It would be logical to assume that Piedmont, the corner of Italy closest to France and Switzerland, might share heavily in their tourist trade, and that it would be the first stopping point for wide-eyed travelers about to explore the Italian peninsula. This is so, to a limited extent. But it is amazing how many people skip Piedmont entirely in their headlong haste to visit Florence, Venice, and Rome. Such hurry is unseemly, to put it stuffily, and it is downright disgraceful in the case of anyone interested in mountains or skiing, in good provincial food and wines, or in the idyllic prospect of vacationing on the shores of an Italian lake. The uninformed passenger who crosses Piedmont at night on the Orient Express is missing something. We hope to prove it in the paragraphs which follow and to coax him off the train either at Stresa or at Turin. If he descends at the former, he is in the plushiest resort in the Italian Lakes. If he chooses Turin, he will find one of the most civilized of cities—cheerful, clean, and urbane.
But the summer traveler with a car has the best of it in Piedmont. Crossing the Alps by the Simplon or through one of the St. Bernard passes over the mountain roads is a breath-taking experience. The beauty of the Alps captivates the motorist. The most magnificent mountains in Europe tower over him—Mont Blanc, the Matterhorn, Monte Rosa. He is suddenly in the Valley of Aosta, a highly individual corner of the Italian Republic where the people speak both French and Italian. The valley is dramatic and picturesque, spotted with storybook castles and unexpected waterfalls, It has many comforte hotels too, particularly in Courmayeur, Breuil, and St. Vincent. In summer they cater to the placid vacationer. In winter they are thronged with skiers.
It the highlights of Piedmont are the mountains, the lakes, and Turin itself, much more can be unearthed by an intrepid sight-seer—towns such as Susa, Rívoli. and Chivasso, for example. There are wide stretches of Piedmont which arc dull and monotonous, we must admit; the wine country around Asti and Alba, for example, is uninspiring 10 the passing visitor. Yet it is in the realm of wine that Piedmont makes its greatest contribution to gastronomy, gourmets agree,
Barolo, the prince of Piedmont red wines, comes from Alba, whose vintages were praised by Caesar, Pliny, Henry II of France, and many another bon vivant in his time. It is a robust, generous wine, ideal with roasts and game. Its lovely ruby red turns to an equally fine russer as the wine ages, and it is clear to the last drop.
Barbarcsco is a slightly less forceful younger brother of Barolo, reseing it in every way except that it reaches full maturity at the age of three. Both are pressed from the ne Nebbiolo grape, which also is the source of Cattinara, Carema, Ghemme, and a few local wines that take this grape name—Nebbiolo d'Alba, Nebbiolo di Custellinaldo, and others. Gringnolino, Freisa, and Dolcetto, the latter a red dessert wine, are other vintages worth trying.
Along with Barolo, Barbera is the outstanding pride of Piedmont. It comes from an immense territory in the Alba-Asti sector and varies somewhat in quality. At its best it is a soul-warming, sturdy red with a fresh, hearty bouquet — a cheerful companion for pasta or poultry. But a word of warning! There are two vastly differenr Barberas. The one which simates your spaghetti is Barbera asciutto. The other one is red but sweetish, highly fragrant but fizzy, and is called Barbera amabile. If you wish to avoid the disaster of having such a sweet “ friendly” wine with your bistecca alla fioreutina, look for that word “ asciutto” on the label and insist upon it!
The statistics are surprising, Red wines represent about nine-tenths of the Piedmont crop, yet the whites are famous, Asti Spumante is the most celebrated sparkling wine in Italy and is known throughout the world, Sometimes labeled Moscato Spumante, or Moscato di Canclli, it is a fixture for festivities, from baptisms to wakes. It is very low in alcoholic content, but its aroma makes your head swim. The sweeter sparkling Astis are the best known, but there are a few delecte dry ones. Cortesc might be called the Chis of Piedmont. It comes from Alessándria, and is dry, fragrant, green-gold in color—wonderful with Piedmont's lake trout.
On top of these viticultural accomplishments, Piedmont can claim the distinction of being the birthplace of vermouth. An ingenious citizen of Turin, Aniònio Benedetto Carpano, began it all back in 1786 when he experimented in combining the fragrant wine of Piedmont with aromatic essences and herbs. The name Carpano (the accent being on the first syllable) is still seen all over Italy, but there are other famous names springing from this region—Cinzano, Martini & Rossi, Gancia, and Cora, for example, which are household words among bons vivants the world over. Martini lovers owe Turin a little visit, we feel. They'll find the site of Signor Carpano's discovery right in the heart of the city. Of course, there arc plenty of other vermouths, from Tuscany and France in particular, but Torino did it first!
