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Fusion Intrusion

During a recent trip to Italy I had the opportunity to experience a sort of dining double whammy – my first encounter with a Michelin starred restaurant,  and my first encounter with an unlikely Italian kitchen that carries out a unique version of “Fusion Cuisine.”

Travelling with son-in-law and accomplished home chef Rob Janssen, who did all the online research, we set out for a location in the region of Lazio not found on the usual tourist itineraries – for good reason.  The town of Viterbo is an historic home of the papacy and traces origins to Roman times. It is well worth a visit but getting there is half the misery.  The rest is finding a parking spot.

The restaurant in question is the Enoteca La Torre, Via della Torre 5, Viterbo IT.  No reservations necessary since you can’t get there except on foot, by bike, helicopter or motorcycle.   We were the only people who showed up for lunch that day.

The fusion cuisine is the work of young Chef Noda Kodaro a native of Japan who seems to have acquired all the necessary Italian culinary inputs to spin out successful combinations reflecting both ends of the world.  Since he holds a Michelin star I am the last person to question his talent!

Meantime if you haven’t figured it out already I approach fusion cuisine from a factory-installed negative attitude.  My idea of this style of cooking is to fuse Bolognese recipes with ingredients commonly used in Sicily.  Until now I have never felt the urge to patronize a joint that advertises fusion (apologies to Ming Tsai).  But in this case, as it turns out when all was said and done I came away with mixed feelings, mostly positive, that were dutifully realigned back to negative baseline with a shot or two of Grappa.

We chose the the 60 Euro/6 item tasting menu at chef’s discretion.  We fastened seat belts.

First,  the wait staff recommended a local white wine which was  offered to us at a fire sale price because it was the last remaining bottle.  I guess they decided it wasn’t worth reordering.  We grabbed it.  It turned out to be very similar – to me at least –  to Orvieto Classico from the neighboring region of Umbria,  extremely smooth, slightly fruity and most pleasant.  I’ll pretend I’m an expert wine critic and say it also had a hint of elderberry and porcini mushroom.  Not hardly.

The starter amuse bouche (not pictured) courtesy of the chef was a very Italian-looking fritella, or fried doughball made with very Japanese Nori tempura.  Very unique and great flavor!  Why didn’t I think of that?

The show began with a pea soup perfectly smooth in texture but also including occasional bits of fresh peas.  It was garnished with sesame seeds and a thin almost transparent crostino hanging over the side.  Excellent.  So far so good.

Next came a veal tartare topped with smoked mayonnaise and garnished with balsamic gelatin cubes.  A bit milder in flavor than beef tartare as would be expected,  but the mildness was counterbalanced by the smoked mayonnaise,  which pumped up the overall taste experience a few notches. I was duly impressed.

This was followed by the first of two pasta dishes:  Doppi Ravioli Farciti con Salmone e Ricotta di Pecora con Burro ed Acciughe Mantecati. This is exactly how it appears on the menu.  The translation takes only 20 minutes:  it’s lamb’s milk ricotta and salmon stuffed double ravioli with whipped butter and anchovy.  The ravioli were formed in a most unusual double pouch.  The sauce consisted of a tomato concasse’ accented with anchovy.  Not exactly a show stopper but the chef’s imaginative twist on the ravioli shape, in addition to the tongue-twisting name of the dish,  was worth the visit just on that basis alone.  I’m still on board at this point.

Then came a most unique two-tone example of pappardelle (not shown) , or extra wide noodles dressed with a tomato and finely chopped cuttlefish sauce.  One side of the noodle is white like the traditional and the other is black, made with nero di sepia – ink from tiny octopus.  Both types of pasta are widely found in Italy but nowhere will you find them fused together to yield the two-sided appearance.  As the food writers love to say,  the dish was a triumph of taste,  texture and presentation!  I’m betting this is the selection that earned Chef  Noda his Michelin star.  I have every intention to try to duplicate the feat sometime soon.

I thought we were on a roll.  However from the sublime we abruptly came down  to the ridiculous.  The final serving was piccione glassato –  balsamic glazed pigeon over whole wilted scallions.  One piece of the little birdie consisted of a single slab of deep fried meat that included a wing, leg portion and what looked like two pigeon toes!  How this cut  was achieved is a surgical mystery.

