la migliore di milano : pizza

Ten years ago I was told not to bother with Milan. People said it was grey and ugly and a useless stop for a backpacker. So I skipped Milan and went on my merry way.

Who knew I would be lucky enough to make up for my mistake?

Milan is a wonderful place but it's true that you wouldn't know it from the surface. The word "grey" will be included in most any description of the city and urban beauty awards aren't exactly filling Milan's résumé. But - and here's where it gets interesting - that very same lack of surface appeal is what keeps Milan real.

Italians work here and Italians eat here. Italians walk their dogs and shop here. Milan is not filled with tourists and that, my dear friends, is what makes Milan the perfect place for you to shop, eat and walk your dogs.

The pizza in Milan is made for Italians. The same goes for the gelato. In Milan you eat as Italians eat and thankfully, there's really no other choice. And so begins my sporadic listing of what we've found to be the best of this delightfully grey city.

There is no exaggeration in saying that pizza in Italy is an art. The dough can be chewy-soft-light-airy and cradles tomato and all other manner of coverings. It comes out of a wood oven and has burnt spots and bubbles, and there is zero relation between this and the pizza that is delivered to your doorstep in an insulated red bag back in the States.

Pizza here comes out of a giant stove where a man who's been swirling and twirling dough for years has used a long paddle to shove it deep into the oven closer to the wood fire. If you sit near the oven you will be warmer than if you sit someplace else. And the size of the pizza is perfect for one, it always is.

If you eat one pizza in Milan it should be the marinara pizza from Pizzeria Sibilla. Tomato sauce, garlic slivers, olive oil, basil and a couple of flecks of spices. That's it. And that's all you need.

You don't need cheese. You don't need vegetables. Of course you could have them and be quite happy, but first try the marinara. After loving the puddles of olive oil nestled in with tomato and little pieces of garlic you won't go back. And you shouldn't.

Once, I made the mistake of ordering a regular margherita pizza (with cheese) while Stefano had a marinara. It was a mistake I never made again.

This pizza is why you eat in Italy.

--------
Pizzeria Sibilla, Via Mercato 14, 02.864.64.567
Closed Sunday at lunch and all day Monday

topinambour and chocolate

Varese is about an hour away from Milan and, luckily for us, was hosting a chocolate festival the weekend before Christmas. The festival had actually been re-scheduled from its original date after a transport strike immobilized Italy the week before and stopped most everything from moving around the country. This included staples such as gas and groceries, and apparently chocolate as well.

December 23rd was unfortunately a cold and wet day. Just cold enough to freeze your hands and just wet enough to worry that a downpour might be on its way. But far be it for moisture and a gray day to wring all the joy out of a chocolate festival.

We went with a handful of friends and fanned out, exploring the booths and snagging samples of the chocolates they had on offer. I've said it before but it's worth repeating: Italy has fabulous chocolate. There's a place in this world for Hershey's but it's not at an Italian chocolate fest. These are chocolates that melt warmly and delicately on the tongue, that are layered with flavors, with textures, and that reflect unique tastes -- think salt, anice, fennel... It's easy to taste too much, to get too excited, to buy far too many tiny parcels filled with chocolates.



But we weren't alone in our quest. Varese was filled with a fair amount of guests indulging their chocolate fantasies and there was also a giant penguin in attendance. Some sort of mascot, or just a random weirdo -- we're still not sure. But you'd better believe that the ladies in our group got a photo with the giant penguin. I mean, you kind of have to.

The character we should have sidled up to was the hearty soul we'll call Santa Magro, aka the world's skinniest Santa. I don't think anyone has ever seen a Santa that thin, a Santa so unconcerned with the conventional characteristics of Santa. I mean, this guy didn't even put a pillow in his shirt. But there he was on Main Street in Varese handing out balloons and the like. I guess living with Mrs. Claus up at the North Pole has cut down on this Italian Santa's opportunities to eat Mom's cooking.



We found a great drogheria while moving from piazza to piazza. Italian drogherias are usually fun places to wander -- they're filled with a little bit of everything. Wine, chocolate, pasta, topinambour. Topinambour? Yah, topinambour! Everybody knows what that is, right?

No, not really. I found a jar labeled "Topinambour e acciughe" in the back room of the drogheria and appreciated the fact that I had never, ever, heard of such a thing. I turned to an Italian man who was standing nearby and asked him what this Topinambour stuff was. He said he had no idea. He even pulled off the price tag so he could read the entire label and got no further than I had.

The lady at the cash register - one of the owners - explained that a topinambour is, in fact, a topinambour. The more useful portion of her explanation was when - in response, I'm sure, to the perplexed look on my face - she described the mystery ingredient as a vegetable, a tuber. So at least we know that the jar we now have in our cabinet features not only anchovies, but some sort of tuber.



Tubers weren't the only intriguing items in Varese food shops. There were more than a few windows featuring creepy food combinations under aspic. Based on what I can tell from window displays at this time of the year, Italians seem to like most anything when it's coated with a generous blanket of clear gelatin.

Hmmmm, carrots, peas and tuna... Is it under aspic? Ok, I'll buy it! Shrimp, egg and red pepper... Is there aspic involved? Give me three! Nothing says Merry Christmas and Happy New Year like a thick covering of quivering goo.



Far more appealing is the pizza at Fabbrica Pizza. There were five of us, we each ordered a pizza, and no one was disappointed. In fact, most of us gave a sigh or two throughout the meal. My pizza was an amazing and authentic rendition of a pizza napolitana. Doughy, puffy edges with a saucy center. And the buffalo mozzarella dripped that subtle taste of fields and earth that makes it so special.

The restaurant also was indoor and had heat which made it a pleasant alternative to the cold wintry outside. (Although you'd be surprised how far a cup of Italian hot chocolate will go to improve your mood.)

When we left Varese we had a backpack bursting with chocolate and a small jar filled with a mystery tuber. If I didn't know better I'd say we're ready to combine the two and boil up some aspic.

Buon Anno da Milano! (and Varese)

------
Fabbrica pizza Via G. Ferrari, 5 (C.so Matteotti) Tel. 0332.232.939 www.fabbricapizza.com