Eating Italy: A Chef's Culinary Adventure

Copyright © 2013 by Jeffrey Michaud

Published by Running Press,

A Member of the Perseus Books Group

All photos © Kelly Campbell (unless noted)

Other photos:

Courtesy of Jeff Michaud: pages 6, 10–11, 66 (bottom), 67, 89–91, 112, 134, 154–155, 177–178, 216–217, 254–259, 275

© Joshua McDonnell, pages 174–175

Shutterstock © Gijs van Ouwerkerk, pages 214–215

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2013938027

E-book ISBN 978-0-7624-5061-9

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Digit on the right indicates the number of this printing

Cover and interior design by Joshua McDonnell

Edited by Kristen Green Wiewora

Typography: Avenir, Bembo, and Cubano

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GAIA

CONTENTS

Foreword by Marc Vetri

Introduction

Paladina The Butcher’s Apprentice

Alme A Maestro in the Kitchen, Amore in the Dining Room

Cene and Fiobbio Farm to Table . . . Fifty Feet

Cinque Terre Sex on the Italian Riviera

Barolo and Barbaresco I Can’t See Through This Fog

Villa d’Almè Simple Italian Cooking at Its Best

Alba If You Can’t Smell the Truffles, You Must Be Dead

Venice Losing Myself in the City

Leffe Becoming a Chef

Florence The Romance Continues

Trescore Balneario Our Big Italian Wedding

Desenzano del Garda The Culinary Journey of a Lifetime

Basics and Essential Recipes

Sources for the Cook and Traveler

Acknowledgments

Index

FOREWORD

In the spring of 2005, my business partner, Jeff Benjamin, and I were at Ca’Marcanda, the Gaja-owned vineyard in Tuscany. In between cellar tours and tasting, I was on the phone with Jeff Michaud. At that time, he was the chef at The Bedford Village Inn in New Hampshire. Jeff Michaud and I had been talking about opening a restaurant together in Philadelphia since he returned to the States from his three-year journey in Italy. We had three previous phone calls about it, but they all ended with me saying, “I don’t think it’s going to happen.” We just couldn’t strike a deal with the developer. (Coincidentally,
Ca’Marcanda
means “the house of endless negotiations.”)

This last phone call, however, ended differently. “It’s a done deal!” I exclaimed. “Get yer ass back to Philly!”

I could hear Jeff’s eagerness through the phone. Although, when I think about it, I don’t know who was more excited: him or me.

Some people just inspire you to do better. Perhaps it’s the work ethic they possess. Or maybe it’s the endless questions they ask until every possible scenario has been exhausted and they finally understand exactly what is going on. People like that make you strive for perfection, never accepting mediocrity. Why do something that’s just good enough when you can make it great with only a little more effort? I always look for that kind of determination in cooks, and it’s what initially drew me to Jeff Michaud.

We first met in 1998 at the Food & Wine Classic culinary festival in Aspen, Colorado. This was just a few weeks before I signed the lease for Vetri, my first restaurant. At the time, Jeff was working at Aspen’s Caribou Club under chef Miles Angelo, a good friend with whom I had worked in the early ’90s.

“He’s you,” Miles said to me, “only 10 years ago.”

At the time, I really didn’t think much of the comment, but it stayed with me.

Miles called me a few years later, saying “Remember that kid, Jeff? Well, I can’t teach him anything else, and he needs to get out of here. He needs to learn something new—you have to take him.”

I was in the process of looking for a cook, so I had Jeff come out and work at Vetri for a couple days. I didn’t realize it then, but it was as if my own son had come to work at the restaurant. He set the tone in the first month.

“Do you know how to make bread?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then why don’t you make it?”

“There’s just not enough time or room in the restaurant, Jeff.”

“Why? I don’t understand. I think we can do it. Will you please show me?” he implored.

Have you ever seen a child badger a parent to the point of exhaustion? Jeff pushed me until I relented. I agreed to make bread. We made a beautiful rustic loaf with a natural starter that we let ferment and grow for two weeks, feeding it three to four times a day. It was like our little pet. The bread turned out perfect. Soon after serving that first loaf, we stopped ordering bread. We have made our own bread at Vetri ever since.

And so it began. My life for the next two and a half years was packed with exploratory trips to markets and farms and early-morning lessons on curing sausage and making pasta. At a certain point, I even let him work the pasta station. There’s a first for everything! You name it—if Jeff wanted to learn it, he asked and asked and asked until he got his way. It reached the point where he only had to ask once, and I would give him a fatherly, “Whatever you want,” knowing full well the torture I would go through if I said no. The funny thing is, without realizing it, I got as much out of his education as he did. Jeff’s passion is infectious, and those torturous yeses eventually turned to anticipation. I looked forward to the next challenge we could tackle together. Sometimes we all need a push in the right direction, and Jeff was pushing with all of his might. Vetri was livelier and more exciting than ever. To this day, those ambitious ideals have not changed. The restaurant has been a platform of learning for everyone who has worked there, and in large part, we have Jeff Michaud to thank.

In 2001, I took Jeff on his first visit to Italy. He was 23, and we went to Vin Italy, the wine fair in Verona. That trip changed his life. The entire time his eyes were as big as beach balls looking at everything around him. . . the food, art, culture, and yes, the women. That trip began the great love affair with Italian food and culture that he continues to this day. Jeff always knew that cooking was what he wanted to do, but now he knew for certain that Italy was the place in which he wanted to do it. Shortly after we returned, Jeff made plans to move to Italy.