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So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish

Just another perfect day
By JONATHAN GOLD
Wednesday, October 3, 2007 - 12:00 pm

It is still dark when I wake up, and I pad down the stairs to put together one last breakfast of biscuits, eggs and juice before the rest of the family gets out of bed. The biscuits are made with cultured Vermont butter and the soft, fine flour I mail-order from the Weisenberger Mill in Kentucky. I will serve them with the plum jam that my neighbor Kazi sometimes makes when she is not otherwise engaged as the principal violist of the L.A. Opera. The eggs are from the Kendor Farms stand at the Hollywood Farmers’ Market. The juice is from my own grapefruit tree. The music on the radio is the Emerson Quartet playing Haydn. If it were a weekend, I might also throw a center-loin Schreiner’s smoked pork chop or a hot Italian sausage from Alexander’s Prime Meats into a skillet, and maybe brew a plunger-potful of Krakatoa-blend coffee from Monkey and Son, but I’m not eating until later.

The oven beeps. The biscuits are golden and flaky. My wife and daughter slide into their chairs at the dining room table, and my 4-year-old son fetches today’s copy of the L.A. Times from the lawn, where it has miraculously not been soaked with sprinkler runoff. (Are the headlines true? Are the troops really on their way home? Did the Celtics really agree to trade Kevin Garnett straight up for Kwame Brown?) When I walk Leon to his pre-K class a little later, he remembers to hug me goodbye.

From the school, I drive to the gym, where I meet Melody Schoenfeld from Flawless Fitness, who has the unenviable task of directing me through the workout. (Why would I go to the gym on my last day on Earth? You never know when core fitness is going to come in handy on the other side.) I am in luck — it’s arms-and-shoulders day, no squats or lunges, and the mook who likes to work out to the Rocky soundtrack is nowhere to be seen. Even better, JACK-FM seems to have been struck by lightning during the night: Everybody’s reps are powered by a podcast of last week’s Chocolate City on KCRW, and the host, Garth Trinidad, has found some late-’70s Meters sides I have never heard before. The iron practically lifts itself.

As quickly as Melody strips calories off, Sumi Chang at nearby Europane puts them back on. I would ordinarily have a chocolate croissant but it is nearing the end of stone-fruit season, and I have a frangipane-smeared peach tart with one of Sumi’s perfect cappuccinos, layered with foam dense enough to support a spoon upright. It is a rather dry day — low humidity is bad for the skin but great for baked goods — and the puff pastry explodes into a million buttery flakes. I glance at the sports section. Garnett really does seem to be coming to the Lakers. It is a good day, considering.

I have a few minutes to kill, so I drive over to the Norton Simon Museum, where I spend a while looking at my favorite painting by Francisco de Zurbarán, a still life of lemons that almost tumble out of the frame, nipply, glowing fruit whose lusciousness affirms the existence of God more persuasively than a dozen stiffly pious Zurbarán saints. The beauty is almost enough to make me forgive Simon for dismantling and burying the irreplaceable contemporary collection of the Pasadena Art Museum when he took over the institution three decades ago, but even today I have only so much forgiveness in my heart. I take a short walk through the building to look at the big Sam Francis splashed against the wall, and I shake my head at what might have been. I decide to take the Pasadena Freeway, the most beautiful of all American freeways, into Los Angeles. I make a quick detour halfway into town for a deep-fried potato taco with guacamole at El Atacor #11. Five minutes later, I am back on the freeway, heading toward downtown.

It is a lightish day at the Weekly, and my wife agrees to have lunch, although she tends to roll her eyes at any intimations of end times. Laurie works hard; even today she brushes off any ideas of a long, winey lunch at Spago or on the sunny, art-strewn patio at Michael’s. We end up at Sapp Coffee Shop, a legendary Thai Town noodle joint, where I get the duck noodles and she gets the boat noodle soup — a dark, murky broth of beef innards lit up like a pinball machine with ground Thai chiles. For the first time in months we manage to get there before the fried Thai sausage with peanuts is sold out. Laurie blushes when my foot meets hers under the table, but then she says she needs to get back to the office. I tell her I’m thinking of going to the zoo, and she decides to come along instead of going back to work — it must be end times. We cruise through Griffith Park to hang out for a few minutes with the meerkats at the Los Angeles Zoo, and pick up our son at Travel Town, where a friend has taken him to play on the trains.

