A Life Worth Eating

I first heard about this place through Cristina Parizzi in Parma, who pointed it out to me in the Jeunes Restaurateurs d’Europe book as a good place to check out in nearby Modena. Having already been to a couple of restaurants in this association, I was curious to see what this young chef (38, if I remember right) would have up his sleeve. I had an idea of what I was getting into, as seemingly all of the chefs in JRE seem to find comfort in straddling the line between traditional and innovative regional cuisine. This was most certainly not a traditional meal, but chef Luca Marchini’s food has a playfulness to it that I appreciated, as you will see.

I opted, not suprisingly for the Menu Degustazione “Grande” Luca Marchini, eight courses and piccola pasticceria for €55. (And I should add, as an aside, that I was the only patron in the restaurant throughout the entirety of my meal.)

Several types of bread were brought out, along with a tiny glass full of crema di peperoni e pomodoro, a thick, creamy shot of sweet-pepper and tomato puree. I think a bit of tarragon on top as well, if I remember right. This was okay, but certainly not a stunning opener.

The first proper course was sogliola con borragina in padella e vinaigrette di aceto balsamico e senape. Two grilled pieces of sole, with sauteed borrage and a very tasty vinaigrette with balsamic and a grainy mustard. The fish itself was a bit bland, but I thought the choice of condiment was a good one, as the acidity of the vinaigrette really lifted the flavors of both the sole and the borrage.

Next was baccalà marinato e fritto con cippoline in agrodolce. The golf-ball sized chunks of marinated and fried salt cod were tender, flaky, and piping hot. The sweet and sour onions, though, stole the show. They were fantastic.

A pasta course was up next: pasta integrale con triglie, pomodori essiccati ed uvetta, spumosità di mandorla, olive nere. Whole wheat pasta that I don’t remember the name of, but I would call francobolli, as they were shaped almost like large postage stamps. Red mullet, semi-dried tomatoes, tiny sweet golden raisins, almond foam, and black olives. My, my, my. Far and away the best dish of the evening. This was an aboslute knockout. The combination seemed almost a bit Sicilian to me, though the chef claimed the inspiration for it came from no place in particular. The salty-sweet counterplay throughout this dish was really great. I thought it to be perfectly balanced when it came to both texture and flavor. I will have to make this at home sometime.

The best course was unfortunately followed by the weakest. “Arancino” al parmigiano, salsa allo yogurt greco e bottarga, nero di seppie, panna acidulata, caviale italiano. The chef came out to explain this dish, saying it was a marriage of land and sea on a plate. It was also way too busy, and overly tangy. The “land” in this case was, I suppose, the parmigiano-filled risotto fritter, which by itself was tasty. The greek yogurt and bottarga (cured tuna roe) sauce, combined with the creme fraiche, absolutely assaulted the flavors of everything else. I would describe the taste as bacterial, yogurt cultures given free reign. Even the small dollop of Italian caviar was not enough to re-establish balance. This dish, I would say, was a disaster. But hey, it happens.

Things took a turn back in the right direction after this. Tagliatelle con ragout modenese (5 tipologie di carne) came next. At first glace, it seems to be a simple plate of the tagliatelle al ragu that one finds all across this region, with a meaty condiment more focused on the mixture of beef, pork, and veal than on the few tomatoes (and a bit of milk) that bind it. That, of course, would be too boring for this guy, so he came out again to explain his twist on the classic. The pasta was made with embryonic eggs, making it extremely difficult to roll out by hand, he said. The resulting texture, though, was super-porous to soak up the sauce, and he promised a clean plate by the time that I reached the bottom. The five types of meat were just different cuts of beef and pork, with guancia di manzo (beef cheek) definitely among the beef, and guanciale and pancetta among the pork. They were cooked sous-vide for 24 hours, I think he said, and then chopped by hand. This produced a pleasantly coarse texture in the ragu, which I quite liked. The flavors of both the pasta and the condimento were very good, and the plate was clean, as promised, by the time I was done.

Next up was Il parmigiano reggiano: “allenamenti sensorali”. Hmm. This “sensory training” was certainly more than a little reminiscent of a dish I’d had at Osteria La Francescana just a few days prior to this meal. Different ages of parmigiano-reggiano were presented in different forms. The base was a light, airy warm souffle. Layered on top of this was a cookie and gelato, each made with the cheese, of course. Propped against the edge was a very thin cracker, and all of this rested in a light broth perfumed with the cheese. Clearly not your traditional presentation of parmigiano-reggiano. But on the other side of the plate sat the classic: a small chunk of the cheese in a small pool of aceto balsamico, the balsamic vinegar for which the town of Modena is famous. I enjoyed the souffle, but found the other components piled atop it and stacked beside it detracted from the nice texture a little bit. The traditional cheese-and-balsamic, of course, was delicious as well. Not an outstanding dish by any means, but certainly an enjoyable one, and acting as a “cheese course”, I assumed dessert couldn’t be too far behind.

But there was one last savory dish, now, with the Mailino da latte in porchetta (Az. Cura Natura) cotto a bassa temperatura, scalogno glassato. I felt like I was back in the US again, with the mention of the suckling pig’s provenance. This was not cooked sous-vide, the chef said, but rather at very low (don’t remember how low) temperature overnight. The skin was wonderfully crisp, and the meaty-fatty layer on which is rested was fantastic. The meat was moist. Properly (read: aggresively) salted, always a very important detail in my book, and something that often separates great dishes from merely good. The scalogno glassato was a type of glazed onion. Really, really tasty. This guy seems to have a way with onions.

Dessert was fantastic, and a dish I will undoubtedly be replicating in my kitchen at home. Tagliatelle “alla carbonara”…dolci. A fun reinterpretation of possibly my favorite pasta preparation, the traditional Roman egg-and-guanciale(/pancetta/bacon) condiment. I couldn’t understand when he told me what the pasta was made with, but I assumed it to be a normal egg-based pasta without the addition of any sugar, though I could be wrong. The egg portion of the carbonara came in the form of a foamy zabaglione, with a subtle hint of cinnamon. Crispy sheets of thin, candied pancetta (crisped in a saute pan, then cooked for a moment in simple syrup, he said) were oustanding — salty and sweet at the same time. For a second, I thought there also might have been just hint of salt and pepper in the dish, but I could have been wrong. One thing is for sure, though, it was neither too sweet nor too savory; it was just right. He absolutely nailed this one.

With the meal, I had three glasses of wine, the last of which was a vino muffato, which is becoming one of my favorite types of sweet wine. And with my caffé came the piccola pasticceria, a plate of two cookies and chocolate mousse. Nothing too memorable, but in all but the very best restaurants, this usually seems to be the case.

Fun meal, with the two pastas, one savory and one sweet, definitely the stars of the show. The suckling pig also was a favorite. Going in with an open mind and an empty stomach, it can be a nice change from strictly traditional fare, while still maintaining a foundation in many of the flavors and dishes that make the Emilia-Romagna region such a wonderful place to eat. For me, it provided a nice bit of inspiration for my cooking at home as well.