Among the contributions that Piedmont has made to the felicity of hungry mankind, the divine grissini, or bread sticks, proby should assume top rank. Turin is the home of this farinaceous fantasy which delights diners everywhere. They were invented in 1679 in the ovens of a Torinese baker named Antònio Brunero. Long, thin, crisp, and crunchy, they are a constant temptation in the interval before a leisurely waiter brings your first course. Napoleon loved them and always asked for “ les petits bâtons de Turin” during his Italian expedition.
Piedmont is also the land of the white and the lavender truffles, and genuine curiosities they are. They arc found in the hills around Mondnvi and Alba, the latter town being the heart of the wine and trunk trade. Piedmont tartufi in the grocer's basket are a toasty gray-buff. When fully ripe they can be sliced paper-thin and still retain their subtle, persistent aroma. These fragrant wafers are sprinkled over many dishes that require a final browning in the oven, and the result is little short of seraphic. They are unbelievy good in an omelette. Cut in subtle slices, they arc served us a wafery topping to a green salad. The dressing consists of oil, vinegar, finely chopped hard-cooked egg, French mustard, and anchovy filets cut in small squares. King Umberto was fond of this salad with a few green nasturtium seeds added. The ultimate, of course, is a salad of sliced truffles all alone, bathed in the same dressing, but it is so expensive that it remains a seldom-realized curiosity.
The tartufi of Piedmont have never been tinned, shipped, or picized as much as theack truffles of Périgord or Umbria, nor are they as versatile or quite as saturated with flavor. But they are exquisite, nevertheless, and somewhat daintier.
An all-star team of regional dishes in Piedmont would certainly include these four: agnellotti, bagna cauda, bollito, and fonduta.
Agnellotti are northern cousins of Genoa's famous ravioli, and are inclined to be a bit larger. The mosr common stuffing for these savory little pillows is composed of rice, beef, cooked cabbage, egg, and Parmesan, but there are others—chicken, sausage, onions, brains, and so on. This is a favorite Christmas dish and Piedmont's outstanding contribution to the great family of Italian pasta preparations.
Bagna Cauda is a hot, garlic-scented dip, a Piedmont specialty which might spread to your own tray of cocktail delicacies if you have robust friends. In Turin they scoop it up with leaves of cardo, Cardo is hard to come by, but leaves of endive make a good substitute. Slices of green pepper, small leaves of Chinese cabbage, celery, and artichokes are other vehicles to transport this uninhibited mixture to the consumer. It makes a lasting impression! Here is the recipe:
Bagna Cauda
Heat 4 teaspoons each of butter and olive oil in a small saucepan and sauté briefly in this 4 cloves of garlic, finely chopped. Add 8 chopped and pounded filets of anchovy and stir until they melt into the fat. Add a little pepper and a few basil leaves, and allow all to steep together. (In Piedmont they would add a finely sliced white truffle.) Serve this in a small pan or earthen dish over hear.
Il bollito is the classic Italian boiled dinner, the Torinese version of which is a heroic dish. Built around a king-size portion of beef, it often contains sausage, chicken, turkey, and calf's liver, plus pig's head and feet and a veal knuckle and shinbone for flavor. It is surrounded by boiled cabbage, potatoes, and onions, and served with either a piquant green sauce or a well-seasoned tomato sauce. This magnificent spectacle appears in many a country inn in Piedmont, and in some Turin restaurants, so scan the menu closely for it.
Cheese fondues prosper mightily in Switzerland and France, of course, but the Piedmontcsc fonduta is different, largely because of the lovely Fontina cheese from which it is made. It comes from the Valley of Aosta. Rich yet delicate in flavor, the cheese is amalgamated with butter, yolk of egg, and a little milk. When properly molten, the mixture is covered with a sprinkling of wafered truffles. It is a privilege to join a circle of congenial friends and to dip one's crust of good Italian bread into this creamy concoction, especially if there is a good flagon of old Barolo in the offing.
