The Food Maven Diary
[Archives]

[Previous Entry] [Diary Home] [Next Entry]

08/29/2007 Archived Entry: "Tropea"

I haven’t yet told you about my misadventure in Tropea, the ancient Calabrian beach town that I mentioned in passing several diary entries ago. It is famous for its sweet red onions, and I told you I had learned an excellent onion sauce for pasta when I was last there, more than a year ago, but that I needed to clarify my recollection of it. My notes on it were not as good as they should have been.

The sauce is, as I did indeed recall correctly, nothing more than finely chopped onions cooked covered and very slowly in olive oil until they are practically a cream. The finishing touch is some wine, cooked down quickly with the onions to add a little acidity and flavor. No herbs, no nothing else.

I got the recipe from a restaurant called Cece, which is short of Cesare, the name of the owner, a small stocky man who promised I could observe in his kitchen when I returned. So I returned. But I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. It is totally off limits, said his much sterner wife. I discovered that at the height of the season, which it was, his 20-something son and daughter work at the restaurant, too, which is in Largo Toraldo Grimaldi (largo is an alternate word for a piazza) in the picturesque historic center of town. For the summer, the tables are set in the largo, set off and apart by flower boxes. The setting is out of a movie. So is Cece’s daughter, a stunning girl who exposes as much of her magnificent body as, well, I suppose Mamma and Papa will allow. I am thinking, actually, that they may even be allowing more than they personally like because it is good for business. When not a waitress, by the way, she said she is an aspiring tango dancer. She did have great posture.

In any case, I turned on my charm to the whole family, but still wasn’t allowed in the kitchen, or allowed to know any more about the onion sauce than I already knew. The daughter, however, did tell me that it is not finished with white wine, as I thought, but with red wine. She claims the particular red wine makes all the difference, and that she would not tell me.

I bought 22 pounds (10 kilo) of Tropea onions while in the area, made the sauce when I got back to Seliano, used red wine instead of white – Cecilia’s house wine – and I have to say that my sauce may have been even better than Cece’s. As I know that the slow-cooking of Tropea onions is also done in other dishes, I am certain that this sauce must be made at home, too, not just at his restaurant.

My fascination with Tropea is over, by the way. When I first went it was late fall, and I was impressed by the magnificent white sand beaches, the turquoise and sapphire color of the sea, the position of the ancient building on a ridge overlooking the beaches and the sea, the maze of back streets lined with well-maintained ancient buildings. None of that has changed, obviously, but filled to the gills with less-than-classy sun worshippers, families with screaming children, and storefronts open to expose all the tourist crap that is sold in places like this, Tropea was really dismal. Even the ceramics were terrible. I have never been to a place where I didn’t covet at least one piece of pottery. Tropea is better out of season, than in season.

The nearly neighboring town of Pizzo Calabro was much more attractive. It’s the town, I have mentioned before, whose main piazza, Piazza della Repubblica, is lined with gelaterie. It is the ice cream town. Because I am on a diet, and ice cream is strictly forbidden, this is less of an attraction for me than it was the first time I was here. But I had a pleasant fish lunch at Le Castellane. It’s called “the castle” because it is in view of the castle where Joachim Murat, the early 19th century king of Naples, enthroned by his brother-in-law Napoleon Bonaparte, was executed.

The best, or at least most famous gelato in Pizzo is not, however, in the wonderful main piazza, although I wouldn’t hesitate to stop and enjoy one there, really at any of the cafes. They are all quite good and all serve their own slight variation on the tartufo, an ice cream ball of one flavor or another, coated with one type of chocolate or another.

No, the place that is most highly touted for gelato is called Enrico and it is in Marinella, a community at the edge of Pizzo, only a long street from the beach. With a car, it was very easy to get to. It is surrounded by a garden and a pergola set with tables, and although it was not very busy, there were plenty of beach goers enjoying ice cream at an hour that most Italians are resting after lunch. At night, I am thinking it is probably a very busy scene.

Bob ordered Enrico’s signature item, a tartufo of both chocolate and hazelnut ice cream, with a runny chocolate center, all coated with cocoa. I had two bites, one from the chocolate side, one from the hazelnut side, then I distracted myself from the ice cream by striking up a conversation with the cashier, who was curious why I was not ordering an ice cream myself. It ended up that she is one of the three brother-sister, second generation owners. Their father had started the business in the main piazza of Pizzo in 1972, with a partner, then he opened this beach-side operation alone in 1978. In a few minutes, her brother showed up, then her sister, so I met the whole family.

By then I had learned that she, too, was dieting, and, more importantly, she said, exercising. She walks two hours a day, usually after lunch, instead of sleeping two hours a day. In all, she has lost more than 40 pounds. She does not eat her own products, which, incidentally are imported into the U.S. by a company in Florida. Her brother tried to look the company up on the internet for me, but with no success. He promises to email me the contact info so that I can follow up and find out where we can buy Enrico’s sensational gelato tartufo at home. I somehow, however, don’t think it will taste quite as great as it does in the tropical garden by the beach in Calabria. As I always say, and still believe, food always tastes better on vacation.

Tropea Onion Sauce for Pasta
Serves 8

9 cups finely chopped sweet onions (lacking Tropea onions, I would use Vidalia, Maui,
Walawala, any sweet onion, not necessarily red)
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon salt, or more to taste
1/2 cup dry red wine
Freshly ground black pepper (optional)
1 pound spaghetti, linguine, or short tubular macaroni, such as penne
Grated pecorino or Parmigiano-Reggiano or Grana Padano, or a combination
of the pecorino and one of the others

Choose a wide-bottomed pan with a cover, such as a 10-inch, straight-sided sauté pan. Combine the onions and oil in the pan, cover and place over medium heat.

As soon as the onions start to sizzle, reduce the heat to very low and cook for about 1 hour and 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. The onions should give off quite a bit of moisture, become very soft, but not at all colored. They will stew, not fry.

Add the wine, increase the heat to medium-high, and stir constantly for 3 or 4 minutes until the wine has reduced and the mixture becomes even creamier. Adjust the salt, as necessary. Cece does not add pepper, but there’s no reason you can’t, either to the sauce or at the table. The sauce may be made ahead and reheated.

Boil the pasta in about 5 quarts of well-salted water until done to taste. Drain well. Pour the pasta into the sauce, and toss together over low heat to mix thoroughly.

Serve immediately, passing the cheese.