THIS WEEK
THE TASTES OF JAMES BOND:
OCTOPUSSY By John Mariani NEW YORK CORNER
DUOMO 51
By John Mariani
GOING AFTER HARRY LIME
CHAPTER TWENTY
By John Mariani
NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR
WINES FOR MOTHER'S DAY By John Mariani
❖❖❖
On this week's episode of my WVOX
Radio Show "Almost Golden," on Wed. May
17 at 11AM EDT, reading from my
book, co-authored with my brother Robert,
of Almost Golden, on which
the radio show is based. It will be
archived at
https://wvox.com/shows/almost-golden/
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THE TASTES OF JAMES BOND:
OCTOPUSSY
By John Mariani
Ian Fleming’s The Man
with the Golden Gun (1965) was his last
007 novel before he died in 1964, but he
posthumously had published several Bond
stories in magazines, including Playboy,
where “Octopussy” (as well as several other
serialized Bond novels since 1960) ran in
March and April 1966. Three months later it
was published as a book, Octopussy
and The
Living Daylights.
Oddly enough, there’s not much of Bond
in the “Octopussy” story, which is told in
flashbacks by Royal Marines Major Dexter
Smythe, who had been implicated in a murder
plot involving Nazi gold, whom 007 is sent
after.After
the war Smythe stayed at the Tiefenbrünner
Hotel (right) in Kitzbühel, Austria,
where he and a guide went off to find the
gold.Smythe
killed the guide to keep him silent. Fifteen
years later the guide’s body is found under
ice, and, ironically, Bond realizes the man
had been his own ski instructor when young. Smythe, by then a widower, had grown
old, bored and depressed, living in Jamaica
and tending a pet octopus he calls Octopussy.
He begins his morning with a cocktail of
brandy and ginger ale called “The Drunkard’s
Drink.” Bond finds Smythe and offers him the
option of suicide or a court martial, but
while hunting for scorpion fish (below),
Smythe is stung and dragged
underwater to drown by Octopussy. Bond chooses
to spare Smythe’s reputation by reporting it
as accidental drowning. There isn’t much gourmandizing in the
story, except references to Smythe’s heavy
drinking. He does lunch at the Myrtle Bank
Hotel and after his death the local Jamaicans
eat Octopussy and the scorpionfish for dinner.
Octopussy
as a 1983 movie, the 13th in the Bond
series, was quite another story. Indeed, the
plot has nothing whatsoever to do with the
short story, merely appropriating its name for
a plot that takes place largely in India. Starring Roger Moore again, the film
begins in East Berlin, then shiftsto
London, where Bond is assigned to find the
seller of a Fabergé egg, which he manages to
switch for a fake and bids against Afghan prince named
Kamal Khan (Louis Jourdan), forcing Khan to
pay £500,000 for the counterfeit. Bond
then follows Khan to India and checks into
the Shiv Niwas Palace Hotel (left)
and wins a game of backgammon with Khan. He
escapes capture, only to be seduced by
Khan’s mistress, Magda (Kristina Wayborn),in
his Indian palace, where they drink
Champagne. Bond
allows Magda to steal the real egg, then he is
knocked out by a Khan henchman but escapes
from the palace. He finds out that Khan has
been working with Orlov (Stephen Berkoff), a
Soviet general seeking to expand Soviet
domination into Western Europe. Bond sneaks into
the grand floating Lake Palace Hotel at
Udaipur (below) and meets wealthy
smuggler Octopussy (Maud Adams, who had a
similar role in The Man
with the Golden Gun in 1974), who also
happens to lead the evil Octopus cult of
female warriors.She
also reveals she is the daughter of the late
Major Dexter-Smythe, whom Bond had arrested
for treason—the only connection to the
original short story. Octopussy thanks Bond
for allowing her father to die as he chose to
rather than face trial, and invites Bond to a
dinner with Bollinger Champagne and Martinis
she herself shakes before bedding down. Khan’s own palace is the Monsoon Palace
(below, right), a former Sajjangarh
Fort, where he dines with 007 on sheep’s head,
complete with eyeballs intact, causing Bond to
quip, “It’s odd, but when I’m stared at I seem
to lose my appetite.” Bond discovers that Orlov has been
supplying Khan with priceless Soviet
treasures, replacing them with replicas while
Khan has been smuggling the genuine objects
into the West via Octopussy's circus troupe.
