Algernon Bastard

Italian cookery and wines—Turin—Milan— Genoa—Venice—Bologna— Spezzia—Florence— Pisa—Leghorn—Rome—Naples—Palermo.

Italian Cookery

There is no cookery in Europe so often maligned without cause as that of Italy. People who are not sure of their facts often dismiss it contemptuously as being "all garlic and oil," whereas very little oil is used except at Genoa, where oil, and very good oil as a rule, takes the place of butter, and no more garlic than is necessary to give a slight flavour to the dishes in which it plays a part. An Italian cook frys better than one of any other nationality. In the north very good meat is obtainable, the boiled beef of Turin being almost equal to our own Silverside. Farther and farther south, as the climate becomes hotter, the meat becomes less and less the food of the people, various dishes of paste and fish taking its place, and as a compensation the fruit and the wine become more delicious. The fowls and figs of Tuscany, the white truffles of Piedmont, the artichokes of Rome, the walnuts and grapes of Sorrento, might well stir a gourmet to poetic flights. The Italians are very fond of their Risotto, the rice which they eat with various seasonings,—with sauce, with butter, and with more elaborate preparations. They also eat their Paste asciutte in various forms. It is Maccheroni generally in Naples, Spagetti in Rome, Trinetti in Genoa. Alla Siciliana and con Vongole are but two of the many ways of seasoning the Spagetti. Again, the delicate little envelopes of paste containing forcemeat of some kind or another change their names according to their contents and the town they are made in. They are Ravioli both at Genoa and Florence, but at Bologna they are Capeletti, and at Turin Agnolotti. Perpadelle, another pasta dish with a little difference of seasoning, becomes Tettachine when the venue changes from Bologna to Rome.

There are many minor differences in the components of similarly named dishes at different towns; the Minestrone of Milan and Genoa differ, and so does the Fritto Misto of Rome and Turin. I fancy that, as a compensation, only an expert could tell the difference between the soups di Vongole at Naples, di Dattero at Spezzia, and di Peoci at Venice.

The "Zabajone" the sweet, frothing drink beaten up with eggs and sugar, is made differently in different towns. At Milan and Turin Marsala and brandy are used in it; at Venice Cyprus wine is the foundation; and elsewhere three wines are used. It is a splendidly sustaining drink, whether drunk hot or iced, and Italian doctors order it in cases of depression, and it might well find a place in the household recipes of English and American households. The wines of the various towns I have noted in writing of them. "Vino nostrano" or "del paese" brings from the waiter his list of the local juice of the grape, and the wine of the district is the wine to drink. Roughly speaking, the red wine is the best throughout Italy, the white of Bologna and the Veneto being the exceptions. Finally, do not be alarmed if at a trattoria a waiter puts before you a huge flask of wine. It has been weighed before it is brought to you. It will be weighed when the waiter takes it away after you have finished, and what you have drunk, plus the great gulp the waiter is sure to take if he gets a chance, is what you will be charged for.

The Anglo-Saxon travelling in Italy is likely to strike Turin, or Milan, or Genoa as his first big town, according to the route he has chosen, and those are therefore the three towns the capabilities of which I shall first try to describe.

Turin

You will be fed well enough at your hotel whether you are at the Grand, or Kraft's, or the Trombetta, but if you want to test the cookery of the town I should suggest a visit to the Ristorante della Meridiana, which is in the Via Santa Theresa, the street which joins the Piazza Solferino and San Carlo; or to the Ristorante del Cambio, which is in the Piazza Carignano, where stands a marble statue of a philosopher and which has a couple of palaces as close neighbours. At these, or at the Lagrange and Nazionale, both in the Via Lagrange, you will get the dishes of Turin.

If you wish to commence with hors-d'oeuvre, try the Pepperoni, which are large yellow or red chillies preserved in pressed grapes and served with oil and vinegar, salt and pepper. The Grissini, the little thin sticks of bread which are made in Turin and are famous for their digestible quality, will be by your plate. Next I should suggest the Busecca, though it is rather satisfying, being a thick soup of tripe and vegetables; and then must come a great delicacy, the trout from the Mount Cenis lake. For a meat course, if the boiled beef of the place, always excellent, is too serious an undertaking, or if the Frittura Mista is too light, let me recommend the Rognone Trifolato, veal kidney stewed in butter with tomatoes and other good things, including a little Marsala wine. The white Piedmontese truffles served as a salad, or with a hot sauce, must on no account be overlooked; nor the Cardons, the white thistle, served with the same sauce; nor indeed the Zucchini Ripieni, which are stuffed pumpkins; and some Fonduta, the cheese of the country, melted in butter and eggs and sprinkled with white truffles, will form a fitting end to your repast unless you feel inclined for the biscuits of Novara, or Gianduiotti, which are chocolates or nougat from Alba or Cremona where they make violins as well as sweets. You should drink the wine of the country, Barbera or Barolo, Nebiolo or Freisa; and I expect, if you really persevere through half the dishes I have indicated, that you will be glad of a glass of Moscato with the fruit. Take your coffee at the CafÉ Romano if you long for "local colour."

