The Fat and The Fattoria of the Land

Sometimes, life in Italy can be awkward. Like when you invite some Italians over for lunch. You warn them that it will be an English style Sunday roast. You present them with some roast pork; it doesn’t have crackling; it is 30% fat and then you completely fail to carve it properly. They explain to you that you are doing it all wrong and that you should have cut your joint up into chops and that you can by a suckling pig at the central market.

In England, you cock up your Sunday roast and your guests say: ‘No, this is lovely. Thanks ever so much.’ Not until they leave and are out of earshot would they pass comment on your inability to serve them a proper meal. Maybe honesty is a good thing. Sometimes it is unwelcome.

To be fair to myself and to my guests, it was perhaps a little risky to pre-order a piece of meat, from a breed of pig I hadn’t cooked with before, without having seen it. But it was all part of a bigger plan (and a bigger meat order). To go back to Chianti; to meet my Twitter buddy Ray; to see his pigs and to buy his pork. Sunday lunch was always going to be an afterthought.

Twitter has been good to me over here. Tips on sightseeing and tourism, cooking advice, banter with other English speakers (something in very short supply outside the house). It keeps me connected to the UK and it helps me navigate my way through daily Tuscan life. And Twitter led me to Ray.

Ray has a large estate in Chianti just outside the town of Castellina. Way back when, he set up Tuscan Enterprises, a villa rental agency, from there and now he also runs his estate where he raises the traditional Tuscan pig: the Cinta Senese. He turns this pork into delicious salume, he grows olives for oil and produces very good Chianti too.

On our arrival, the beautiful location was at its best with a clear blue sky; the remnants of the previous week’s snow-fall adding interest for the kids. Ray was waiting for us and his wife, Rita, had prepared prosciutto, salami, oil and bread for tasting.

After baby feeding and chat, Ray took me into the ‘laboratorio’ (an Italian word used for most small food production premises as well as craft workshops) the building where his pigs are butchered and the cured products are made. From the outside it had the appearance of an old stables block but inside were very modern climate controlled curing rooms and a spotless butchery.

He led me around these rooms showing me hams and salamis at different stages of production. All walls clad in hygienic plastic that I know well from the smokery. Despite its history and rustic image, nearly all salami and ham are cured in these very modern surroundings nowadays. Environmental legislation dictates it. Even with no one working there, we weren’t allowed to go into the main meat processing area lest it be contaminated.

The main ingredients or these products are reared a stones throw away. The piglets and younger pigs are housed in 2 barns where they are kept under a watchful eye until they are ready to be released out into the outdoor rearing areas. So we went to see the mums and their squeaky and timid piglets keeping warm under IR lamps.

Outside, the ground was rocky, wet, and muddy; the few pigs we saw seemed content splodging around under the oak trees. Though Ray explained that they don’t like the wet very much. 

The photo is of Pippo who Ray told us liked to show off by walking over rocky areas that were particularly hazardous and uncomfortable for them.

The Cinta Senese is a rare breed or heritage breed that was bred back from near extinction in the late 90s. It has a black coat with a white saddle or ‘cinta’. In the UK we have saddlebacks and Essex pigs that look a little like them. There is lots more info on Ray’s site.

Returning to the old farmhouse, we were treated to an assaggiare of prosciutto, salami, oil, sun-dried tomatoes, garlic shoots, aubergines in oil, and good bread. This was accompanied by the three wines that are produced from the farm. Conversation and wine flowed. The prosciutto was sweet and fatty, tender and delicious. So too the salami and the soft, fatty finochiona that came home in the car with me and which has disappeared quickly.

Although we spent most of our time their talking about the products and the farm, I never got round to asking Ray why he ran the farm and raised the pigs. He told me there was little or no money in it. This is something that I have heard from another Tuscan farmer and a story not uncommon in the UK. Though Ray doesn’t appear as to be a wide-eyed idealist who is striving for that mythical old Tuscan simplicity.

Despite having been here for 6 months, I am very much a novice on Italian salume but I think I am beginning to understand the difference between good and bad. I know that the better finocciona over here is very soft and that my favourite hams are sweeter. Beyond that I am need of education I think.