Khan sends assassins to kill 007 but he and
Octopussy escape yet again. He flies to East Berlin, and, dressed
as a clown— surely the most embarrassing
moment in the Bond series—he discovers that
Orlov has replaced the Soviet treasures with a
nuclear warhead, primed to explode during the
circus performance at a US Air Force base,
thereupon forcing war. At the last moment 007 and Octopussy
defuse the bomb.
They return to India to mount an assault on
Khan’s palace, where Octopussy is captured by
Khan and taken onboard a plane that 007
manages to cling to before entering the
cockpit and killing Octopussy’s captor, then
parachuting out before the plane crashes into
a mountain, killing Khan. The film ends
with Bond and Octopussy canoodling on her
private yacht.
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NEW YORK CORNER
DUOMO 51
25 West51st
Street
646-398-8098
By John Mariani
I recently
wrote of the genteel pleasures of Old School
Italian dining, and you will find all those
fine touches that make such restaurants so
engaging at the new Duomo 51, directly across the
street from New York’s Rockefeller Center.
In addition, you will find a modernity that
is rare anywhere, equaled in New York only
by Fasano a few blocks away on the East
Side. Duomo 51 is one of the most beautiful
restaurants in the city and has a unique
view that takes in the glowing beauty of St.
Patrick’s Cathedral (“duomo”
is Italian for cathedral) and the
flag-encircled plaza at Rock Center, amidst
those stunning art deco towers that surround
it. The
restaurant is on the seventh floor of the
Doubletree Hotel, whose drab reception hall
gives no indication of the restaurant’s finery
above, reached by an agonizingly slow elevator.
Once arrived and cordially greeted, you will find that
the entrance widens onto a glass-enclosed
dining room that is dazzling without being
snazzy, done in rich colors of dark wood and
burgundy, with superb Shaker-like chandeliers,
a gorgeous figured carpet and lamps at the
beautifully set tables, with their signature
china, pinging
wine glasses and good silver. Beyond the glass
wall is a more casual terrace with a
retractable roof for warmer weather. You will also be greeted with
sincere warmth by Sammy V. Gashi, who also owns
the estimable Ramerino Italian Prime team across
town. The Italian menu, flecked with Tuscan
elements, is by Executive Chef Vilfrid Hodoj,
who has worked in La Giostra in Florence. He’s
the one in the wildly colorful death’s head
patterned shirt and densely tattooed arms. I highly recommend you begin with the
superior burrata,
peppered and nestled with red and yellow
tomatoes laced with olive oil and scented with
basil ($20). Carpaccio is of paper-thin,
air-dried bresaola ham with marinated
arugula and cherry tomatoes, shaved Parmigiano
and a splash of lemon dressing ($22). Excellent
octopus is carefully grilled and enhanced by an
unusual chickpea cream and squirt of lemon
($25), while sliced artichokes and avocado are
layered with Parmigiano($20).
