Bergamo ochre

Bergamo, however, surprised me from the start. Apart from the good mood my magical arrival put me in was first passing the greengrocer (fruttivendolo?). The window display (and they are always beautiful) burst with baskets of mushrooms of the season, including the ever present funghi porcini, young courgette flowers (fiori di zucchini) which can be fried or stuffed, oranges and greens. The damp misty air was clearly the lifeblood of those mushrooms and I was only sorry I didn’t get a chance to buy any fresh to cook myself. Next time. Pasticceria after caffè and pizzeria and enoteca (wine bar/shop) brought me to the broad windows of Il Fornaio. This was the familiar pizza al taglio (pizza by the slice) done in style and whose no-nonsense warmth was aimed about both visitors and locals. You bought your pizza by the weight with a single ‘slice’ being a healthy lunchtime portion. I had local gorgonzola, speck (good quality cooked smoked ham) and noci (walnuts) while my travelling companion had chargrilled carciofi (artichokes), smoked cheese (I can’t remember the variety) and pomodorini (cherry) tomatoes. Perched on top of the pastry and bakery counter which adjoined the pizzas we tucked in heartily, cheek by jowl with many others seeking shelter from the rain and a pausa.

On the way back to the hotel I became curious about a cake that adorned many a shop window with the neatly written label ‘Polenta ed Osei‘ (polenta and birds) or ‘Polentina’, domes of various size from individual portion to h-uge gilded in polenta with varying decoration of a chocolate bird, glace cherry and/or angelica on top. I had no idea what would be in side and neither did my companion. In the interests of science we purchased one each from two vendors, mine from Panificio Tresoldi. I read now that apparently it is meant to represent a typically turned out mound of polenta being pecked by birds. It is really quite difficult to describe except that it is a flavour and texture sensation. Bad ones could so easily be offensive. As it was, the balance of chocolate and nut butter cream meringue (yes, really), sponge and marzipan was surprisingly not overly sweet, blended well and I could detect some liqueur or other but could not identify which. The rougher exterior provided by the sugar and polenta is the vehicle through which you can savour each element on your tongue and around your palette. I might try making one. Or I might just need to return to Bergamo soon. We didn’t share in the end. Neither of us could. A fagotino al ciocolato (chocolate pastry) from another pasticceria after a long day in Milan proved to me that they treat sugar and chocolate with respect in this part of the world.

Coffee was universally good. Including at the hotel, Hotel Agnello D’Oro. Caffè del Tasso provided us with another beautiful venue for an afternoon coffee, all the tourist guides will lead you here to the main square Piazza Vecchia. I did not unfortunately have an opportunity to experience its pastries, cakes or fresh juices, nor an early evening aperitivo but it looked good. Pity it did not serve after 8pm. Next time. Here was where, as in so many cafes which must have sustained a smokey shadowy existence at one time (perhaps even since 1476 whence it claims its origins)–now all gone but the walls are still imbued with subversive talk and rebellion. Of course Garibaldi came here to plot with his Bergamascan followers. One of the most enigmatic destinations for a digestivo, or indeed an aperitivo, or indeed just a coffee, was the Caffè della Funicolare. The menu and advertising in front of the place, nestled inside the funicular station which transports you gently to the Città Bassa (Lower City), did not seem promising at first, but after a delicious but none the less disappointing meal (see below) and being one of the few places open after 9.30pm we decided to give it a go. And it did not disappoint. I needed tea (there was a fine selection for Italy) and went for some lapsang souchong, accompanied by a generous slice of homemade Torta di Mele (apple cake). When you experience such satisfying food and drink in such an incredible atmosphere–again the place was packed but pleasantly unintrusive and the night views over to Bergamo bassa helped to insert oneself into the pleasing liminal bubble that I felt I occupied throughout my short stay.

The ristoranti around Piazza Vecchia left me a little cold. One evening we did try for an aperitivo at ‘Il Bar’ and it was worth it for a glass of velvet soft Valcalepio local wine. One meal at San Michele with its hand-written menu promised much but left us a little hungry. That said, one plate of the local casoncelli pasta, tortellini stuffed with roasted veal, amaretti, sultanas, Spadona pears, lemon zest, spices and garlic, simply served with a dressing of olive oil and butter, Parmasean and fried sage leaves was superb. We just needed more. The wine was ‘locale’ but not specified. It was a strange kind of place. No one else in this vast restaurant, clearly part of the Piazza Vecchia furniture and served by a couple who could have only been the proprietors. They seemed tired and so did the menu although the prices were not.

