Apples and... not apples

I'd been planning to write something about the passing of Johnny Apple when deaths closer to home intervened. Among other things, Apple's passing poses an interesting metaphysical question. If Apple earned a ticket on the up escalator, rather than the down, what exactly does St. Peter offer as a startup package? To review, Apple spent the last decade of his life traveling all over the world, eating whatever he wanted, and staying wherever he wanted, on Uncle Punch's dime. I like to imagine he's doing exactly the same thing, except in an invisible phaeton pulled by Secretariat, and joined by the cast of 8 Femmes.

I doubt if it was the intended effect, but Bruni's piece on Italy really made me miss Apple. Now Apple was to junketeers what Bootsy Collins is to funketeers, but whether it was Virginia hams or street food in Singapore, he made it feel as if it was worth it to you for him to make the trip. Et tu, Frank?

On a recent week I divided my days almost evenly between these two regions, on a selfless mission to taste and compare the best of both. In my mind’s eye I cast them as contestants in a sort of bake-off, giving each the same opportunities — refined restaurants, rustic ones, marketplaces, vineyards — to show what it could do.

This is a hook I recall working out for the folks at Dynamite magazine in the late seventies -- who is better: Bee Gees or Beatles? --  and I imagine similar articles have been written about 'Nsync vs. 98 Degrees. Bruni expands on this socko premise:

I pitted the truffle against the pig, Turin's taglierini against Bologna’s tortellini. I let Piedmont show off its chocolate, often mixed with hazelnuts, a marriage made famous by this region. I let Emilia-Romagna trot out its balsamic vinegar, yet another delicacy it sired.

Next week, Bruni shuttles between Miami and Seattle, comparing the Red Delicous of the Pacific Northwest to the tangy citrus of Florida! Apples and oranges. Or, perhaps, Apples and Franks. Bruni pursues this specious comparison, gives the nod to Piedmont over Emilia-Romagna, but concludes that good eating can be had throughout Northern Italy -- who knew?

And it captures what, in the end, gave Piedmont an edge. The region’s greatest joys weren’t concentrated in the middle of a meal or the center of a plate. They also popped up at the beginning, at the end and on the sides of my dinners and days, against a mountainous backdrop more dramatic and exhilarating than Emilia-Romagna’s fecund plains. It’s as if Piedmont’s food evolved to match the majesty of the setting.

Italians in Emilia-Romagna have certainly come to admire it. Whenever I asked them which other region’s cuisine they most admired, Piedmont was the first or second place mentioned. In Piedmont, Emilia-Romagna drew the most praise. The mutual flattery was definitive proof. Both of these regions have great taste.

Stop the presses.

Elsewhere in DI/DO, Bittman suggests making your own salad dressing, rather than using the stuff out of the bottle. Granted, this is the Minimalist, but I tend to think of making a vinagrette as something most vertebrates are capable of unsupervised -- the sort of task you might fob off on an eight year old niece who was underfoot in the kitchen.  Next week, look for Bittman to come out in favor of grated Cheddar, rather than American cheese singles as a chili topping. Not sure what the timeline is on the changing of the guard at DI/DO, but there is room for improvement.

Comments

[dubarry]

making out. the cast of 8 femmes MAKING OUT. also acceptable: francoise dorleac and anna karina c. 1960 making out.

purgatory: carly fiorina and betsy johnson making out.

hell: barbara and laura bush making out.