Even the most enthusiastic Emilian press agent would hesitate to designate his two sprawling regions as among the most seductive in Italy. The upper half, which stretches almost entirely across the high calf of the Italian boot, is as flat as Iowa, and just as fertile. The southern half consists mainly of Apennine foothills, and is a bit forbidding, as any veteran of General Mark Clark's Italian forces will tell you. The famous Via Emilia, built by the Romans in the year 187, and running in an almost straight line for one hundred fifty miles from the Adriatic shore to Piacenza, is not an imposing highway today. It is beset with impacted road signs, clouds of dust and incessant repairs, and cluttered with the cacophony of sputtering scooters and motorcycles. Yet, by some peculiar justice, the Via Emilia is one of the most fascinating in Italy, due solely to the chain of medieval cities which it connects, and the monumental cuisine which thrives in them. From the Adriatic shore a string of significant names stretches almost to Milan—Rimini, Cesena, Forli, Bologna, Modena, Parma and Piacenza, each famed in its way, each offering something unusual to the observant—and hungry—traveler.
This, to Italian epicures, is the cradle of the best food in Italy. They beam when they talk about la cucina bolognese. Bologna, the Eden of gastronomes, the city of fine cooking and keen brains! This is the land of those famous egg noodles with savory meat sauce, of the immortal mortadella sausage, of Parmesan cheese, and of turkey breasts sublimated with melted cheese and wafers of truffle!
The Bolognese are proud not only of their cooking bur of their robust appetites, and cite, as an example, a wedding feast held in 1475 when the bride and groom and a thousand guests sat down to table for three consecutive days, attacking such substantial fare as pasta, assorted roasts, sausages, hams, truffled turkeys, cheeses, fruits and pastries. All this was lubricated with the good wine of Montedonato and larded, one supposes, by judicious intervals of sleep.
Ingrassamento, or fattening, is the word for Bolognese dishes in the minds of most epicures. The one lowering specialty, the key to everything, is called sfoglia, the basic homemade egg pasta which forms the foundation for any number of farinaceous dishes. Their names ripple along fortallini, tagliatelle, lasagne, pappardelle, cappolletti, tortellini. What musical names they are, and how gratifying to the gourmet! Each of them deserves a separate essay, truffled with tinkling adjectives! A rapturous Bolognese gourmet hit the proper poetic peak when he termed the tortellini the “umbilicus of Venus.” These incredible little circles of sfoglia are rolled around a stuffing composed of ham, mortadella, chopped veal, Parmesan cheese and a suspicion of nutmeg. When this tender delicacy is cooked in a good chicken broth and lightly sprinkled with Parmesan, it is no slight tribute to the goddess of love, 1 assure you. Cappelletti (little caps) are somewhat similar. Tagliatelli are famous throughout Italy-wide egg noodles with a delicate meat sauce. Lasagne are wider, thicker, inclined to be a little heavier, and are often tinted green from an increment of spinach, as are pappardelle. But it is useless to attempt to paint word pictures of these splendors. They must be tasted to be believed.
The porkers who snort about in their restricted backyards in Emilia are some of the noblest in Italy, and they end up in sublime disguises-the ample mortadella of Bologna, the hoofed zampone of Modena and a variety of succulent salami from Parma and Ferrara. Only one sausage is totally missing from local shops in this region the one we call Bologna. Nothing vaguely resembling it can be found anywhere. Yes, we have no Bologna in Bologna. Mortadella is its particular pride. As you know, it is different from other sausages-larger, wider, redder, more delicate in tasre, interspersed with white cubes of fat. Its origin dates back to the Middle Ages, and the monks may have been mixed up in its invention. At all events, old engravings show robed ecclesiastics happily pounding pork in a mortar while large sausages hang overhead.
The wines of this region are honest, hearty and acceptable, but they lack the luster of those from neighboring Tuscany and Veneio. The best wine lists feature these, but there are several local wines worth asking for. The best is Lambrusco, grown near Modena. The Albana Di Bertinoro and the Sangiovese will reward you well if you see them on a rural wine list.
In sketching out a gastronomically guided tour of Emilia Romagna, we are arbitrarily beginning on the Adriatic coast, where you may not be us all, and covering Romagna first. This puts Ravenna and Perrara at the head of our list. The savory path of interest then leads straight up the Via Emilia, ending in your own American kitchen with two Bolognese recipes which we implore you to try. Rimini and Cesenatico, on the Adriatic coast, have access to superlative sea food, but we haven't found the right restaurant in either of them-yet. So the first gourmet stop on the Via Emilia is Ravenna.
