I have two vices in life. The first is eating more than I ought. The second is scouring the internet’s foodie forums for my next fix. Usually, I can quash my Italian cravings with a crispy meatball-topped slice at Pizza East in London’s Shoreditch, or an espresso and curdy lemon tart at Tempo in Mayfair. But sometimes I find myself yearning for the real deal. Somewhere rural and charming, layered with grapevines and crowned with Medieval castelli.
Recently I turned to Chowhound.com, the internet forum where proper eaters ‘gather’ to share their findings; I searched my favourite food blogs; and I badgered my foodie followers on Twitter. On Chowhound, I posted audacious questions such as, ‘Which is the best eating region in Italy?’ Most people replying hedged their bets (‘there is no bad eating in Italy’), but a consensus emerged: the food in the Langhe region of Piedmont, an hour-and-a-half south of Turin, is the foodiest, the most indulgent, the most serious in this whole gastronomy-blessed country.
Italians are good at eating what they’re given – fresh fish by the sea, farm food inland and trendy cicchetti (tapas-like nibbles) in the city. In Piedmont, there’s no snacky salame or fiddly vongole – people here dig into gamey ragù and yellow yolk-rich pasta and they braise big joints of their own cattle in powerful red wine. I couldn’t find a single gourmet corner of the internet that didn’t love the Langhe. So I flew to Turin, picked up my Punto, and drove south to dig in.
You may have heard of the region thanks to its truffles; the Langhe’s largest town, Alba, is home to tartufo bianco and the International White Truffle Fair, which has chefs all aflutter every autumn. The town’s timeless streets take on a smell that is earthy and intoxicating, as the knobbly morsels dominate deli windows like misshapes from the nearby Ferrero chocolate factory, propped between snazzy graters and bottles of Barbaresco and Barolo wines. Shrewd hunters head out to secret spots in the dead of night to grab the best specimens, and chefs construct elaborate multi-course menus to show off their truffle-cooking prowess.
I arrive in January, at the wrong time for truffles, yet I couldn’t care less because I’ve heard talk of tajarin, the slim strands of pasta sturdy enough to hold their own against wild-boar ragù. And I’ve read about plin, an affectionate nickname (meaning ‘pinch’) for agnolotti, the tiny ravioli stuffed with three roasted meats and pinched into shape. I’m even intrigued by vitello tonnato, the dish that combines slivers of sometimes raw veal with creamy tuna sauce.
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At Cascina Reinè, a charming converted villa on a hill, I eat the best soft-boiled egg I’ve ever tried, fresh from the hen The region is a cluster of villages clinging to hills, each topped with its own castle.
It’s easier to navigate than it looks – you follow signs in dot-to-dot fashion from one settlement to the next, past chicken coops, vineyards, snow-white cows and hazelnut trees; no journey takes more than 20 minutes.
I’m staying in serene Castello di Sinio, in the lushly converted castle that crowns the hill and surveys the Langhe.
Denise Pardini, the Sinio’s owner, says hello, pours me a glass of prosecco and asks me what I’m planning to eat. I’m thrilled to be on-topic so swiftly because I’ve made nerdy notes, mainly from Chowhound. Denise knows my type: ‘They come armed with ideas.
They say things like, “I heard American celeb chef Mario Batali really loves this restaurant,” and I reply, “When was Mario last here?” I don’t want to send guests to places that have lost their charm.’ Should I tell her I have it on good authority that Antonio Carluccio enjoyed a little place in nearby Monforte d’Alba, back in 2003?
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Enough chatter – to the task in hand. After a zig-zaggy drive to get my bearings, via stunning villages such as Serralunga, Grinzane Cavour and Diano d’Alba, I’m at the foot of another castle, in Castiglione Falletto – on Denise’s say-so. Ristorante Le Torri is chef Maria Cristina’s place – her husband takes my coat and escorts me to a table by the fire, as though I’m a guest in his home; it all feels extraordinarily special for a weeknight, as I order the famed dishes.
Vitello tonnato is predictably peculiar – I dab a tiny bit of tuna sauce on my tongue (I’ve lost my nerve), but the feathery slices of raw veal show off the Piedmontese cattle beautifully. I thought I loved fresh pasta before, but after tasting tajarin I’m obsessed – the thin noodles mingle with ragù made using tangy sausage from nearby Bra. For pudding, my hazelnut cake comes in its own paper case, with vivid-yellow Muscat-infused zabaglione to dip it in. To drink, I could have one of 700 wines, but I let Maria Cristina select a Barolo, the local red elixir.