Over here in Italy I am regularly confronted with walls or racks full of hams and salumi. I find the choice overwhelming and confusion reigns when choosing what to buy. Having a plate presented to you, ready sliced, with no choice allows you to forget about the selection process and to concentrate on the flavour and the texture. Which is what I did at Ray’s and was well rewarded.

After a long and easy chat over the wine and salume, we packed up the kids and headed off over the Tuscan hills. Back home, I unwrapped my meat purchases and was presented with a very fat loin of pork, a piece of guanciale, an uncured pig jowl, a whole finochiona, and heaps of sausages. A true pork fest.

You know what happened to the loin. The jowl was cooked for about 8 hours and is currently maturing in a kind of fatty, 5spicey, appley sludge destined for some fat noodles. The guanciale has been started and will likely last me until we move out of here. The finochiona has almost all gone.

And, the sausages? Well, see for yourself:

To Beef or Not To Beef or a Trip to find Dario Cechhini of Panzano - "The Most Famous Butcher in The World"

Our second journey into the heart of the Chianti region was again accompanied by a continuous drizzle of rain. The road from Florence to Greve (and on to Panzano) is not generally pretty in this weather though the vista, when glimpsed thorough the low-lying clouds, was mistily glorious. And it got better the further we drive away from Florence. Those famous rolling hills dotted with the ancient farmhouses of wealthy Brits. Like a browner, less green Cotswolds. A bit. Sort of.

For Dr B’s birthday I had planned a trip to the world famous butcher Dario Cecchini’s restaurant for a Mac Dario. His riposte to the world of fast food. We arrived early, working on the assumption that any world famous butcher would be overrun with likeminded tourists vying to touch the hem of his butcher’s apron.

His butchers' shop is the Tuscan culinary equivalent of Big Ben. Since hitting the headlines with his funeral for the bistecca he has appeared on Anthony Bourdain’s tv series, Gary Rhodes’ tv series, and had a large section of Bill Buford’s great book Heat given over to him. As well as numerous article in the press and online. In short, he is very well known outside of his native country and there aren’t many butchers you can say that about.

On entering his shop we were immediately made welcome with small tumblers of wine, crostini, finnochiona, and fettunta. The equivalent of those small plates of cut up sausages that you get back home. With, perhaps, just a touch more culinary grace.

In the counter of the beautifully preserved and tiled shop were (vacuum packed) packs of beef*, the famous and delicious burro del Chianti, on a butcher’s block was Dario’s porchetta and through a glass door we could see whole hind legs of the famous Spanish beef he imports. (Whilst we chatted, an Italian and a Canadian man started shouldering these great trunks of beef into a van. Apparently a lot of work happens at a 'laboratorio' elsewhere in the town).

When the friendly staff realised we were here primarily to eat, we were whisked up a staircase to the Officina. Here the open grill fire was being lit and fuelled by old vines (not, unfortunately for our lunch) and the long table was set for lunch. On the table were ‘Il Profumo Del Chianti’ (a flavoured salt), and some squeezy bottles containing a mustard sauce, a tomato sauce, and a sweet chilli sauce. The latter made by Judy.

The menu for lunch is simple. There are two options: the Mac Dario or the Accoglienza (which loosely translates as ‘the reception’ or welcome). We plumped for a Mac Dario but when we saw the Accoglienze we ordered one of those to share too. I mean it would have been an insult to the man and to his meat not to try everything. Wouldn't it?

The burger, like nearly all burgers over here, was served without a bun. (Which is obviously very wrong). But it wasn’t totally Atkins approved as it was coated in breadcrumbs before frying. It came with beautifully flavoured roast potatoes, soft red onions, and some salad. The burger was rare and had a great beefy flavour. Not in the mold of your traditional US style, but wonderfully tender and flavourful.

The Mac Dario

The Accoglienza was, inevitably, a more interesting and varied affair. Along with Dario’s well known and frankly awesome ‘sushi del chianti’ and his ‘tonno del chianti’ was his porchetta, and his cosimino (basically a meat loaf). Along with this came the joyous sight of a bowl of raw vegetables to eat with oil, vinegar, and the ‘Profumo’. Having been in Tuscany for 6 months now, I was enraptured by this bowl of raw, undressed vegetables. I love celery and carrots and being given a mound to chomp my way through was actually a real pleasure in what soon became a table landscaped with meat.

