a little oxidation in their Champagne, it's a flaw that comes with age.


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 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.




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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.




Now in Paperback, too--How Italian Food Conquered the World (Palgrave Macmillan)  has won top prize  from the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards.  It is a rollicking history of the food culture of Italy and its ravenous embrace in the 21st century by the entire world. From ancient Rome to la dolce vita of post-war Italy, from Italian immigrant cooks to celebrity chefs, from pizzerias to high-class ristoranti, this chronicle of a culinary diaspora is as much about the world's changing tastes, prejudices,  and dietary fads as about our obsessions with culinary fashion and style.--John Mariani

"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.


"Mariani admirably dishes out the story of Italy’s remarkable global ascent to virtual culinary hegemony....Like a chef gladly divulging a cherished family recipe, Mariani’s book reveals the secret sauce about how Italy’s cuisine put gusto in gusto!"--David Lincoln Ross, thedailybeast.com

"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.

                                                                             








              

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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