Arturo's Osteria & Pizzeria Blog

We just had an amazing St.Helena, California experience!!! I had been waiting to go to Model Bakery after the great experiences at Tartine, Bouchon, Della Fattoria, and Bovine bakeries. And with the awaited anticipation came yet another incredible afternoon!!! Just after purchasing a sourdough baguette Sarah, the owner, graciously invited us into her kitchen. The ovens were the highlight of the kitchen. They are over 100 years old and made of beautiful bricks. They have been repaired many times but are still functioning and are quite a sight! The bakery recently began using all organic flour from Central Milling, owned by Keith Giusto who i had the pleasure of meeting in Las Vegas at the pizza convention last month.
Their homemade english muffin egg sandwich looked incredible and aparently they make over 1000 english muffins everyday. My sourdough baguette was as perfect as a loaf can be. It had a crispy and caramelized crust with a tender and open interior. It had a mildly sour flavor from the natural fermentation.
These are the moments I live for! This is definitely a place to stop on your next vacation to Napa!

Milled locally.

At the Pizza Expo in Las Vegas, I learned that our flour is milled in Clifton, New Jersey which is a mere twenty minutes from our restaurant.  They are one of the only mills in NJ and I was  blown away that we have been unknowingly purchasing their flour for years!  Upon learning this, I immediately contacted them.  I was fortunate enough to tour the mill today with the head miller, Josh.  They mill wheat around the clock, literally twenty-four hours a day.  Josh was kind enough to take me through the entire milling process, from wheat berry to flour.  First, I had to put on a hard-hat, safety glasses, ear plugs, and a hair net (even though i have no hair).  We started the tour at the railcars that transport wheat from the mid-west to the mill.  Currently, much of the wheat is from North Dakota.  The railcars are emptied and the wheat berries are cleaned.  There are many seemingly simple steps that occur in the rapid and seemless transformation from wheat to flour.  The wheat is crushed or broken, then crushed again and again into whole wheat.  Next the wheat is sifted many times through sieves of different sizes to separate the bran, the germ, and the endosperm.  White flour is sifted to remove almost all of the germ and bran.  The milling process can be controlled to produce flour with different protein, ash, enzyme and moisture content.  This is an amazingly high-tech yet simple process.  Milling technology enables us to have flour that is clean, consistant, and reliable.  The brand of flour may or may not bleach or chemically alter the wheat.  We are positive that ours would never use such processes.  I have now seen it with my own eyes.  

Flour.

Like all flour, double zero flour is wheat milled to predetermined specifications such as how fine the granules are, the protein, the moisture, and the mineral content. Flour is refined in various ways and each bag of flour is slightly different especially from company to company. Italy is a very small country and wheat is a crop that requires a tremendous amount of land to grow. To meet the demand for double zero flour, wheat is imported from commodity wheat grown around the world. The three biggest wheat-producing nations are China, India, and the USA and the USA is the biggest exporter of wheat in the world. Italy imports American wheat, refines it to their flour specifications and then ships it back to America. This is just wrong. The environmental impact of this must be staggering. We use flour from a Vermont-based company that mills only American wheat. They have cultivated trusting relationships with their wheat farmers to ensure the best flour possible. Our flour is the highest quality wheat produced with the least environmental impact possible. No chemicals or additives are used in its production.

Our new NJ starter culture is ready!

Our friends at Zone 7 have procured some wheat berries from Oak Grove Mills in Pittstown, NJ.  They arrived at Arturo's two weeks ago and since then we have been hard at work!  We milled the wheat berries by hand with our new, not-so-fancy grain mill.  After milling, we were left with a whole wheat flour that was unlike any flour I had ever seen.  The grind was course and it seemed like the color was darker than the whole wheat flours I've used in the past.  Maybe it's because I milled the flour myself.  Or maybe it's because I know the farmers who grew the wheat and I am friends with the middleman who delivered it.  But, I am positive that this flour is far superior to any that I've ever seen.  Only a few hands have ever touched this flour and the distance between the raw earth and our bread is as short as it gets.  This mentality of utilizing an ingredient grown so close to its final destination is indicative of the true principles and ideology behind AUTHENTIC Italian food.  It's not about a recipe or a particular dish.  It's about ingredients and technique.  Find the best product and learn how to cook it.  Clearly, I'm excited about this flour.