Milan

In the town of arcades, white marble, and veal cutlets I generally eat my breakfast at one of the window tables of the Biffi, from which one sees the wonderful crowd—well-groomed officers of the Bersaglieri, the pretty ladies, the wondering peasants—that goes through the great Galleria; but if there is no window table available, and the head waiter fails to understand why he should give a table retained for a constant patron to a bird of passage, I go to the Savini, also in the great arcade, where I think the food is rather better cooked, but which has not the same tempting outlook. In the evening, if it is a cold day, I dine at the Orlogio, at the corner of the great square, a restaurant which some men find fault with, but where I have always been well treated; but if the day is hot, I as often as not go to the Cova, near the Scala, where a band plays after dinner in the garden. Such is my usual round, with a night-cap at the Gambrinus if I have been to one of the theatres; but I am penitently aware that my circle is a small one, and I am told that I should take the De Albertis and the Isola Botta into my list. Wherever one dines and wherever one breakfasts there are certain Milanese dishes which one should order. The Minestrone soup is a dish which is not only found all Italy over but which is popular in Austria and on the French Riviera as well; but the Minestrone alla Milanese, with its wealth of vegetables and suspicion of Parmesan, is especially excellent. The Risotto Milanese, rice slightly sautÉ in butter, then boiled in capon broth, and finally seasoned with Parmesan and saffron, is one of the celebrated Milanese dishes, but the simpler methods of serving Risotto, al sugo, al burro, or con fegatini suit better those who do not like saffron; or better still is a very well-known dish of another town, Risotto Certosino, in which the rice is seasoned with a sauce of crayfish and garnished with their tails. Then come the various manners of cooking veal, the CÔtelette À la Milanese, cutlets plunged in beaten eggs and fried in butter after being crumbed, and others stewed with a little red wine and flavoured with rosemary; and the CÔtelette alla Marsigliese, of batter, then ham, then meat which, when fried, is one of the dishes of the populace on a feast-day. Ossobuco, a shin of veal cut into slices and stewed with a flavouring of lemon rind, is another veal dish; and so is the delicate Fritto Picatto of calf's brains, liver, and tiny slices of flesh. Polpette À la Milanese are forcemeat balls stewed. Panettone are the cakes of the city and are much eaten at Carnival time. Stracchino or Crescenza is a cheese much like the French Brie. Gorgonzola all the world knows well; and though Parmesan takes its name from that Duchess of Parma who introduced it into France, the best quality comes from Lodi, near Milan. Val Policella and Valle d'Inferno are the wines to drink.

Genoa

Genoa is a town of noise and bustle. The worst curse one Genoese can pronounce to another is "May the grass grow before your door." The Genoese restaurants have not the best reputation in the world for either cleanliness or quiet; but at the Concordia, in the Via Garibaldi, you will find a cool and pleasant garden; and at the Gottardo you will discover the Genoese cookery in all its oily perfection, for the important difference between the cuisine of Genoa and of every other Italian town is that all its dishes are prepared with olive oil instead of butter.

Of course Genoa has its own especial Minestrone soup flavoured with Pesto, a paste in which pounded basil, garlic, Sardinia cheese, and olive oil are used; and the fish dishes are Stocafisso alla Genovese, stock-fish stewed with tomatoes and sometimes with potatoes as well, and a fry of red mullet, and Moscardini, which are cuttle-fish, oblong in shape and redolent of musk. The tripe of Genoa is as celebrated as that of Caen, and the Vitello Uccelletto, little squares of veal sautÉ with fresh tomatoes in oil and red wine, is a very favourite dish. The Ravioli I have already written of. The Faina somewhat resembles Yorkshire pudding made with pease-powder and oil. Funghi a Fungetto are the wild red mushrooms stewed in oil with thyme and tomatoes, and Meizanne is a small, bitter egg-plant, only found on the Riviera, stuffed with a cheese paste and then fried. Pasqualina is an Easter pie. The figs of Genoa are excellent. The wines are those delle cinque terre, and in some of the cellars you will find them dating back sixty years or more.

