After a restless night on an uncomfortably hard bed in an overheated room, breakfast at Hotel Valle Verde offered little comfort: just the average spread of rolls and croissants with an unusual, neon orange–colored juice that turned out to be a mixture of carrot, orange, and lemon. At least the rain clouds had finally moved on, leaving the spring skies a brilliant azure blue.
Our goal for the day was to attend the Sagra dei Cjalčons, a festival celebrating my favorite Friulian dish. From Tarvisio, Mike and I drove the short distance to Pontebba, where we turned off the highway to follow a narrow gravel road to the hamlet of Studena Bassa. Having arrived 30 minutes before the event was scheduled to begin, we took a stroll along the shallow stream that ran through the village toward Pontebba. All around us towered tall, granite peaks, the only sound being the trickle of water over pebbles and the swoosh as it flowed over a small dam.
Back at the festival, we sat and waited, finally watching the clock tick 11:00am. Where were all the visitors? The makeshift parking lot was empty, as was the small tent filled with wooden picnic tables and bordered by a cement dance floor. I expected that many more people would show up around lunchtime; however, since we were anxious to get back on the road, we ordered two servings of cjalčons (also spelled cjalsòns or cjarsòns) and one frico con polenta to take with us in the car.
On the hour-long drive back to Udine, we nibbled first on the frico, a cheese and potato pancake, soft and cheesy on the inside with a crisp, golden crust. Then came the cjalčons—the recipe seemed identical to the one given to me by cooking instructor Gianna Modotti, who had grown up in Pontebba. Often, cjalčons combine both sweet and savory flavors, but this version was entirely sweet: sizeable pouches of dough were stuffed with dried fruit and fresh ricotta and served with melted butter, sugar, and cinnamon.
Upon arriving in Udine, we spent a full half hour searching, unsuccessfully, for a gas station. Being Sunday, I expected that most would be closed, but even the self-service stations were lacking a working bank-card machine. So we gave up and returned to Hotel Principe to check in for our final night. (The next morning, before our departure, Mike and I got up early to fill the tank and return the car. We were pleasantly amused to find the cutest little, old lady pumping gas at the nearby Shell station.)
As this was our last day in Udine, we took one final wander through the city—past the Duomo, through Piazza della Libertà, up the hill to the castello. The mid-afternoon sun was sweltering, so we each indulged in a cup of gelato—I had yogurt, fragola, and limone; Mike had melone, ananas, and frutti di bosco—which we savored in the shade of Piazzale del Castello. There we sat for the rest of the afternoon, watching the world come and go—elderly signori out for a stroll, young couples sunbathing, children kicking around a ball.
For dinner, we returned one last time to Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo. By now, the waiter recognized us and knew our drink order without having to ask—un mezzo rosso. I ordered my beloved frico con polenta (that’s twice in one day!) with a side of zucchini alla scapece (zucchini sautéed with vinegar, herbs, and spicy pepper). Mike also had the frico, along with a plate of his equally beloved prosciutto di San Daniele. The meal was simple but enormously satisfying. It was with a heavy heart that I left the restaurant that evening. Al Vecchio Stallo had become a great source of comfort to me in this corner of Italy. On all my solo trips up to this point, it was the only place where I had felt thoroughly at ease when dining alone. I was already looking forward to my next trip the following summer!
Here is my recipe for cjalsòns di Pontebba, adapted from the one given to me by Gianna Modotti:
Pasta Dough:
1 cup semolina flour
1/4 cup boiling water, plus extra as needed
1 tablespoon olive oil
In a medium bowl, combine the flour, boiling water, and olive oil. Transfer the dough to a clean surface; knead until the flour is fully incorporated and the mixture becomes smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. (If the dough is too dry or crumbly, lightly moisten your fingers with water during kneading until you reach the desired texture.) Cover with plastic wrap and let rest for 30 minutes.
Filling:
8 dried figs
8 dried plums
1/4 cup golden raisins
1 cup medium-bodied red wine (such as Merlot)
1 cup fresh ricotta
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1. Place the dried figs, plums, and raisins in a small saucepan; pour in the red wine. (The fruit should be mostly submerged; if it is not, slice any large figs and plums in half.) Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to low; simmer until the liquid has evaporated and the fruit is soft, about 20–25 minutes. Remove from heat; cool to room temperature.
2. Purée the fruit in a food processor. Transfer to a medium bowl; stir in the ricotta and cinnamon. Refrigerate for 1 hour, or until ready to use.
To prepare:
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1. Working in batches, feed the dough through the rollers of a pasta machine until very thin (setting #7 on most machines). Cut out 3-1/2 inch circles from the dough. Place 1 tablespoon filling on each circle. Moisten the edges with water and fold in half to make a semi-circle, sealing the edges tightly. Place filled-side down, pressing slightly so it will stand on end like a purse. Pinch the seal to form a scalloped edge (like a fluted pie crust).
2. Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil over high heat. Working in batches, place the cjalsòns in the water; cook until they rise to the surface, about 3–4 minutes. Drain.
3. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat; remove from heat. Stir in the sugar and cinnamon; add the cjalsòns and toss to coat with butter.