So now we have freshly milled whole wheat flour.  We then mixed the flour with an equal amount of water and mixed vigorously to incorporate as much air as possible into the pancake-like batter.  We left this to sit for 24 hours after which we discarded half of the mix.  We added more flour and water to the remaining half and let it sit for another 24 hours.  We repeated this for days and each time, bubbles grew more numerous and more rapidly.  By the seventh day, it was obvious that the starter was fully active.  Within three hours of feeding the culture, it had doubled in size and its smell changed from acidic to sweet and milky.  A few hours after that, the starter deflated and smelled acidic again.  This is the cycle of a wild yeast culture.  It was now hungry and ready to ferment a batch of dough.

I mixed the first batch of dough at 2 pm yesterday and let it ferment for a full 24 hours.  I then shaped a loaf of bread and let it proof in a cloth-lined basket.  While I was at it, I cut off a small piece and rolled it into a ball for what would become a pizza (my dinner).  The dough proofed (secondary fermentation) for another four hours.  Then, I threw my cast iron pot into the oven to preheat and started stretching my pizza.  I topped it with just a few cubes of our handmade fresh mozzarella, sea salt and extra virgin olive oil.  I made sure that our wood ovens were cranked up to 800 degrees and baked the little pie.  It came out of the oven just a few minutes later and was just as I like it:  Crispy and deeply caramelized on the outside, tender on the inside with big, open holes in its structure.  The colors on the outside ranged from golden to auburn to the darkest browns; the inside was a creamy off-white that could only be achieved with a thorough understanding of proper bread making technique.  The toppings obviously were not important to me at this point.  They were like ketchup on a french fry:  accentuation but definitely not necessary if you have a great french fry.  The soul of pizza is the gentile manipulation of flour and coaxing it into something etherial through a complete understanding and execution of proper fermentation.

After I had eaten my dinner, the cast iron pot was thoroughly preheated and ready to go.  I swiftly flipped the dough from its proofing basket into the pot and quickly covered it.  I gently pushed the tightly-covered pot into our wood fired oven for a quick twenty minute bake.  I curiously removed the lid and was amazed at the sight of this beautiful loaf of bread!!  It still needed another 25 minutes or so of baking to properly caramelize and dry the crust.  

I cannot explain the level of satisfaction that I took from this whole process.  We've created something so innately human from the grain of what was once a wild grass.  As I learn more about the fermentation process and of bread making technique, I find myself more intrigued and ready to dig deeper.  

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Monmouth County Meat Factory

Monday morning I woke with the brilliant idea of going to what I thought was a goat farm in Monmouth county.  As it turned out, they sold birds of all sorts, goats, pigs, sheep, and cows.  This was such an interesting place and could have been incredible.  They just don't do it the right way.  I walked into the small building that was overly subdivided into pens housing birds of all sorts.  There was a television in this "barn" (I struggle with calling this structure a barn) that was blaring Jerry Springer reruns.  The tv was so loud that when I was asking about the different varieties of birds, I couldn't hear a thing that the shopkeeper said.  He was completely uninterested in anything except Jerry.  Thankfully there was a not-so-lovely spanish speaking woman who reluctantly helped me with my many questions.  Somewhere in the conversation I picked out a duck and purchased it.  She not so gently carried the duck down the driveway to another building where the animals were processed.  She passed the duck to a man with a knife.  Emotionless, he cut the ducks throat and let it bleed out in a giant plastic garbage can.  The lifeless duck was then tossed into a bath of hot water to scald its skin.  This helped with removing its feathers.  Most of the feathers were removed by hand but just to be certain, he threw the duck into a giant mechanical spinner.  The machine threw the duck around like a pair of jeans in a clothes dryer.  He then brought the duck to his cutting board where he removed its organs, stuffing the good ones back into the cavity.  He asked me if I wanted the head, which of course I did.  He stuffed the duck into a plastic bag.  He surprisingly double bagged it without having to ask.  I gently placed the duck in the backseat of my car and quickly left. 

On the drive to back to North Jersey, I couldn't stop thinking about the lack of care and how factory-like this experience was.  My first experience of this kind was last winter in upstate New York.  This was eye-opening in a very different way.  It was pure and almost ritualistic.  The farm was run by an older man and his three grown children.  They took care of the animals properly and loved them.  There were chickens waddling around the barn and surrounding property.  There were horses, goats, and cows and pigs.  Some of the animals were free to roam the property and others were kept in enclosures but were not overcrowded.  While we were there, we took one of the pigs and a horse for a walk and fed a baby cow.  This was a farm.
Getting back to the Monmouth County "farm", I was under the impression that the eggs were laid on the premise.  Not the case.  I thought the animals were raised on their property.  Not the case.  This was basically a facility to kill, clean, and sell.  They purchased their animals from "somewhere" in the midwest and killed them when necessary.  The workers were emotion-less, uncaring, and devoid of any passion.  The animalswere unimportant and the life that they took was meaningless.  