Venice

The city on the lagoons is the next town to be considered, for Verona has scarcely a cuisine of its own, and Padua sends its best food to the Venetian market, and its Bagnoli wine as well. The Restaurant Quadri, on the north side of the Piazza of St. Mark, is one of the best-known restaurants in Europe, and it is not expensive, for one can breakfast there well enough for 4 francs.

A gourmet of my acquaintance thus describes a typical breakfast at the Quadri. "When you go to the restaurant do not be induced to go upstairs where the tourists are generally invited, but take a little table on the ground floor, where you can see all the piazza life, and begin with a Vermouth Amaro, in lieu of a "cocktail." For hors-d'oeuvre have some small crabs, cold, mashed up with Sauce Tartare, and perhaps a slice or two of Presciuto Crudo, raw ham cut as thin as cigarette-paper. After this a steaming Risotto, with Scampe, somewhat resembling gigantic prawns. Some cutlets done in Bologna style, a thin slice of ham on top and hot Parmesan and grated white truffles and Fegato alla Veneziana complete the repast, except for a slice of Strachino cheese. A bottle of Val Policella is exactly suited to this kind of repast, and a glass of fine-champagne (De Luze) for yourself and of ruby-coloured Alkermes for the lady, if your wife accompanies you, makes a good ending. The maÎtre-d'hÔtel, who looks like a retired ambassador, will be interested in you directly he finds that you know how a man should breakfast."

The restaurant which comes next in order in popularity with visitors is the Bauer-Grunwald, in the Via Ventidue Marzo, which has a garden with seats in it; but this is a German house, and can scarcely claim to represent anything Venetian. The Capello Nero, in the Merceria, behind the Piazza of St. Mark, is thoroughly Venetian and unpretentious, and there you may obtain the real cookery of the town; and another such trattoria attached to an hotel is the Cavalletto, by the Ponte Cavalletto, close to the great square; but the Venetian cookery, it should be thoroughly understood, is not eaten in Parisian surroundings.

At the Florian CafÉ, which in the summer keeps open all the night through, one gets the frothing Zabajone made so stiff that a spoon stands upright in it.

There are many birrerie in Venice, the Dreher being one frequented by the Italians.

The Zuppa di Peoci is a soup made from the little shell-fish called "peoci" in Venice, and appearing under other names at Spezzia and Naples, and so fond are the Venetians of it that they flavour their rice with sauce made from it and call it Riso coi peoci. Baccala, or salt-cod, and Calamai, little cuttle-fish or octopi, looking and tasting like fried strips of soft leather, are native dishes not to be recommended; but the Anguille di Comacchio, the great eels from Comacchio, grilled on the spit between bay leaves, or fried or stewed, are excellent. Another Venetian dish which I can strongly recommend is the Fegato alla Veneziana, calf liver cut into thin slices, fried with onions in butter, and flavoured with lemon juice. Stewed larks, with a pudding of Veronese flour, are satisfying, and a sausage from the neighbouring Treviso, which also gives its name to the Radici di Treviso, is much esteemed. The Pucca baruca is one of the big yellow pumpkins baked. The wines are, of course, those of the mainland, Conegliano from Treviso and Val Policella from Verona.

Bologna

"Bologna la grassa" does not belie its nick-name, and it is said that the matronly ladies, all over forty, who cook for the rotund priests, are the cordons bleus of Italy. The restaurant of the HÔtel Brun is the one where the passing Anglo-Saxon generally takes his meals and a chat with the proprietor, who is generally addressed as Frank, is entertaining, for he owns vineyards behind the town, which he is happy to show to any one interested in vine-culture, and he makes his wine after the French manner. The HÔtel d'Italie is more an Italian house, and the Stella d'Italia, in the Via Rizzoli, is the typical popular restaurant of the town. At the Albergo Roma, on the Via d'Azeglio, I have lunched on good food for a couple of francs.

The Coppaletti I have already referred to. The Perpadelle col Ragout are made of the same dough as the French nouilles, in narrow strips boiled and seasoned with minced meat and Parmesan cheese. Another variety of this Perpadelle alla Bolognese has minced ham as a seasoning. Then come the far-famed sausages, the great Codeghino, boiled and served with spinach or mashed potatoes; the large, ball-shaped Mortadella, which is sometimes eaten raw; and the stuffed foreleg of a pig, which is boiled and served with spinach and mashed potatoes and which is a dish the Bolognese "conveyed" from Verona.