We pick up Leon’s sister Isabel at school, and we all go up to Bulgarini in Altadena for gelato. I get the gloriously bitter granita de caffé. Leon seems extra-excited about his scoop of banana. The four of us drive up to the end of Cheney Trail and scramble over the rocks to Millard Falls, where Isabel skips rocks and Leon pokes at centipedes as evening falls over the canyon.

Later, we all go out with friends for Sichuan fried chicken, water-boiled fish and stir-fried bacon with leeks at Chung King, followed by a quick nightcap of Lagrein at Louon Vine. Back at home, Laurie and I hold hands and wait for the dawn.

WEISENBERGER MILL: www.weisenberger.com.

L.A. OPERA: www.laopera.com.

KENDOR FARMS: www.kendorfarms.com.

HOLLYWOOD FARMERS’ MARKET: Ivar Ave. between Hollywood and Sunset blvds., Hlywd., Sundays 8 a.m.-1 p.m.

EMERSON STRING QUARTET: www.­emersonquartet.com.

SCHREINER’S FINE SAUSAGES: 3417 Ocean View Blvd., Glendale, (818) 244-4735.

ALEXANDER’S PRIME MEATS: in Howie’s Ranch Market, 6580 N. San Gabriel Blvd., San Gabriel, (626) 286-8871.

MONKEY AND SON COFFEE: www.monkeyandson.com.

LOS ANGELES TIMES: www.latimes.com.

FLAWLESS FITNESS: www.flawlessfitness.com.

EUROPANE: 950 E. Colorado Blvd., No. 107, Pasadena, (626) 577-1828.

CHOCOLATE CITY: KCRW 89.9 FM, Saturdays 6-9 p.m. www.kcrw.com/music/programs/cc.

NORTON SIMON MUSEUM: 411 W. Colorado Blvd., Pasadena, (626) 449-6840 or www.nortonsimon.org.

EL ATACOR #11: 2622 N. Figueroa Ave., L.A., (323) 441-8477.

SPAGO: 176 N. Cañon Dr., Beverly Hills, (310) 385-0880.

MICHAEL’S: 1147 Third St., Santa Monica, (310) 451-0843.

SAPP COFFEE SHOP: 5183 Hollywood Blvd., Hlywd., (323) 665-1035.

LOS ANGELES ZOO: 5333 Zoo Dr., L.A., (323) 644-4200.

TRAVEL TOWN MUSEUM: 5200 Zoo Dr., L.A., (323) 662-5874.

BULGARINI GELATO: 749 E. Altadena Dr., Altadena, (626) 791-6174.

CHUNG KING: 1000 S. San Gabriel Blvd., San Gabriel, (626) 286-0298.

LOU ON VINE: 724 N. Vine St., Hlywd., (323) 962-6369.

 

Posted by Amy Scattergood on 12:04 PM, Aug 8 2007

Gelato and a movie

Bulgarini_3 Driving up the San Gabriel foothills into Altadena for a fix of Bulgarini Gelato has been well worth the trek since the outpost opened in April. And now you can pull up a folding chair and stay awhile: Owners Leo Bulgarini and his wife, Elizabeth, recently instituted movie nights. Every other Friday night, after the sun (and the lines snaking out the door) goes down, at about 9:30, you can watch an Italian movie free of charge in the open courtyard outside their shop.

Eat a bowl of pistachio gelato or spoon up an affogato (a scoop of gelato topped by a shot of espresso) while you wait for the same stars watched by the nearby Mt. Wilson Observatory to come out. Last Friday, the third movie night so far this summer, it was a showing of "Mediterraneo," the Italian flick that won an Oscar for Best Foreign Film in 1992. Come early, save a seat and get dinner too: for $9 you can get a huge plate of homemade lasagne or ravioli and a salad at the table they set up outside. Or get back in line for a second bowl of plum sorbetto or chocolate-orange gelato while you brush up on your Italian. Not that it's required; the films are subtitled, even if the occasional shouts from the back of the house aren't.