The other pieces were breast and thigh and gizzard. The breast was cooked for about 30 seconds or maybe not at all.  I was being invited to eat raw pigeon. After a moment of hesitation I fearlessly ate as much as I could and handed over the rest to Rob who gobbled it up.  I’ve heard of rare duck breast but not pigeon.  The thigh and gizzard pieces hit the other extreme,  cooked in liquid to the point of disintegration.  No problem skipping this item on the next visit.

Fortunately the chef made a blazing comeback with a two- fisted dessert. One plate contained an extremely addictive semifreddo with clove flavored cream and chocolate hazelnut center, not found on the menu.  An unadvertised bonus just for us.  Alongside came a hazelnut flavored bavarian cream custard set in crumbled biscotti to resemble a partially completed pyramid in the Egyptian desert. It’s a good thing I’m missing a sweet tooth along with all the wisdoms otherwise I’d still be there demanding seconds and thirds.  Being stuck in the savory universe it made me realize how much of the cooking world I’m missing.  I never should have skipped the baking course at cooking school! But it’s never too late.

Check please. Given the production we were greeted with the total was less than expected.

Bottom line.  If Enoteca La Torre is a good example of fusion cuisine one can expect to be exposed to a spectrum of flavors and combinations that by themselves don’t seem appropriate, but in the hands of an expert can produce amazing results as well as occasional flops.  Qualified judge or not I was very impressed with Chef Noda and happily commend his restaurant to future visitors.  While I did not become a convert I appreciated the experience and fully expect to sample this style of cooking again in the future – as long as Rob does the spade work and adjusts my attitude with a bottle of his vintage San Giovese.

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Smith Island Cake

To introduce this recipe we must turn the clock back to around 1607.  At the time history records the epic journey of John Smith et al. to a location that became Jamestown in Virginia,  the first permanent settlement by non-native Americans in what eventually became the U.S.  Soon Jack Smith befriended a native American woman by the name of Pocohantas as we all know.  What we did not know is that Ms. Pokey followed Jack around as he explored the southern parts of what became known as the Chesapeake Bay.

Amongst his stops along the bay Jack landed on an island that,  at his request,  immediately became known as Smith Island.  With Pocohantas in tow Jack settled onto the island for a time and,  getting a bit hungry,  asked Pokey to bake him a cake,  which she did obligingly from scratch,  without a word of protest.  Repeating this feat time and again, eventually Pokey’s magnificent creation became known as the Smith Island Cake.  That’s the story  – or close to it.

Now be aware that Smith Island Cake is no ordinary delicacy.  Eventually it became so popular that the Maryland General Assembly passed a resolution naming it as Maryland’s official dessert.  Maryland also has an official bird (the oriole, not the raven) and other random official state creatures and artifacts like most other states.  All of that aside, making this historical goody at home is a challenge of huge proportions for all but card-carrying Smith Islanders,  make no mistake.

While multi-layer cakes have been around since time immemorial I haven’t run across any that call for ten layers separated by a filling of one kind or another.  The Smith Island Cake – if you’re setting out to reproduce the traditional – is a ten-layer production and the layers are separated most often by chocolate filling.  Before we get into this more deeply think about how you will go about creating ten cake layers each of which is about one quarter inch in thickness and maybe less.  The logistics are daunting.

Research uncovered a recipe published by the Washington Post in 2008 and attributed to the late Smith Islander Frances Kitching (owner of Kitching’s Kitchen maybe??) reportedly the first to create the ten-layer production model.  Not being much of a baker (all my carbs come from pizza and pasta per doctor’s orders) I nonetheless decided to take this on for a house party.  I immediately began searching my mind for a shortcut that would not compromise the original in any way.

I also racked my brain for a slight variaton that would render my effort not only somewhat unique but also introduce an unobtrusive,  but for me most obligatory Italian nuance to the project.  FYI there are no Italian descendants on Smith Island.  I checked.

The shortcut consists of baking two layers at a time with two 9-inch round cake pans thus requiring only 3 oven round trips.  The layers were then meticulously separated with the help of a long thin fish filet knife,  the only tool that will do the job.  Actually since I embarked on the project I discovered that today one can obtain from an on-line catalog one of those nifty layer cutters that will supposedly yield eight thin layers.  That would cut the oven round trips to two, assuming the gadget performs as advertised.

The “nuance”  I boldly introduce is the brushing on each layer of about 1/4 cup or so of sugar syrup spiked with Galliano lemon liqueur,  supported by the addition of a tablespoon of finely grated lemon zest to the cake recipe.  Beyond that Aunt Frances’  version of Pocohantas’  loving gift to John Smith rules supreme.  So here it is along with my humble embellishment.