RAVENNA
At first sight it is hard to believe that this flat, somnolent inland city was once a bustling seaport and, (or a few dim centuries, the capital of the Western world. But a visit to its astounding, Mini-Oriental churches and its Roman tombs puts the proper perspective on Ravenna's role in history. Their incomparable mosaics present a tapestry of color and pageantry rivaled only in Palermo. Then too. the remains of the immortal Dante rest in a tomb in Ravenna.
Almost every traveler to Italy visits this city, and many come away with a vivid memory of the splendor of Byzantine mosaics, but a rather faint enthusiasm for the city itself. The Adriatic has deserted it during the centuries and moved its shores miles eastward, and the devastation wrought during the recent war hasn't aided matters.
We found the old time-tested sightseers' hotels in the heart of Ravenna a little noisy and crowded, and think that this might be a good place for you to become acquainted with a new chain of ultra-modern hotels which is spreading across Italy. They are called the Jolly hotels, a name which causes a little confusion among the populace, since neither “j” nor “y” is an active ingredient of the abbreviated Italian alphabet. But if you'll ask the nearest pedestrian for the “Albergo Ee-yoly,” your chances of success are good. There is one right across from the railway station in Ravenna.
These mark a new, if somewhat mechanistic, concept in Italian alberghi. Most noticeable is the carefully trained service, from bellboy to managers (often women, by the way), and the unfailing courtesy. The architecture is extremely simple, with rooms almost monastically small. But all the comforts are there, ensconced in miniature Italian tile. They have self-opera ring elevators, marble floors, good baths and showers, and many things which should please guests who are willing now and then to forgo Old World atmosphere for spotlessness. Everything is immaculate, and there is always an adjoining garage.
But the best thing about the Jolly hotels, as you will find in both Ravenna and Parma, is the food. It is genuinely good, simple, well served. Their specialty is a noodle dish served with a trio of sauces, and it is a joy to the traveler-even if one is tempted to draw a disrespectful comparison with a banana split. One of the best things about the Jolly hotels is that they spring up in places where no good hotels exist, rather than trying to compete with top-notch establishments. Thus a traveler in the more remote stretches of Italy (Calabria, for example) will find them to be absolute lifesavers.
FERRARA
This historic city is also off the beaten path, and it merits a visit from those who have a bit of leisure to spare. One senses the power of the Este family in wandering through the arcaded streets of this medieval stronghold, still dominated by their overpowering brick castle, built in 1385. Dark things have transpired behind these frowning walls and the moat that protects them. Perhaps the most macabre event occurred in 1425, when Parisina, the wife of Nicolò III, and her lover, who happened to be Nicoló's natural son, were beheaded to avenge the Duke's wounded honor. The dank dungeons where they were conlined can still be visited. A later lord of the castle was Alfonso I (1505-34), in Este par excellence and the reluctant fourth bridegroom of the somewhat shopworn Lucrezia Borgia. This dubious marriage, by the way, turned out happily. He adored her for the remaining eighteen years of their married life. Alfonso I lived to be twenty-nine, according to the history books, which makes him a bridegroom at the maximum age of eleven. Can you blame him for being reluctant!
There are other treasures in this animated city-art galleries, palaces and a notable Romanesque cathedral-surrounded by a hurly-burly market place. Ferrara warrants an overnight stop for unhurried travelers, and there is an entirely adequate hotel to offer them shelter and a good breakfast. This is the ALBERGO EUROPA, at Corso Giovecca 49. It is listed in the most antiquated Baedeker, but has recently been modernized after the bombardments of a decade ago. Now the elevator works as flawlessly as the sanitary fixtures. Some of the plumbing in Italian country hotels can only be referred to as of the ventriloquist type. When you pull the plug in the bathtub, the gurgle comes not from there but from the bidet far across the room. The Europa is not in this category.
There are several choices for lunch or dinner in Ferrari, but one stands out above the others, the RISTORANTE ITALIA. It occupies an unpretentious orange and ocher building facing the castello and its moat, its portcullises and its bloodthirsty legends of medieval mores and manners. The latter do not constitute the best aperitivo to an expensive repast at the Italia, but never mind. This is a thoroughly professional restaurant, with the proprietor, the venerable waiters and the plump lady at the cash desk all on their jobs. When we dined here the headwaiter was presiding over a shimmering, ambulant tub containing the boiled dinner of the day. From this bolito he fished forth for his Customers robust chunks of boiled beef, calf's head, zampons and tongue; and very aromatic it was. On another day his steaming chariot contained chicken and its fellow travelers. Few institutions in Italy can satisfy the appetite and the dramatic urge as well as the bolito. We prefaced our boiled fare with a cheese. crested fold of green lasagne, and followed it with fruit and coffee, and were very content.