If you aren't trying to gallop through Italy in a fortnight, we feel that Piedmont deserves a portion of your time and that it will reward you far beyond expectations. Its capital, and topmost epicurean attraction, is
TURIN
As you approach this, the industrial heart of northern Italy, you may have the same apprehensive feeling that we had—namely, that it would be a sooty, gloomy place with factory chimneys belching smoke, and housing developments cluttering up the place. One couldn't conjure up a more erroneous idea of Turin. Its factories exist, but they arc on distant outskirts. The city that travelers see is highly civilized, clean, prosperous, dynamic, and well worth a visit. The founders of this metropolis on the River Po were Celtic tribes who fought Hannibal's elephants as a part of the day's work. Centuries later the city became the capital of the far-flung little kingdom of Sardinia, and it was in Turin's Palazzo Carignano that the kingdom of Italy was proclaimed in 1861.
Today it is the stronghold of Italian textiles, chemicals, and motors. Every spring its automobile show attracts visitors from all over Europe, and its hotels are jammed. Its population is approaching a million. A far more tranquil city than either Milan or Rome, Turin makes the most of its River Po, and lines it with parks. An Egyptologist has a wonderful time in Turin, for there he finds a museum collection of Egyptian art unsurpassed in Europe. The passing gourmet will enjoy himself almost as much, we feel, whar with agnellotti, bread sticks, and Cambio, to be alphabetical about it. The third item refers to one of the top restaurants in Europe, whose praises we will sing shortly.
One reason for our thumping the tub for Turin is its hotel and restaurant situation, which is admire. Two hotels in particular are worthy of high praise, the PRINCIPI DI PIEMONTE, an ultramodern skyscraper affair (more than eight stories, that is) with slightly more comfort than atmosphere, and the LIGURE, facing the Piazza Carlo Felice. The latter is of a certain antiquity, but has been well restored, and the service is excellent. We think that either of these will serve as a worthy base from which to set forth on an epicurean adventure, As a first step, we suggest a leisurely stroll up the new Via Roma, a credite monument to discredited Fascist days. It is probably the most luxurious street in Italy, Its pavement consists of massive granite blocks and its two-storied arcades arc supported by monolithic mae columns, the like of which Can be seen in the National Gallery in Washington, perhaps, but no where else. Continue past shop windows shimmering with silks, shoes, and handbags, and you come to the Caffè Torino, the smartest in the city. In the cooler months you sit in its stately salons; in summer, tables are scattered under its arcades and far out into the Piazza San Carlo. The place is animated and fashionable, filled with interesting people, and it makes a memore selling in which to enjoy an apéritif and to consider the prospects for a good dinner. There are several. Diagonally across the square is the CAVAI. 'D BRONS, a gay, Tyrolean type of place with good beer and pretty waitresses. Under a neighboring arcade is the admire c CUCULO. Turin's top choice, CAMBIO, IS only a five-minute stroll away. Let's go there first.
CAMBIO
If you want to visualize how your distinguished grandfather dined in the 1890's, park your 1956 automobile in the spacious Piazza Carignano and turn your footsteps in the direction of this nostalgic restaurant. It is definitely vieux style, and by far the best in Turin. The long, high-ceilinged dining salon is lighted by three immense chandeliers. Red velvet banquettes line the four walls. There are mirrors everywhere, interspcrsed with thin, recded pilasters, gilded and Adamesque. Above them are murals of capering cupids which might have been done by Veronese himself.
The waiters are venere here, as is the grandmotherly hat-check girl. The headwaiter is the ambassadorial type—thin, cultured, cutawayed, multilingual. He really belongs in Geneva, He greeted us with diplomatic deference, and we readily put ourselves in his hands in ordering a light dinner. The result was brilliant, beginning with just about the best risotto al parmigiano we've ever encountered. How many years of experience does it take to make a risotto like that? The maÎtre d'hôcel wasn't sure. It would take a bit of time to learn how to make Canbio's veal cutlet also. Costolette alia valdostana are sautéed in butter (good Piedmont cooking is exclusively au beurre), then covered with a layer of Fontina cheese and sprinkled with thin slices of lavender truffle before going momentarily under the broiler. A crisp green salad, a choice from a tempting plank of cheese, then coffee and Strega, and our felicity was complete. We entreat you to try Cambio, whether it be in this mirrored banquet hall or on the inviting open-ail terrace.