The Kitching/Pocohantas Smith Island Cake

For a ten-layer cake:

  • 2 sticks unsalted butter at room temperature
  • 3 cups flour plus extra for dusting pans
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 2 cups sugar divided
  • 1 tbsp. finely grated lemon zest
  • 5 large eggs
  • 1 cup evaporated milk
  • 2 tsp. vanilla extract
  • 1/2 cup water

For the Galliano syrup:

  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 2/3 cup Galliano (or more why don’t you)

For the filling and icing:

  • 2 1/2 cups sugar
  • 1 1/2 cups evaporated milk
  • 6 oz. unsweetened chocolate chopped
  • 1 stick unsalted butter
  • 1 tsp. vanilla extract

Note:  the amounts for filling and icing specified in the Washington Post recipe are not adequate for spreading on ten layers and covering the outside surface of the cake.  The amounts have been adjusted upward accordingly.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Butter the cake pans generously and cover with flour.  Shake off excess flour.
Sift flour,  salt and baking powder.  Beat butter and sugar together in electric mixer until smooth.  Add eggs one at a time.  Reduce speed and add the lemon zest and dry ingredients one cup at a time.  Add evaporated milk,  vanilla and water and beat until well combined.
Place  1 and 1/3 cups batter into each of two 9-inch cake pans spreading as evenly as possible.  Bake for about 15 minutes or until you hear no sizzling in the pan (don’t stick your head in the oven to conduct this test).  Meanwhile make the icing.
Combine the sugar and evaporated milk in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat.  Add the butter and chocolate and stir constantly until all is combined and melted.  Cook at medium heat for an addition ten minutes.  Remove from the heat and add the vanilla.  The icing will be thin but will thicken when cool.
Remove the cakes and place on a bakers rack.  Repeat the baking cycle with the two pans cleaned, rebuttered and floured.  Proceed to the Galliano.

Do not drink the Galliano until you are sure you have enough for the syrup.  Heat the sugar,  water and Galliano in a saucepan until completely dissolved.  Set aside.  You should have around 1 1/2 cups.
Bake the last pan with the remaining batter.  Meanwhile begin slicing the  5 double layer cakes with a long thin knife just as you would butterfly a chicken breast.  Work carefully all along the cake edge until you feel the layers separating completely.  If you carry this out without tearing the layers reward yourself with the remaining Galliano.

Place the first layer on a cake platter,  cut side up.  Brush with the Galliano syrup,  spread a thin layer of chocolate filling and repeat the process until all layers are dressed.  Use the remaining filling to ice the sides and top of the cake.

You are done.

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Sea Shells By The Seashore

As a Rhode Island native I was drawn into the usual saltwater pastimes like fishing,  boating and swimming.  After all Rhode Island is officially called the Ocean State,  don’t you know,  even though it has about 1/100th the ocean shoreline as Florida.

For me the most rewarding saltwater time killer was capturing sedentary and helpless bivalves on Narragansett Bay that had no way of escaping once I got hold of them with primitive tools such as a clam rake or oyster tongs.  I got to be pretty good at it and I carried this dubious skill with me when I moved to Washington D.C. and eventually the Eastern Shore of Maryland on retirement.  I have the rubber chest waders and clam rake up in the attic to testify as to the truth of all this. Notice I said “up in the attic.”

In the world of shellfish knowledge of the proper nomenclature is important if you are not motivated for clam digging and have to truck on down to the fish market to buy your shellfish.  You need to know what to ask for.

There are dozens of varieties of hardshell clams  but the most familiar goes by the redundant official name Mercinaria mercenaria.  Within that category there are differences based on size.  The largest hardshells have two names depending on whether you are a Rhode Islander or someone less fortunate.  If a Rhode Islander you will be acquiring “quahogs,”  the Algonquian Indian name given to fist-sized chowder clams.  They are only good ground up for soups,  stews,  stuffing and fried clam cakes – the latter being an item sold exclusively in Rhode Island and nowhere else.  A mystery because they are delicious and deserve national attention.

Next down the line we have top necks and cherrystones.  Since clams have no necks I don’t know how this word crept into the description.  In any case either one can be used for raw clams on the half-shell or baked Clams Casino.

