Basic Rules For Eating Italian Bread

Italians Love Their Bread, But There Are Rules

You've just been seated at your favorite Italian restaurant. The server has taken your order and the menus have been collected. Moments later – perhaps along with your beverages – the first course arrives: a basket full of delicious, crusty bread. Depending on the eatery, there may be little packets of butter in the basket or, more likely, a shallow dish of olive oil, sometimes containing Italian herbs, accompanies the bread. Or you may have ordered garlic bread: lightly toasted slices of bread slathered with garlic-flavored butter. Of course, you dig in immediately, probably emptying the basket long before the next course comes to the table.

If this scenario sounds familiar, I can assure you of one thing: you are not in an Italian restaurant.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Italians love their bread and it is, indeed, served as a part of every meal. Bread is integral to the Mediterranean diet. Some deeply religious people in the region even consider it to be a sacred food, broken and shared communally at the table. But bread is never – let me back up and run that by again for emphasis – NEVER served as a separate “course” or as a stand alone appetizer prior to other courses. The only exception there would be in the case of some sort of bruschetta – pronounced “broo-SKET-ah” and not “broo-SHET-uh” – which is a preparation unto itself and is usually considered as an antipasto or appetizer. But plain Italian bread with butter or oil or “garlic bread”? Never.

In the first place, “garlic bread” is an American invention non-existent in Italian culture and cuisine. Although it can trace its roots back to the aforementioned bruschetta, “garlic bread,” as served in Italian American restaurants, is strictly an Italian American creation. Early Italian immigrants to the United States often had to adapt their traditional dishes to match the realities of the local ingredients on hand. Olive oil was all but unheard of in America, but there was lots of butter. So, add a little garlic to make it taste more like home and....the birth of “garlic bread,” subsequently introduced to semi-adventurous American palates at those “exotic” Italian restaurants that began springing up by the mid-twentieth century. But back in Italy? Never.

In fact, let's talk about butter for a second. Let's say you're in Italy and have asked your cameriere for a little butter for your bread. He's going to look at you like you've grown a third eye and then he's going to be embarrassed. “Mi dispiace,” he'll say, “ma non abbiamo burro.” Restaurants in the southern parts of Italy are unlikely to even have butter in the building while northern establishments might try to to accommodate your request by slicing chunks off the big blocks of butter kept in the kitchen for use in some dishes. But the cute little foil-wrapped pats you find in Italian American places? Never.

And oil for dipping? Sometimes with balsamic vinegar added? Not generally a thing in Italy, where it would be considered a waste of good olive oil, and why on earth would you want to taint your taste buds with vinegar before the rest of the food arrives? Besides, if you've ever priced real, genuine balsamic vinegar, you'd know that there ain't no way anybody in their right budget-conscious mind would just dump it on a plate and dip cheap bread in it. Except for in touristy places, it just isn't done.

Now, if you were in Tuscany, you might be served fettunta – literally “oily slice” – which is a predecessor of and the base for bruschetta. You take a nice, thick slice of bread and toast it. Not in a toaster but on a grill or a grill pan. You want a nice golden color and maybe some grill marks. While the bread is still hot from grilling, you cut the end off a garlic clove and rub the surface of the bread with the cut clove. Then you drizzle it with a generous amount of good quality olive oil and sprinkle on just a mere touch of coarse salt, like kosher salt. This would be a type of bread that could be served either as an accompaniment or as a course of its own.

And then there's the bread. A lot of Italian American places at least make an attempt at baking their own bread. I know of a number of such places that use the same dough for table bread that they use to make their pizza crust. It's not exactly “authentic” Italian bread, but it's a start. Far too many Italian American eateries serve up “Italian bread” purchased through their commercial food suppliers. The difference is like night and day.

True “Italian” bread – i.e. bread made in Italy or made according to Italian traditions – uses different ingredients and different baking techniques than its American or Italian American counterparts. Real Italian breads are made with different flours – most often grano tenero flours – and are baked at higher temperatures than their commercial cousins. Olive oil is the fat of choice rather than cheaper oils or butter. Slow fermentation processes are used in making Italian bread, no fast-acting yeast. And there are no preservatives in real Italian bread, something that can't be said of the bread-like substances produced in commercial factory bakeries and shipped halfway across the country on trucks. All this results in thick, rustic crusts that you can really sink your teeth into and that contrast beautifully with the soft, airy, chewy yet almost fluffy interiors. Besides flavor and texture, vero pane Italiano is more digestible and has less gluten and a lower glycemic index than your average American bread. Sadly, most store bought “Italian bread” – the stuff your favorite “Italian” place is likely putting in your basket – is pretty much Wonder Bread shaped like an Italian loaf and wrapped in green, white, and red bags. If you ever luck up and find someplace that serves something like pane Toscano or pane di Altamura or some other authentic Italian bread, you'll see what I mean.

