All language subtitles for ita8

- Oh, wow.

Steep.

Oh.

Ugh.

This is...

OK, here we go.

Finally. God.

I had no idea it was that far.

So I've just made my
way up...

Thousands of steps
to this place,

Castle Brown,

which is in Portofino,

which is in Liguria.

And Liguria is a crescent

right on the coast of Italy

bordering Tuscany and France.

They'll carry me out
of here on a stretcher,

but I don't mind because
the food is amazing.

I'm Stanley Tucci.

I'm fascinated by
my Italian heritage,

so I'm traveling across
Italy to discover how

the food in each of this
country's 20 regions

is as unique as the
people and their past.

Their rugged
environment has made

the Ligurians tough and
unafraid of a challenge.

So you call this...

Centuries of wrestling
their food out

of a small amount of land
have given these people

a wisdom that's
right for our times.

- The harshness of their region

has made them inventive.

Oh, my God. Whoa.

- Liguria gave us pesto.

It's really good.

Their land drove
Ligurians to the sea

and made them great traders
with spectacular wealth...

Wow, wow, wow.

And sophisticated tastes.

Incredibile.

The name Portofino is a
compound of two Italian words,

one meaning a harbor,

the other meaning an
impossibly gorgeous,

pastel-colored place full
of boats and sports cars.

Liguria is long and thin
and has its feet in the sea.

This is the fabled
Italian Riviera,

and Portofino, once a
small fishing village,

is a jewel in its crown.

In the 1950s, it was popular
with the rich and famous,

but Portofino was the place
to be seen, not really to eat.

These days, there are
plenty of restaurants

serving classic Italian food,

but what you don't find so much

are traditional Ligurian dishes.

The angularity of
their landscape

determines what the
people of this region eat.

Their narrow, terraced
fields forced them

to be creative with
what they grow.

Yeah?

- Carlo Cracco is one of Italy's

most famous
Michelin-starred chefs.

He came from Milan to serve
Ligurian dishes in Portofino.

His menu depends on
farmer Iva Labanino.

She cultivates crops and
also forages for wild food.

Hi. Ciao.

- Ligurians seem to
be indestructible.

Iva and her husband Alberto
are both in their 80s.

- 83.
- 83?

- 25-year-old Mattia Pecis
is Carlo's head chef.

- OK, let's go.

This is the arugula,
the wild arugula.

- The real...
- That's my favorite actually.

Yeah. Yeah.

- That's delicious. Yeah.

Biological?

- Mm-hmm.

Iva's vertiginous
land isn't suitable

for grazing livestock.

Like so many Ligurians,

she thrives on vegetables
and leafy greens.

- Iva is not only
a great cultivator.

She's also a great gatherer.

In the fall, she
harvests walnuts

provided she can
get the right staff.

- Back at Carlo's
restaurant, he reveals

why Iva's greens are central
to his Ligurian menu.

- This is a preboggion.

Preboggion is the mix of
herbs that we catch before...

- What does it mean, preboggion?

That's the dialect?

- Yeah, it's the dialect.

When you boil...

- Yeah.

- You mix the...

- The blender? Yeah.
- The blender.

And then you have the d'hôte.

- That's what you end up with?

- Yeah.

- Yes. We don't...

- Only a bit.
- Just...

- A little bit.
- Yeah.

In Italian, we call ravioli.

In Liguria, is pansotti.

- Pansotti.
- Pansotti.

It's the real typical
ravioli in Liguria.

Very simple because
we have only herbs...

- Yeah.
- And pasta.

- Mm-hmm.

- And then move the ravioli.

- Don't laugh at me.

In the local dialect,
pansotti means belly,

because loaded with preboggion,

they look a little portly.

That's sad.

Meanwhile, Mattia is
making a walnut sauce.

- Taste.

- Mm. Oh, wow.
- Walnut.

- Walnut.
- Margarine.

- Mm-hmm.

- Olive oil, and
salt, rock salt.

- And that's it?
- That's it.

- Beautiful.

At a table on the terrace,

it's time to ask one of
Italy's greatest chefs

why Ligurian food is
appropriate for our times.

- Mm-hmm.

- Si.

- Si.

Oh, wow.

Grazie.

- Wow.

I've never tasted a pasta...

- Yeah?

- No, never, no.

That's very different than
anything I've ever tasted.

It's so delicate.

- Ah.

- Si.

- That's very
well put. Cheers.

- Thank you, Chef. Thank you.

