Jeff Grossman
Jeff Grossman
Excerpt from my personal travelogue, plus some post-trip writing:
After another window-shopping stroll we head off to dinner. Armando is full, Cul de Sac is full, and we end up at Papa Giovanni... where we are the only patrons all night.
At the time I did not know its long history, its highs and lows. It was just quiet, wine-friendly, and open.
But we eat splendidly:
1/ We ordered puntarelle and truffle but it is too early for puntarelle so instead we have fresh asparagus and caviar. Fair swap?
2/ Two beautifully-made paste: alla gricia (traditional, made with guanciale and pecorino), and caffeis with walnut and sage (innovative, noodles made with coffee).
3/ Jim had rack of baby lamb, I had guinea hen roasted with black truffle (you could smell both dishes from two tables away)
4/ Not much room for dessert but we managed a little anise gelato
And armagnac.
Let me explain.
You all should know me well-enough to suppose that I had vigorous conversation going with the owner, Daniela, by the time the meal ended. While walking around the room, admiring the various bottles, she told me the story of the restaurant:
It was, indeed, founded by her grandfather, Giovanni. His concept for the restaurant was to arrange for regular shipments of wine in barrel, which gave him better prices and gave patrons better wine. By the time his son (her father) Renato, took over the restaurant, it was superior to buy bottles. At least, that's how Renato saw it. She said they fought for years over it. Renato bought and bought.
And now it is her restaurant. She has three cellars full of magnificent old wine -- Biondi-Santi, Giacosa, Bordeaux, Burgundy, you name it, from the 50s and 60s forward -- and she is not a wine person. She feels as if she is responsible for someone else's children.
I will admit that I wonder a bit about these cellars. The bottles decorating the restaurant are full(!!!) so perhaps she is too cavalier about storage. Choosing from the list could be very exciting but a wise man would clarify the house position on spoiled bottles first.
One thing that is hard to spoil, however, is spirits. Daniela has a rack of a dozen or so bottles of Ch. Laubade Bas-Armagnac dating back to 1923. (That particular bottle is unopened and I declined her offer to open it for me.) But I did drink the '66, '70, and '71:
The '66 is a bottling of pure folle blanche and it is just as lightweight, aromatic and floral as you'd expect. Pretty stuff.
The '70 is drying out, I think, and tastes mostly of structure and wood.
The '71 is very good, fig and date and caramel and toasted seeds to go with the wood tannins.
After another window-shopping stroll we head off to dinner. Armando is full, Cul de Sac is full, and we end up at Papa Giovanni... where we are the only patrons all night.
At the time I did not know its long history, its highs and lows. It was just quiet, wine-friendly, and open.
But we eat splendidly:
1/ We ordered puntarelle and truffle but it is too early for puntarelle so instead we have fresh asparagus and caviar. Fair swap?
2/ Two beautifully-made paste: alla gricia (traditional, made with guanciale and pecorino), and caffeis with walnut and sage (innovative, noodles made with coffee).
3/ Jim had rack of baby lamb, I had guinea hen roasted with black truffle (you could smell both dishes from two tables away)
4/ Not much room for dessert but we managed a little anise gelato
And armagnac.
Let me explain.
You all should know me well-enough to suppose that I had vigorous conversation going with the owner, Daniela, by the time the meal ended. While walking around the room, admiring the various bottles, she told me the story of the restaurant:
It was, indeed, founded by her grandfather, Giovanni. His concept for the restaurant was to arrange for regular shipments of wine in barrel, which gave him better prices and gave patrons better wine. By the time his son (her father) Renato, took over the restaurant, it was superior to buy bottles. At least, that's how Renato saw it. She said they fought for years over it. Renato bought and bought.
And now it is her restaurant. She has three cellars full of magnificent old wine -- Biondi-Santi, Giacosa, Bordeaux, Burgundy, you name it, from the 50s and 60s forward -- and she is not a wine person. She feels as if she is responsible for someone else's children.
I will admit that I wonder a bit about these cellars. The bottles decorating the restaurant are full(!!!) so perhaps she is too cavalier about storage. Choosing from the list could be very exciting but a wise man would clarify the house position on spoiled bottles first.
One thing that is hard to spoil, however, is spirits. Daniela has a rack of a dozen or so bottles of Ch. Laubade Bas-Armagnac dating back to 1923. (That particular bottle is unopened and I declined her offer to open it for me.) But I did drink the '66, '70, and '71:
The '66 is a bottling of pure folle blanche and it is just as lightweight, aromatic and floral as you'd expect. Pretty stuff.
The '70 is drying out, I think, and tastes mostly of structure and wood.
The '71 is very good, fig and date and caramel and toasted seeds to go with the wood tannins.