Blog

Last night at dinner, my friend Liviana had mentioned it might be snowing in Carnia today, so I dressed in extra layers. Five layers on top and three on the bottom may have been overkill, but the past few days were close to freezing! I sat on the upper level of the double-decker bus for an optimal view of the landscape. Zooming along the autostrada, we spotted the town Gemona del Friuli in the distance, crossed the Tagliamento River, and then bored through mountain tunnels to arrive—50 minutes later—in Tolmezzo, the gateway to the Carnian Alps.

A short walk brought me to the center of town and the Duomo di San Martino. With a modern façade completed in 1931, this 18th-century church features a gold-gilded white interior and an angel perched atop its campanile. Snow-capped mountains loomed overhead as I strolled along the town’s narrow streets. Every so often, a few flakes of snow drifted from the overcast sky.

After my brief walk, I made my way back to the bus terminal and took the next bus to Arta Terme, only 15 minutes away. Unfortunately, it seemed that everything in this tiny town was closed except for the tourist office. There, I got the information I needed about the festival (Festa dell’asparago di bosco, del radicchio di montagna e dei funghi di primavera) that I was hoping to attend in May. Next, after a 20-minute hike to Piano d’Arta, the upper half of Arta Terme, I was disappointed to find everything closed there as well. (As I would later learn, summer is peak season for most towns in Carnia, with the exception of those with ski resorts such as Ravascletto and Forni di Sopra.)

I returned to Tolmezzo just in time for lunch and chose Antica Trattoria Cooperativa for its variety of traditional dishes. Although it is not typically Friulian, I ordered a pasta dish called casunziei simply because it sounded so intriguing. Typical of the Dolomites in the neighboring Veneto region, these half-moons of thick pasta were filled with fresh ricotta tinted bright pink with beets, served in bubbly brown butter, and sprinkled with poppy seeds and ricotta affumicata (smoked ricotta cheese). I also chose to partake in the restaurant’s elaborate self-service buffet of side dishes, filling my plate with potatoes, onions, tomatoes, carrots, zucchini, eggplant, artichokes, and beans.

Afterwards, I got up the nerve to ask for the casunziei recipe. The owner, Patrizia Bonora, responded, “Non c’è problema, fra cinque minuti.” So I waited and waited, but she didn’t seem to have any minuti to spare. As I lingered at my table, a scruffy, old man in the corner asked the waitress in his rasping wheeze for “un cognac, così buono come Lei” (a cognac, as good as you). Feeling a bit uncomfortable with his sleazy vibe and afraid he would start hitting on me next, I approached Patrizia with the excuse that I needed to catch my bus, and we agreed to stay in touch. I never did get that recipe!

When I arrived back in Udine, it was still extremely cold and windy. After a brief late afternoon nap—from which I always found it difficult to rouse myself, especially on dark, winter evenings—I set out for what was becoming my customary fall-back, Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo. It was early—seven o’clock sharp—and the wrought-iron lamp above the door had just flickered on.

The waiter, beginning to recognize me as a regular, showed me to the same table as my last couple dinners. The elderly signora was already seated in her usual corner spot, tucking into a bowl of comfort food. Craving something warm and comforting myself, I ordered orzo e fagioli (barley and bean soup), followed by the baccalà con polenta. This salt cod stew was simmered in milk with notes of cheese and cinnamon, deliciously salty and creamy without being overly fishy. As I would later learn from chef Mario, the dish was based upon the recipe for baccalà alla Vicentina. Just like the casunziei I enjoyed at lunchtime, it was one of many dishes that had made its way from the Veneto into the kitchens of Friuli.