Il Forno

Pizzeria Da Salvo

I'd not change any place in the world with Naples (and its immediate surroundings) when it comes to pizza. Pizza, as we know it today, was born there and Naples is, not surprisingly, most likely to be the city with the highest density of Pizzerias on Earth. Admittedly, not all the pizza made in Naples is great, but there are a pretty impressive number of pizzeria who produce a great pizza. Yet, when someone who is a real experts tells you he has found the best pizza in Naples, you simply strive to make it there and see what the fuss is all about, even if you live more than 1000 km away.

If you have been reading this blog from the start you might remember Marco, also known as Pizza Napoletana on a number of food discussion forums, and the pizza pics of his I published. A few month's ago he gave out his list of favourites in Naples and was clearly quite excited for the (re-)opening of one particular pizzeria, the best of all according to his opinion: Da Salvo in San Giorgio a Cremano (just outside Naples).

Tallinn, (final) take 5: Estonian food in Eesti Maja.

And so I come to the final post of this series on Tallinn. Though it will probably not be the last Estonian flavoured post to appear on this blog, I wanted to tie things up with a post about Estonian cuisine and one of the Tallinn restaurants specialising in it: Eesti Maja.

You should not to get the idea that Tallinn has only traditional or medieval restaurants, so I should mention that, like in any European capital, there are quite a few exclusive restaurants offering refined international cuisine. If that is what you are after, then, according to what I read on the web, places like Ö and Bocca might be a good choice; Silk sushi is for some people a real hidden treasure; and clearly one should not forget Estonia's own celebrity chef Imre Kose and his Vertigo, opening in July (maybe, I would add, since the opening date has been shifted forward a few times already). All these places certainly tickled my curiosity, but when travelling somewhere new I prefer to get a taste of the local cuisine instead of going for stuff I could get elsewhere.

In Tallinn there is a small group of Estonian restaurants that seem to pop up in every guidebook I have read. Apart Eesti Maja, two traditional places are Kuldse Notsu Kõrts (Little Piggy Inn, Dunkri 8) and Vanaema Juures (Grandma's Place, Rataskaevu 10/12). There is also Maiasmokk, serving a modernised version of traditional cuisine, which I mentioned before and comes with Pille's recommendation.

I picked Eesti Maja mainly because it was the one place that seemed to come up again and again with goodish reviews on the web, but with a little more time I would have liked to try at least another of the remaining three mentioned above. Looking at the restaurant's website you would be excused for thinking that the place is not exactly appealing on the aesthetic level, i.e. looks like a dump, but you would be wrong. It is seldom that an establishment manages to sell itself so short on its own website, but Eesti Maja manages this feat. Instead, the atmosphere is rustic, yet warm and cosy, and the non-smoking room on one end of the restaurant where we dined was even quite intimate.

Tallinn, take 3: eating Medieval style in Olde Hansa.

Tallinn's restaurant scene boasts a few Medieval themed restaurants: not surprising, given the city's historical heritage and the marketing used to promote it. The absolutely first eating out suggestion I got about Tallinn Came from Juliane, a friend of ours. As soon as she heard we were headed there, she made us promise that we would be eating out in the Medieval themed  Olde Hansa. Juliane, who has a passion for Medieval stuff, had eaten there, loved it and raved about it in such a way that we had no doubt we just HAD to try it out... if only to stop our ears from falling off. Still, I have to admit I was slightly dubious, and not because of Juliane's enthusiasm.

The problem is, whenever I had visited a Medieval themed place before, be it a restaurant or open-air feast (of which Germany has its fair share), I always felt like I was landing straight into a classic tourist trap. The "medieval theme" too often turns out to be food served under make-believe medieval names by people dressed up in costumes. Sometimes there's a show, but I'll leave that for anyone into blogging about torture. Arguing if the recipes are accurate or not does not, in most cases, even come close to the real problem: the use of tomatoes, potatoes and other "New World" ingredients says it all. Although I did not try any of Tallinn's Medieval restaurants apart Olde Hansa, I quickly started to suspect that the majority are the kind of places I just described. Call it sixth sense... or maybe it is just dishes like chicken teriyaki or gumbo that are a give-away.