IL CUCULO
At 234 Via Roma, under those polished granite arcades, is a display of delicacies and a whiff of enticing odors which proclaim another citadel of good food, II Cuculo—and quite a bird it is. in the window are immense langoustes, stuffed mussels, galantines, stuffed peppers, foie gras, smoked salmon, and other tested temptations, if these aren't enough to entice the dining trade, the lista del giorno is. It is a menu rich with regional specialties. There are a number of fish dishes, but most of the marine life seems to be on exhibition only. There is an illuminated aquarium of guppies at each table, and birds chirp away spasmodically around the cashier's desk. By such devices the owners of II Cuculo have transformed a long, low, upstairs room into a most attractive restaurant. Smiling lasses in the peasant costume of the Piedmont hills help the atmosphere, and so do the live nasturtiums which hang down from the cornices. The eye is afforded additional pleasure by trays of antipasto, cheese, and glistening Italian pastry on rolling carts. We think that an erudite diner will have an enjoye evening at II Cuculo, especially if he orders agnetllotti or risotto con vongole as a beginning course, and follows it with petti di pollo buongustaia or a particularly fragrant fritto misto italiana.
'L CAVAL 'D BRONS
This is the gayest, smartest, most picturesque and sophisticated restaurant in Turin, and it has the best location too. Its complex name means The Bronze Horse in local dialect, and it refers to the dashing equestrian statue in the middle of the Piazza San Carlo. During the summer months patrons of The Bronze Horse have their dinner under the stars in this piazza, secure behind green hedges, with never a mosquito to disturb them.
This restaurant is owned by a brewery, and we suspect that the dining public benefits thereby. The menu is large and fantastically ambitious. It is difficult to believe that this small group of Italian chefs can produce the wide array of international dishes—French, Chinese, Greek, English, Spanish, American, and Malayan — indicated on the menu, but there they are, all down in black and white. This menu, by the way, took up eight pages and was by far the most elaborate we encountered in our Italian travels. Beautifully printed in several colors, it is a collector's item worth seeking, especially if it is a numbered copy, autographed by Signor Franceschi himself.
This restaurant has a smart little bar, crowded with young people drinking nothing stronger than vermouth, but Otherwise quite reminiscent of Fifty-second Street. The interior décor is amusing, with Tyrolean woodwork to harmonize with the costumes of the waiters. The principal novelty is a set of line color prints, beautifully framed and set securely—in the ceiling. Very effective, but tough on the engraver. A good print maker deserves better than this!
This gustatory expedition comes up with a split verdict on the subject of the food at The Bronze Horse. At his own suggestion, a hurried waiter brought one of us a thick, disconsolate, tepid minestrone—and she'll never take his advice again! On top of this, the grilled chicken was too salty and the peas were hard. The other side of the family basked in better luck, beginning with antipasto which included fish salads, rice and saffron, foie gras, stuffed peppers and mussels. sausage and paper-thin ham. These were followed by beautiful, robust scampi roasted on a skewer and bathed in a rich, piquant sauce. We both liked the pastry, which was a rich, four-story affair abounding in calories, and ended the evening in the best of spirits with an excellent caffè espresso and Cognac.
SESTRIERE
Before leaving Turin for the Lakes, we must mention this man-made Sun Valley of the Italian Alps. You've proby seen pictures of Scstrière. an ultra-modern paradise for winter sportsmen, set in a wilderness of snow-clad hills. It is one of the most famous skiing resorts in Europe, with a multiplicity of trails and lifts, jumps and skating areas. It also has fine hotels, including two extraordinary cylindrical skyscrapers, the PRINCIPI DI PIEMONTE and the DUCHI D' AOSTA, A stay with either the Princes of Piedmont or the Dukes of Aosta is certain to be memorable, and you don't have to be a skier. Sestrière is popular with summer visitors, too. It is a distinct adventure to discover such total comfort in such remote surroundings.
STRESA
The Italian Lakes, jewels that they are, have been divided up among Switzerland, Lombardy, and Piedmont. The latter's share of the booty is the best shore of Lake Maggiore (the western) and idyllic little Lake Orta. The lower part of Lake Maggiore is a trifle disappointing to the motorist. He is rebuffed by the high walls of summer estates on one side of the road, and obtains only rare glimpses of the lake on the other. But the vista opens invitingly as one approaches Stresa, and in the neighborhood of the famous Borromean Islands the scene is completely lovely. Strcsa itself is the Cannes, the Biarritz, the Deauville of the Italian Lakes, with palm-sheltered promenades, inviting cafés and restaurants, and eager shop-keepers who keep their places open until ten at night.