- Thank you too.
- Thank you.

- This is Genoa,
Liguria's capital city.

It's a swelegant, elegant place

that's a strong contrast
to the rugged interior.

Plum in the middle
of the coastline,

for eight centuries,
this port was the center

of a great Mediterranean
trading empire.

Today, we're not
far from the docks,

which is also Genoa's
pesto district.

Take a look at this.

Can you see it out the window?

That says La Terra del Basilico.

That's the land of basil.

And basil, of
course, makes pesto.

Pesto is so beloved here

that they have a pesto
competition every two years.

Chefs come from all over
Italy to wrestle with

mortar and pestle and pay homage

to the great green sauce
invented here in Liguria.

Their judge is Roberto Panizza,

known as the King of Pesto.

- We're meeting his
majesty at a basil farm

high above the town.

They made it sound like
a bucolic farm thing,

didn't they?

Oh, my God.

This is it.

OK, I was expecting
something more pastoral,

but these greenhouses
are in fact

a modern take on ancient
Ligurian terracing.

Do you think this car will
stay in this position,

or is it just gonna roll back?

Roberto treks up here
because the microclimate

is perfect for
basil cultivation.

Roberto?

OK?

The crop is bathed in salt air
from the Mediterranean below.

- Wow.

- Wow.

Inside, there's
another kind of ocean.

- It's a system of growing.

It increase the flavor,
increase the sweetness.

- Si.

Oh, my God.

Whoa, whoa.

- I'd like to have a
shirt made out of that.

- Ah, DOP?

- Yeah.

- The unusual harvesting
method lets the staff

hover over the
crop, judging by eye

which stalks have
grown six inches,

the moment of peak flavor.

Down at sea level in Genoa,

Roberto runs a restaurant
where the fragrant smell

of crushed basil
brings in the crowds.

The king is going to give me
a lesson in Genovese pesto.

Basil, obviously.

Parmigiano and lightly
smoked pecorino.

Extra virgin olive oil.

Garlic. Cloves, three of.

Salt. Pepper.

Pine nuts. All
crushed by this.

Well, I've got pestle envy.

Then you need a mortar,

or a marble kiddie pool.

It's beautiful.

It's bigger than the first
apartment I had in New York.

- Now we go to crush the garlic.

You always make it by hand?

- Yes.
- Yeah.

After the garlic, the pine nuts.

Then comes the basil.

The smell of it...
- Yes.

- Oh, it's incredible.

- We need a lot of oil.

We need a Ligurian oil
because it's sweet.

- See, I think that's a problem.

My mortar and pestle
are too small.

It's like you want
to paint with it.

- This is a pecorino
made with raw milk.

- How long has that aged?

- Well, one year.

Parmigiano-reggiano.

- Uh-huh.

- And now we crush.

Try.

- Yes.

- Wow.

Sorry. I'm just...

- It is good?
- It's really good.

Yeah, it's the smoked...

- Yes.
- Slightly.

Not really.
- No much.

- No.
- No much.

- But it's different.

- But it's a memory
of the cheese.

- That's very interesting.

OK, let's go make the thing.

- It's heavy.

- Yeah, I mean,
you get a hernia.

Jesus.

- Wow, who knew it could be
so dangerous making pesto?

Dish of the day,
pesto with trenette,

a typical Genovese pasta.

- No.

Si.

- Right.

- Mm-hmm.

- Si, Si.

Two types of starch, tons
of protein and vitamins.

Low cost, high value.

Very Ligurian.

Beautiful.

So humble, this dish.

So humble.

Just like me.

OK.

Well...

This is, I told you, one
of my favorite things...

In the whole world.

At home, I cook the simple but
gorgeous dish all the time,

but not as well as this.

It's amazing.

It's creamy.
- Mm-hmm.

- The two different
cheeses, I really love that.

It's just beautiful.

My kids, like all kids,

just love pesto,

Luguria's gift to the world

and Italy's great
green ambassador.

- I'm in Genoa, and
I'm on Via Garibaldi.

But one of the things
that's really cool

is that we have a
real façade here

made out of stone and all that.

But then throughout
the entire city,

there are these painted facades.

They're so well done
that from a distance,

you often... you can't tell.

And supposedly it was done

because if you
didn't have money,

you did this instead of
building the actual edifice.

But anyway, I thought it
was a really cool thing.

Has nothing to do
with food at all.

But there is a connection.

In Genoa, the taste
for art and thriftiness

extends to the kitchen
because this great port

has to feed both the
workers and the wealthy.

