Moveable Feast Marino Corazza
IN time I’ll have the guts to rip Africa out of my heart.=20 I have this strange romantic notion that I’ll retire in=20 Sardinia. Not as the Aga Khan’s neighbour on the Costa=20 Smerelda, but at some forgotten spot on the coast,=20 surrounded by silver granite, fragrant woods, craggy=20 reefs, emerald-clear sea and vast silence.
My requirements will be minimal: my better half, a dry=20 stone shepherd’s hut, an Olivetti manual typewriter, an=20 easel, some canvas, a couple of paint brushes and a few=20 jars of paint. Cut-off jeans, T-shirt, a lanolin-rich=20 rough-woven wool jersey, a well-worn panama hat. A box of=20 dark Brazilian cigars and a case of malt whisky; the=20 view, the chime of a distant church bell. The kids and=20 some of the family can come any time.
At the keyboard I would start: tap, tap, clink, clink …
Once upon a time, in Afrique du Sud … in Gauteng, in=20 fact, right there in Dunkeld, exists a miniscule chunk of=20 Sardinia: the Coco Pazzo. The deranged chef, Gianni=20 Galato, is straight out of the olive tree — secretive,=20 diffident, fervently raving about fairy-tale recipes that=20 are so simple, they’re sophisticated. Where else would=20 you find the lightest, freshly baked, unleavened bread=20 called “carta da musica”? Music sheets to eat? Elusive=20 notes to gobble? A symphony!
I’m hallucinating, so back to the Olivetti, boet. My=20 starter was the legendary bottarga, or poor-man’s caviar.=20 Rough fish roe (whatever is fresh and prolific on the day=20 — mullet, tunny, etc) is compressed into a firm,=20 translucent alabaster cube. Shavings of the pinkish=20 delight are then dunked into a lemon and oil sauce.=20
When ready they are placed on bruscetta, rough peasant=20 bread that’s charred just right, the slices smothered=20 with butter. The flavours are made for each other, the=20 salty fish taste mixing beautifully with the creamy,=20 buttery bread. Mucho marvellous simplicity.
In between a squirt of lemon and a grind of black pepper,=20 there was time to pop a bottle of chilled white, dry but=20 sweetish, Frascati wine. A quaf of vino to clear the=20 palate, then on to sample the missus’ choice of starter:=20 burrida, fillets of raw mackerel soused in olive oil,=20 vinegar, herbs and walnuts, like a nutty sea breeze.
The pasta was to emigrate for, to Dunkeld. The homemade,=20 al dente tagliolini (flattened spaghetti) — no eggs,=20 simply water and flour from the heart of the durum wheat=20 — was lovingly amalgamated with a caviar and light cream=20
So subtly, deliciously good as to be sinful.
Feeling as guilty as hell I then had as my contrition=20 succhittu de conillu, an even-grained, firm-fleshed=20 rabbit casserole in a wine and olive stew. Phew!=20 Repentance. That’s when the bottle of sainted oil=20 appeared: myrtle liqueur, blessed by the berries that=20 grow wild on the island — a nectar with an exquisitely=20 elusive taste that lingers forever.
Other exotica, imbued with the aromas of the austere=20 terrain and speckled with Catalan influence, include casu=20 cottu, a pungent, sharp, lean goat’s cheese, grilled so=20 it’s crunchy and moist, and tender lamb spiced with=20
Then, if it can be procured, there’s tacculas, steamed=20 quails with juniper berry sauce. And there’s lu porceddu=20 to order: suckling roast piglet stuffed with myrtle=20 leaves. For the more adventurous there’s pruppa buddiu,=20 octopus cooked in its own subtle juices.
Tap, tap, clink … Prices? In fables, there’s no mention=20 of such vulgar items.
Coco Pazzo: Dunkeld West. (Tel: 447-2972)