So, anyway, back to the restaurant. If they bring out all that delicious-looking and wonderful smelling bread right off the bat, what are you supposed to do with it? Just leave it sitting there in the basket? Yep.

Didn't your Mama ever tell you “don't fill up on bread?” Well, that's also the Italian philosophy. A lot of the more authentic places won't even bring the bread out until the rest of the food is served. The idea is that bread is there to accompany the meal, not to be eaten as an appetizer or as a course unto itself. It is not a pre-meal filler or a snack. And you don't usually eat it with your pasta or risotto as this would be considered eating a starch with a starch. No, bread is typically reserved as something you eat with your soup or salad or meat or vegetable course. The only real exception here is that it is acceptable to break off small pieces of bread to use as sops for any leftover sauce remaining on your pasta plate. The custom is called fare la scarpetta – make a little shoe – and although it's sometimes frowned upon in the high end, high tone places, it's okay pretty much everyplace else. When in doubt, look about. If you see other people doing it, well, when in Rome – or Florence or Milan or Bologna or wherever.....

Whatever you do, don't cut the bread! Big cultural no-no. In Italy, they take the phrase “breaking bread” literally. You break off a piece of bread for your own use from the communal loaf, and then you break that piece into whatever smaller pieces you intend to use for whatever you intend to use them for. Taking a knife to the bread will get you dirty looks at the very least. And so will taking more bread than you can eat. Food waste and leftovers are not Italian things.

Oh, and be aware, while it's not an issue in American Italian places where bread is usually complementary, even in upscale eateries, if you should find yourself in an Italian Italian restaurant, don't be surprised by the coperto. Yes, there's a cover charge for bread in many establishments. Technically, it is a table charge that covers the table setting, the bread and the basket it comes in, and other small incidentals. It's not a “tip” or a service charge and it goes directly to the restaurant and not to the server. It's generally a euro or two per person and you'll usually see it in small print at the bottom of the menu.

So there you have it: the essentials of Italian bread etiquette in a nutshell. Or maybe in a breadbasket, I don't know. In any case buon appetito e mangiare bene!

Spaghetti Aglio e Olio: A Quick, Easy and Delicious Italian Go To Recipe

A Delicious And Deliciously Simple Dish

(Author's Note: After I finished writing this post I came across one of those articles on Buzzfeed wherein millennials vent their spleen about things that bother them. Turns out one of those things is “food bloggers writing their life story before finally getting to the damn recipe.” If you are one of those so offended, I apologize. I'm old and I can't help it if I have a lot of “life story” to tell, so please skip the next three paragraphs.)

My wife and I recently took some new friends to one of our favorite Italian restaurants. Typical of most “Italian” restaurants in America, it serves unrealistically huge portions of the expected Italian-American fare. The difference is the family that owns this place is right out of Napoli. Everybody has dual citizenship and they all make frequent trips back and forth. They are what you might call “real deal” Italian cooks, not just second or third generation Italian-Americans passing down their nonna's recipes. Sadly, they cook what they cook the way they cook it because they have to in order to stay in business. “If I cook like I cook at home,” the owner says, “people would just go to Olive Garden.”

They cook differently for me because, as they often say, I “appreciate the food” and I “get” what they are doing. They know that I know the difference, for example, between perfectly al dente pasta and the overcooked mush they have to serve to satisfy American palates raised on Chef Boyardee. And I don't get portions piled high enough to feed a football team. They don't serve me the same pizza they put out for other customers: I get crust and toppings like they use at home. And they take special care with other dishes, too, adding little extras and authentic touches. Such was the case with the spaghetti aglio e olio I ordered when we took our Olive Garden-loving friends for their first visit to a real Italian restaurant.