I shouldn't have worried too much. Once we got to Olde Hansa and started browsing the menu I had to admit to myself that things would be quite different here. The naming of the dishes can be a bit preposterous at times, sounding like a mix between parodic Medieval prose and something put together by a chef in need of an ego massage (Grand beef of the Mighty Knight anyone?), but once I got over the pompous names I couldn't help  notice that the menu seemed to be put together far more seriously than usual. The majority of the dishes focus on meat – there is even bear for the curious and brave – but chicken, fish and vegetarian courses get their share in the part dedicated to Lent dishes. Not being familiar with the details and evolution of Medieval cuisine, especially that of northern Europe, I have no idea of how authentic the recipes used really are. They do give the impression of being well researched with a predominance of Hanseatic-inspired cooking, and at least there's no trace of the usual obvious historical mistakes.

The interiors of Olde Hansa contribute to recreating the Medieval atmosphere as much as the food. Everything keeps the historic spirit of the place, from the nature-tones tinted frescos inspired to the art of the time to the lighting,  provided almost entirely by candle (although with a minimal use of  artificial bulbs). A professional historian might probably find reasons for criticising the decor, but for the rest of us the effect is quite stunning. The "wax cascade" (above, left) made by the candles illuminating the staircase to the first floor gives you a good idea of how many candles these people must go through. What was unexpected was the the toilets, where all the modern comforts are disguised to look "medieval", just like the sink tap transformed into a copper kettle.

Tallinn, take 2: cafes and cheap lunch options

I'm not a huge cafe fan, though I have a few favourites, and even less of a bar fly, yet doing the tourist thing makes me feel the urge to find the next cafe for a drink or a quick snack like nothing else. A little pause between attractions is just what I need when visiting somewhere new: you rest a moment, relax, and after a little you're ready to absorb the atmosphere around you. In the same way, when lunch time comes I usually don't want the full lengthy five course affair, which I'd rather leave to the evening (and one or two upcoming posts); rather I prefer something simple that leaves me time to continue enjoying the visit. Fortunately Tallinn has plenty of nice cafes and bars which offer refuge from the chilling weather in winter (and a chance to cool down in summer, I would imagine), and can also be a pretty good option for lunch.

Among the few cafe's we tried – with -10°C outside you stop quite often for a warm drink – there are two which I particularly liked. Ironically, we ended up in both almost by mistake. Kehrwieder is a local cafes chain that runs a few different places in the city centre of Tallinn. We were actually looking for their Tristan & Isolde Cafe, but, since I mixed up the addresses, we ended up in the Cafe and Chocolaterie. (Both places are on the main City Hall square so not such a huge mistake after all.) As soon as we got into the vaulted cellar that holds this cafe Daniela and me fell in love with the place, its mismatched chairs and tables, and simply the cosy atmosphere. And yes, they also make some pretty good cakes – we picked a berry pie and a gooseberry crumble tart – that there's a good selection of teas and chocolates, the latter both as pralines and as drink, and that even the coffee was not too bad to my espresso accustomed palate. To get an even better idea of the place you could go to Pille's blog, nami-nami: she has a nice post on this cafe and a couple of pictures which give a nice feel of the place.

Pikk 16 is an address that has made the gastronomic history of Tallinn. It is here that the roots of what is now Kalev, the Estonian chocolate and candy maker, were established: now it hosts the city's oldest cafe, open since 1864, and an inviting Estonian restaurant, both named Maiasmokk. Following Pille's advice, we had originally planned to dine in the restaurant, but, do to a misunderstanding with our reservation date, we missed our chance. Instead, on our last day and again by chance, we ended up in the ground floor cafe, seeking refuge from a sudden storm of icy wind. The interiors here are exactly what you would expect from such a traditional place, with lots of mirrors and dark wood creating a very fin-de-siecle atmosphere. While the drinks here are just OK, what really deserves a mention are the many cakes, and pastries, sweet and savory. The sweets are great for an afternoon cup of coffee and the pastries are ideal for a light snack or lunch, so you could come here again and again: we picked a few pastires (left), and I regret I only found out about this place on the last day, because I would have gone back for more.