All these are generously portioned. There are two soups and ten pastas, all
made in house, beginning with “barone
rosso” (red baron), large rigatoni in a
reduction of red pesto composed
of tomato sauce with pine nuts andburrata cheese
($27). Having experienced of late a number of
disappointing cacio e pepe dishes, I became
exuberant over the quality and care with whichDuomo
51’s is made, with tonnarelli
spaghetti and deftly incorporated
24-month-old Parmigiano ($27). “Tartufo” is a
plate of tender pappardelle
lavished with wild mushrooms, goat’s cheese,
truffle oil and a well-wrought demi-glace of
exceptional depth ($29). High kudos for the
risotto, too, tinted golden yellow with saffron
and combined with sweet spring asparagus and
zucchini ($26). After the complex flavors and richness of
the pastas, it’s best to go with simpler main
courses, like the impeccably cooked, nice, fat
Dover sole swiftly deboned tableside (MP) or the
baked orata
(sea bream) with cherry tomatoes , potatoes,
capers and olives in a light white wine sauce
($39). Both scaloppine of veal in lemon butter
($39) and a chicken del pastore
with goat’s cheese and brown sauce ($32) needed
seasoning one night. Desserts ($12) are sumptuous and
beautifully plated, from a chocolate torta with
a hill of whipped cream and a moist brownie with
vanilla ice cream to a classic Italian
cheesecake and marvelous Sicilian-style cannoli
you should share. Duomo
51’s wine list is solidly crafted in every
category, with 15 wines by the glass, none
priced above $18, and—Grazie, dio!—among
the bottles there are plenty of whites and rosés
under $50, the price where the red wine prices
begin, with many under $100 and an impressive
slew of affordable Tuscan bottlings. Duomo
51 is both a credit to the enduring virtues of
traditional Italian food and hospitality, but it
also exhibits the esthetics of the most modern ristoranti
in cities like Rome and Milan. They, too, have
their cathedrals and their piazzas, and Duomo
51’s New York variations compare with the best
of them.
Open for
breakfast daily; lunch and dinner Mon.-Sat.
❖❖❖
GOING AFTER
HARRY LIME
By John
Mariani
To read previous
chapters of GOING AFTER HARRY LIME go
to thearchive
CHAPTER TWENTY
Katie and David decided the fewer
people who knew they were going to Moscow the
better. Had David been on an official police
investigation, he would have been happy to have
contacts in Russia. But, without anything but
Lentov’s information on Philby, it would have
been both foolhardy and suspicious to alert
anyone of their intentions.Better
Katie and he came up short and failed to find
Philby than to put potential roadblocks in their
way.
David knew Katie had every right
to be concerned about their safety in Moscow,
having twice been in what she thought would be
routine interview situations and both times come
close to being killed. This time the prospects
seemed less than benign, for, although the Cold
War might well have ended in the early 1990s, it
seemed to her it was really more of a thaw, and,
as she had learned, many of those who now ruled in
Russia had come out ofthe
Soviet Union’s military and intelligence brigades. They were flying on Aeroflot, the successor
to the Soviet airline of the same name, and Katie
and David were relieved to hear the aircraft would
be a newly purchased Airbus A310, rather than the
inferior Russian-made IL-96 then being phased out
of service.Having
heard so many distressing stories about Aeroflot
in the past, Katie had looked its record up and
found the Soviet Aeroflot had had 721 safety
incidents in 44 years, and in 1976 alone a total
of 33 accidents or major incidents. She was
somewhat encouraged to read that safety under the
new Aeroflot was rated highly. She’d also heard
that under the Soviets, most of the cabin crews
worked for the K.G.B. in some capacity. She
assumed that was no longer the case. Despite the usual delays out of Heathrow,
the flight landed at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo Airport
in under four hours. Then, with the security
checks, Katie and David lost another two hours
before getting a taxi into the center of the city,
which took another hour. The two Americans had
read how huge a city Moscow was—a third larger
than London and twice the size of New York—and
since 1990 its population had risen from below
nine to above ten million, with most people still
living in Soviet Era buildings intended to house
more than one family per apartment. On their way into the city center they
could see the onion domes of Saint Basil’s
Cathedral (above), the Kremlin, some of the
so-called Seven Sisters, a group of massive
skyscrapers dating to the Stalinist period, and
the needle-like Ostankino Tower (right).
