2012-0319 014

If it’s Sunday . . . It’s Simone’s

If it’s Sunday it’s Simone’s. With apologies to Tim Russert. I’ve never been a big fan of David Gregory.

* * *

Saturday night we put an exclamation point on the previous day and a half of winery and dinery that included a marathon degustazione (which was not at all disgusting) at the Paolo Bea winery, a protein-fest feast featuring all manner of four hoofed delicacies and a subterranean lunch at the osteria l’Alchimista, where we supped on a philosopher’s stone of local dishes and wines that were magically transformed into good cheer (and a few inches around the waist). The exclamation point, if our runon sentence needed one, was dinner at Ernesto’s.


More properly referred to in local dialect as Perbacco, because that is the actual name of the restaurant, Ernesto’s restaurant is not just the best restaurant in Cannara, it is one of the best in this region of Umbria. It is a special place for us, and not just because we can walk there from the villa. Ernesto and Annarita’s offerings are imaginative yet linked to tradition, food with a reason and food for thought. Ernesto is always interested in talking about how his dishes are prepared and why. He is constantly experimenting yet always offering traditional dishes, ones that grow out of the rustic tradition here, where no part of the animal is wasted. What we like to call nuts n’ guts.

Food for thought and for the thinking. But even more, food for eating.

* * *

So our group of 12, not 12 angry men but neither 12 hungry men (and women), trekked down our dark drive to the equally dark two lane road leading to Cannara, illuminating the way with cellphones. We arrived at a nearly empty osteria, close to broken from the days of eating. But within minutes, as the wine began to flow (Ernesto recommended a bottle of red from a nearby winery that he described as a piccolo Bea) and the antipasti began to arrive, the restaurant began to fill with an eclectic mix of young and old, couples and families, and it was apparent that our self-pity was disappearing as fast as Ernesto’s signature chicken liver pate.

We were back. If only for one night.

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Spaghetti Perbacco, one of Ernesto's signatures, with Cannara onions and anchovy.

One of the highlights of dinner that night, and there were many treats to go along with the pleasure of being able to introduce and share this hidden gem with our guests, was the cheese. Only several days before, six of our group had spent a marathon eight hours cooking with Ernesto, eating too. We had tried our hand at pastas and breads, grilled fowl, soups and desserts. And as an experiment Ernesto had us help him make cheese. Cheese from simple store-bought whole milk, heated and combined with rennet. We watched as the curds formed and spooned them into a form where the mass was refrigerated. And so that night Ernesto came to our table and a lightbulb went off over his head and he exclaimed, “oh, the cheese. Faccio un assaggio.” I will bring you a taste. A moment later he returned to the table with two side plates with thinly sliced wedges of white cheese, not looking like the loose curds we had prepared those days before, but firm and robust. Since our class, we learned, it had been bathed in salt and then rubbed with olive oil to form a rind and it had hardened and become dense. Its texture was smooth and firm and its taste mild. It was not the best cheese I have ever tasted, but it was the best cheese I have ever tasted that I had made.

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Sundays, as we have written before, are a special time for us in Italy. After racing around, chasing, schlepping, organizing, moving here and there, to and fro during the week, it is almost like you can hear the air come out of the calendar, not hissing but sighing. It is a peaceful, carefree feeling. More days should be like Sundays.

And while we haven’t spent every Sunday enjoying lunch at Simone’s restaurant in Bevagna, we really should. Especially when, as yesterday, the weather is warm enough to enjoy it on his outdoor patio.

We arrived in Bevagna around 12:30 and after checking in and saying ciao to Simone, took our guests on a stroll through this beautiful roman-medieval gem of a town. Wandering the streets of Bevagna is a treat any time, but especially so on a warm spring day. And that stroll is made even better when you end up at le Delizie del Borgo. Which is what we did.

So on this leisurely Sunday afternoon we sat and enjoyed the weather and the sights of the passersby who themselves were enjoying the monthly outdoor market just in front of the restaurant. And we enjoyed the food. And the wine. And we enjoyed each other’s company and the conversation. It was Sunday and it was Simone’s. What’s not to enjoy.

Ci vediamo!
Bill and Suzy

If it’s Sunday it’s Simone’s. With apologies to Tim Russert. I’ve never been a big fan of David Gregory. * * * Saturday night ...

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Bill Menard is a recovering attorney who left private practice in Washington, DC over a decade ago to pursue his. See more post by this author

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