Milan, Italy: Del Vuoto

Source

Not sure if you’ve ever been, but August in Milan is like New York City on Labor Day weekend, except the exodus lasts for an entire month.  The majority of the city’s population heads off on month-long holidays.  So when I did some research into where to eat when I was there solo that first week of August, the first couple of places to pique my interest were already closed for the August holiday.  Luckily, one of the place I’d heard about was open until the 11^th, and so on Saturday night I enjoyed my own company at Del Vuoto. 

Del Vuoto, meaning the vacuum, is so named because of the heavy reliance on the sous vide cooking method.  Nearly everything served is given the hot bath treatment.   The restaurant is nestled away in a distinctly non-touristy area of Milan, about a 20 minute walk west of the bustling Navigli area.  There were no English menus to be found and the owner and waiter didn’t appear to be used to addressing English speakers.  Music played softly in the background, complementing the buzz of Italian heard all around me. 

Dining alone can sometimes be an awkward endeavor, particularly in a higher-end establishment.  Not the case at Del Vuoto.  I was directed to my table, which had already been set for one because I had e-mailed to make a reservation the night before.  Enrico, the proprietor with whom I’d e-mailed, could not have been more gracious.  He offered me a glass of prosecco on the house before guiding me through the rather complicated menu.  While by no means an Italian speaker, through my extensive dining experiences, in New York and abroad, I've gained a pretty solid handle on what I'll call 'menu Italian.'  This was something far beyond the purview of what I was used to, as the menu was littered with lesser-known ingredients and nontraditional cooking methods.    

Salt cod amuse.

After Enrico poured me the prosecco, the waiter greeted me with an amuse bouche of cod mousse with olives.  It was fishy, smoky and overall just plain good. 

Once I was through with my prosecco, I went with a Sicilian white, the name of which I can’t recall.  Though the menu didn't list by-the-glass options, Enrico was more than happy to open a bottle to pour me a glass since it was obvious I wouldn’t be finishing a bottle on my own (he clearly doesn't know me).  The wine was lovely with my first course, octopus with smoked eggplant puree and toasted breadcrumbs. 

Let's pretend this isn't the worst picture ever taken, k?
This octopus is undeserving of such pathetic treatment.

Now, I’ve eaten a lot of octopus in my life, and this might just have been the best I’ve had.  Incredibly tender from the sous vide and sporting a nice crispy exterior from a post-bath sear.    The eggplant was puree lent only a whiff of smoke, just enough to make you notice it, but not so much as to overwhelm, as smoked things are wont to do.   The breadcrumbs were rather flavorless and could have used a hit of salt, but they served their intended function of lending texture to the dish.  A healthy glug of olive oil completed the dish and made for some good bread dippage at the end.  I could have used a bit of acid, like some tomatoes or olives, but the dish overall was truly great. 

A slightly better pic of the octopus plucked
from Trip Advisor

My empty plate was whisked away and I was left to observe those around me.  The couple to the left of me sat in pronounced silence for well over the majority of their meal.  So did I, of course, but I signed up for it and was quite enjoying myself.

Vacuum-cooked turbot

I moved on to the turbot, served with dilled potatoes and braised fennel.  Though I love the effects of sous vide, I will always be just a little bit weirded out by the shapes proteins often take on during the process.  My fish was tender and moist as hell, but the effects of the vacuum-sealed bag in which it’d been cooked were readily apparently, its shape distorted and pinched where the bag had come down around it.  The fish was seasoned merely with salt and showered with olive oil to let the fresh, clean flavors of the fish come through.   The accompanying potatoes had also taken a plastic-wrapped bath and they tasted of nothing but pure potato; as a girl who used to eat slices of raw potato (yea, I know), these were potatoes I could get behind. 

The incredibly warm service continued after my entree was whisked away.  I was brought a dessert menu, and decided to order the most obscure thing from it, chocolate with a sorbet of something that, even translated into English, I'd never heard of before, which I was drawn to because it was described as bitter.  But before that was brought out, Enrico stopped by to hand me a glass of lovely dessert wine on the house, and to gab a bit more.  

Chocolate with...something.  You're welcome.

Then, dessert, the chocolate taking the form of a more luxurious, super-rich pudding littered with chunks of chocolate meringue, offset entirely by the refreshing, bitter bite of the sorbet.  I had no idea what it was made from, but I couldn't really have given less of a shit.  It was delicious.  

Though certainly not the most traditionally Milanese of meals, I can't really speak highly enough about this restaurant.  While the food wasn't flawless, it was very well-executed, really quite good, and given the quality of the ingredients and the portion size, really quite affordable.  The effusive service and obvious zeal of the owner and the staff just made the meal that much better.  