Some of the most inventive and superlative food I have ever eaten in Italy was at Vineria Cozzi whose fusion of deeply regional (genuinely so) cuisine and global fine dining was both astonishing and inviting. It is a testament to the brilliantly throughout out menu, with traditional courses of antipasti, primi, secondi and dolci (they call them I miei dolci pensieri… My sweet thoughts…) that I could only use my opportunities to eat there for anti pasti, pasta and dessert. The first evening we tried the place we were intending just to toast our arrival with prosecco and so we did. I wish I had paid more attention to where it had come from as its fine bubbles were far above the supermarket fizz you can often get here in the name of prosecco. The wine was served with the obligatory snacks although these extended to complimentary anti pasti: salted peanuts, olives, crisps and then small dishes of baked polenta with pork belly and beans. Our second aperitivo we decided to order up the dish of local salami to share. It was another regret that I could not purchase any of these to take back from one of the beautifully presented salumeria (deli) in town. I was only once I was amongst the hams, and the strong scented cheese while I chose a bottle of wine that would not take me over my paltry luggage allowance (this was Il Calepino 2007). Next time. I recommended we drink Campari (rosso) and soda with the salami that Vineria Cozzi served us and this worked perfectly. The fresh bread served with it was the best I have enjoyed in Italy, it had flavour both soft and stretchy textures, sesame seeds and poppy seeds. It minded me that the bread sold at Il Fornaio where we had had the pizza al taglio was classified according to the type of flour used (e.g. integrale, typo ’00′, etc.)

The main meals were served in the restaurant (see a menu) part which contrasted from the French cafe feel of the bar area with its wall to wall spirits, wines and liqueurs–particularly grappa of a bewildering variety of grapes, both blends and singles and the enticing camomile liqueur made my Marolo which I didn’t get to try. For our first main meal of the trip we ordered the local casoncelli, as we were to later at San Michele. Here I was more convinced that they made their own. (I think San Michele must have prepared theirs using the artisanal pasta you can buy by the kilo from the salumerie.) Again, served with melted butter, oil, seasoned beautifully and garnished with whole crisp fried sage leaves and similarly crisp pancetta. The nature of pasta is that it makes you eat quickly. These parcels of immense flavour, however, encouraged you to let the morsels melt in your mouth. Having already been fed like kings with our prosecchi, we did not feel we wanted any more food but we did order grappa, the choice being given was sweet/smooth (morbide) or dry (secche). The rest of the choice we left to the waiter. We had not at this stage realised that we were in a place of genuine grappa connoiseurship. We ordered dry. By this time, the curfew bell tolled by the Campanone (town bell tower) was tolling for its 100th strike (it rings 180 times to remind the medieval peasantry to return home behind the walls at 10pm). The waiter arrived with two bicchierini of the most elegant form: like a rare Dutch tulip growing from the most slender of stems. I asked the waiter what the grappa was and we were openly shown the bottle: Grappa Gaja & Rey made by Castello di Barbaresco. Crystal clear, smooth as a good astringent honey. Heady, yet able to seep slowly into every sinew. Evening two at the Vineria, which had started with Campari and salami noting well the seriousness with which they took their food and drink [interesting choice of background image behind a display of artisanal glasses and presentation wine, a black and white photograph of a sumptuous feast (c.1980?) being enjoyed by three naked women, wearing pearls and a naked man embracing them and the feast] there followed another choice each from the primi menu, for me fusili (emphasis on the middle ‘i’) in venison stewed with cocoa and for my friend homemade gnocchi in a wild mushroom stew with toasted pine nuts, accompanied by a glass of Verdicchio. We went straight for a sweet thought each. I washed mine down with probably one of the best red wines I have ever had with a meal, ‘Il Kalos’, a Calepino wine of pure Cabernet Sauvignon, strong at 14.1%, described as deep ruby red with purple reflections. I imagined that the very wealthy Athenian aristocrats would have (should have) drunk something like this when pondering participative democracy, out of a krater perhaps. Or was this the wine that the ancient Persians quaffed and got drunk to while mulling over important decisions (so said Herodotus)? I digress. Finally to our sweet thoughts. Friend: meringue topped ice cream with fig syrup sauce, me: Tower of Babel, a chocolate fondant pudding made with extra dark chocolate aubergines and pink pepper corns, served with a cardamom short biscuit. Really there were no words. You must eat it to understand.