This experience was equally as eye-opening as last years pilgrimage to the NY farm.  Meat is an animal that once had life.  It should be treated with respect, dignity, and care.  It should be consumed with this understanding and eaten in small quantities.  I know that this Monmouth County "farm" is a much better place to buy meat as compared to a local supermarket.  I am certain that it is not nearly as bad as other meat "factories" that just line up and kill animals like they are widgets.  I want to see these factories and experience this.  Maybe then I'll think differently about the Monmouth County "farm".  But until then, I'm going to appreciate my meat for what it is: an animal.

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We've been nominated for a James Beard Award!!

RISING STAR CHEF OF THE YEAR

Check us out!! Thank you to our entire staff for your hard work, dedication, and for believing that great hospitality truly makes life better!

The four year anniversary of the NEW Arturo's is next week! We will be celebrating at the restaurant at 9 pm with beer and wine (after we close). No food, just drinks! Stop by!

Alba. I'm Home.

After the three-hour drive through Parma, Piacenza, Alessandria, and Asti, we finally arrived in Alba.  It was exactly one year since I last

roamed the streets of Alba and the hills of the Langhe.  It felt like a homecoming for me as I began to notice the small changes over the years.  New stores have opened and others have closed; some friends have moved on to new places in their lives and other friendships grew stronger.   The first whiff of chocolate in the air reminds me of the amazement I first felt when I learned about the Ferraro chocolate factory located at the edge of town.  And, the first smell of truffles as we walked down the main drag, reminds me that I am going to eat well!  I always visit Alba after the last week of the truffle festival, when all of the tourists have left town.  My sleepy, but not-so-sleepy Alba is where I hope to visit every year for the rest of my life. 

We arrived at six o’clock in the evening and immediately headed to Vincafe, my favorite enoteca (winebar) for a pre-dinner glass of wine.  Our first glass of wine was a Dolcetto D’Abla produced by a legendary winemaker named Gaja.  It was a great way to start our first night in Piemonte.  After a glass or two at Vincafe, we headed to Osteria Dei Sognatori, my favorite place to eat in all of Italy.  Years ago, it was my first meal in Piemonte that I discovered the osteria.  I was with my dad and we stumbled upon it within the first few hours after our arrival in Alba.  During that first dining experience at Sognatori, the owners invited me into their kitchen to teach me how to make the specific shape of pasta that they were serving that night. On that night, what we didn’t realize was that they were inviting me into their lives and that our relationship would strengthen in the coming years.  Each time I step into Sognatori, I experience the same feeling.  At first, I wonder if they will remember me, which of course they always do.  Then I quickly begin to feel as if I were a guest at Arturo’s.  At Sognatori, I experience this unique feeling that I know many of our guests at Arturo’s feel, yet as an owner I am unable to fully experience.  It is the warmth of hospitality and the vitality of everyday life that fills both the kitchen and the dining room. 

The cooks are busy cooking, but in a fun, social, and group-oriented way, where private jokes and unique personalities bounce around the kitchen.  The head chef will be washing dishes one minute and jamming out to Bob Marley the next with friends popping in the backdoor to say hello and to make plans for their post-dinner beer.  The guests in the dining room are a wide mix of clientele from families with young children to groups of locals who are there to hang with friends over an impromptu four courses.  The only commonality among their guests is that they are all there to eat well and to be taken care of like family.  You can feel this in the walls and hear it in the air.  It’s loud and lively, obnoxious at times but always fun and exciting.  

 

My Bologna...

After a late wake-up in Bologna, we drove an hour and a half on the Autostrada parallel to the Via Emilia.  As we passed drove, Chris and I reminisced about the time he lost his passport in Modena and the many meals we shared in this food-centric region of Emilia-Romagna.  We stopped in Parma (one of my favorite cities) for lunch, but we quickly realized that ninety-nine percent of the restaurants are closed for lunch on Sundays.  Somehow, we found a great little place somewhere in the middle of the city that was open and welcoming.  As we sat and read the menu, we were certainly intrigued. 
They offered cavallo!  Horse!  We tried the horse carpaccio which was decent, but not as amazing as the horse we had years ago in Verona where it was braised and served with polenta.  We also ordered anolini in brodo (handmade mini-ravioli floating in chicken broth), tortelli d’erbette (handmade ravioli indigenous to Parma), and polenta with porcini mushrooms.  The food was incredible and I had a great conversation with the owner/cook about the detailed specifics of the three main pasta dishes hailing from Parma.  It was incredibly informative and wonderful to talk with someone who has so much pride and passion for pasta!