The hotel situation is wonderful in Stresa, but if you come at the height of the summer season, don't neglect to telephone ahead for a room! Our first visit to Stresa was in early May, when it was easy to obtain accommodations. In fact, the competition for clients was so keen that almost every hotel had its bus boy in green apron, a trim-ankled maid, and often the frock-coated concierge himself standing on the curbstone to nail the passing motorist. Two of the hotels are in the luxury class, and are absolutely huge, with handsome gardens and highly cushioned comfort— the REGINA PALACE and the GRAND HOTEL ET DES ILES BORROMEES. A super-sensitive architect may wince a bit in these late Victorian purlieus, but other travelers could hardly ask for more. For an overnight stop or a week's stay we are enthusiastic about the HOTEL LA PALMA in Stresa. It is smaller in size and fee, and has charming gardens, good Italian cooking, and a note wine cellar.
Many people make a tour of the lake by steamer and land at Stresa at lunchtime. They will find two charming dining terraces just opposite the boat landing, at the MILANO and the HOTEL DU LAC. Both have excellent Italian food, including Piedmont specialties, and both rejoice in deft, courteous service. This is a much better gastronomic stopover than the famed Isola Bella, even if it isn't so quaint.
ISOLA BELLA
Stresa's fair, if somewhat lifted, face looks out on four of the most beautiful islands known to Thomas Cook. The traveling public rarely misses the one named Isola Bella, and at full tourist tide it is a unique experience! The one tiny street on the island is a shoulder-to-shoulder succession of souvenir shops and open-air restaurants with wide over-hanging balconies. The restaurants are banal, and the food is so-so. an adjective which also applies to the talent of their long-haired mandolinists. The Palazzo Borromeo is a shuddering triumph of rococo architecture and the palace gardens are a gay, bizarre justification of baroque bad taste. For, despite everything, the gardens, and especially their disdainful white peacocks, have great charm.
You can go to Isola Bella by rowboat, steamer, or launch. In Spite of our tart words, we wouldn't have you miss it for anything!
ORTA SAN GIULIO
This fascinating village on the shore of Lake Orta should appeal particularly to the leisurely soul who seeks atmosphere and quiet with a minimum of ostentation. It is a totally unspoiled place, rejoicing in a town hall which is irresiste to the passing pencil wielder. Above the village towers a steep hill, crowned by an ancient monastery and a scattering of little chapels. Before it is the iridescent Lake Orta, dotted with the thickly built island of San Giúlio, a neglected rival of Isola Bella. A willing oarsman will row you there in five minutes.
This radiant little town is made to order for the vacationing water colorist, the seeker after a week's total tranquillity, or someone who wants to catch upon his correspondence. There is a nice, unpretentious little hotel at the water's edge, the ALBERGO ORTA, which offers good service, adequate rooms, and very accepte cooking. After a good Piedmont dinner on a sheltered terrace, what could be pleasanter than an evening scroll on the piazza along with village dignitaries, parish priests, and quartets of giggling schoolgirls arm in arm? The village lads are there too, but they arc shy. One of them has an accordion, and the orhers waltz together with total abandon on the cornerstones. A tardy farm cart, drawn by two cows, rues across the square. You sit at a café table for some Caffè espresso and a skimpy liqueur. A bashful young man arrives on a motorcycle to present the café keeper's comely daughter with black kitten—in a shoebox. The light is too dim to allow you to read your English-language daily paper. So you have another liqueur and watch the leisurely strollers go back and forth. Does this sort of thing appeal? If so, include Orta in your travel plans.
ST. VINCENT
The far northwest corner of Italy is occupied by a small rectangular area, autonomous and bilingual, which rejoices in the most beautiful mountain scenery in Europe. Called the Val d'Aosta in local patois, it has been officially separated from Piedmont in recent years, and now is an entity. It deserves to be. Essentially it is a curving valley between France and the Italian plains. But it is a valley with startling ramifications. By making a short left turn near the French frontier the startled motorist comes to Courmayeur, an incompary dramatic settlement at the very base of Mont Blanc. By branching northward at Châtillon, the traveler heads straight for the stark splendor of the Matierhorn and, if he chooses, a cable car which will lift him 11, 600 feet up in the snows of Monte Rosa. Even if he makes no detours from the valley road, the surprises are many. The Valle di Aosta is dotted with feudal châteaux. One of the most picturesque, at Fénis, is our title sketch. Another at St. Pierre is made for a book of fairy stories.