Osteria del Minestraio, Rastignano (Bologna)

A few month's back there was a discussion over on eGullet about the restaurant situation in Italy. Whenever people talk about Italian eating establishments, be they Italian or not, there always seems to be a contrast between high cuisine and trattorie there. Form there, it was a small step before noticing that the what Italian restaurant scene needs most is... customers. Italians are generally conservative food eaters and classy places often seem scary and way too expensive.  In comparison to the UK, France or even Spain, Italian are lousy restaurant goers. Ronald made a great point back then, something I've been thinking about now and again for a time now: is there a missing link bringing trattoria and restaurant? Where are the funky, relaxed places serving cool yet unpretentious (OK change that to only relatively pretentious) food? There are very few "middle class" neighborhood places to be found in Italy if you exclude Rome and Milan, and there even only shyly present. But most of all: does the concept work in a country so split in its eating out habits?

If I doubts about if such places could exist and how original they would be, as opposed to falling into the trattoria or restaurant field,these disappeared after one of the coziest evenings of my recent trip to Northern Italy eating at Osteria del Minestraio in Rastignano, just five minutes away from the city limit of Bologna. I won't hide that I cannot be impartial about this place. Piero Pompili, co-owner and taking care of the front of the house is a friend. I appreciated, though often not shared, his flamboyant opinions on Italian food discussion forums and regularly read the very nice blog  he has set up, which I mentioned before, Il Gastronomo Riluttante, titled after Ruth Reichel's reluctant gourmet. Yet seeing Piero work, together with the skillful Arnaldo Laghi at the stove, is a completely different thing. Away goes the "Paris Hilton of Italian Gastronomy" (his own words) and there comes the charming, attentive and warm host.

Dal Pescatore

As Italian I have progressively developed a suspicious attitude towards the Michelin Italy red guide, with its inconsistency, at times inexplicable evaluation parameters and their striking undervaluation of Italy’s best. After all it is French (OK British now, even worse!). Yet, it was not without some sensation of awe that I made my way towards what very probably is Italy’s longest standing Michelin three star restaurants: dal Pescatore in Runate, a tiny location on the river Oglio, still in the Mantua province, but only just. Once a simple countryside trattoria serving fried fish and Lambrusco wine, it has evolved through the years, without compromising its character, to become one of the recognized centers of finest Italian cuisine and hospitality. Critics from all over the world have praised the work of Antonio and Nadia Santini, owners and respectively maitre and chef of this Relais and Chateaux restaurant. Still, occasionally, I would read less than enthusiastic opinions on dal Pescatore’s cuisine. Insignificant, brainy and heartless, old fashioned would be some of the criticisms, followed by lamentations at the little changes in the menu over the years and finishing with accusations of the food being French (as opposed to Italian), by now the stereotyped and often extremely superficial attack used to dismiss Italian fine dining establishments. A question was hanging in the air: would dal Pescatore be a treat, “the best restaurant in the world” as US critic John Mariani called it back in ’99, or THE disappointment of my relatively limited carreer as starred restaurant customer?

Elephantenkeller, Weimar

When the "little" welcoming greeting from the kitchen landing on your table is a crock full of griebenschmalz (goose drippings) to smear on several kinds of rye breads, you just know what you're in for. Hearty, calorie-unconscious, traditional German fare. Exactly what Elephantenkeller, one of the two restaurants of the Hotel Elephant in Weimar, does and does well. If you've read about the more classy upstairs Anna Amalia restaurant before, you might want to get those dishes and atmosphere out of your head. Elephantenkeller is situated in the rustic, yet absolutely fascinating cellar (-keller in German) of the Hotel. The service on the other hand, while not as formal as the one in Anna Amalia, shares the same friendliness and professional savoir-faire.