We thought the porchetta was a little dry and the meatloaf pretty ordinary but the sushi was wonderful and the tonno was great too. If you go, order a burger and the Accoglienza to share. It’ll be more than enough.

tonno del chianti

After we had filled every last nook and cranny of our digestive systems with meat we strolled through the drizzle up to the old part of the town. Here was another butcher’s shop and no doubt close by were some sage Tuscans nodding knowingly at the tourists and remarking that Dario’s was no longer the best butcher in Panzano and that actually this lesser known one was in fact a lot better. A trait that appears to be as common to Florence as it does to the UK. 

When lightly soaked by the persistent Chiantishire rain, we walked back down Dario’s to do some shopping and the fun began again when Dr B and our friends T’Una engaged Dario in some light-hearted conversation.

'to beef or not to beef'

Dr B made it pretty clear to Dario that his views on British palates (which went something along the lines of: ‘well you can’t eat horseradish with beef, because you can’t drink wine with horseradish. And anyway you Brits don’t really understand wine’) were somewhat misguided. But he didn't budge.

There then ensued a lively discussion that covered ‘Slow Food’ (‘a religion’ – Dario is not a member), MacDonalds, favoured restaurants in Florence (of the two he mentioned Ruth’s vegetarian raised some eyebrows), Alice Waters, and Michael Pollan.

Interspersed with this chat, Dario occasionally pulled down books from his collection on the shelves of the shop and opened them to pages with photos of himself. Dario with Prince Charles (whom he refused to bow to); Dario in Jamie’s Italy; Dario with Alice Waters. And of course he did utter the immortal 'to beef or not to beef' phrase. A man of poetry as well as of butchery.

He seemed like very good company, from the little I could understand and from the reaction of the Italian speakers amongst us. He is a man who is obviously very passionate about what he does. He is also a man who likes to have fun and knows that his big personality is a financial asset. But without products to back up his profile he would disappear from our books, tv, and magazines quickly.

He is of course a showman, a celebrity, an opinionated man but he produces great food. The burro del Chianti I brought home is wonderful and the peposo notturno was just superb. There is little doubt we'll be heading back soon for more of everything.

[ * One thing that was not evident in his counter was raw, unadulterated, un-packed meat. This meant that choosing what to buy was not as straightforward as in a normal butchers. I dare say if I'd asked for a specific cut he could have provided it for me. Also, vacuum packing beef is is frowned upon back in England as it is thought to squeeze much of the moisture from the meat.]

Further reading here

In the Guardian here.

I Trippai Di Firenze - Lampredotto and Tripe Stands in Florence

When I was growing up my mum would occasionally cook us tripe and onions. An English dish which is basically honeycomb tripe simmered in milk and served in a thin bechamel. Onto this we would sprinkle malt vinegar, salt, and pepper. It's not a dish that you could persuade many people to eat and I would eat now only for reasons of nostalgia.

Since childhood I have eaten tripe in France both as andouillette and in a stew, in Portugal with white beans, and now in Florence. The Florence lampredotto panino has definitely been the high point for me. Better even than the pig's stomach soup I once ate in Thailand whilst being eyed up as a potential client by prostitutes.

Florence has a number of stalls and stands around the city serving the traditional trippa alla Fiorentina and Lampredotto. Tripe is served either in panini or in small plastic dishes. Traditionally they are served with red wine but the stalls all sell soft drinks too.

Trippa alla Fiorentina is tripe cooked in a thick tomato sauce, whereas the lampredotto (the fourth stomach of the cow) is cooked in a broth  and then served with some of the boiling liquor and either salsa verde or a picante sauce or both. Some stands also serve tripe served in other ways - with potatoes or chard for example. At least one, Nerbone in the Mercato Centrale also serves bollito (boiled beef) for those not willing to venture into the arena of cooked stomach consumption.

As well as the tourists frequenting the inner city stands, many locals regularly stop by for a quick lunch.

I've put together the map below using the listings in Slow Food's Osterie d'Italia as a starting point. It is not by any means definitive. I don't know the south of Florence very well or the suburbs so if anyone can offer improvements then please let me know. I'll update with pictures and more detail after visiting them.


View Lampredotto and Tripe in Florence in a larger map