They were surprised to pass so many parks and by
the wide expanses of boulevards and the breadth of
the Moskva River. By 1999 the city had begun to have
sufficient hotels to handle much-needed tourism,
so that the outrageous prices of the business
travel hotels in the early ’90s had been
alleviated by more international hotel chains
opening in the center. Katie and David
checked into the Hotel Metropole, which dated back
to 1899 in an opulent Art Nouveau style. It had
been seized by the Communists, served as a war
correspondents’ quarters during World War II, and
didn’t emerge again as a public hotel until1991,
with investment from Finnish developers. By 1999
it was in good shape again,the
lobby quite magnificent, and Katie and David had
gotten a good rate for standard rooms. When David
opened the curtains in his, he was greeted by the
sight of a large statue of Karl Marx (below)
in the plaza across the street. Katie
and David had been told not to expect
much in the way of great, or even good,
restaurants, which, outside of the grander hotels,
had not yet proliferated, and those that had
opened were of a very basic kind, catering to what
the management believed tourists wanted to eat,
even if the kitchen was unable to get first-rate
ingredients. Katie and David decided to ease into
Moscow, behaving as simple tourists there to see
the sights.They’d
booked six days in the city, and on the first two
they visited the various requisite sights and
museums. The advice they’d received about the
restaurants was borne out by a series of dreary
meals that usually began with zakuska
appetizers that seemed to have been made hours before
dinner, some with questionable caviar, followed by
items like borshch,
chicken Kiev and skewered shashlik,
accompanied by overpriced Russian wines and even
more overpriced European bottlings. The one meal
they had at their hotel’s domed restaurant—a
favorite of Philby’s, Katie had read—was made from
better ingredients but followed a continental
line-up of dishes like filet mignon topped with
canned foie gras and overcooked filet of sole with
grapes.The
wines were better but much more expensive. On their third day they decided it was time
to try their luck in contacting Kim Philby at the
address Lentov had given them. It was off one of
Moscow’s principal boulevards—a show street named
Tverskaya (below), but as with most show
streets in the city, what lay just behind them
were Soviet apartment buildings of stunning
sameness. Block after block extended away from the
boulevard, crisscrossed by narrow lanes, with only
a few pre-Soviet buildings left for the eye to
rest on. Knowing no Russian, Katie had asked the
hotel concierge to write down the address in
Cyrillic script that she could show to a local in
the neighborhood. The first two
people she showed the paper to responded rapidly
in colloquial Russian, barely gesturing at left
and right turns then rushing off.Finally
David spotted two young Moscovites, perhaps
college students, walking towards them. He hailed
them and asked, “Do you speak English?” One young man, the taller one, nodded,
looked at how the Americans were dressed, and
said, “Yes, a little. You are from the United
States?” “Yes,” said Katie with a broad smile. “We
are from New York.” This made the two Russians smile
enthusiastically.One said, “Ah, New York. I go there to
study next year.” “What school?” she asked. “University of New York,” he said, “to
study physics.” “You mean New York University?” said Katie.
“They call it NYU.You’re going to love it.” “Ah, yes, New York University,” said the
student. “The neighborhood is safe?” David smiled. “Getting safer all the time.”
He stifled an urge to inquire about the crime rate
in Moscow, which he’d heard was very low, then
asked. “Listen, do you know this address?” The two students looked at the paper and
discussed the address in Russian. One seemed to
believe it was this way, the other that way.
Finally, they told the Americans they would help
them find it, and at the end of the block asked an
elderly local if he knew the street. The man
mumbled something in Russia;the
students thanked him and Katie and David did, too,
in English. “Okay,” said the tall student. “We go this
way.” After a few blocks and two or three turns
the students pointed to a nondescript apartment
building in the middle of a shabby block,
indicating that it should be the address the
Americans were looking for, although many doorways
had no numbers on them. Katie desperately wanted to ask the
students to knock on the door and speak in Russian
to whomever answered, but David was holding her by
the arm and shook his head. They thereupon thanked
the students profusely, and Katie gave them her
business card, telling them to contact her when
they came to New York. “I wish you hadn’t done that,” said David.