Bulgarini Gelato, 749 E. Altadena Drive, Altadena; (626) 441-2319.

-- Amy Scattergood

Photo by Stefano Paltera for The Times



Dining
99 Essential Restaurants: The Metropolitan Palate
By JONATHAN GOLD
Wednesday, June 20, 2007 - 12:00 pm

Counter Intelligence


Cool Hunting

Sweet heat relief at Bulgarini gelateria
By Jonathan Gold
Wednesday, July 26, 2006 - 12:00 pm

When it is 109 degrees in Pasadena, when the live oaks droop and the front range of the San Gabriels burns with a terrible heat, there is no better place to be in the city than the shaded courtyard of the Pacific Asia Museum, among the Japanese statues and the swimming koi, the muscular Myron Hunt architecture, and the frail cart that houses Bulgarini Gelato, whose pistachio is fragrant as a lyric poem, whose lemon tames the sun, whose peach-moscato sorbetto is even more delicious than a chilled Bellini, even more delicious than a chilled Bellini made from a peach you have plucked from your own tree.

Los Angeles is thick with skilled gelato makers at the moment, with the product of Tai Kim at Scoops, whose cucumber-mint ice is among the most refreshing things you will ever taste, and the artisans at Pazzo Gelato in Silver Lake, whose crowded shop has created a scene reminiscent of high noon on the Via Veneto. But Bulgarini, the love child of Rome native Leo Bulgarini and his Altadena-raised wife, Elizabeth Foldi, is a singular, perfect blossom in a world of international sweets conglomerates and by-the-book mixes.

All the best gelato makers have the texture down, the almost supernatural creaminess without cream, the weightlessness, the way that a spoonful feels as if it is suspended in your mouth — a pistachio-flavored caesura in the time-space continuum — until that moment when it slides down your throat in a clean, cold, ectoplasmic rush. The gelato at San Crispino in Rome is like that, a creature of perfect smoothness, as well as the gelati that sometimes make it onto the menu at Campanile, any number of places in Florence, and a shop near the northern wall of Viterbo that I was never able to find again. If you get a good batch, you can approximate the sensation with a quart of Ciao Bella from the freezer case, although freshness in gelato may be as important as it is in black raspberries or Left Bank baguettes.

Bulgarini’s pistachio gelato and peach-moscato sorbetto
Leo Bulgarini and Elizabeth Foldi with their frosty love child
Anybody can learn to make decent gelato, and the principals of Bulgarini certainly apprenticed with some of the best gelato makers in Rome. But not everybody has the gift. It is a kind of alchemy to capture flavors in their truest, most flattering form, like pinning a butterfly under glass in a way that displays the majestic iridescence while making you forget that you are looking at a bug.

Bulgarini’s chocolate gelato, for example, may use the same Valrhona product that most pastry chefs keep around in massive bars, but instead of emphasizing the winy acidity of good chocolate, this gelato brings out the elusive smokiness, a gentle autumnal tang that usually stays hidden in the mix. In the zabaglione gelato, based on the popular Roman egg-yolk custard, the flavor is so vivid, so pure, that you could swear you’re experiencing not just the particular essence of the egg, but also what the hen in question had for supper the night before last. The chocolate-hazelnut gelato, which 99 chefs out of 100 will make with Nutella spooned straight out of the jar, has the smack of freshly roasted nuts. And the putty-colored pistachio, made with nuts Foldi specially imports from Sicily, traps and magnifies the high, slightly fermented flavor of first-rate pistachios with such purity that you may realize that you have never really tasted a pistachio at all.

Great gelato makers specialize in capturing the ephemeral, the flit of resinous complexity across the midrange of a white peach, the bare hint of sweaty afternoon sex in the scent of a juicy midsummer melon, the phenolic fugue inscribed in the taste of a ripe banana. When you look at a Chardin painting of fruit, the cherries are sweeter, riper, more impossibly aromatic than an actual cherry could ever be. When you taste the cassis sorbet at Paris’ Berthillon, it is more than cassis: rounder, subtler, more exquisitely perfumed than cassis, which in its natural form is a fairly boring kind of black currant. And then there is Bulgarini’s pistachio.