The wines are San Giovese and Lambresco.

Spezzia

Not at Spezzia itself, but at Porto Venere on the promontory at the entrance to the bay, will the gourmet find the Zuppa di Datteri, which is the great delicacy of the gulf. The dattero is a shell-fish which in shape resembles a date stone. It has a very delicate taste, and is eaten stewed with tomatoes and served with a layer of toast. The little inn, Del Genio, is not too clean, but the landlord will tell you that Byron and Shelley made no complaints when they lived there and that they had a thorough appreciation of the dainty datteri. Byron is said to have written most of his Corsair in a grotto at Porto Venere, and Shelley was cast up drowned on the sand across the gulf.

Florence

If you wish to be aristocratic in Florence you will lunch at Capitani's in the Via Tornabuoni, and in the afternoon you will lounge about the street until it is time to drink tea and eat cake at Giacosa's, or Doney's, or the Albion, or Digerini's, and Marinari's venture, next door to the library, after which you will look in at Vieusseux's to see if there is any news a-foot. You will then have eaten a very fair lunch cooked À la FranÇaise, and will have met in the course of the afternoon all your fellow country-men and country-women resident in Florence. If, however, you want to sample Florentine cookery, you will fly from the splendours of the road which leads to the bridge of the Trinity and will try Mellini's in the Via Calzajoli, which runs from the Piazza della Signoria to that of the cathedral, where you will find both German and Italian dishes; or if you wish to test the native art, untouched by Teuton heaviness, go to La Toscana in the same street. There you will find comparative quiet, and you can be quite sure that the fish you order will be fresh, for it is sent daily direct from Leghorn, where the owner of La Toscana has a branch establishment.

At night the Gambrinus in one corner of the Piazza Vittorio Emmanuele rocks with sound, a band plays at intervals, and till long past midnight red and white wine and most indifferent cigarettes are called for by the revellers. This is hardly a place at which ladies would enjoy themselves, and still less should they be taken to Paoli's—where the young Florentines amuse themselves with good oysters and bad company until the small hours of the morning grow big—or to Picciolo's.

The CafÉ la Rosa is a typical haunt of the submerged tenth, with a corrosive drink of its own.

There are not very many dishes distinctively Florentine. Stracotto, braised beef with tomatoes, is one of them; and Fegatini di pollo, giblets stewed in wine sauce, is another. The Tuscan fowls are especially esteemed, and are roasted before a wood fire; and there is a special Florentine salad of haricot beans generally served with caviar. The figs, of many kinds, are delicious, and Presciutto con fichi, fresh figs and ham, are eaten all over Tuscany. The chestnuts from the Appenines are the best flavoured in Italy. Chianti is the local wine.

The Aurora is the restaurant to be patronised at FiËsoli. It has a little garden whence there is a fine view.

Pisa

The Nettuno at Pisa is the old-fashioned Italian inn, and it used to be the restaurant patronised by the officers of the garrison, but for some reason they quarrelled with the proprietor and transferred their custom to the other Italian restaurant and inn, the Cervia.

Pisa prides itself on its puddings and confectionary. The Pattona and Castagnacci, both alla Pisana, are puddings made of chestnut flour and olive oil, and flavoured with fruit. Schiacciata are Easter cakes. In the afternoon, after a walk on the Lungarno, all the world of Pisa goes to Bazzeli, the pastry-cook's shop, and there you may find the elders of the town and the high officers of the garrison, talking over affairs of State while they demolish many little cakes.

Leghorn

An Englishman who knows his Leghorn thoroughly, writes thus:—

The restaurant of the Albergo Giappone is one of the most famous eating-houses in Tuscany. The kitchen is not merely Italian, it is wholly Tuscan, and the Tuscan kitchen in skilful hands appears to content both the gourmet and the gourmand. Affairs once brought a distinguished English gourmet on a brief visit to Leghorn, and accident (for its fame had not preceded him) took him to the Giappone. Instead of staying three days, he stayed three weeks, so that he might ring all the changes of that wonderful menu, and he has since publicly declared that the kitchen of the Giappone is one of the finest in Europe. The English visitor to Leghorn is a rarity, but all famous Italians have at some time or other eaten at the Giappone—Crispi, Zanardelli, Cavallotti, Benedetto Brin, Puccini, Mascagni, to mention only a few among many. The proprietor is the Cav. Pasquale Cianfanelli, known even on the London market for the excellence of his Tuscan wines.

