My cheating heart

I never thought I’d fall so hard for another cuisine. I’ve eaten in a lot of places that offered untold surprises such as fresh tuna sliced for me by a fish monger at the Tsujiki Market, or a big steaming pot of homemade feijoada with farofa sprinkled on top in Sao Paolo. But they were just delicious memories—nothing that made me crazy.

Enter the Piedmonte. I’ve been back in the United States for less than a day and I can’t stop thinking about all the foods I ate last week in Turin and at the Salone Del Gusto. Now granted, I’m still a bit jet lagged so I may be addled in my thought processes. But if I concentrate, I can still smell an earthy whiff of fresh white truffles, feel the delicate texture of homemade agnolotti or taste the raw juicyness of vitello tonatto. I won’t be eating any of these things in NY any time soon—they’re sensory memories forever locked in a certain place (which means I’ll have to return!)

I also discovered an amazing thing at the chocolate shop, a treat I did not know existed in Italian cuisine: chocolate with red chiles. And unlike a truffle, this is something I could bring home with me without dealing with nosy customs inspectors. So I now have in my possession pounds of Turin chocolate all playing variations on this theme: dark bites of chocolate flecked with white truffles and piquant chiles, big bars of chocolate spiced with red chiles and jars of crema cacao al peperoncino (think Nutella—which hails from the Piedmonte region—with spicy chiles).

The women at the shop didn’t speak English and I don’t speak Italian, but the picture they showed me makes me think the chiles used are cayenne, but I’ll have to research this. But now that I think about it, I reckon my heart hasn’t strayed too far if I fell in love with chocolate and chiles, a very common combination found in Mexico and the Southwest. So perhaps I’m smitten because the taste is so familiar. No matter, the chocolate makes me swoon and I’ll have a hard time being generous with these sweet and piquant bites, even though they were purchased with the gift-giving season in mind. Perhaps my friends and family will settle for anchovy paste instead. (Hey, don’t give me that look…don’t knock anchovy paste until you try it!) But yes, while I want to be selfish, these chocolates are just too wonderful to hoard. And since there’s now a security inspector in Brussels enjoying my bottles of Barolo (sorry, Dad—I was misinformed about carry-on liquids) with his pot of mussles, these chocolates can be my way of acting as culinary ambassador to an outstanding food region—the Piedmonte.