The docks made Genoa rich.

It became known as La Superba.

But not everybody
lived the high life.

These are the carugi,
back alleys where

dockworkers and sailors
have for centuries

come to eat good, simple fare.

I'm meeting Laurel Evans, a
relocated Texan food writer.

Hello. How are you?

- I'm good. How are you?

- Good, good.

When she married a
Genovese gentleman,

she became a
devotee of focaccia,

a great working-class
staple that originated here.

Wow. Wow.

- Yeah, so this is some
of the best focaccia.

- Gorgeous. Buongiorno.

Buongiorno.
- Buongiorno.

The real local thing
has large dimples in it

and is brushed with
olive oil and sea salt

before its final rise.

- First, you must try
the simple focaccia.

That is where everything begins.

- OK, so let's try the
most simple focaccia,

which would be that one.

- That guy right there.

- Are you gonna eat some too?

- I will absolutely try some.
- Yeah?

- And let me tell you
a little bit of a trick

about eating focaccia
that a local told me.

You want to tear off a corner,

and then you eat it upside down.

That way, the salt
hits your tongue first,

and then the rest of
the flavors follow.

- Ooh, I just started
salivating when you said that.

- OK, see?

- Mm. I always want
more salt though.

- You could have
more salt than this?

- Wow.

Yeah, that's hitting me. Ciao.

- Ciao.

- A step away from
working-class Genoa,

it's all marble and gold.

- So it looks like we're in
a completely different city.

- Yeah, it does. Yeah.

- This is where you
really feel the wealth

of the upper classes.

- So this is the banking
center but also, like,

shopping and all
that sort of stuff?

- Yeah. You have some of the
first banks that were founded

in Europe in Geneva because
all of these merchants

and wealthy ship
captains needed somewhere

to put their money.

So Genova has a nickname,
which is La Superba.

Superba means grandiose,

splendid, beautiful, ornate,

but it also means a
little bit haughty,

a little bit snobbish.

- The place to eat
like a merchant prince

is The Cook, a
popular new restaurant

of Chef Ivano Ricchebono,

in a startling 14th
century setting.

Wow, wow, wow.

Oh, my God, it's gorgeous.

We've come to see Ivano make

a Renaissance-era
Genovese pasta.

- The name corsetti
refers to an ancient coin

with a cross design.

This pasta definitely
displayed your wealth

and family crest to your guests.

And they're also delicious.

Well, that's always
helpful, yeah.

After all the carbs, the
all-important protein.

In humbler households, the
meat would go into the sauce

to add flavor and
then come out again

to make a second meaty meal,
which is very Ligurian.

- While the meat sauce reduces
before the pasta is added,

Laurel and I position
ourselves under the frescoes,

ready for conspicuous
consumption.

- To La Superba.

- La Superba, and having this
restaurant all to ourselves.

- Oh, man.

Couldn't get much
better than this.

Hi, chef.

- Oh, look at this.
- Oh.

OK, corsetti.

- Mmm.

- That sauce is gorgeous.

- Mmm.

Have you tried the meat yet?

- No, not yet.

Ah, beautiful. Delicate.

- Rich but delicate.

That should be the new
nickname for Geneva.

- Turns out the pasta is
just the opening scene

of an epic drama.

Cappon magro was once
a snack for sailors,

just fish and sea biscuits.

Then the wealthy got hold of it.

When the church announced
that nobody could eat meat

on so-called magro days,

magro meaning lean,

the rich adapted this dish

to keep themselves
from fading away.

Oh, my God.

No.

- Speaking of
elaborate and ornate.

- Come on.

- Chef.

- So we have lobster,

shrimp, mussels.

- Si.

- Wow.

Fantastic.

- Si.

- Si.

Bello.

Our Genovese fare has embodied

this tale of two cities in one,

the focaccia, food
of the backstreets,

and Ivano's haute cuisine.

But to me, they're both superb.

- The Ligurians
have green thumbs,

their gardening skills
honed on some of Italy's

most challenging terrain.

Head 80 miles down the
coast from Genoa, turn left,

and you'll find Taggia,

home of Italy's greatest olive,

the taggiasche.

The Valle Argentina,
or Silver Valley,

reaches inland from the
sea, funneling salty breezes

into these bone-dry heights.

The microclimate is
perfect for growing olives.

Paolo Boeri's family
have worked these groves

for five generations.

Wow.

- So welcome to Gacci.

- Gacci.