When I ordered the aglio e olio, my friend asked me what it was. Thought to have originally developed in Abruzzo, spaghetti aglio e olio is a delicious and deliciously simple dish popular all over Italy. Consisting at its most basic of pasta dressed in a light “sauce” of garlic and olive oil, aglio e olio is often found on Italian restaurant menus in America, my favorite place included. My friend decided to give it a try and I told him he was in for a treat because I knew the kitchen would do it up right for me and my guests. We were not disappointed.

Spaghetti aglio e olio is something you can easily make at home. It's one of those dishes that's perfect when unexpected company drops by or when you just don't feel like fussing with a more elaborate dish. As long as you've got the four basic ingredients – pasta, garlic, olive oil, and peperoncino – on hand, you've got a quick, easy meal. In a pinch, you can even do it without the peperoncino – aka dried red pepper flakes.

Here's what you need:

1 lb spaghetti

6 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 to 1 ½ tsp peperoncino (red pepper flakes), to taste

2 or 3 tbsp chopped fresh basil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Reserved pasta water, as needed

And here's what you do:

Bring a large pot of aggressively salted water to a boil and add the spaghetti. Cook to al dente, usually a minute or two less than the package directions recommend.

As the pasta cooks, in a large frying pan over medium-low heat, heat the oil and gently sauté the garlic until it is barely golden. Do not let it brown or it will taste bitter. Season with salt and pepper. Add red pepper flakes. Remove from the heat and set aside until the pasta is ready.

Drain the pasta when it is barely al dente, reserving about a cup of the pasta cooking water. Tip the drained spaghetti into the pan with the oil and garlic mixture, and cook together for 2 or 3 minutes, stirring well to coat with the sauce and to allow the flavors to marry. Add reserved pasta water as needed to further develop the sauce. Garnish with basil and serve at once in warmed serving bowls.

Serves 4 to 6

That's the recipe, now here are the notes.

Don't cheap up on ingredients. The heart and soul of Italian cooking is quality. If you buy cheap ingredients you're going to wind up with a cheap tasting dish. Spring for the De Cecco or Barilla pasta instead of the store brand or the dollar store stuff. There is a difference and you'll taste it. Same goes for the olive oil. Don't use “light” oil and don't use the stuff that comes in clear bottles and sells for five dollars a gallon. Invest in a decent extra-virgin oil and you'll get decent results.

“Aggressively salted” are words to live by when it comes to pasta. Don't drop a pinch of salt into a gallon of water and think you're cooking “healthier.” Pasta needs to absorb salt during cooking. It's the only way pasta has to get any flavor. And whatever salt it doesn't absorb will just pour off down the sink when you drain it. It's not going to go directly to your arteries and turn them to stone.Use at least two or three tablespoons of salt for a gallon of water.

Cook the pasta al dente. This means the outside should be tender but there should still be a little “bite” in the center. Sometimes when you're cooking pasta for a dish with a heavier sauce, you can get by with overcooking it a bit. Not here. This pasta is going to be nearly naked and you won't be able to hide the fact that it's badly cooked.

Chop the garlic as finely as you like it. If you don't mind little chunks, a coarser chop is fine. Otherwise, mince it down.

Peperoncino is an acquired taste for some people. My wife has never acquired it and I have to be careful when sneaking it into the dishes I serve her. It's a fairly important component in this dish, but adjust according to your tolerance for heat. You can leave it out altogether if you wish, but doing so will alter the flavor profile.

I like basil in this preparation. Sometimes I add it to the oil to infuse the flavor and sometimes I just garnish with it. Sometimes I do both. You can leave it out altogether if you wish, but.......you know the rest.

Finally, as with any pasta dish, it is imperative to finish the pasta in the sauce. Don't try to dump the sauce over the top and stir it in. It won't work and you'll wind up with greasy pasta.

Spaghetti aglio e olio is a bel piatto perfect for any occasion. Try it tonight.

Buon appetito!

A Guide to Supermarket Olive Oil

When I was growing up, if you wanted to buy a bottle of olive oil – or “salad oil,” as they often called it in those days – you'd better live in a big city with a thriving Italian neighborhood because otherwise you weren't going to find any in your local supermarket. And there was no Internet back then, kiddies.

Nowadays, the places I shop have so many shapes, sizes, and varieties of olive oil that they practically fall off the shelves. One of my favorite markets even has an olive oil tasting bar set up where you can sample the various wares before you make a purchase.

All because a few years ago somebody let slip the secret that Mediterranean cultures have known for centuries: olive oil is good for you.