And that was just in Bergamo’s old town. Eating in Milan was more or less on the hoof, with a note worth making on ‘Il Milanese’ (Via Santa Maria, 11 – read the Frommer’s review) whose untranslated genuinely authentic menu was deserving of more than our fleeting visit at the end of lunch service (they accommodated us for a quick pasta none the less–Vi ringraziamo!). While I had to take the opportunity of relaxing into some porcini tagliatelle, my companion went for the signature risotto milanese, resplendent saffron gold in the white bowl. If you are in Monza, do keep a sum of money aside to sit outside with a coffee, or if you are in a devil may care mood, a spremuta d’arancia (freshly squeezed orange juice) at Confetteria Moderno in Piazza Roma, adjacent to the medieval covered market.

Tortelli di zucca, San Vigilio

San Vigilio brought me to the end of my short sojourn in Lombardy. We reached the village after a morning wandering the side streets of Bergamo, taking ourselves then down to the Donizetti museum where the tones of Anna Bolena gently wafted through our ears and remained with us to the end of the day. We took the second funicular railway of the city up to San Vigilio and arrived around midday. We were greeted with spectacular views across to the foothills of the Alps and the lush green terraces of the plains below. As we exited the tiny station we saw an ‘api’ van deliver fresh sticks of bread to the restaurant/pizzeria which has taken its name from the village, San Vigilio. We were going originally to go for a coffee or a juice and ended up there for the entirety of lunch service, overlooking the same view we enjoyed on our arrival from an enclosed terrace table, but with opera in our ears and the slow continuum of exceptional food and drink, the hovering mist giving way to warm mare’s tails and moments of blue, this was a genuinely other worldly experience. It would be silly to labour the point, so here is what we ate and drank:

Pane: sticks of plain, poppyseed and sesame seed bread (two rounds)
Primi: tortelli di zucca e zatate con Burro versato e mandorle (pumpkin and potato stuffed pasta with melted butter and toasted almonds) (two rounds)
Secondi: tagliata di manzo con rucola, grana e patate al forno (bavette style steak, cooked medium-rare with rocket, grana cheese and served with oven baked potatoes) and
stufato di manzo con velo di speck e mela caramellata (stewed beef with slices of smoked cooked ham and caramelized apples)
Patatine fritte (French Fries)
Da bere: a half bottle of Toscano Ruffino (red) and natural mineral water.
Digestivo: two caffè, one with grappa of Optima Gialla (peppery, herby, strong, warmth) and the other with grappa of Prime Uve Nera.

I would like to blog about dancing a bit more. I have always loved dancing but never really taken up the opportunity to do it myself since I left school and most recently I have been very taken with the BBC show, Strictly Come Dancing. One of this year’s celebrity contestants is Tom Chambers, actor. He has compelling in every dance he has performed and apart from a large amount of emphasis on his wedding during the first half of the series, has escaped much of the comment and criticism surrounding some of the other celebrities in the show.

I came across this little video of Tom Chambers recreating a Fred Astaire routine in Damsel in Distress. Tap dancing and drums. It is not worth describing, just watch it! Tom Chambers brings the classic charm and showbiz of the 1930s into the 21st century. How refreshing.

Birdsong was broadcasted when Oneword went off air. It was originally used for the test transmission of Classic FM before its launch in 1992. It was then used three years ago for the station “D1_temp” and was popular with listeners who sent into complaints when it was taken off air in June 2005.

Since April 2008, it has broadcast (most effectively) in stereo.

Devoted listeners should note warnings on the UK Digital Radio website:

Listeners and Birdsong enthusiasts should note the transmission could cease at any time and that the recording is not commercially available.

Please note that the line up of birds featured in the cast may change without warning due to illness, weather and migration.

One listener quoted in a Telegraph Online article said:

It is a lot more enjoyable than some of the rubbish on air these days – and definitely better than debate or phone-in shows full of ‘oiks’ shouting at each other.

Read the Telegraph Online article about the surprising popularity of Birdsong.

As for me, it’s like having the outside inside which as I stare lovingly at the garden from one of the kitchen windows and over the urban valley through the other, makes me feel like I am in some weird kind of aural landscape! I recommend it.

Having had a very lemony dinner, it reminded me of the lemons I met in Amalfi last year. These were being sold in one of the local green grocers. Amalfitan lemons are too big to hold comfortably in the hand but the feel of their knarled skins sends sparks of rapture through your body. Limone oose the twangiest, most sublime elixir of all the citrus fruits. It is said that the origin of the word lemon derives from the Sanskrit, nimbuka and came into European languages via Persian, limu. Terraces of lemon trees reach up to the heavens all around Amalfi. Walking the streets and climbing the salità, the salty coastal breezes are royal carriages for the seraphic scent of the lemon trees, their leaves, bark and fruit. Breathe in and golden light permeates every pore in your body; breathe out and you smile. Fruits of ecstacy and pleausre.