Come lunchtime the next day, I’m starving, predictably enough, which is a good thing, as I’m eating at La Rosa dei Vini. I chose it precisely because of a 16-paragraph blog I read about its vineyard views. You’d pay big bucks for these vistas in the Napa Valley, but in sleepy Serralunga, no-one has noticed. I swing by Fontanafredda, one of Piedmont’s oldest and most famous wineries, sated.
The cellars are remarkable – there’s a comforting smell of damp oak and fermenting red wine, and the barrels are so enormous I slip into a daydream in which one of them ruptures and I’m swimming in Barolo.
In the new visitors’ area, I acquaint myself with a few vintages, and in the bookshop, I manage to procure the English translation of Nonna Genia, a manifesto of Langhe home cooking that local chefs and grandmas (nonnas) expect everyone to own.
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I leave beaming, scouring its pages, loudly uttering things like ‘polenta with buttermilk!’ and ‘pig’s head!’ to the surprise of passers-by, before stowing it safely in the glove compartment.
Twitter tells me not to miss the Saturday Earth Market in Alba, so I move closer on Friday afternoon, into the charming B&B Cascina Reinè. A converted villa on a hill, with an outdoor pool, paintings of fruit bowls, floral rugs and its own grapevines and apricot trees, it’s also where I eat the best soft-boiled egg I’ve ever tried, fresh from the hen.
Alba’s market is surprisingly designer, like its truffle-touting delis. Proud producers flaunt wine, sausages and vegetables, alongside hazelnuts coated in chocolate, honey infused with rhododendron and little jars of cherries in Muscat. I try not to sample too many morsels because I have an appointment at 1pm for lunch at the double-Michelin-starred Piazza Duomo.
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The restaurant is owned by the Cerettos, a wine-making family who headhunted chef Enrico Crippa seven years ago. Crippa is a ferocious artist, with a moustache as refined as his dishes. He uses local ingredients distinctively; his signature salad, Insalata 21, 31, 41, includes more than 30 mysterious herbs, crunchy seeds and dainty flowers, 70 per cent of them plucked by Crippa from his garden. As instructed, I eat the salad with tweezers, experiencing new sensations with each mouthful. Then I proceed with succulent pigeon wrapped in red cabbage, a stunning black cardamom risotto and a ready-to-drink capsule of cream, flavoured with vanilla and Muscat.
Naturally, I can’t let a large lunch interfere with my last supper – I want to check out Osteria dell ’Arco, a casual establishment given the thumbs up by the Slow Food movement (the founder lives in nearby Bra). It’s very important that I savour the yolky pasta one last time, so I order my tajarin with butter and sage. It’s golden, rich and divine but, ultimately, I’m so full that it’s really just about chewing.
Back home again the following day, I’m still digesting my foodie getaway, as I place Nonna Genia lovingly on a shelf, discarding Low Fat Meals in Minutes to make room. I’m trying out one of the former’s recipes – braising a pound of chuck steak in bubbling Barolo for five hours. That should give me plenty of time to answer my own Chowhound question (under a pseudonym, of course): the best region is undoubtedly the Langhe, give or take the vitello tonnato.
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Ryanair (www.ryanair.com) flies daily from Stansted to Turin (90 minutes from Alba), and weekly from Stansted to Cuneo (an hour’s drive from Alba). BA (0844 493 0787, www.ba.com) flies from Gatwick to Turin from £98 return.
Where to stay
Castello di Sinio (00 39 017 326 3889, www.hotelcastellodisinio.com) has doubles from £141, room only; breakfast is £7. Cascina Reinè (00 39 017 344 0112, www.villalameridianaalba.it) has doubles from £77, B&B.
Where to eat
At Le Torri (00 39 017 362849, www.ristoranteletorri.it), it costs around £30 for two courses. At La Rosa dei Vini (00 39 017 361 3219, www.larosadeivini.it) primi are around £8, secondi around £13. At Piazza Duomo (00 39 017 336 6167, www.piazzaduomoalba.it), three courses cost around £72. Osteria dell ’Arco (00 39 017 336 3974, www.osteriadellarco.it) has primi for around £8; secondi for £11.
Wineries
Fontanafredda (www.fontanafredda.it) has tours and tastings from £5. Or try Ceretto (00 39 017 328 2582, www.ceretto.com), which has a modern, Californian-style visitor centre with tasting rooms and views over the vineyards; ‘seminars’ start at £13.