Lastly we get down to the small ones,  i.e. the little necks and countnecks.  These are the ones best for classic spaghetti alle vongole or spaghetti with clam sauce – a popular dish throughout Italy and the coastal U.S. as well.  Supermarkets sometimes offer a variety of small brown colored clams from Asiatic waters called mahogany clams (maybe Phillipine mahogany??)  a distant relative of the U.S. hardshell but good enough for all the spaghetti recipes.

Drilling down even further,  if you order spaghetti alle vongole in Genoa or Naples you will notice the hardshell clams in your dish are about the size of your thumbnail.  Have to say that sauces made with these sweet “mini-necks” have no equal,  but they are nowhere to be found in the U.S. as far as I can tell.

Incidentally people claim that here on the Eastern Shore of Maryland – a region known for its more or less southern conservative outlook on life –  there exists another hard clam subspecies.  They’re called Red Necks.  Haven’t found any yet but I know they’re out there somewhere on the waters of Assawoman Bay. (Yes,  Assawoman Bay – no joke –  it’s an actual place name and it’s right outside my back door).

The other shellfish varieties relatively easy to catch on a hot summer day in the saltwater shallows are mussels and oysters.  Here again we confront a nomenclature issue.  It has to do with the oyster.  Around the world the oyster is an oyster,  but on the Maryland Eastern Shore it is an “orshter.”  This is important because if you approach an Eastern Shore fishmonger and ask for oysters you will get a blank stare.  They only sell orshters.  Two dozen orshters please.

For now we are leaving oysters,  scallops,  soft-shell clams aside to zero in on clams and mussels.

To do that let’s now switch over to a resort and fishing port suburb of Rome,  Italy,  called Fiumicino – known more for the big international airport nearby (code name FCO) than anything else.  On a recent visit,  instead of heading directly for Rome,  I cabbed on over to the Fiumicino beach front and at the cabbie’s suggestion got dropped off at a restaurant called Il Veliero – The Sailing Ship.  Here for lunch and in glorious weather I had the good fortune to select – entirely at random –  their version of shellfish soup containing strictly clams and mussels in a light tomato broth.

The uninspiring name for it on the menu is “Soup with Clams and Mussels”.  No shrimp,  calamari,  crab or anything.   It was served up with crusty bread slices.   The dish exceeded all expectations.  When it was time to go I confronted the chef on the way out and under duress he agreed to reveal the recipe after promising him I would keep it a secret at all cost.  It is as follows:

Zuppa di Cozze e Vongole “Il Veliero”

For 4 persons:

  • 2 doz. top neck or 2 1/2 doz. littleneck clams scrubbed clean
  • 2 dozen or so mussels scrubbed clean and beards removed if any
  • 1 28 oz. can tomato sauce or puree
  • 1/2 cup chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
  • 1 tbsp. chopped fresh dill weed
  • 2 large cloves garlic (more if you’re a garlic lover)
  • 2 cups dry white wine
  • 2 cups fish or vegetable bouillon (try to resist the temptation to use chicken)
  • 1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed fennel seeds
  • 2 tbsp. fresh celery leaves finely chopped
  • 1/4 cup or so extra virgin olive oil
  • salt & freshly ground black pepper to taste
  • Toasted French bread slices

In a large soup pot or dutch oven soften garlic in hot olive oil.  Do not brown the garlic!  Remove it from the pan,  chop finely and set aside.  Place the clams in the pot on medium high heat.  Add wine,  lemon juice,  parsley and dill.  When clams just start to open add the mussels.  Stir  and continue cooking until all shellfish is fully opened up.  With tongs remove everything from the pot and set aside.  Let the wine broth reduce slightly then add the boullion and tomato puree to the pot along with fennel seeds,  celery,  lemon juice and reserved garlic.  Heat thoroughly then return all shellfish to the pot and continue cooking on medium heat for about 5 minutes.  Serve with the toasted french bread although the customary alternative choice for the starch accompaniment in this recipe would be linguine. Try both.

Finally,  just to get you properly oriented geographically here’s a partially obstructed shot of the Tyrrhenian Sea near Rome taken from the restaurant’s oceanfront terrace:

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Tiramisu’ Buttami Giu’!

Notwithstanding the lack of popular demand I venture into the world of the sweet,  leaving the savory aside for a moment.  You see my carbohydrate input is restricted by my physician (Guido Santini MD) to pasta dishes and pizza – no sweets.  So I rarely make desserts except for special occasions or on request.  When the call comes I often select the well known Italian dessert that translates into “pull me up.” I have playfully added the phrase “throw me down” in Italian to the title above.

