LIFE: Maestro Franco Casoni, Master Woodcarver

CHIAVARI, Italy – It was the wooden rocking horse sitting out in front of a small shop on Via Bighetti in Chiavari that caught my eye. It was much like the one my father had made for my own children many years ago and I was curious to know where it had come from. The shop door was open so I looked in and saw a man standing at a workbench carving what looked to be the head of Queen Victoria.

 

The Shop on Via Bighetti, Chiavari

At his feet were the wood shavings he was carefully removing from the block of wood. When he realized someone – me – was at the door he looked up and gave me a big smile. “Come in, come in, welcome to my workshop,” he said. And that’s how I met Maestro Franco Casoni, Master Wood Carver.

Franco Casoni’s workshop is crowded from ceiling to floor with wood sculptures, some finished, some half finished. There is a little bit of everything including figureheads for sailing ships, flying angels, and ornate frames for important portraits. The eclectic collection tells the story of Chiavari and Liguria, of rich patrons who made their fortune importing and trading goods brought into the Genoa harbor from all over the world. 

Inside the Workshop

Maestro Casoni was born, raised and trained in the fine art of woodcarving in Chiavari. He started young, about 13, and after art school he served two long apprenticeships with Master woodcarvers before opening his own shop. He specialized in furniture making, notably the Chiavari chair and other important pieces. His restoration work of the wooden portions of the Oratory of San Filippo Neri in Genoa, as well as the group of statues of the Holy Trinity of Modica (RG), and the groups of angels found in the parishes of Zoagli and Sestri Levante, here in Liguria, are well known by art connoisseurs throughout Italy.

He also has a lot of awards under his belt. He has represented Italy at the European Parliament, has been a featured guest on many national Italian television programs, he has authored many books on the art of wood carving and a photo exhibit of his work is part of a permanent collection in a private gallery in the near-by town of Lavagna. He has taken part in so many important exhibits and won so many awards, that it began to overwhelm me. In other words, the friendly guy with the smiling face that I found myself talking to Friday afternoon is a living national treasure.

 

And From Inside the Wood the Face Appears

He’s a nice guy. He showed me a photo of his sons and his grandsons, the ones he built the rocking horse for and the little wooden scooter that was parked just inside the shop door. He showed me a photo of a house up in the hills above Chiavari that he bought and restored. “The stones on the outside of the house are red,” he said, “because there is a lot of magnesium in them.” 

There were quite a large number of ship’s figureheads, and the Maesto told me that he once carved one for the English sailing ship “Baboon”. There was one piece that fascinated me that was not a sculpture but a collection of old match box covers woven into a table covering that tells the story of the Unification of Italy. “It needs some work,” he said, but it looked fine to me. I have no idea how it ties in with woodcarving, but it doesn’t matter.

The Maestro Intagliatore - Wood Carver

One of the Maestro’s specialties are corzetti stamps. Corzetti (aka crosetti, croxetti and curzetti), are flat disks of pasta that are individually embossed using a wooden press. The Genovese have been making and eating corzetti pasta, which were designed to look like the old Genovese coin, the gold Genovino d’oro, since the days of the Renaissance. The noble families of the time would order their cooks to emboss the pasta disks with their coat of arm to remind dinner guests how important their family was and to reconfirm their dominance over the territory.  

He had just finished the one he proudly put before me to photograph, telling me it had been ordered by a Genovese Countess. Seems she’s having an important summer soiree soon and wants to mark the occasion with a special stamp on the corzetti pasta that is on the menu. And what could make a more noble impression for a 21^st century Countess than corzetti pressed in a hand made corzetti stamp from the hands of Maestro Franco Casoni.

 

Corzetti Stamps for the Contessa

We covered a lot of ground in the short time we talked. I started feeling a little guilty taking him away from his work, but if he was feeling pressed for time it didn’t show. Everything in the shop had a story, including the Maestro who is perhaps the most interesting story of all.