Ferrara is the home of a savory red wine and pork ragout called salame de sugo. Sturgeon from the Adriatic, and capitone, a large, disquieting eel, are also local products, but we could find no trace of them in any of Ferrara's restaurants.
CESENA
Food-conscious friends told us of an epicurean oasis in this rather dull town astride the Via Emilia. The location of the RISTORANTE CASALI next to the railway station is not inspired, but the food is, and many an Italian epicure makes a detour to dine there. We did the same, and tame away with a high regard for the Adriatic shrimp and fish as served alla Casali, and a particular affection for passatelli, a delectable pasta soup specialty of Romagna.
BOLOGNA
This city of almost 400, 000 scurrying inhabitants is one of the most ancient in Italy, and today is one of the most vibrant, go-getting, sophisticated and—let's face it—perhaps the noisiest. Its university is the most venerable and respected in Italy, and its cooking achieves a high peak in Italian gastronomy. What better phrase applies to it than grasta e dotta (fat and learned), and what better place to indulge in a serious appraisal of Italian cooking at its best?
Bologna is in the middle of the Via Emilia, a vital crossroads in the plain. Built almost entirely of brick, it has preserved in medieval arcades and several of its formidable brick towers daring from the twelfth century. Two of these lean tipsily toward each other in the heart of the city, and stout-hearted mountaineers can still climb the five hundred steps of the Torre degli Asinelli and obtain a superlative view of the city. But this is not advisable after a typical Bolognese meal!
The city scintillates with carefree students, astute faculty members and a buzz of businessmen. To an outsider it appears to be the most articulate, intense, swift-paced city in the peninsula, and ideally suited to the more aggressive, food-loving readers of this magazine. Everyone in Bologna seems to congregate sooner or later in the great triple square facing the Church of San Petronio, where a gay, bursting fountain dedicated to Neptune is the focal point for all tourists, peanut vendors, pigeons and tintype photographers. There are good restaurants in this neighborhood too, but the informed voluptuary will return to the ancient brick arcades for his most memorable meals. We don't think that most of our readers will stay more than two days in Bologna, and so we take the liberty of prescribing one good hotel and two celebrated restaurants, among the dozens that exist.
In place of one of Bologna's venerable hotels under the arcades, we suggest the new ALBERGO CRISTALLO, Via Giuseppe 5, a thoroughly clean, comfortable, compact, well-run establishment built since the last war. It has a pleasant little bar, and serves a palatable breakfast, but there is no dining room. This leaves you conscience-free to search out IL PAPAGALLO and SAMPIERI without lowering your eyes as you pass the hotel doorman. The Cristallo is within walking distance of all of Bologna's effervescent street life, but is in a quiet little square, and well worth seeking out.
And now to the feast! What better choice than Il Pappagallo, on the Piazza Mercanzia, a world famous restaurant in one of the most venerable sites imaginable. Under its dusty brick arcade, II Pappagallo (The Parrot) is externally hoary with age. Inside it is bright and worldly, illuminated by four immense crystal chandeliers. The Italians prefer it this way. and will suffer no Dante-esque gloom with their dining. On the walls arc countless pictures of celebrities who have paid the Parrot a visit and found far more than crackers. They look very contemporary. But a few traces of age remain. The ancient vaulted ceilings are visible, their ribs still showing despite the good cooking. And there is an imposing, non-functioning Gothic fireplace at the far end of the room. What really functions is the kitchen!
The Parrot, by almost universal consent among Italian gourmets, is one of the top restaurants in the country, and the menu contains several glittering dishes to prove its supremacy. Where, after all, we thought, is a better place in the world to try tagliatelle alla bolognese? We tried them, and found them fascinating for their lightness. The thin, wide noodles were toothsome and tender, and the sauce was not loaded down with oil or butter. The true Bolognese ' sauce” is essentially a lean beef ragout with a judicious pointing up of tomato, herbs and seasoning. After this we accosted half a boned chicken and a filet of turkey with paper-thin lavender truffles and a sauce Cardinal—a lovely experience, and a superlative sauce—in the discreet company of a bottle of Bardolino.
Needless to say, the service is attentive here, and the clientele most cosmopolitan (meaning that it is best to go there after nine in the evening). They still admit my particular bele noire, the sad-faced street vendor with the mechanical toy jackass who wiggles his ears to nobody's amusement, but that's a mere detail.