Pull me up you say?  Where on earth did this name originate???

Roaming around the sites one discovers that Tiramasu’ has a murky past.   At one extreme the origin is believed to go back only to the 1980’s.  At the other it is alleged to have been born in the northern Italian town of  Treviso back in Renaissance times and named after an amateur pastry chef whose maiden surname was actually Tiramisu’.  Francesca “Franny”  Tiramisu’.  Remember her?  Another theory is that because the ingredients include espresso coffee one experiences a sort of boost,  or pick-me-up from it.

Whatever the origin this item shows up on the dessert menus of thousands of Italian-themed restaurants throughout the world.  The good news is that at only 350 calories per bite one can easily work off a serving by running the Boston Marathon.

First some trivia:  The one controversy surrounding Tiramisu’  is whether to add a liqueur to the recipe or not.  The web sources claim liqueur was never part of the original,  but the vast majority of current recipes that I have pulled up so far call for Cognac,  Amaretto or something similar (Kahlua maybe?).

All of which allows us to get down to the particulars:

Authentic (or not) Tiramisu’

For 8-10 servings:

  • 5 eggs separated
  • 5 tbsp. granulated sugar
  • 1 lb. mascarpone cheese at room temperature
  • 1/4 cup Amaretto liqueur
  • 1/4 cup Cognac
  • approx. 30 lady fingers,  dry or soft
  • 2 cups sweetened espresso coffee or any strongly-flavored coffee
  • cocoa powder for dusting

Whip egg whites until very stiff and set aside.  Whip the egg yolks with the sugar until pale and thickened.  Add the mascarpone a little at a time until fully incorporated with the yolks.  Add half the amaretto and half the cognac.  Mix and then fold in the egg whites.  Add the rest of the liqueurs to the coffee.  Place the coffee in a pan suitable for dredging the lady fingers.  Have two 5×9″ loaf plans ready.

Dip the lady fingers one by one quickly in the coffee.  If they break the pieces can still be used to create the layers.  Arrange the first layer to cover the bottom of the pan.  On top of the first layer place three or four heaping tablespoons of the egg/mascarpone mixture and spread evenly.  Repeat this procedure til you reach the top of the pan.  Three layers should fit.  Finish with a topping of the egg/mascarpone mixture,  dust cocoa powder over the top and refrigerate for 6-8 hours,  or take a short cut and let the freezer do some of the work.

Serve with amaretto cookies on the side or a scoop of coffee ice cream.  Dust additional cocoa powder around the plate.  Since you fasted all day you can eat a 6 oz. serving without feeling guilty.  Otherwise join up with the marathon contestants in Boston.

Unique TiramisuP.S. I was struck by the tasty version produced by a not-yet-well known Italian trattoria located in Rehoboth Beach DE called A Touch of Italy.  Note the lady fingers in this version cannot be doused in espresso coffee otherwise they would not stand up to look like the Stonehenge monument.  Hence we classify this version as ‘druidic’ and non-traditional.

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More Anchovy Is Better

This is for the millions of people around the world who hate anchovies.   I want to introduce them to the 250 people who love them and like to eat them right out of the can.  Yes, even though they have been salted down and eaten for thousands of years it is amazing that the knee-jerk negative reaction to anchovies is still so prevalent,  especially among folks who never tasted them.  I now know why.  It’s because anchovies are actually a health food and only health food fans receive them with joy.  All others,  innocent and unknowing,  remain suspicious.

So to try to make a dent in the unwarranted negative attitude that emerges anytime a recipe calls for anchovy I offer a few factoids.

Number one, obviously anchovies are a fish,  to be precise the official name of the type we find in the stores is engraulis encrasiculus. They are swimming around in huge numbers with about 140 other variations from sea to shining sea.   A fish they are indeed and a very oily one at that,  like salmon and mackerel.  Consequently the cardiologists of the world should be encouraging their consumption aggressively since they contain inordinate amounts of omega-3 fatty acids –  you know,  the stuff that prevents heart attacks.

That explains why Sicilians,  Portuguese, Greeks and other Southern Mediterranean populations have roughly half the rate of heart disease as the U.S.  The anchovy,  with the help of other piscatorial relatives is a benevolent contributing factor.  (I know I’m going to be challenged on all this but I’m ready).