AUNTIE PASTA: In the Style of Amatrice

CHIAVARI, Italy - There was a time, before 1935 to be precise, that the small village of Amatrice was part of the region of Abruzzo. It was in that Abruzzese village, in that “before” time, that the delicious pasta dish l’amatriciana originated.

Bucatini all'Amatriciana

In the beginning it was a simple dish of pasta, bacon, actually guanciale (cheek) and grated cheese. Then Italy met the tomato, tomato was added to the dish and the recipe spread throughout Italy like a wild fire in the August. 

In 1935 Italy changed. The government changed, there was a new rule of order and one of the changes involved the border of Abruzzo and Lazio. As fate would have it, Amatrice found itself no longer part of Abruzzo, but in Lazio and its favorite local dish soon came to represent the typical cooking of Rome. 

But every August the 2,700 inhabitants of Amatrice still celebrate the dish that made them famous with a Sagra degli Spaghetti all’Amatriciana. Here’s the contact information: Sagra degli Spaghetti all’Amatriciana, http://www.amatriciana.org/

Sagra degli Spaghetti all'Amatriciana

The recipe for a true Amatriciana needs just these few ingredients: spaghetti; guanciale or  bacon; Pecorino cheese;  peeled tomatoes; a little olive oil, extra virgin olive oil; a little dry white wine; red pepperoncino.  Some cooks now add a little onion and maybe a little garlic, but true connoisseurs of this flavorful dish call that “heritic” Amatriciana.

There's a recipe for Amatriciana posted below, but if there is a trip to Rome in your future, you might want to save this list of the top ten restaurants in the Capital for Amatriana aka Matriciane and try the real deal.

Sora Lella di Aldo Fabrizi, via Ponte Quattro Capi 16, Roma  

La Amatriciana di Arcangelo Dandini, via Belli 59, Roma  

Alla Vecchia Roma Via di Monte Testaccio 30, Roma 

Al Convivio Troiani, Vicolo dei Soldati 21, Roma

Agata e Romeo, Via Carlo Alberto 45, Roma  

 

 Domenico dal 1968, Via Satrico 21, Roma 

Renato e Luisa, Via dei Barbieri 2, Roma  

The Osteria Fernanda, Via Ettore Rolli 1, Roma  

Al BRO, via Alessandro Toja 2, Roma

Osteria La Gensola, Piazza Gensola 15, Roma  

The recipe below, from Bon Appetit Magazine, does include onion and garlic http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/bucatini-all-amatriciana-2 but you can leave them out if you want.

AMATRICIANA

INGREDIENTS

2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

4 oz. thinly sliced guanciale, pancetta, or chopped unsmoked bacon

1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes

1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

3/4 cup minced onion

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 28-oz. can peeled tomatoes with juices, crushed by hand (I think they mean with a fork or potato masher)

Kosher salt

12 oz. dried bucatini or spaghetti

1/4 cup grated Pecorino (about 1 oz.)

 

PREPARATION

Heat oil in a large heavy skillet over medium heat. Add guanciale and sauté until crisp and golden, about 4 minutes. Add pepper flakes and black pepper; stir for 10 seconds. Add onion and garlic; cook, stirring often, until soft, about 8 minutes. Add tomatoes, reduce heat to low, and cook, stirring occasionally, until sauce thickens, 15-20 minutes.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a boil. Season with salt; add the pasta and cook, stirring occasionally, until 2 minutes before al dente. Drain, reserving 1 cup of pasta cooking water.

Add drained pasta to sauce in skillet and toss to coat. Add 1/2 cup of the reserved pasta water and cook until sauce coats pasta and pasta is al dente, about 2 minutes. (Add a little pasta water if sauce is too dry.) Stir in cheese and transfer pasta to warmed bowls.

