A Bonanza of Passion from the Beautiful Mediterranean
Octopus, Alba white truffles and Parmigiano Reggiano
Harvest the Mediterranean. Then give her all you've got.
A single octopus tentacle curls on the blazing grill. This fruit-of-the-sea (frutti di mare — I love how Italians call seafood) succumbs itself to the best and most respectful hands. Tender, yielding. A baptism of fire kisses the natural ridges of the suckers. Chef Nicholas Olivas flavors the whole ensemble with a liberal glaze of olive oil, sea salt, Italian parsley, thyme, and other seasonal fresh herbs.
My eyes fall on the glistening, round red gems. These peeled cherry tomatoes add that natural umami. The juicy red berries nestle in the operatic embroidery of green and translucent white. Bitter arugula leaves, raw, balance the sweet onions gently cooked. That touch of fresh arugula bitterness is notable. It gives the course a clean savory after taste.
Chef cooks with admirable grace and ardor in the open kitchen. He respects every ingredient, knowing it by heart — by heart, not by rote. He doesn't have an exact recipe. He has intuition. What we have now may not be the same next time around. It’s the best way.
Oh, the locals in Macau know this. They’re loyal patrons who love the Italy Chef brings them.
Fervor for the ocean, treasures of the land.
The dogs know. From September through December, these humans’ best friends with luxurious coats of fur, trained since puppyhood, sniff out the most precious of wild white truffles. These truffles absorb oak and hazel trees’ goodness likely for 7 falls and winters in forests around Alba, Italy.
Eyes sparkle in Piedmont’s hilltop towns every day during the season for these blonde treasures. Dealers fly them top speed to the appreciative chefs’ kitchens across the world. I am fortunate to have caught the last tastes by December.
As truffles focus on fragrance and earthy flavors, chef coats the pasta with a rare Parmigiano Reggiano aged 84 months. That’s right, brined with Mediterranean sea salt and aged 7 years.
Someone took loooooving care of it for 7 years.
Someone carefully turned over the 84-lbs wheel of cheese every 7 days, so the white crystals make the cheese willingly crumble on the palate.
It m — e — l — ts in the mouth. Aging 24 months is gourmet. Aging 7 years is out of this world. More intense than sweet and savory. Not only umami. Ultimate kokumi.
Chef cooks the tagliolini to the desired bite. The sauce binds it well.
At the table, finely marbled truffle shavings land delicately on the warm pasta. One, two…twenty…thirty-something shavings? I take a deep breath. The elegantly pungent aroma drifts through my nostrils. I don’t know if truffles are an aphrodisiac, but poets and writers scramble to sing praises.
Rossini the Italian composer crowned truffles “the Mozart of mushrooms”.
Whereas I say, “Oh sweet Pavarotti!”
Parmigiano Reggiano aged 7 years is the Pavarotti of aged cheeses.
Parmigiano Reggiano was my first love (still is), years before I encountered truffles. I twirl the pasta around my silverware. Yuuummos…a fiery ball goes into the center of my body. Italians have this middle course for a reason.
7 years of truffle goodness, and 7 years of parmigiano passion, in one bite.
© Pseu Pending (Seu) 2022