Now, I'm gonna do us all a favor and not do a twenty page in depth study on olive oil, although I easily could. I could go on and on about the olive, or olea europaea, in its Italian, Spanish, Tunisian, or Greek varieties. You can also find them in Israel, Palestine, South Africa, Peru, Argentina, Australia, New Zealand, and good old California, USA.

So let's just do a quick, down-and-dirty guide to supermarket olive oil, okay?

First things first: how do you choose a good quality olive oil?

In my totally biased opinion, the best olive oil comes from Italy. Contrary to popular thought, Italy is not the world's largest producer of olive oil. Spain is. Italy's production is actually fairly modest, but it has the distinction of being the world's largest exporter of olive oil. Now, I've been writing a lot about authentic Italian food products lately and how consumers can identify them. There are no fewer than forty varieties of olive oil that are produced in Italy and have been afforded PDO (or DOP if you're using the Italian translation) protection.

You won't find many of these on your average American supermarket shelf. Mostly because they're really expensive. Instead, you're going to see one of two labels: “Product of Italy” or “Packed in Italy.” The former means the oil was bottled in Italy using exclusively Italian olives. Sometimes you'll find an IGP seal on some of these bottles.

The latter label means that the oil is bottled in Italy but may be a blend of olives from other regions. Italy buys lots and lots of Spanish olive oil and blends it with its own oil as well as with some from Greece, Turkey, and other areas, producing a nice standard product, the taste of which varies very little from year to year. From a quality standpoint, this cheaper blended product is often preferred on the world market over the more expensive pure oils produced exclusively in Italy. (A little tip: even if the front label says “Italy” on it, check the back label, where you'll usually find the actual country of origin printed in really small type.)

The next big question for most consumers is “what's with all the 'virgin' and 'extra-virgin' and 'first cold-pressed' and all that stuff?”

The “virgin-ness” of olive oil is determined by the processing. Any version of “virgin” means that the olives have been hand or mechanically picked and processed within a day of harvest through means that are completely natural. No chemicals or applications of heat. You wash 'em, crush 'em or spin 'em, and filter 'em – and that's it. The olives are either pressed to a paste through special mats by big stone presses or spun in a centrifuge. The resultant oil is then filtered to remove impurities. This process is referred to as the first cold-pressing, a rather misleading phrase since there is no such thing as a second cold pressing.

Here, again, I could go into pages of detail about labeling regulations and adulteration problems and fraudulent production and distribution practices, but I'll try instead to stick to the point of discussing what you're likely to see on common grocery store shelves.

There are several “virgin” categories to contend with: extra-virgin, fine virgin, and ordinary virgin. All are reflections of the finished product's organoleptic properties, a designation of flavor, color, and bouquet as defined by the International Olive Oil Council in Madrid.

(By the way, the United States does not subscribe to the codes and standards established by the IOOC, opting instead for its own outdated and imprecise USDA regulations adopted back in 1948 before the Council was formed. Although some California producers have urged the USDA to adopt IOCC standards, this has not yet occurred, so quality in US markets remains somewhat inconsistent.)

The cold pressing of olives results in a naturally low acid oil. Extra-virgin oil can have an acidity level of no more than 0.8% and must rate at least a 6.5 on a ten point organoleptic scale. Extra-virgin oil has a rich, fruity flavor and a color that ranges from a greenish-gold to a bright green. This is the stuff you want to use for applications where taste is important.

Fine virgin olive oil is also cold-pressed. It has an organoleptic rating of 5.5 or more and an acidity of 1.5 percent or less. Ordinary virgin, or just plain “virgin” olive oil, only has an organoleptic rating of 3.5 or more and acidity of 3.3 percent or less, but it is still capable of maintaining acceptable levels of purity and quality. You don't see much of either of these grades in regular grocery stores.

You will see a lot of “pure” olive oil on store shelves. This is the next grade down from the “virgin” oil category. It is a refined oil produced by running low quality virgin oil through charcoal and other chemicals and filters. Then a little extra-virgin oil, usually about 5%, is added in to make the product taste like olive oil. Its high smoke point and dull flavor make it okay for use in frying and sauteing, but you really shouldn't use it for sauces or salads or any finished dish that you want to have a nice, rich olive oil taste.