Does Mr. Bulgarini enjoy talking about his gelato? No. He would much rather discuss the last game of the World Cup, kick by kick by kick.

Bulgarini Gelato, in the courtyard of the Pacific Asia Museum, 46 N. Los Robles Ave., Pasadena; (626) 441-2319, www.bulgarinigelato.com. Open Fri.–Sun. 11 a.m.






Early each morning, Leonidas Bulgarini and Elizabeth Foldi buy fresh fruit at the produce markets in downtown Los Angeles. They bring back cases of seasonal bounty, like blueberries, cantaloupe and white peaches, to their gelato shop in Pasadena.

On a recent weekday, Bulgarini decided to make blueberry sorbetto (mirtillo). He washed the fruit, inspected each berry by hand and threw the rotten ones out. He pulled off the tiny stems, one by one. He blended the berries, then added the puree to a sugarwater solution and froze the mixture in a gelato machine for about 20 minutes. In the last few moments, he added a splash of moscato d'asti, an Italian dessert wine, to add dimension to the flavor.



I scooped up the fat-free delight with a little shovel, and the bright, creamy flavor of blueberries burst in my mouth.

The fruit in my dessert was only four hours old. Handmade Italian ice cream is a rare treat, whether it is gelato (made with milk) or sorbetto (without milk).



Before the couple opened their shop, Bulgarini was a manager and sommelier at Trattoria Tre Venezie, an upscale Italian restaurant in Pasadena. The Italian native grew up in Rome, and wears his hair in a long ponytail. He met Foldi when she walked in for dinner one night. His wife-to-be had worked as lawyer for several years, but was looking toward food as a new career.

While Foldi is Chinese and Hungarian, she is also fluent in Italian.

"I was pumping him for information about Rome, because I wanted to move there," Foldi said. "He said, next time I'll let you know. And I thought, What next time?'

Bulgarini eventually won her over, and the pair traveled to his hometown together and stayed for a year. They wanted to learn how to make authentic gelato the old, artisan way, but couldn't find anyone in the city who knew how.

They finally found an octogenarian in Sicily who was a famed gelato maker. They arranged to meet the gelato master, who passed down his techniques to the couple.

After they came back home, they opened their gelateria in April, just inside the Pacific Asia Museum in Old Pasadena. The pair makes traditional Italian favorites, as well as zen-inspired flavors like chocolate ginger, mandarin orange and lychee strawberry.

Actually, most of the time, Bulgarini makes the gelato; Foldi is the taste tester.

"I love doing it," Bulgarini said. "The one thing about gelato is, when people eat it, it's (like) ice cream, and people are happy."



The basic method of making gelato starts with combining the base ingredients: milk, sugar, nonfat milk powder, and vanilla beans. After heating the mixture through, you add chocolate, espresso, fruit or nut paste. A popular flavor in Italy is zabaglione, which is flavored

with marsala wine..

Bulgarini has his own little secrets to making his phenomenal Italian ice cream. He only uses all-natural ingredients and revealed that he lets the gelato mature a little longer in the freezer.

All of the sorbettos are made with fresh seasonal produce. Sometimes Bulgarini will go to San Luis Obispo to find quality produce.



He only uses organic milk in the gelatos, as well as quality ingredients like Madagascar vanilla beans, imported Sicilian pistachios from the volcanic region of Bronte, and hazelnuts from Piedmont.

Making Italian ice cream from scratch is time-consuming, expensive, and takes a certain amount of skill. The fruits, proteins and sugars need to be balanced, Bulgarini said. A lot of things can go wrong, too: The finished product can develop ice crystals, or the flavor can be too rich or not sweet enough.

Most gelato shops in the United States and even Italy have switched to pre-made bases and artificial flavors. People have forgotten traditional methods as they turn to packaged products, and the art of gelato making is dying, Bulgarini said.