After lunch, we said goodbye to Parma and Emilia-Romagna and headed west for Piemonte.  

The GPS-less drive to Bologna

We returned to Castello Santa Maria late on our last night in Umbria after long day of eating.  We were tired and still needed to pack for our early departure.  But, apparently they lock the front gates at 7 pm, so we were stranded.  Well, we waited and waited outside until finally we decided to leave the car and scale the eight-foot wall and its iron gate.  We quickly ran up the seemingly endless road towards the castello.  It was pitch-black and we didn’t know if there were strange wildlife creatures that live deep in the middle of nowhere.  Wild boar?  It was quite an adventure!  

To sum up our time in Umbria…

We ate well, drank some mediocre wine, tasted great beer, harvested olives, watched the olives turn magically into olive oil, and we marveled at the architecture and incredible views from every direction. 

We were off the next morning with an early start to our four-hour drive towards Bologna. I was already imagining the scents wafting through the streets of pork rendering and ragu simmering.  These rich and enticing aromas were just about the only thing keeping me motivated and sane so early in the morning!  I could not wait to taste the Tagliatelle with ragu, the tortellini, the Lasagna, the mortadella and the various other cured meats of the pork-infested Bolognese cuisine.  I was excited for Fred to taste all of this as well, since he had yet to experience the true fresh pasta of the food-obsessed region of Emilia-Romagna.  But first…

We navigated the windy back-roads of southern Umbria for the last time (thankfully) and entered the Autostrada heading north towards Firenze.  We were driving fast while enjoying the changing scenery and before we knew it, Firenze was approaching.  We made a quick detour into the Florence airport to pickup a GPS from our car rental company.  We were taking bets on how long this would take and if it would happen at all.  In situations like this, in Italy, there tends to be a bit of frustration, disorganization, and a lack of urgency in dealing with Italian commerce. I always err on the side of caution with regards to timing and allow for an extra half hour or hour when dealing with these types of situations.  But, to our surprise, we were in and out of the airport with a GPS in twenty minutes!! We were amazed!  However, it was only thirty minutes later on our drive and the GPS decided to stop functioning.  It had officially died and we were stuck yet again without a GPS.  There's no turning back now!  Hahaha.  It’s always something in Italy!! 

So GPS-less, we managed to find the
center of Bologna with ease, but navigating the narrow pedestrian streets was another thing.  With all of the one-way streets and piazzas that were pedestrian only, it took forty-five minutes to find our hotel.  Once we found the hotel, we checked in and immediately headed into town to begin our 24 hours in Bologna. 

Our first meal was just around the corner from the hotel at a moderately sized trattoria that was highly regarded for their handmade pasta (like most in Bologna).  We tried their Tagliatelle alla Ragu Bolognese, tortelloni with sage and butter, and garganelli with prosciutto and saffron.  All three dishes were exceptional and brought me instantly into a happy place.  There is no food that I study more than pasta and when I taste a perfect plate of handmade pasta, I am in heaven.

After strolling the streets for some time, we came across the Torino-based Eataly.  I was completely unaware that they had opened in Bologna and after visiting the original in Torino and the new NYC location, it was completely unnecessary to stop in.  But we did of course.  There was small truffle exhibition inside which perfumed the air with the intoxicating aroma of white truffles.  After smelling this, I could not help but think about our final three days which would be spent in Alba where the white truffle is king.  But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves…

Across the street from Eataly is Tamburini, a famous gastronomia focusing on the local products of Emilia-Romagna.  They are one of the great places in central Bologna to taste various cured meats and artisanal cheeses, among other things.  They have a decent wine bar next door that we sat at for a plate of mixed cured meats and a glass of wine.  The cured meats of the Emilia-Romagna region are by far my favorites.  We tasted mortadella (my #1), prosciutto di parma, coppa di testa (head cheese), finocchiona (salame from Ferrara with fennel), and coppa (cured pork shoulder from Piacenza). 

It was approaching dinner time and we were getting hungry.  We headed to a restaurant that specializes in traditional Bolognese cuisine.  We ordered Lasagna Bolognese, tortellini, a lamb main course, and a few other completely forgettable plates of food.  We were not impressed with our meal, which was unfortunate since we were in Bologna for such a short time. The food was not bad; it just was not prepared with the love and care that I crave from Italian food in Italy.