While we’re on the subject of food — and when are we not? — here are a few worthy character actors on the great Venetian culinary stage who may have been hidden in the swarm of the stereotypical food cluttering every Venetian menu.
Wonderful post, Erla! Reminds me of the time, decades ago, that I picked up some delectable jelly doughnuts, hot from the fryer, at a Dorsoduro bakery (which, last time I looked, had become a fancy takeaway shop). I asked the young lady at the counter what they were called. “Krapfen!” she replied with one of those contemptuous why-do-you-even-ask looks. Clearly a contribution to Venetian cuisine from the Austrian occupation. History for breakfast.
Absolutely an Austrian relic, and not the only one. I wonder if you ever discovered kipferl (pronounced here as KEE-fer. Too freaking many consonants for Italian). It’s a sort of croissant with a marzipan filling, bedecked with toasted sliced almonds and powdered sugar. The spritz, too, I have been told, began in Austria as white wine and sparkling water. Took the Venetians to kick it up a notch with an extra ingredient, they knew a good thing when they saw it. It was the French who left the croissant behind, as we all know, but there are some denizens of deepest Castello who pronounce it “koh-rah-san.” I once saw it actually written on a sign in the window of an extremely neighborhood bar/cafe as KHORASAN.
Oh, interesting! I just know kipferl as a sort of horn-shaped yeast bread.
But I’ve certainly eaten the Venetian version, probably under the name of cornetto mandorlato or some such.
“Koh-rah-san”, huh? Makes me think of Koreshan, a former community of celibates in Southwest Florida who believed that they were living on the inside surface of a huge globe called Earth. As indeed we may be.
So, back to food in Venice: When does castrauri season begin?
I have only ever seen kipferl sold as a crescent pastry (I wouldn’t have thought of calling it bread — it’s more like croissant pastry-dough). If anyone here called it a “cornetto mandorlato” that would be a daring departure. The Austrians called them kipferl and Venetians have carried it on.
The very brief season of castraure depends, of course, on the weather. I have seen them begin to flower in early April, but as you recall, there is only one at the very top and center of each plant. The following artichokes on the same plant are called botoi. For there to be as many true castraure as are purported to be such on sale in the markets here, the fields would need to be reaching Kansas proportions. Back to weather — early spring, anyway. Spinach never happened this year because of too much rain at the wrong time, and the peas are just beginning to come up, although they are fighting a desperate battle for survival against the hungry wild rabbits on Sant’ Erasmo that have been encouraged to attract sport hunters. I don’t know if rabbits like artichokes…..
That remarkable cat is called a Tuxedo for obvious reasons. The markings are just a little lopsided compared to some. When our Tuxedo closes his eyes, they disappear completely in the black. A very proper cat to find in the City of Masks.
Thank you for this, I love learning things. I didn’t realize he’s not unique, but the fact that there are more like him makes me feel very good indeed. City of Masks, indeed. I wonder what he’s going to look like next Wednesday when the party’s over!
How delightful to see “hopefully” used correctly.
My mother hopefully advised us kids that, if we couldn’t keep our parts of speech sorted out, just substitute the word “merrily.” If it sounds stupid, it is.
e.g.
I forgot my key but, when I get home, merrily the door will be unlocked.
I’m late for work, merrily the boss won’t be angry.
When guests come, merrily the carta igenica won’t run out.
It is as good as any parlor game, with our without pours of Boron all ’round.
Have you seen the sort-of pentacle shape that results if you cut an apple horizontally, instead of vertically? Quite interesting image.
Thank you again for yet another interesting post – I almost always come away from them with another tasty nugget of information lodged about my person.
Sincere thanks for your always-generous compliments. But I hope you find that nugget about your person and remove it before it begins to go bad! (smile)
12 Comments
Wonderful post, Erla! Reminds me of the time, decades ago, that I picked up some delectable jelly doughnuts, hot from the fryer, at a Dorsoduro bakery (which, last time I looked, had become a fancy takeaway shop). I asked the young lady at the counter what they were called. “Krapfen!” she replied with one of those contemptuous why-do-you-even-ask looks. Clearly a contribution to Venetian cuisine from the Austrian occupation. History for breakfast.
Absolutely an Austrian relic, and not the only one. I wonder if you ever discovered kipferl (pronounced here as KEE-fer. Too freaking many consonants for Italian). It’s a sort of croissant with a marzipan filling, bedecked with toasted sliced almonds and powdered sugar. The spritz, too, I have been told, began in Austria as white wine and sparkling water. Took the Venetians to kick it up a notch with an extra ingredient, they knew a good thing when they saw it. It was the French who left the croissant behind, as we all know, but there are some denizens of deepest Castello who pronounce it “koh-rah-san.” I once saw it actually written on a sign in the window of an extremely neighborhood bar/cafe as KHORASAN.
Oh, interesting! I just know kipferl as a sort of horn-shaped yeast bread.
But I’ve certainly eaten the Venetian version, probably under the name of cornetto mandorlato or some such.
“Koh-rah-san”, huh? Makes me think of Koreshan, a former community of celibates in Southwest Florida who believed that they were living on the inside surface of a huge globe called Earth. As indeed we may be.
So, back to food in Venice: When does castrauri season begin?
I have only ever seen kipferl sold as a crescent pastry (I wouldn’t have thought of calling it bread — it’s more like croissant pastry-dough). If anyone here called it a “cornetto mandorlato” that would be a daring departure. The Austrians called them kipferl and Venetians have carried it on.
The very brief season of castraure depends, of course, on the weather. I have seen them begin to flower in early April, but as you recall, there is only one at the very top and center of each plant. The following artichokes on the same plant are called botoi. For there to be as many true castraure as are purported to be such on sale in the markets here, the fields would need to be reaching Kansas proportions. Back to weather — early spring, anyway. Spinach never happened this year because of too much rain at the wrong time, and the peas are just beginning to come up, although they are fighting a desperate battle for survival against the hungry wild rabbits on Sant’ Erasmo that have been encouraged to attract sport hunters. I don’t know if rabbits like artichokes…..
That remarkable cat is called a Tuxedo for obvious reasons. The markings are just a little lopsided compared to some. When our Tuxedo closes his eyes, they disappear completely in the black. A very proper cat to find in the City of Masks.
Thank you for this, I love learning things. I didn’t realize he’s not unique, but the fact that there are more like him makes me feel very good indeed. City of Masks, indeed. I wonder what he’s going to look like next Wednesday when the party’s over!
I’ve been told ‘koh-rah-san’ on the Lido too 🙂
That’s hilarious — I never would have thought to find that little twist on the Lido. Thanks!
How delightful to see “hopefully” used correctly.
My mother hopefully advised us kids that, if we couldn’t keep our parts of speech sorted out, just substitute the word “merrily.” If it sounds stupid, it is.
e.g.
I forgot my key but, when I get home, merrily the door will be unlocked.
I’m late for work, merrily the boss won’t be angry.
When guests come, merrily the carta igenica won’t run out.
It is as good as any parlor game, with our without pours of Boron all ’round.
This is brilliant. I vote for your mother as ruler of the world. I raise my glass of Boron to her.
Have you seen the sort-of pentacle shape that results if you cut an apple horizontally, instead of vertically? Quite interesting image.
Thank you again for yet another interesting post – I almost always come away from them with another tasty nugget of information lodged about my person.
Sincere thanks for your always-generous compliments. But I hope you find that nugget about your person and remove it before it begins to go bad! (smile)