Visitors flock to Liguria for poetic riviera vistas, Portofino's Tinseltown glamour, and Genoa's raffish, salty allure. I came craving the region's magical amalgam of basil, oil, and cheese.
To eat pesto in Liguria is to know it for the first time. My own baptism took place almost a decade ago, at Balzi Rossi, a rather staid Michelin-starred restaurant on the Italian-French border. From across the room, I caught a whiff of my lasagnette al pesto—its perfume so delicate, and yet completely pervasive. The lasagnette shimmered in a swathe of green, like just-sprouted grass. The dish was oceans away from the pesto most of us know: that discolored paste with enough garlic to stun an army of vampires.
No comments:
Post a Comment