II Pappagallo is not expensive at least considering the culinary splendors you receive in one of Italy's best restaurants. Almost all of the specialties are priced at six hundred lire, less than a dollar. There is a cover charge (including a fat basket of Italian bread and grissini) which amounts to the imposing total of twenty-four cents. At the end of the dinner you arc presented with a liqueur on the house, and a pleasant gesture it is.
Only a short distance away, on a narrow sidestrcct called the Via Sampieri, is a wonderful restaurant which takes you, not back to the Middle Ages, but to the gay eighties. You enter the RISTORANTE SAMPIERI through a bar, pass through an immaculate kitchen whose plump feminine cooks are wreathed in smiles, and straight into the Shades of Victoria. The dining salon is unbelievable, set in the spirit of Arsenic and Old Lace. Seven lampshades, covered with orange lace, extend from the walls on gilded iron brackets. The wallpaper is an indefinite grey-yellow-brown, but is almost concealed by a cavalcade of oil paintings in tarnished gilt frames paintings of harem ladies, watermelons, umbrella pines, lobsters on platters. A huge baroque framed-in-gold mirror is placed catty-corner at one end of the room. On the day of our first visit, a small table was reserved for a special client, a very old gentleman with fine flowing chin whiskers and a rakish grey bowler which he kept on his head all during his luncheon. While he dined he read intently from a fat paper-bound book and never looked up, to our total fascination ion. Everyone is well-dressed, talkative and genial in Sampieri. There is a high quota of monocles, and of French travelers, who have the instinctive faculty of choosing the right place in a foreign city. The proprietor of Sampieri is a handsome man with broad shoulders and a ready smile. He was very helpful to a table of our compatriots, who left these Victorian purlieus with enchantment written on their faces. We think that you will react in the same way, for those large capable cooks up front produce some beautiful Bolognese dishes. Prices are more than fair, and the menu embraces everything that is choice in this city of fabulous food. We had a little trouble with our red wine-it was n sparkling one, and not at all to our taste. It might be worthwhile, therefore, to make a note to order a non spumante wine in Bolognese restaurants.
MODENA
Squarely astraddle the Via Emilia, here is another judicious stop for luncheon. Modena is the home of tampons, the celebrated smoked sausage whose casing is made up of the lower skin of a pig's leg, with a delicately sculptured hoof still showing. It's a famous sausage. partly because of the poster which is used to advertise it throughout Italy. This exhibits a highly congenial porker with a wooden leg and a cane, exhorting the public to sample his smoked sacrifice. They serve zampone hot in Modena, usually with lentils, mashed potatoes or sauerkraut, and it is downright delectable.
Modena has more enduring virtues, however. Its cathedral, the purest Romanesque in Emilia, is a thing of subtle beauty, from the slender campanile to the pair of pinkish lions which guard its central portal. For centuries Italian gamins have been playing horsy on these morose crouching creatures, and have worn the marble down to a high polish which would do justice to a Chinese vase. There are also some naughty bits of sculpture on an upper cornice. They get mention in most of the guide books, and draw furtive glances from many a passing schoolgirl.
A visit to the cathedral, an aperitivo in the crowded piazza adjoining it (the city swarms with cadets, since its venerable Ducal Palace is now a military academy) and you are ready for one of the most rewarding lunches in this chapter-a visit to the RISTORANTE FINI. This welcoming place is far from the central hubbub, a cheerful arcade building facing the church of San Francesco on the outer fringes of the city. The name Fini certainly doesn't have the connotation it does in French, for this restaurant is thriving, filled with discriminating diners. The cooking is excellent, and all of (he celebrated Modenese dishes are listed for your pleasure. These include the traditional zampone, spinach soup and veal cutlets, each worth a flowery paragraph of its own. After you have finished luncheon another temptation besets you in the Fini food shop. This is a square basket containing a plump smoked tamp one, flanked on either side by hand-sculptured tortellini and amarelli. But you'll never get that sausage past our customs agents, so we will substitute a couple of topnotch Modenese recipes. Both are easy to achieve in an American kitchen.
Veal Scaloppini Modenese
This is a shining favorite among Emilian dishes-veal cutlets topped with a paper-thin slice of ham, a light blanket of Swiss or Mozzarella cheese and, if possible, a few wafers of truffle.