Bon Appetito 

LIFE: Italian Neighbors: Aldo and Carla

CHIAVARI, Italy – Aldo and Carla live in the same building as the Cleans (http://thisitalianlife.blogspot.it/2014/06/life-this-clean-italian-life.html) I know their names because Aldo used to be an active cyclist and on sunny Sunday mornings his cycling buddies would gather under his apartment building and call up to him to come down.

Streets of Saronno

 “Hey Aldo,” they would yell. “Vieni giu.”

Aldo, who looked to be about 70 years old, would come out on his balcony, wave and yell back, “arrivo.” Then Carla would come out and as the guys shouted up “Ciao Carla,” she would wave back at them, ask them about their wives and kids, and basically kill time until Aldo got his stuff together and made an appearance in the small piazza in front of their building.

Aldo would be dressed in his cycling gear: protective helmet, Lycra shirt and knee length cycling shorts and sporty gloves, his spiked cycling shoes clicking on the pavement as he wheeled his bike out onto the street. Then they would all get on their bikes, say their final farewells to Carla and head off to who knows where for a morning Tour di Saronno, which is kind of like the Tour de France, but just slightly.

 

 Not Aldo, But You Get the Idea

Then the unimaginable happened. Aldo had a massive stroke. The vital, vibrant man was gone. In his place was a feeble old person who couldn't walk and couldn't talk and in no way resembled the healthy, active Aldo of the past.

He didn’t leave the house anymore. Sometimes Carla would help him out to the balcony. His bathrobe had replaced his Lycra cycling gear, his feet now in slippers instead of spiked biking shoes. His buddies didn’t come by anymore, his world shrunk and possibly his spirit along with it.

A year passed and Aldo reappeared. A little shaky, his one good hand gripping the handle of a cane. Not in great shape, but at least he was no longer house bound. He and Carla started going out for an aperitivo in the late afternoons. She would hold on to his weak arm, keeping his steady. He would clump alongside her, setting his cane down with force as if to say, “I may be down but I’m not out.”

Neighbors greeted them on the street, smiling and happy to see him. Wives would discreetly inquire about his health while husbands would pat him on the back as if to say “Bravo Aldo, you’re doing good.”

He even started driving again. He didn’t go far and he was never gone long, but even that quick once around the block must have given him a tremendous sense of freedom. Even I, his invisible fan, was rooting for him.

It took about a week before I realized that Aldo hadn’t made an appearance for a while. I knew he wasn’t dead because here in Italy when someone dies the funeral parlors hang gray banners on the apartment building door with the name of the deceased on them. So if he wasn’t dead, where was he?

Then I noticed that there was another person in the apartment, a woman. She was there early in the morning, drinking coffee out on the balcony, and late at night having a smoke before going to bed. She was either a relative or someone Carla had brought in to help with Aldo.

Then one afternoon I saw her wheeling Aldo down the street in a wheelchair. He was yelling something at her and she was yelling back. To me that meant she wasn’t hired help and not a distant relative either. More likely she was their daughter. The woman would take him out in the wheelchair every couple of days, and every time she did they would argue.

 

 Another Street in Saronno

It wasn’t until the day I saw her helping him into the apartment building that I noticed there was a large, soft cast on his bad leg. It seems the reason he hadn’t been out was because he had further disabled his already disabled leg. That also meant he could not drive. The other woman was doing all the driving. Bad news.

But then, that woman, whoever she was, wasn’t there anymore. Aldo started coming out by himself in the morning. He still had the cast on his leg but he was managing to open the door to the car and get in. He would start the motor and slowly back out of his parking place. Then Carla would come out on the balcony to watch him, often with her hand over her mouth and anxiety showing in her eyes.

Aldo would slowly pull away from the building and turned the corner, now out of sight. About 10 minutes later he would be back. He would park the car, get out and hobble into the building.

I was so happy to see him making that effort that I almost cried. All I could think of was bravo Aldo, don’t give up. I’ve moved away from Saronno since then so I don’t know what really happened to Aldo, but you know, I don’t think he did give up. I just don't think so.