Dining with Lady Elinor in Rome

Next week, on November 4 to be precise, Lady Elinor’s Wicked Adventures will make its debut. To whet your appetite, I thought I would write about something Our Heroine might have eaten while she was off having her adventures.

Lady Elinor and her family exist in the middle of the 19th century, not a high point of English cuisine. But they left boiled mutton behind when they set off on their travels. What would they have eaten in Rome? I wondered, so I went hunting for 19th century Italian cookbooks.

I soon discovered what is generally considered the first Italian cookbook, as opposed to Roman or Sicilian or Ligurian or Tuscan or any other region. It is Pellegrino Artusi’s La scienza in cucina e l’arte di mangiar bene.  In English, it’s often shortened to The Art of Eating Well.

Artusi wasn’t a cook, just a wealthy businessman who liked to eat. Since he was born in 1820, he was only a bit older than my hero and heroine, so they would have dined on similar meals.

To my surprise, many of his recipes are for dishes you can still find in your favorite Italian restaurant, and his directions are easy enough to follow. What makes the book a pleasure to read is his commentary. He tells you where he ate the dish, or something special about the cook, or even how easy it is to digest.

Consider this recipe:

Saltimbocca alla Romana

I’ve eaten these in Rome, in the trattoria Le Venete, and can therefore describe them exactly.

They’re veal cutlets, lightly seasoned with salt and pepper, Each cutlet has half a leaf of sage (one would be too much) and a slice of prosciutto placed on top of it. They’re skewered with toothpicks to hold them together and sauteed in butter, the side with the prosciutto being cooked less to keep it from toughening. As you can see, it’s a simple, healthy dish.

Two thirds of a pound of veal will yeild 11 or 12 cutlets and will serve three to four people.

The slices should be half a finger high; pound them with the flat of a knife before preparing them. 

I suspect that what I like so much about this recipe is that the first time I ate saltimbocca was in a trattoria in Rome, on the Aventine. I was with my husband, we were on our honeymoon, and this was our first meal in Rome. Can you imagine anything better?

I’ve often made saltimbocca since—the name means “leap in the mouth”—but not quite as I had it in Rome. For one thing, at that restaurant it was made with veal tenderloin, not a cut of meat available at my local supermarket. (I tried to find it online one time and almost passed out at the price.)

However, I have found that pork tenderloin makes an excellent substitute. Mr. Artusi's directions work perfectly well, though if you pound the prosciutto onto the cutlet, no toothpick is needed. I deglaze the pan for a bit of sauce—you can use white wine or broth or marsala or even water.

It's as delicious in reality as in memory.

Are there any meals that you remember as special for more than just the food?