Del VuotoVia Giambellino, 12, Milano 

+39 02 94555592 

For reservations e-mail info@delvuoto.com 

Trufflepalooza at Locanda Verde

(Source)

I like Locanda Verde.  I like truffles.  I like wine.  I saw no reason why I wouldn’t like all of these things together.  Though the reservation line opened and closed before I was able to secure my spot for the third annual Trufflepalooza, I jumped at Urban Daddy’s offer of a multi-course, wine-paired meal bedecked with truffles in the cozy back room of the TriBeCa restaurant.  Sure, it was pricier than the initial restaurant offer, but it included wine pairings (which proved to be generously poured), a couple of additional bites, and tax and tip, which meant that, come Monday, we were completely settled-up. 

The last time Rob and I were at Locanda Verde with his family, we sat next to a table of Kardashians (Khloe, Lamar, Kris and Kourtney, the douchey-looking guy and their kid).  This time, though, we came for truffles.  The event was held in the private room in the rear of the restaurant.  Upon checking in, we were greeted with a glass of prosecco (Aneri Prosecco Brut).  I always enjoy a glass of bubbly, so not a bad start at all.  Place cards dictated seating, and Rob and I nestled in to our (tight) seats in the center of one of the two long communal tables that had been set up back-to-back.   All of the food (save the burrata) was served family-style on large platters, so making friends with those across from us was inevitable. 

After our prosecco (the only glass of the night I was able to successfully polish off, despite leaving rather tipsy), we were given a hearty pour of Inama Soave Classico 2009, a full, round white that stood up well to the truffle flavor dotting our first courses. (The restaurant was supremely dark, so please bear with my Camera+'ed iPhone photos.  Danke.)

 The bread course was not immune to the truffle treatment; the black truffle focaccia was light and airy and eminently fluffy, though my piece tasted more of cheese than of truffle.  Not a bad thing, of course, but not precisely as advertised.

Plates of beef tartare descended upon the table next.  Portioned atop well-oiled crostini and crowned with a wisp of black truffle, the beef lacked zing.  It tasted merely of cold and fat, and could have used a bit more time with the salt shaker.  The truffle, though optically present, didn’t stand up to the taste of the meat, which overpowered. 

Perhaps my favorite course of the evening was the burrata, though this might not be a fair contest given my deep-rooted affection for the cheese.  It was everything burrata should be, creamy, salty, ooey, gooey.  It played wonderfully with the roasted butternut squash and melted leeks.  The truffles were perfect here – the funky earthiness a welcome complement to the salty cheese and the sweet roasted veggies.  Pumpkin seeds for crunch and a light coat of dressing helped knock this dish out of the park. 

Once the last licks of burrata were cleared from the table, the red wine portion of the evening commenced with a hefty glass of Renato Ratti Nebbiolo d’Alba 2009, my favorite wine of the evening.  Of the three glasses in front of me by the end of the night, this was the wine I kept coming back to, pairings be damned. 

Buckwheat ravioli was up next, stuffed with truffled ricotta and topped with a blanket of trumpet mushrooms, cabbage and black truffle shavings.  This dish was another hit at the table, the pasta was toothsome and nutty, and despite being obviously bathed in butter, felt almost wholesome.  The truffle came through very subtly in this dish, not taking over, but merely accenting the other ingredients.  Not a raviolo remained when the plates were cleared. 

The meat portion of the meal was paired with a big red, Grifalco della Lucania Aglianico del Vulture 2008.  The chicken came portioned into quarters, flanked on all sides by chestnut chicken sausage, Brussels sprouts and apples, all atop a bed of lovely black beluga lentils (one of my favorite types).  The lentils were awesome, the Brussels sprouts great, the chicken – oh the chicken – so flavorful, so well-seasoned, so…dry.  The sausage was pretty good, certainly juicy with a nice snappy casing.  But the chicken merely served to uphold my belief that one should not order chicken in a restaurant; sure it was tasty and well-seasoned, but ultimately, it’s just chicken. 

I’ve been to Locanda Verde multiple times before, always drawn back by the sheep’s milk ricotta and, as out of character as it may be, the desserts.  Karen DeMasco does supremely ridiculous things at the restaurant - by day with the pastry bar up front, by night with desserts.  Never has a dessert failed to satisfy there – and it’s the rare case when it fails to go above and beyond mere satisfaction.  Monday night’s dessert was no different.  It was, in a word, incredible.  It was the one course that sent murmurs up and down the tables, that had strangers locking eyes in mutual, contented surprise.   Her carrot black truffle cake came to the table looking rather ordinary, aside from the pile of black truffles atop it, of course.   It was far from ordinary, though – a crunchy, chewy crust gave way to a moist, dense, almost gritty crumb that I imagine was the product of cornmeal in the batter.  The white chocolate mascarpone crema was delicious as well, thick and rich and far from sweet.  The whole dessert had a very savory quality, and I kept digging my fork in well past my declaration to Rob that I was about to burst.  It was, in a word, awesome. 

Though there were high and low points of the meal, we enjoyed a lot of good food, which I’ve come to expect from Locanda Verde and a lot of good wine.  Not a bad Monday night at all.  

Locanda Verde

377 Greenwich St (at N. Moore St.)

(212) 925-3797