- Gacci, yeah.

That's our oldest olive grove.

And that's the first land my
family bought 100 years ago.

- Really?
- So we started from here.

- Really?
- For olive grove.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
- Whoa.

- And we are lucky because
we are in this land.

This land is the valley
where this olive,

the taggiascha olive...
- Yeah.

- Were created in 1600.

The Benedictine monks,
they start, like,

matching different species.

- Yeah.
- And they invented...

They created the taggiascha.

Forest on the top.

- Yeah.
- That make everything fresh

and give a lot of
flavor to the ground.

- Right.
- And plus the sea wind

that always coming up.

- Even working with nature,
the human effort is Herculean.

No harvesting machine
can cope up here.

Miles of nets are laid to
catch the falling fruit.

- And here you can
see they're preparing

the net for the picking.

- Yeah.

- Because all these
hectare of olive grove

are going to be
covered by this net.

In this way we can always
keep the fresh fruit,

pick it at its best, and
without touching the ground.

Long work, but it work because
the olive oil at the end

will be really,
really high quality.

- Yeah, I bet. I bet.

It's quite a job keeping
something horizontal

in all this vertical.

The hills are alive with
the sound of pickaxes.

These walls are basically
keeping everything in place.

- They keep the
entire mountains up.

So all those were
built 1,000 years ago.

They need a lot of care
because they're pretty old.

With the water and everything,
imagine the pressure

they have on that.

- So you call this...

- Heroic agriculture because...
- Heroic agriculture.

- Yeah, because everything
here must be done by hand.

So as you can see, it's
so narrow and small,

but everything should be
done as once, so with hands.

- There's something
about hard physical labor

that always gives
me an appetite,

especially when someone
else is doing it.

Luckily at Paolo's family
home in the town of Badalucco,

lunch is underway.

- Rossella, how are you?

- Fine.
- Nice to meet you.

Stanley. A pleasure.

Everything olive is
famously good for you.

Paolo's father Franco
is 1,000 years old.

Kidding.

Rossella is making
a local classic,

cornelio a la ligure.

That's rabbit, funnily
enough, with the olives.

- I add some extra
virgin olive oil.

- Yes. Is it yours?

- Yes. Absolutely.

I was just checking.

- It's not from Spain.

- No, absolutely not.
- No.

- Then I add some garlic.

- Oh, you put everything in.

- Yes, everything.

- That's a liver.

- The liver, yes.

We wait for half an hour.

- Do it for a half an hour?

- And it gives the water.

- It releases the water?
- Yes. Yes.

- Oh, hi, boys.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- Si, all right, let's do it.

- I can't drink that much oil.

Mm, it's nice.

- That's beautiful.
That's nice. Yeah.

- Yes, very creamy.

As the rabbit starts cooking,

time to take some
palate-cleansing beer

down to the place where
the Boeri oil story began.

Wow.

Si.

- Si, si.

- Si.

- Oh, I see.

In the 1900s,
Paolo's grandfather

could have gone to America
and made his fortune.

But as the oil rush
began in California,

he stayed home and struck green

in the hills above Badalucco.

OK.

Oh, my God, beautiful.
- You like some more?

- Sure. Yes, yes.

I mean, yeah, I like olives.

- Voila.

- I guess I'm in the right
place then, aren't I?

Yes.

You like?
- I do like it.

- Wow.

This is really delicate.

I'm glad Papa Boeri
didn't go to California.

Thank you so much
for... Yeah, thank you.

We and Liguria are
the richer for it.

- The further east you travel
down the Ligurian coast,

the wilder and
rockier it becomes.

The locals are
people of the sea,

which is their workplace
and their pantry.

This is the beautiful
Cinque Terre region.

Corniglia, one of five villages

built into the cliffs,
is home to Guido Galetti.

Ciao, Guido.
- Ciao, Stanley.

- Guido's family have worked
the sea for centuries,

their lives revolving
around the daily task

of catching food.

- Mm. Yes.

- Beautiful. Yeah,
it's a beautiful fish.

Beautiful.

- Oh.

- The villages of Cinque
Terre feature five castles

designed to repel
Saracen pirates.

Today, visitors are welcome.

They come to experience life
in harmony with the elements,

the only way of being the
Ligurians have ever known.

The Galetti home on
the outskirts of town

is also a restaurant,
catering for visitors who eat

what's been foraged from the sea

surrounded by objects
foraged from the land.

This is Pietro, Guido's
son and head chef.