“It’s leaving a paper trail.” “Oh, they seemed like just a couple of nice
kids.” “You never know, Katie,” said David. “And I
don’t want to find out.” He took a deep breath and
said, “You ready?” There was a bell, just one, though the
building obviously had many apartments.Katie
and David rang it and waited, then rang again, not
hearing if the bell was actually sounding inside.
Then, from behind the door, they heard a woman’s
voice saying, “Khorosho, ya
idu, ya idu,” which the Americans assumed
was “Okay, I’m coming, I’m coming.” The woman, who was quite elderly and acting
as the building’s concierge, asked in Russian what
the Americans wanted, and Katie had come prepared,
reading from a piece of paper, “Ya ishchu
mistera Filbi.Ya ponimayu, chto on zdes’ zhivet”—“I
would like to see Mr. Philby. I understand he
lives here?” The old woman looked at them suspiciously,
as she did every visitor, and said only, “Da.” Katie had run out of Russian notes, so,
using her hands tried to indicate that “We . . .
would . . . like . . .to see
him.” The woman seemed to nod and said, “Zhdite zdes’”
which seemed to mean “wait here.”She
closed the door and could be heard shuffling away
and up a stairwell. Several minutes went by, then
the sound of steps down the stairs.Katie
and David could hear the concierge speaking with
another women. The front door opened halfway and a
woman looking to be in her late sixties stood
behind it. She spoke English, saying, “You are
English, American? What do you want?” The look on her face was not one of anxiety
but showed disdain for the two Americans. Katie
and David knew immediately that the woman was
Philby’s wife, Rufina Pukhova, her hair as
garishly red as it was in photos from when she’d
married Philby in 1971. Katie explained in as few words as possible
that they’d been informed that Kim Philby was
alive, if not well, and that she and David wanted
only to interview him for a story they were
working on about Graham Greene and The Third Man. “Where did you hear that Kim was still
alive?” the woman asked. “In London, from a man named Leonid
Lentov.” Rufina Philby smirked and said, “Lentov? I
haven’t heard his name in years. Such a fool.” David said, “But I understand he was a
friend of your husband and that he visited the two
of you here.” Rufina Philby knew she could not rid
herself of the Americans by insisting her husband
was dead. She stood silent for a few moments, then
said, “Where are you staying?” “The Metropole,” said Katie.
"I doubt
that my husband would want to speak to you, but
give me your room number at the hotel. If you hear
from me it will be by this evening.If you
do not, go home. There is nothing for you to learn
here.” Katie
wrote down her room number and Rufina Philby
closed the door without saying anything.
To make a
generalization about what women prefer about wines
is both foolhardy and open to debate. I do know that
if it weren’t for women, Santa Margherita Pinot
Grigio would not be the success it is in the States,
and it is probably not too controversial to say that
many (not all) women prefer fragrant white wines to
massive reds.That
said, here are several bottlings I’m sure would be
welcomed at today’s Mother’s Day table.
Il
Ducale Red Blend ($16)—Ruffino might have called
this a “Super Tuscan,” but its own historic name has
no need of that wholly unofficial publicity name. This
is a blend of Sangiovese, Syrah and Merlot, and the
second of those is unusual in a Tuscan blend. It
spends eight to ten days on the lees for color and
concentration and is aged 12 months in casks of
various age. The wine is velvety, thanks to the
Merlot, and has the traditional dark fruit flavors of
Tuscany.
Catena
Zapata Argentino Vineyard Malbec 2020
($100)—Quite a celebratory wine at this price. Catena
Zapata was founded in 1902 and has had long experience
prior to Argentina’s Mendoza Valley explosion of wine
production and helped put the country’s Malbec on the
map. Laura Catena in fourth generation and now
winemaker. This is a 2020 vintage, so it’s a bit young
and will mature over the next five years, but it is a
fine example that would go well now with ham and pork.
