One of my top three personal food stories comes from chef Brian Canipelli of Cucina 24. Years ago, I was walking to an afternoon meeting near his restaurant. Outside crouched against a wall smoking a cigarette was Brian. He said I should come by later — they had winter white truffles from Alba, Italy. They’d scored 4 ounces at $90 an ounce (about $1,400 a pound). I told him I’d be there. At the time I’d never had real truffles, only truffle oil. But I was entranced by its lore. And Alba, based on later research, is the epicenter of the finest white truffles in the world.
I was back at the restaurant just as it opened and sat at the chef’s bar with a direct view of the kitchen. Brian asked what I wanted. A simple butter pasta dish with truffles, I replied. He nodded and went to work. As I waited, he sent out a surprise primi, a first course, of fluke crudo (raw fluke fish) on a bed of paper-thin lemons dotted with black olive oil (made from reconstituted dried olives), with a sprinkle of sea salt and parsley. It was the taste of the sea.
When good food hits me, I tend to look up and to a great distance, as though a deep, forlorn memory has come to mind — made feeble by the food that I barely deserve but greatly appreciate. I’m not known for humility, but good food can make me grovel.
At this point, Brian was tossing a pan full of pasta, maybe tagliatelle. He plated it, and the entire kitchen staff surrounded him and watched as he pulled out a truffle and shaved an ungodly amount on the pasta, making it rain from above his head. He then walked the dish toward me, and when he was about 6 feet away, a wall of pugilistic pungency hit me in the face. My eyes watered from the smell. I thanked him as he set the dish down.
That first bite was a penetrating flood of delicious truffle and butter and garlic and pasta flavors. I felt like I had been punched again. It was one of the most intense food moments I’ve ever had. Later I learned that truffles can lose their flavor after only a few days. I was lucky to have the first shave of a freshly picked truffle. After finishing the dish, they brought me the bill — $20.
Rest in peace, Brian, and thank you for the memories of this sweet life.
— Paul Choi
Asheville
Editor’s note: For more about Canipelli, see “Weird Weeds and Lasting Legacies: Remembering Chef Brian Canipelli” in this week’s Xpress.
I know Mr. Choi is a talented artist and designer, but his beautifully written letter suggests he may have a future as a food writer/restaurant reviewer. Give him a try, MountainX!