Beat 1 egg and season it with salt and pepper. Dip A very thin veal cutlets in the egg and then in fine bread crumbs. Saute the cutlets slowly in 3 to 4 tablespoons of butter until they are golden brown on both sides. Arrange the cutlets in a shallow baking dish, and place on each a thin slice of prosciutto (Italian ham) and then a chin layer of Mozzarella cheese. Garnish with truffle slices if available and bake in a moderate oven (375” F.) until the cheese is melted.
Spinach Soup alla Modenese
Cook 1 pound of cleaned chopped spinach in 6 tablespoons butter until softened. Press it through a fine sieve and season with salt, pepper, a good pinch of nutmeg and 1 tablespoon of grated Parmesan cheese. Stir in 2 eggs, beaten lightly, and add the desired amount of hot stock. Bring the stock to a boil and simmer until the eggs curdle and thicken the soup.
PARMA
Gourmets and musicians feel especially indebted to this large, affable, bustling city. Being the source of Parmesan cheese, which is indispensable to countless fine dishes, it has a firm niche in gastronomic lore. As the birthplace of Arturo Toscanini, the final resting place of Paganini, and the setting of the famous Teatro Regio, which concedes but little to La Scala, Parma is a magnet for music lovers. It is rich in memories of Giuseppe Verdi, too. It was in Parma that the great genius Correggio accomplished his finest work. His masterpiece, the Madonna of San Girolamo, is in the Farnese Palace, and his finest frescoes adorn the cupola of the cathedral.
Parma is still rebuilding after the ravages caused by the last war, and its central squares are nor exactly restful. But everything is calm in the neighborhood of its towering Romanesque cathedral and the dusty-rose octagonal baptistry nearby. This baptistry, the work of the great sculptor Benedetto Antelami, is one of the noblest in Italy. In this tranquil spot Parma can be appreciated in full measure.
Hotelwise Parma is not as sparse as it used to be, for there is now another Jolly hotel here, newly opened, and a good one. It is on the Viale Arturo Toscanini, a distinguished address if we ever saw one.
We have also dined pleasantly at the Hotel Bristol, on the Via Garibaldi, and tried their tortellini alla parmigiana -a fabulous and fattening dish. Another specially to look for in Parma is anolini, and there is nothing to prevent you from ordering a Parmesan cheese delivered to your American doorstep.
PIACENZA
Almost at the termination of the Via Emilia, this ancient Roman city is a significant crossroads and a good place to stop when motoring between Milan and Florence, which many travelers do. Piacenza is as thriving and animated as its neighbors, and it has a marvelous thirteenth-century Civic Palace, a symphony of Stone, brick and terra cotta. This wonderful Lombard Gothic affair was built by the Farnesc dukes, whose prancing equestrian statues stand guard in the adjacent square. Within a stone's throw is the ALBERGO CROCE BIANCO, a prosperous provincial hotel with better-than average food and service, and clean, attractive rooms for an overnight stay. We have tried it on two occasions and found it more than adequate.
As a toothsome postscript, would you like to serve two simple Bolognese specialties? Here are recipes for a delectable little dice-on-toothpick delicacy, and for the basic ragout which accompanies tagliatelle alla bolognese. With the aid of some wide egg noodles and a tin of truffles, a memorable duo of dishes is within your grasp.
Fritto Bolognese
Cook in butter, with a pinch of salt and pepper, 4 chicken livers and an equal quantity of sweetbreads (which have been parboiled) until the chicken livers arc just firm. Cut them in dice. Cut an equal amount of cooked tongue, Gruyère cheese, ami 1 truffle into dice of the same size as the other ingredients.
Thread the five ingredients onto 24 toothpicks with the pieces of sweetbread and truffle in the middle. Spread them with a mixture of chopped herbs and grated Parmesan bound to a paste with beaten egg, so that the little dice arc completely masked. Dip in egg and fine breadcrumbs and fry in hot deep fat. Serve on a napkin with tufts of fried parsley and lemon slices.
Ragout Bolognese
This meat ragout, which is more than a sauce, may be served with spaghetti, noodles, ravioli or other pasta.
Brown together slowly in a saucepan ¾ pound of chopped beef, ¼ pound each of chopped pork, veal, and salt pork, 1 onion and 1 sliced carrot, both sliced, and 1 stalk of celery, chopped Add 1 ¼ cups stock and simmer until the liquid is almost entirely evaporated. Add 1 teaspoon tomato paste, salt and pepper, 1 clove, and just enough water to cover. Cover the pan and simmer over low heat for about 45 minutes to 1 hour. Add ¼ pound of sliced mushrooms and 2 chicken livers, diced, and cook 10 minutes longer. Finish with 1 sliced truffle and ½ cup cream.