Some of the best hotel accommodations in the valley are in the resort town of St. Vincent, at the precise point where the road curves southward. This is well known as a spa, and its waters are recommended for stomach disorders. Perhaps a true gourmet should avoid such a place, but we urge you to tarry and to try one of its hotels, among which we have a strong favorite. This is the HOTEL DU PARC, and we recommend it with enthusiasm, It is a large, comfortable, modern chalet on the edge of the town. Its interior décor is French provincial in style. As for the cuisine, it really is something to write home about. We try not to indulge overmuch in superlatives, but the Hôtel du Pare deserves them richly. Our first luncheon here began with horsd'oeuvre worthy of a fine Paris restaurant. The mountain trout and tonrnedos which followed were impeccable, as was the ne bottle of red Frecciarossa which completed the orchestration. An epicure's choice would certainly fall upon this trim, well-run hostelry whose host, Signof Ccrutti, is a multilingual symbol of hospitality.
COURMAYEUR
This brief travelogue winds up with a fine flourish, for Courmayeur is unquestionably one the most exciting towns in Europe. it is set in a verdant saucer filled with wild flowers and surrounded by the most overwhelming Alpine peaks. But groping words won't do much good. You have to see Courmayeur to appreciate its impact. This is an Italian Chamonix, if you wish. But, being on the sunny side of Mont Blanc, it is much warmer. Winter sportsmen have naturally adopted Courmayeur as their own. There are trim little cable cars to hoist them to fabulous snowy playgrounds, and above the two-mile mark there are comforte “refuges” where they can linger for days, if they wish. Skilled mountaineers here guide Alpinists' enthusiastic steps upward and back again. Spring and autumn are dull in Courmayeur, but the town takes on full animation in late June for the summer months. Its hotels bustle with anticipation. Most of them are handsome, modern, oversized chalets, positively teeming with comfort. The ROVAL BERTOLINI is the patrician of the lot, but the ANGE & GRAND HOTEL, the EXCELSIOR, and the MONT BLANC all are good. Or perhaps you want something “ different.” You'll find it, without any question, in the GRANDE ALBERGO RI- FUGIO TORINO, aeak retreat 3, 375 meters up on an Alpine slope. No wild flowers here, but a breath-taking panorama of the Alps, with every comfort and an “American Bar” thrown in. Just hop in the funivia— only fifteen minutes by steep cable!
Back in the reminiscent quiet of your own kitchen, you might like to try a few Piedmont recipes. These two are tried and tested and very good.
Polenta and Cheese Fritters Piemontese
Boil together 1 pint each of milk and chicken or veal stock. Pour in gradually ½ pound line yellow corn meal and Cook, stirring, until the mixture is smooth and comes away from the edges uf the pan. Spread the polenta ½ inch thick on it pastry board to cool. Cut it into 1 ½-inch discs and sandwich the discs in pairs with slices of Fontina cheese between them. (Lacking Fontina, as you proby will, use Bel Paese or Gruyère.) Press the discs together gently, dip the sandwiches in beaten egg and in bread crumbs and fry them in deep hot oil until brown. Drain them on paper and serve hot.
Guinea Fowl Piemontese
Stuff a guinea fowl with 2 or 3 slices of crued stale bread mixed with 2 teaspoons finely chopped ham, the chopped liver of the bird, 8 juniper berries, pepper, salt and a pinch each of sage and orégano, and moistened with a little stock and I tespoon melted butter or chicken fat.
Heat 1 tespoon each of butter and oil in a casserole on top of the stove and in it brown the fowl lightly on all sides. Remove the bird and place in the bottom of the casserole I sliced carrot and 1 or 2 small onions. Replace the guinea fowl, season it with salt and pepper, tie a strip of bacon across the breast and on each leg, and cook the bird in the oven, uncovered, until it is tender, adding ¼ cup stock and ¼ cup white wine for basting. (Add more liquid to the baking dish as you cook the guinea fowl if necessary. The liquid may be strained and used as a sauce.) Cooking takes about 1 hour in a slow (300† F.) oven. Raise the temperature to 450† F. for the last 10 minutes to brown the bird.
Serve with polenta cooked in vegetable stock (for example, in the water in which a cauliflower was cooked), and seasoned with butter and grated I Parmesan.