The full Tuscan dinner does not follow in the order of fish, entrÉe, roast, piÈce de rÉsistance, and game, but of boiled (lesso), fried (fritto), stewed (umido) and roast (arrosto). The boiled may be beef; the fried, sweetbread; the stewed, fish; the roast, pigeon; but this order is always maintained, and the stranger's disappointment at there being no fish after the soup has only been equalled by his astonishment when it turns up in the fourth place. It is for this reason that the Tuscan bill of fare proves such a puzzle to the stranger with only a smattering of the language, for it is not made out under the headings of fish, entrÉes, joint, etc., but of lessi, fritti, umidi, and arrosti; and fish, for instance, will be found under all four headings. Famous dishes at the Giappone are Spaghetti a sugo di carne (gravy sauce), Risotto with white truffles, Arselle (a small shell-fish) alla Marinara, Triglie (red mullet) alla Livornese, Fritto misto (mixed fry), Controfiletto con Maccheroni, etc. The diner cannot do better than keep to the ordinary vino da pasto, and end with the delicious caffÈ espresso and a Val d'Ema (Tuscan Chartreuse), green or yellow. The best Tuscan mineral water is the Acqua Litiosa di S. Marco (from the province of Grosseto), and it deserves more than a merely local fame. If the traveller's flask is not already empty, let him try some of its contents with this water, and he will have a pleasant surprise.

Another excellent restaurant in Leghorn is that attached to the HÔtel d'Angleterre-Campari, owned by Signori De-Stefani and Clerici, the latter of whom was for a time in London, at the Albergo d'Italia. The cuisine is North Italian and French, and the traveller not thoroughly converted to the Tuscan table will find himself extremely well treated at the HÔtel Campari.

Rome

A man who loved strange experiments in eating, once asked me in Rome to dine with him at a very cheap inn outside one of the gates, and he explained how the dinner was arranged. He had found a hostel which did not provide food, but if you bought a lamb from a shepherd outside the gate, so as to save the octroi, you could have it cooked in a great pot, a certain amount being charged for the cooking; and you bought your wine, as a matter of course, at the inn. The carters and herds were, he told me, the people who partook of this repast, and every man ate his own lamb, leaving little but the bones. I did not go to that inn. That place of refreshment was at one end of the social ladder, the Grand and Quirinale are at the other. Set a man down in the restaurant of the Grand, or the Winter Garden of the Quirinale, and there will be nothing to give him a hint as to whether he is in London, or Paris, or Rome. He will eat an excellent dinner—French in all respects—and will be waited on by civil waiters, whom he knows to be foreigners, but who will answer him in English whatever language he addresses them in. At either restaurant an excellent dinner of ceremony can be given. The last time that I stayed at the Grand, I ate the table-d'hÔte dinner on several occasions and found it good. The Roma in the Corso, and the Colonna in the Piazza Colonna, are the typical city restaurants; but they have a leaning towards the French cuisine. To eat the food of Rome, try La Venete in the Via Campo Marzio, which has a garden; or, more distinctive still, the Tre Re, hard by the Pantheon, where you must talk Italian, or else make signs.

Bucci, in the Piazza della Coppelle, is the Scott's or Driver's of Rome, and you can dine or lunch there off shell-fish soup, and the fish which comes from Anzio and the other fishing villages of the coast.

There is a curious restaurant close by the station, Vagliani is, I fancy, the owner, where artichokes are the staple fare, and where the decorations are in keeping with the food. You will find the foreign colony of art students—Danes, Norwegians, Germans—in the restaurants of the Via delle Crace, Coradetti, where the food is well cooked but served without any unnecessary luxury, being perhaps the best eating-house; but the real haunt of the artist in Rome is, at the present time, the Trattoria Fiorella in the Via delle Colonelli. Only do not go and stare at him while he is taking his meals, for if you do, he will go elsewhere to another trattoria, the position of which he will keep a dead secret. Of course there are Roman dishes without number, and these are some of the best known of them:—