As many other places in Weimar, Elephantenkeller cannot avoid reminding everyone of their little part in Wolfgang Goethe's life. A few informative panels on the history of the building describe how the great man used to come here for a drink. If stories are to believed, he indulged in a Sherry every now and then in this hall. I always thought he only drank Schwarzbier! I understand that Goethe is THE German writer, author of Faust and Faust part II the revenge, and that everybody loves or at least respects him. I agree he deserves to be celebrated and honored in a number of ways. Still, does he really have to come up everywhere? Sorry, everywhere except toilets: never found a "Goethe used this bathroom for his. . . needs", as hard as I looked. I haven't given up though, the search goes on. There has to be one; if Sherry goes in, something HAS to come out.

Osteria Bertagnolli in Weimar.

Anyone who has lived abroad probably knows the feeling of going to a restaurant supposedly serving your own national cooking which almost inevitably is instead ranges from a badly executed fake of the original to a serious attempt to murder the culinary traditions of your own country. If you come from Island you’d probably have little chance to experience such an event; I mean how many Icelandic restaurants do you know next to your home? If you’re Italian or Chinese, and with growing frequency Indian, Thai or Japanese, you’ll perfectly know what I mean. I often wonder what a native Bengali would say tasting the Chicken Korma I often order from my favourite Indian place in Jena.

A few weeks ago I decided to give another Italian place a try. I usually avoid Italians abroad because: a) the dishes are as authentic as the Rolex I constantly get offered via spam mails; b) the cooks and staff have not only never been to Italy in their life, but they have also no clue whatsoever about Italian cooking; c) I can usually cook the same dishes at home better than the restaurant chef, which is more an insult to the chef than a compliment to myself. I’ve been disappointed so many times that whenever a friend utters the dreaded words “let’s go for Italian tonight” I start to worry. I know there are many good Italians abroad, but they’re either fancy places, like Locanda Locatelli in London, or small little known hole-in-the-wall places known only to a few. This new restaurant on the other hand seemed like an easygoing place and came with good reviews, both in the press (Feinschmecker Magazine) and in more informal discussion forums. With mixed feelings I set of to Osteria Bertagnolli in Weimar.

Torre del Saracino

Campania, like most of Southern Italy, might be worldwide known for its traditional dishes, pizza and spaghetti al pomodoro were born here after all, but fine dining, excluding the starred Don Alfonso, seemed for years to be a hard to find commodity. In recent times there has been signs of change, with a few young chefs and restaurants quoted on national press in different occasions, which reached a climax with last year’s Gambero Rosso tre forchette award, and one of the highest notes for the kitchen, to a young chef from Campania, Gennaro Esposito, and his restaurant Torre del Saracino in Seiano, on the Sorrento peninsula. In contrast the response from other guides was far less enthusiastic. Opinions from foodies were likely split. I don’t really give that much importance to guide notes, and even less to foodies I hardly know, but the contrast in judgement intrigued me, especially since in most cases renowned restaurant appear at the top in all the guides if with minor differences. I had also read that this is Alain Ducasse favourite place when he’s in Italy and if Monsieur Ducasse thinks so there must be a good reason. I had to wait about one year before I had the chance to travel back to Italy AND get a reservation but finally on a warm late September night me, my wife and my maybe–I’ll-drop-out-from-college-and-become-a-cook brother made our way to Seiano.

Jenaer Bier: support your local brew

For a foreigner like me, coming from a country where beer consumption is relatively low, experiencing the relationship Germans have with beer can come as a bit of a shock. When I moved to Germany it took me a little while to understand why Germans are the third pro capita consumers of beer in the world (after the Czech and the Irish). Your average German supermarket doesn't really seem to carry much more beer than an Italian one. This only until you discover the existence of the so called Getraenkemarkt many larger shops have: an extra shop dedicated only to drinks, where beer plays the lion's share. The first time I saw the rows of beer cases on sale, and the amounts people seemed to be buying, I was a bit off my foot. Are Germans constantly drunk, I thought? They are not, although there's no denying a drinking problem does exist. Beer is simply a part of the German culture, something that belongs to everyday life as much as wine and pasta do in Italy or tea in the UK.