374
Lately I’ve been craving a trip to Italy. However, Piccola Cucina‘s Ferragosto menu has satisfied that itch, for now.
I’ve been working at a European company for the past couple of years. Sure, the differences tend to be minor, especially given the increasingly globalized workforces we’ve come to know, but one thing still serves as a stark reminder that we live in different cultures: summer.
Look, I love New York in the summer. It can be hot, lively, smelly, vibrant and, above all else, incredibly alive. There is something uniquely fun about a city where seemingly everyone is trying to squeeze as much as humanly possible out of a few warm months. But Europeans tend to approach summer with a greater degree of gravitas. We might take a week or two off. Europeans disappear for an entire month, and even when they are around, there seems to be a collective understanding that work should know its place. Frankly, I’ve come to respect it.
Perhaps the best example I’ve encountered recently is Ferragosto, the Italian holiday celebrated on August 15. At the very peak of summer, Italians traditionally head toward the coast and countryside for barbecues, picnics, long lunches and, depending on who you ask, celebrations that can stretch well into the night and the next day. The owner of Piccola Cucina described the Sicilian tradition to me less as something defined by an official calendar and more as a collective understanding: work can wait, summer is almost over, and there is still time for one more great meal by the sea before everyone heads home at the end of the season.
The tradition itself stretches back much further. Ferragosto traces its origins to ancient Rome, when Emperor Augustus established the Feriae Augusti, a period of rest following the agricultural season. Thousands of years later, the particulars may have changed, but I find the underlying philosophy remarkably compelling. Eat well. Spend time with people you like. Go somewhere beautiful. Stop working for a minute. I can get behind that.
Piccola Cucina Enoteca, the SoHo restaurant helmed by native Sicilian chef Philip Guardione, is celebrating the tradition this year with a special five-course Ferragosto menu. Available from August 10 through August 23, the menu takes a number of foods and flavors associated with a Sicilian summer and turns them into something of a culinary trip home.
This place was so authentic that, at one point during dinner, a woman pulled up outside on a Vespa and began speaking Italian with the owner. There are moments when a restaurant tries very hard to convince you that you have been transported somewhere else. Then there are moments like these when the universe simply decides to help with the bit.
Dinner began in the way every great Italian meal should: with wine. In this case, it was a very solid Chianti that paired magnificently with the meal. Wine pairings can sometimes feel like an obligatory addition to a tasting menu, but this one became part of the experience, particularly as the menu moved from pasta to swordfish and finally into the smokier, richer sausage course.
Shortly after the wine came the pane con ricotta fresca e peperoncino, toasted bread topped with fresh ricotta, extra virgin olive oil and Etna Devil’s Kiss chili pepper. It was a deceptively simple opening, slightly sweet from the ricotta, herbaceous and followed by just enough spice to wake everything up. It served as a fitting introduction to a menu that would consistently get the fundamentals right before adding anything more complicated.
That became particularly apparent with the busiate con zucchine alla scapece. Busiate is a tightly curled Sicilian pasta, and here it was paired with marinated zucchini, Caciocavallo Ragusano, garlic and fresh mint. This was one of those pasta dishes where execution mattered more than spectacle. The busiate arrived perfectly al dente, with a pleasant chew that allowed the cheese to cling to every spiral. The Caciocavallo supplied plenty of richness, while the zucchini and mint kept the plate from becoming overly heavy. Cheesy pasta is hardly a difficult concept to sell me on, but there is a considerable difference between making something enjoyable and making something precise. This was the latter, and it immediately sold me on the fact that Piccola Cucina was no run-of-the-mill operation.
The pesce spada alla ghiotta followed and offered an entirely different expression of Sicily. Swordfish is a remarkably meaty fish, and Piccola Cucina’s version retained that satisfying density while remaining remarkably smooth. It arrived in a light cherry tomato guazzetto with parsley, Sicilian Biancolilla olives and capers. The sauce was the key. Fresh and bright, it complemented the savory depth of the swordfish, while the olives and capers provided the bursts of salinity you want alongside a fish with this much body.
If the swordfish represented the seaside portion of Ferragosto, the salsiccia al ceppo felt built for the barbecue. The wood-fired Sicilian sausage was seasoned with fennel seeds and Nero d’Avola and served alongside new potatoes and Corno di Bue peppers. The sausage itself was excellent. It was deeply savory and aggressively meaty without becoming overly salty or overly fatty. But the best bite required a little assembly. Take a piece of sausage, add some of the pepper and the perfectly cooked potatoes from the plate, and suddenly everything comes together. The sweetness and acidity surrounding the sausage cut through its richness and turned what could have been a fairly straightforward meat course into one of the most satisfying dishes of the evening.
Then came watermelon sorbet. More specifically, gelo di anguria, a watermelon sorbet served with pan brioche. I will admit that when someone tells me they are putting watermelon sorbet and brioche together, I am not immediately convinced they have improved either ingredient. However, I love admitting when I’m wrong. The sorbet was intensely refreshing without becoming overly sweet, with pieces of watermelon reinforcing the fresh fruit flavor rather than turning dessert into a sugar bomb. The brioche was the surprise. Soft, slightly rich and almost neutral compared with the fruit, it gave the sorbet something to play against and somehow made the entire combination feel more substantial without sacrificing the lightness that made it such an appropriate ending.
Perhaps that is what I enjoyed most about Piccola Cucina’s Ferragosto menu. It never felt like an attempt to turn a cultural tradition into something overly formal. There was plenty of technique on display, particularly in the pasta and swordfish, but the meal maintained the spirit of food you would pack for and prepare on a beach somewhere in Sicily. And maybe that is the part of European summer culture I find myself increasingly envious of.
New Yorkers are very good at maximizing summer. We fill rooftops, parks, sidewalks and restaurant patios until the season finally gives up on us. What we are considerably worse at is allowing ourselves to stop maximizing anything at all. Ferragosto seems built around the opposite idea. For at least a little while, productivity loses. The beach wins. Dinner goes long. Someone opens another bottle of wine. Today’s work becomes tomorrow’s problem.
I may not be ready to disappear from my inbox for the entire month of August just yet, but after five courses at Piccola Cucina, I’m beginning to think the Europeans might be onto something.
Photo by the Knockturnal
Photo by the Knockturnal
Photo by the Knockturnal
Photo by the Knockturnal