Number two.  Anchovies are not “fishy.”  If you think they’re fishy then you think tuna and lobster are fishy.  In their natural state anchovies have no fishy flavor whatsoever as long as they’re fresh.  The salting process is responsible for amplifying the natural flavor to a point where one might consider it fishy but the salt can be easily removed.  Also during cooking  a lot of the flavor they started out with in the can is toned down.

OK,  as for the salt it requires little or no effort to remove this offending chemical from the picture.   All it takes is a soaking in milk or water for 30 minutes or so.  Even if you don’t remove the salt using anchovy in a recipe makes it unnecessary to add additional amounts since it might supply all you need.  So the bottom line is if you can bring yourself around to regarding anchovies as a health food we are going to get along just fine.

In the U.S. probably the most predominant use of anchovies is in “classic” Caesar Salad.  “Classic” in quotes because,  don’t you know,  anchovies were never a part of the original Caesar recipe developed by Chef Cesare Cardini way back when in Mexico.  They found their way into the salad dressing recipe somewhat indirectly.  Caesar’s brother and restaurant partner Al,  to give the recipe his own fingerprint one supposes,  brushed the croutons with chopped anchovy.  In any event anchovies are now ensconced in the preparation and without them people have a right to claim they are not being served a genuine Caesar’s.

If you like really good Caesar salad you like anchovy.  You just have to own up to it.

One other note:  Now and then on the cooking shows you find the chefs reaching for a can of dry-packed salted whole anchovies rather than the filets packed in oil and widely sold in the flat oval cans or small bottles.  I used the dry-packed specimens myself for a while until I finally realized that washing off the salt and prepping them for use is so labor intensive it qualifies for inclusion in the Jobs Bill.

The fish are packed whole with only the head missing.  There are gill covers,  tiny scales, entrails and a nasty looking spinal chord that has to be surgically removed.  Plus they only come in cans like the one in the photo big enough for a 20-year supply.  Storing them in the refrigerator without polluting everything in it is not possible but then again with all that salt they probably don’t need refrigeration after opening anyway.

Forget this version despite what you hear from reknown TV Chef Mario Batali who insists they are superior.  They’re not.  Stick with the fish in the flat cans or better yet look for brands oil-packed in little glass bottles.  They are easier to store if you’re not using the whole batch at one time.

Finding a good brand is not always easy.  The flat cans sold under the Cento label are acceptable but it pays to search around for the bottled versions.

F.Y.I. The Caesar Salad recipe below is almost identical to the one found in the New York Times Cookbook. The book calls for an entire can of anchovies which I thought was a bit of overkill.  I use around 5 filets sometimes more but not the whole can for God’s sake.

Classic Caesar Salad

For 4 servings:

  • 1 large garlic clove crushed and finely chopped (don’t let garlic overpower the recipe)
  • 1 tbsp. Grey Poupon mustard
  • 1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
  • 1 dash Tabasco
  • 2 heaping tbsp. grated imported Parmesan cheese
  • 3-4 anchovy filets
  • 1 egg (parboiled if you insist)
  • 1/2 cup or more olive oil
  • 1 head romain lettuce,  tough dark green leave tips trimmed back (amazing how many fancy restaurants don’t do this)
  • garlic croutons made from toasted baguette slices (pass up the jawbreakers from the store)
  • salt (if needed) and freshly ground black pepper

Process the first 7 ingredients then add the olive oil gradually until the mixure is smooth and creamy.  Adjust for salt but most likely the anchovy will have taken care of that for you.  Tear the romain lettuce into pieces by hand (Chef Cardini served up the lettuce leaves whole, as does Chef Jacques Pepin).  Toss with the dressing and croutons,  leaving some dressing to be served on the side.  Sprinkle some ground black pepper and toss again.

Additional factoid:  Chef Cardini went to Acapulco to open his restaurant to avoid the scourge of Prohibition in the U.S.

P.S. I suppose many folks take out the wooden salad bowl for this exercise and rub it with garlic before adding the other ingredients.  No need to do that unless your dinner party are all Sicilians.  Experiments have proven that they are the only people capable of distinguishing between a Caesar salad made in a garlic-rubbed wooden bowl from one that wasn’t.  But if you like the theatrical aspect of the garlic rubbing be my guest.  I’ll bet you know somebody who loves to do the garlic rub thing in front of an audience,  right?