Ristorante Fiorentino

Veni Vidi Mangia

My worldly and sophisticated wife was born in Sansepolcro in the Valtiberina region of Tuscany, near the birthplace of Michelangelo.  It is a rural area of picturesque forested rolling hills, quaint family farms and tiny walled medieval towns.  Other than her parents, the remainder of her family stayed in Sansepolcro to live a life of dining on pasta with wild boar ragu, drinking Sangiovese, playing bocce ball and having animated conversations punctuated with wild gesticulations.  When I asked my wife what people do in Sansepolcro for a living, she responded “nothing that is apparent.”

Each town in Valtiberina is dominated by a majestic weathered church, some as old as a millennium.  In Sansepolcro, the church is decorated with frescoes by the prominent Quattrocento artist Piero della Francesca. 

The slivers of light piercing through the stained glass windows faded by the centuries made me reminisce about my own experiences with Catholicism.  As a teenager, my friends and I would celebrate Christmas Eve by playing poker all night followed by hours of bowling beginning at 6:00 AM on Christmas Day.  Since we had not visited her hometown for many years, and now that the whelps had been successfully launched into adulthood, a pilgrimage was in order.  Upon our arrival in Tuscany we climbed to the Santuario della Verna, the home of Saint Francis of Assisi after he foreswore all worldly pleasures.  There he lived a life of abstinence sleeping on a stone and eating what pittance that nature provided.

In order to perform a rigorous Level III scientific controlled study of lifestyle choices, we went directly from Santuario della Verna to Ristorante Fiorentino in Sansepolcro.  Originally founded in 1807, it has been owned by my wife’s family for four generations.  The current proprietor is Alessia Uccellini, my wife’s cousin.  Alessia is a famous celebrity chef in Italy who is featured on her own television show.  In her spare time she travels to the United States to teach and demonstrate the history of Italian cuisine at Purdue University.  Alessia told me that despite having four young daughters whom she raises, she personally supervises all of the dishes at Ristorante Fiorentino because the soul of her family resides in the restaurant. 

After an emotional reunion of my wife with Alessia and eight other family members, we sat down for a serious Italian pranzo.  The proceedings were lubricated with a decanter of Sangiovese vino fatto in casa:  homemade wine served directly from the cask.  Light, fruity and slightly tannic, it rivaled its big brother, Brunello di Montalcino.

We began an extravaganza of antipasti with a selection of locally made salumi:  prosciutto, cappicola and finocchio (fennel) salami.  The cured pork was accompanied by ciaccia fritta, small portions of bread fried to a crisp golden brown, and Raviggiolo, a soft, light Tuscan cheese prepared from a mix of cow and goat milk.  The Raviggiolo was drizzled with a soupçon of black truffle oil from truffles hunted in the nearby hills by Alessia’s husband, Daniele.  Daniele uses the ancient technique of looking for elevations of leaves on the forest floor and flipping them up with a stick to reveal the hidden gem underneath. 

Since, in the words of that eminent philosopher, David Lee Roth, too much ain’t enough, Alessia also served more antipasti of crostini with a variety of spreads (olive, tomato, tartufo and paté) and Tartare di Viteloni.  The tartare was made from Chianina, a porcelain white breed of cow renowned for its unsurpassed lean meat.

Our palates were cleansed by the Tuscan classic, a Panzanella salad of day-old shredded bread, tomato, celery, cucumber, onion and basil leaves.  This delightful mixture of flavors and textures was softened by a light vinaigrette of extra-virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. 

After an hour of wine, antipasti and conversation (most of which was probably centered on mocking yours truly who does not speak or comprehend a word of Italian), we were ready for the Primi Piatti.  All pasta was fatto in casa style.  Unlike the hard, packaged pasta from the nearby Buitoni factory, fatto in casa is rolled by hand from the dough and cooked for only two to three minutes to be simultaneously tender and al dente.  The rustic and slightly irregular shapes added to the appeal.  Bringoli, a thick spaghetti variety, was served cacio e pepe style and covered with thinly sliced fried local Valtiberina red onions. The Pecorino cheese and olive oil coated the noodles; the subtle pepper added a hint of spicy bite to the dish.  Agnoloti were stuffed with Chianina, and, so as to not waste Daniele’s efforts, covered with tartufo nero.

One might think that this meal’s train was pulling into the station, but the youthful and indulgent St. Francis would wisely advise otherwise.  Alessia now presented the pièce de resistance (or should I say the pezzo forte), the Secondi Piatti, Bistecca Fiorentino.  A thick, juicy Porterhouse was grilled over an open wood flame to a perfect rare to retain the tenderness and succulence of the local beef.  It was lightly seasoned in the rustic Tuscan style with salt, pepper, a touch of rosemary and a sprinkle of olive oil to allow the natural flavors to shine.  The steak was sliced and served Peter Luger style with olive oil based fennel, juniper, mustard and pepper sauces and a side of fried potatoes.

As Alessia wheeled out the dessert tray, it now became clear to me why all of Italy closes between 1:30 PM and 4:30 PM.  Priorities, priorities.  I searched for a tiny bit of remaining real estate in my abdominal cavity so as not to disappoint our hostess.  She served the traditional Tuscan tart, crostata.  A shortcrust pastry was covered in an open-faced design with fig preserves and dotted with walnuts to achieve a harmonious balance of the sweetness of the filling and the buttery, crumbly crust and a charming, imperfect, rustic appearance.

The crostata was accompanied by vin santo, a sweet dessert wine served with homemade biscotti for dipping.

Do I have the steely strength of St. Francis or will I continue to weakly succumb to temptation?  Can I live the holy and healthy life of asceticism or will I continue on the road of Epicureanism to perdition?  Unfortunately for my future, the following night we had dinner at Alessia’s house.  I spied her teaching her secrets to the lovely wife.  So, as to avoid embarrassment, I will leave the questions unanswered.