Time out for debate: Many, many cooks keep both extra-virgin and pure olive oils on hand. The common practice is to cook with the latter and finish with the former. Olive oil has a relatively high smoke point to begin with, at least when compared to butter, lard, or vegetable shortening. (The smoke point refers to the temperature at which a cooking fat or oil begins to break down.) The more refined the olive oil, the higher the smoke point becomes. So pure olive oil does lend itself slightly more to frying than extra-virgin. The actual smoke point varies depending upon who you ask, but with a consensus figure of around 400°, you're already looking at higher temperatures than are usually employed in frying foods, so smoke point is rather a moot point, isn't it? Mario Batali, for one, swears by using extra-virgin oil for all applications from frying to finishing. Others demur, citing the cost factor. Why use cups and quarts of the good stuff when the cheaper stuff works just as well? But, the devil's advocate position allows that stocking two kinds of oil is equally expensive. Take your pick.

Anything labeled “light” olive oil is generally a waste of money. It's a refined oil from which all but the merest hint of flavor has been removed. Because most Americans believe that adding the word “light” to anything makes it healthier, they buy up gallons of “light” olive oil for what they suppose to be its greater health benefits. I mean, it says “light,” right? Sorry, folks, but the only thing “light” olive oil is light on is taste. Seriously. I'm not being subjective. That's exactly what “light” olive oil is supposed to be; a lightly flavored alternative to real olive oil designed for people who don't want the full flavor of olive oil in their cooking. As far as calories and fat content are concerned, “light” oil is no “lighter” than any other.

Don't believe me? Check the nutrition labels on a couple of national brands. A tablespoon of extra-virgin contains 120 calories, all of them from fat. There are 14 grams of fat, 10 of them monounsaturated, 2 of them polyunsaturated, and 2 of them saturated. No trans fat, cholesterol, or sodium. The stats on the bottle labeled “pure” olive oil are identical. And now, drum roll, please, the data on “light” olive oil......is absolutely the same! So if you are buying “light” olive oil because you think it's better for you, think again.

(Just in case you are curious, the breakdown on canola oil is nearly the same; 120 calories, 14 grams broken down as 9:4:1. Vegetable oil has the same calorie content and the same fat grams, distributed in a ratio of 3:8:2. The blended stuff – same calories and fat, 7:5:1.)

I once saw some pomace oil in a natural foods store and I don't know why. Pomace is the lowest quality olive oil product that is still edible. That's why it's labeled as “pomace;” it's so inferior that it can't legally be called “olive oil.” Pomace is what you have left after you've pressed everything good out of the olive. It's essentially the husk of the olive that has been chemically refined to squeeze out the last vestiges of oil. You don't usually see it in regular grocery stores – I still don't know why a “natural” food store would carry it. But some really cheap restaurants have been known to use it for frying.

The bottom rung on the ladder is reserved for lampante oil, which is non-edible and is used mainly for industrial purposes. The word “lampante” comes from olive oil's ancient use as a fuel in oil-burning lamps. I've never actually seen it in a retail store of any kind, but it is an oil made from olives.

The bottom line from my point of view is to go with Mario Batali and just use one kind of oil for everything. Simplicity is the soul of Italian cooking, after all. That said, if simplicity is the soul, then quality is the body, so buy the best extra-virgin oil you can find and afford. Check the labels for points of origin, but more importantly, let your tastebuds be your guide. If you can find a store like Whole Foods that lets you sample the various oils available for purchase, by all means taste and compare until you find an oil you absolutely love, then buy it and use it in all your recipes – sauces, marinades, dressings, toppings, and anything else you'd use oil for. Stay away from “light” olive oil. If you want to change up the flavor profile, blend extra-virgin oil with a little canola oil or with some butter.

Regardless of what kind you get, olive oil should always be stored in cool, dark places in airtight bottles. The optimum temperature for storing olive oil is right around 60°, but average room temperature is okay. You can refrigerate it, but don't. One particularly rough winter when my central heat was on the fritz, my kitchen temperature dipped to around 40° and my olive oil congealed right on my counter top! But when things warmed up, it was just fine. But there's really no point in cold storage. Olive oil will eventually degrade and go rancid over time. Not in my kitchen, of course, where a bottle seldom lasts more than a couple of months, but time, temperature, light, and air are the enemies of most food products, olive oil included.

Homer referred to olive oil as “liquid gold.” Its ceremonial and culinary uses date back to the beginnings of recorded history. Isn't it time to include some in your pantry?