The Zuppa di Pesce is a Bouillabaisse without any saffron. The fish and shell-fish (John Dory, red mullet, cuttle-fish, lobster, whiting, muraena, and mussels) which compose it are served on toast. The Fritto di Calamaretti is a fry of cuttle-fish in oil. Cinghiale in agro dolce is wild boar cooked in a sauce of chocolate, sugar, plums, pinolis, red currant, and vinegar. A bacchio e Capretto alla Cacciatora is very young lamb and sucking-goat cut into small pieces, and cooked in a sauce to which anchovies and chillies give the dominant taste. Pollo en padella are spring chickens cut up and fried with tomatoes, large sweet chillies, and white wine. Pasticcio di Maccheroni is an excellent macaroni pie, and Gnocchi di Patele are little knobs of paste boiled like macaroni. Broccoli, green peas cooked with butter and ham, and, above all, the Roman artichoke stewed in oil—which is to be obtained at its best in the old Jewish eating-houses of the Ghetto—are the vegetables of Rome. A very small ham is one of the local delicacies. Gnocchi di latte are custards in layers, each of which is seasoned with either sugar or butter, or cinnamon or Parmesan cheese; and Zuppa Inglese is a rich cake soused with liqueurs and vanilla cream, covered with meringue and baked. Uova di Bufola is a little ball of cheese made from buffalo's milk. The best kind, Abota is kept in wrappings of fresh myrtle leaves. Marino (red) and Frascati (white) are two of the best local wines. Orvietto has a faint remembrance of the champagne taste. Monte Fiascone is a dessert wine.

Naples

There is a certain man in a certain London club who has a grievance against Italy in general, against Naples in particular, and, to descend to minute detail, against one Neapolitan restaurant above all others. He tells his tale to all comers as a warning to those who will travel in "foreign parts." He returned from a long turn of service in India, and, landing at Naples, concluded that as he was in Europe he could get British food. He went to a restaurant which shall be nameless, and ordered a "chump chop." He had the greatest difficulty, through an interpreter, to explain exactly what it was that he wanted, and then was forced to wait for an hour before it appeared. When the bill was presented it frightened him, but the proprietor, on being summoned, said that as such an extraordinary joint had been asked for, he had been compelled to buy a whole sheep to supply it. This is a warning not to ask for British dishes in a Neapolitan restaurant.

Time was when the Gambrinus, which is the excellently decorated cafÉ and restaurant at the end of the Chiaja, and the big cafÉ and restaurant in the great arcade, were at daggers drawn, and a war of cutting down of prices raged. In those happy days one could dine or lunch at either place sumptuously for a shilling. Some meddling busybody interfered in the quarrel and brought the proprietors into a friendly spirit. The Gambrinus, with its bright rooms, good decorations, and fair attendance, is perhaps the best restaurant at which a stranger can take a meal, unless he is looking for the distinctive Neapolitan cookery. If he is in search of the dishes of the town, let him try the Europa or, better still for his purpose, the Vermouth di Torino in the Piazza del Municipio. To eat the fish dishes which show the real cookery of Naples better than any other, he should go out on a moonlight night a couple of miles to the Antica Trattoria dello Scoglio di Frisio, or to the less aristocratic Trattoria del Figlio di Pietro in the Strada Nuova del Posilipo.

Of the macaroni I have already written. The splendid tomatoes grown in Naples, which are cooked with it, give it its particular excellence. It is also seasoned with cheese. Spagetti alle Vongole is the macaroni seasoned with the little shell-fish of the place. Zuppa di Vongole is a clear soup of bread and Vongole. Polpi alla Luciana are small octopi stewed in an earthern pot with oil, tomatoes, chilli, and red wine. Between the pot and the lid a sheet of oiled paper is placed, to prevent the steam from escaping. The Spigola, the most delicate of fishes of the Mediterranean, is at its best between 1 and 1-1/2 lbs. in weight. It is either boiled or roasted, and is served with a sauce of oil, lemon juice, and chopped parsley. A steak alla Pizzaiola is baked in an oven with potatoes, garlic, and thyme; and Pizza alla Pizzaiola is a kind of Yorkshire pudding eaten either with cheese or anchovies and tomatoes flavoured with thyme. Mozzarelle in carozza is a slice of bread soaked in milk and a slice of Provola cheese, the whole plunged in beaten eggs and then fried. There is an excellent Neapolitan method of treating egg-plants, fried in oil, cut in slices, sandwiched with cheese and tomatoes, and then baked. Provola and Cacio Cavallo are the Neapolitan cheeses. Vesuvio, Capri, Gragnano, Lacrima Christa are a few of the wines grown along the bays. The walnuts of Sorrento are the best in Italy.

Palermo

Palermo has its special dishes, amongst them of course its Spagetti, seasoned with minced meat and egg-plant; but its ices and its fruit are its particular delicacies. Marsala, Moscato di Siracusa, and Amarena di Siracusa are the wines of the island. If you want to try Sicilian cookery, go either to the Lincoln by the Plazza Marina or the Rebecchina in the Via Vittoria Emanuele.

N.N.-D.