PASSIONATE RATIONS

Boston’s North End is where Italy meets America in the kitchen.  I will post some time about the fabulous culinary tour I took through the streets of this Massachusetts’ gem.  For now, let me focus on the new dish I discovered there yesterday.

We got into town early for our meeting, with just enough time for lunch.  Near the meeting place, the streets seemed deserted, possibly due to the frigid temperatures.  We spotted several restaurants on an otherwise quiet corner and, after studying the menus, entered one:  Massimino’s.  They seated us on the first floor–a cozy space with only six or seven tables, decorated in warm Mediterranean tones.  The waiter was friendly.  The daily specials rolled off his tongue with a lovely Latin-tinged lilt. 

Determining not to eat anything too heavy, I stayed focused on the antipasti menu, choosing “Artichoke Hearts Italiana.”

While waiting for the meal (if I may call it that), the waiter served bread with a side of flavored olive oil.  I mention this because the presentation was beautiful:  the rich yellow-green hue of the oil complemented the red peppers, green parsley, white garlic, and assorted other colorful ingredients flavoring it.  If only I’d had a camera, you would have a work of art at which to gaze.  

Unfortunately, the garlic in the oil was so powerful that, despite its tastiness, I had to forego more than one dip, given the fact I was about to be locked in a windowless room with multiple other persons for a three-hour meeting.  But I savored the visual pleasure of it, munching naked bread while doing so. 

It turned out my colleague’s meal–the antipasto salad (complete with gorgeous prosciutto, a deep-burgundy salame peppered with white flecks, silvery anchovies, and a colorful array of garden-fresh vegetables)–would provide similar visual satisfaction. (He tells me it was excellent, but, yes, this time I stuck to the vegetarian).

When my antipasti arrived, I was surprised to find the hearts breaded and fried.  Had I known, I probably would have ordered something somewhat more…healthy.  But, no, I was forced to eat fried hearts, gently sprinkled with lemon juice.  It proved to be the last bit of joy I would have for many hours. 

They were slightly crispy on the outside, soft and moist inside, with just a hint of give as I bit into them.  Tangy with the lemon juice, they would have been even better with some sort of creamy dipping sauce on the side. 

For that matter, so would my meeting.