Flora
Springs Soliloquy White 2021 ($60)—Sauvignon
Blanc on its own can taste either overly grassy or too
much like punch, but Soliloquy blends together 73%
Sauvignon Blanc, 12% Chardonnay and 15% Malvasia to
make a far more interesting, elegant wine from a
heralded vintage, the 41st from Flora Springs at its
Oakville estate in Napa.General Manager Nat Komes took Soliloquy on as
a “personal project, experimenting with different
yeast strains, fermentation regimes, aging vessels and
varietal compositions.” The Chardonnay component added
creaminess to the acids and floral components. Super
wine for salmon.
G.H.
Mumm Cordon Rosé ($55 )—A very decently priced
rosé Champagne from one of the region’s classic
marques, with a real intensity of flavor based on
Chardonnay and Pinot Meunier. It’s quite lovely in
color, of course, and it has just a touch of sweetness
that buoys the fruit. As an apéritif or first course
wine with cold food, this will delight everyone at the
party. Even with a bag of French fries this would work
wonders.
Hahn
Appellation Series Chardonnay 2021 ($20)—Arroyo
Secco is a very small wine region in California with
an impressive reputation, and Hahn is among the best
known producers. It’s 99% Chardonnay and, truth be
told, at 14.5% alcohol it’s got some power of a kind
that will match very well with dishes that have some
spice, like crabcakes with a salsa, huevos rancheros
or lobster fra
diavolo, as well as semi-soft cheeses. Its
grapes are sourced from the Ste. Nicolaus Vineyard.
Lucy
Gamay Noir 2022 ($30)—Sourced from Santa Lucia Highlands’s
granite-rich soil, similar to that in Beaujolais,
where Gamay rules, this wine is what the Pisoni
family is aiming for as an easy-to-drink style on
the order of a Fleurie. True, it’s only a year old,
but it is not supposed to age much further, so it is
a good spring-summer option, especially with
canapés, pork or chicken.
Pio
Cesare Barolo 2019 ($75)—Barolos can be
confusing because the vineyards differ a good deal
within a small area—170 recognized MGA crus—and there
is a good deal of variation. Pio Cesare has had five
generations, now under Federica Boffa, to establish
their classic style by blending grapes from the
different family-owned vineyards throughout the
appellation for Nebbiolo. The vintage allowed for a
late harvestconcentrating
the flavors, and although you could keep this
beautiful wine for several years, it is quite
enjoyable now with all red meats because of its
elegance and refinement of flavors.
Landmark
Vineyards
Overlook Pinot Noir 2018 ($50)—The 2021 vintage
is currently released, but I like the age of this
2018, a blend by Greg Stach from cool climate
vineyards in Monterey,
Santa Barbara and Sonoma Counties. Hand-harvested by
night, the grapes stay cool for the crushing. This
has several layers of Pinot Noir flavors, a little
spicy, a little nutty, with a good texture, and its
14.3% alcohol gives it heft without grit.Excellent
wine for roast lamb.
M. Chapoutier Belleruche Côtes-du-Rhône
Blanc 2022 ($14)—A definite bargain for a
nuanced white wine made from Grenache Blanc,
Rousssane, Clairette and Bourboulenc in a classic
Côtes-du-Rhône style by one of the region’s biggest
producers. The limestone component is evident in its
fresh minerality, and it went through a light
maceration and spent five months on the lees, emerging
in the bottle at an ideal 13.5% alcohol. At this price
you could drink it all summer long with pleasure.
❖❖❖
WHICH IS USED TO FERTILIZE
THEIR SPAGHETTI TREES
"A
New Jersey Mystery: Who Dumped Hundreds of Pounds of
Pasta, and Why? The
police and public works employees responded after
'15 wheelbarrow loads' of pasta were dumped in
mounds along a creek in Old Bridge, N.J."
·
❖❖❖
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.
“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.
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.