- On the terrace, the heart of
this forward-thinking family,

Guido's wife Monica Comonello.

- OK.

- Si.

OK.

First though, Pietro
makes a starter

that's typically Ligurian,
stuffed to make it go further.

In this case, anchovies.

Without a microscope,
Pietro fills each tiny fish

with cheese and herbs,

and then they're rolled
in breadcrumbs and fried.

- OK.

- Guido catches fish,
finds furniture,

and makes his own vino del
marinaro, sailor's wine.

- Ciao, ciao.

We're cooking outside
to enjoy the sea air,

but also because the kitchen

was just too small to film in.

- Ah.

Oh, those are the
little ones, yeah.

- That smells so good.

The base is a fish stock.

Pietro is adding
parsley and marjoram.

Yeah, that's beautiful.
That's beautiful.

Delicate, not overpowering.

- Oh, my God, yeah.

- Si.

- Si.

- Beautiful.

- Si.

- The fish is gilt-head bream,

the star of the morning's catch.

- Grazie.

Si.

- Grazie.

Grazie.

Oh, how beautiful is that?

- Si.

Oh, I have to try one of these.

I forgot.

Excuse my reach.

Pietro's stuffed anchovies
are a meal in themselves,

and they're delicious.

Bravo.
- Grazie.

- Bravo.
- Delicious.

- Si.

- No.

- All I can say is thanks.

- Grazie.
- Grazie.

Thrift isn't stinginess.

It's a cure for overconsumption.

Their hardscrabble inheritance
means Ligurians can show us

the real luxury, how to live
happily off the land and sea,

satisfied that enough is plenty.

- The Ligurian landscape
might be ungiving,

but their sea is very generous.

Since ancient times,
the waters near

the city of La Spezia have
been a shellfish goldmine.

I've come to the picturesque
harbor of La Grazia

to meet undersea
farmer Paolo Varela.

- Buongiorno.
Welcome on board.

- Thank you so much.
Thank you so much.

Paolo is a farmer of bivalves.

The oyster is his
world, as is the mussel.

This is the fabled
Gulf of Poets.

It's a bay in a
notch of the cliffs

at the far eastern end
of the Ligurian coast.

In the 19th century,
oysters from these waters

were cheap and plentiful,
food for the masses.

Last century, the industry
went into decline.

- Yeah. Yeah.

- To bring it back.
- Yeah.

- We're headed for
the undersea ranch

where Paolo and his
fellow fishermen

farm oysters and mussels.

Across 30 square acres of sea,

thousands of mussels
hang on strings,

maturing in the tide.

While growing, the
mussels also filter

out of the water any impurities

their oyster cousins don't like.

As a result, the oysters
grow fat and juicy,

something Paolo is
happy to show off.

- And we insert
between the shells,

and then voila.

- When I do it, it's a disaster.

- And so green.

- Oh, my God, they're...
Why are they so green?

- Our sea.

Phytoplankton.

- That's all from
the phytoplankton?

- Yeah.

- I've never seen an
oyster that color.

That's amazing.

Like so many Ligurian producers,

Paolo rides the wave of
sustainable food production.

- Right.

- Carbon, yeah.

- For every 100 kilos
of oysters grown,

50 kilos of CO2
leave the atmosphere.

At the cooperative's plant,

mussels are processed by
machine, oysters by hand.

Some, though, are
processed by mouth by Paolo

because he likes to
breakfast on green oysters

and a glass of vermentino,
the local wine.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

- The industrial
setting seems fitting

for just-processed oysters.

- I'll hold it.

- OK.
- Ready?

I'm ready.

- No lemon or anything
else is required.

That's a really good oyster.

That's delicious.

Really salty, briny,

but sweet, like, a sweetness.

- As you talk, you smell the
power from the nose and ears.

- Whoa.

Wow.

- Si.
- That's really...

- Inspired by Liguria's
fresh seafood,

I've decided to cook a meal
for those who have labored

so hard to help me
make this series.

As we prepare the meal together,

I cannot help but think
of the meals I've shared

over the last three
years with Italians

from so many different
regions and walks of life.

I've traveled through
this peninsula

searching for a
definition of a country

that is at once
welcoming and resistant,

beautiful and dark,
ancient and young.

Yes, pieces of the country
we all know as Italy

are to be found in the hills,

fields, homes,
mountains, castles,

ruins, and medieval streets.

But my search has
led me to realize

that Italy as a
single pure entity

is to be found
only at the table.