"Gelato is not like reinventing the wheel. It's making it from scratch and the artisanal quality of gelato that's being lost," he said. "In mass-produced lemon sorbet, the lemon is so tangy, you feel something artificial. You might taste acid, which is a preservative they put in so it lasts longer. When I'm making gelato, I make it so it doesn't last more than a few days."

Bulgarini is also a sculptor and a welder, and he likes to create beautiful things from raw material. He has the same sentiments about gelato: making it by hand is more difficult, but worth it, he said.

"Young people these days are working in banks, with air conditioning and on their cell phones," Bulgarini said. "They don't know about hard work. And you see these old gelato masters in Italy riding around on their bikes, but they make the most unbelievable gelato you've ever eaten."



In the future, Bulgarini and Foldi want to make chocolate-dipped gelato, as well as sugar-free and lactose-free versions.

"I want to make things other people don't make," Bulgarini said. "I want to do what the old artisanal masters used to do 40 to 50 years ago. Through making gelato, I'm just trying to preserve a little of my heritage."

ivy.dai@sgvn.com

(626) 962-8811, Ext. 2507




Ausland
PASADENA
Die Eisheiligen

Global Village: Wie zwei Einwanderer Amerika retten wollen –
mit Vanille, Pistazie und Sinnlichkeit

Leo nimmt jetzt eine Mango vom Stapel,
er hält sie mit beiden Händen,
wie man ein Baby hält, er beugt sich
vor, versunken, starrt die Frucht an, als
wollte er durch die Schale blicken, dreht
sie, schnuppert, wiegt die Mango in den
Händen, betastet sie, nickt. Atmet hörbar
aus. Legt sie beiseite.
Va bene, ist okay. Leise Stimme.

Leo, langhaarig, lässig, geboren in Rom,
gelernter Schmied, dann Metallbildhauer,
dann Landwirt, großbürgerliche Herkunft,
dann nach Amerika, einfach so, weil es
romantisch war und er sich beweisen wollte,
in Los Angeles Tellerwäscher, Kellner,
Pizzabäcker, Manager, Türsteher, bärig, bedächtig
und ausgestattet mit einer Adriano-
Celentano-Stimme sowie Bizepsen, die
sich, wenn er die schweren Kisten stemmt,
wölben wie Zuckermelonen – Leo hat
schon die nächste Mango. Schnuppern,
tasten, starren, und so vergeht
der Vormittag, nach den
Mangos die Erdbeeren, dann die
Pistazien, drei Säckchen, die Eier.

Dann die Haselnüsse. Die Schokolade.

Leo Bulgarini, 37 Jahre alt, seit
16 Jahren in den USA, hat neue
Visitenkarten drucken lassen. Unter
seinen Namen ließ er mit
kecken Schnörkeln setzen: Gelato
Artigianale, was man frei übersetzen
kann mit „Eis-Kunstwerke“.

men beschatteten Innenhof. Ein Espresso
wäre jetzt nicht schlecht. Aber es gibt kein
Café. Dafür eine Küche. Und da fuhrwerkt
Leo. Und winkt einen heran.

Hier ist sein Trainingscamp, sein Labor,
und falls Kunden kommen, sind sie Testpersonen.

Man gibt für drei Portionen eine 20Dollar-
Note hin und bekommt ein unbeträchtliches
Wechselgeld zurück, und während
man noch rechnet und überlegt, ob
man irgendwie meckern sollte, hat man
bereits probiert, und Leo beobachtet aus
den Augenwinkeln.

Es schmeckt umwerfend.

Erdbeere: fruchtig, aromatisch, wie noch
nie im Leben ein Erdbeereis geschmeckt
hat, Wald und Schatten, Untertöne von
Pflaume, Likör, Birne, Minze; das Pistazieneis:
komplex, nussig, rauchig, pfefferig;

italien, die Schweiz, Sizilien, sie aßen in
Hunderten Eisdielen, interviewten Dutzende
Eismacher, nahmen in Catania
monatelang Unterricht, schrieben Notizbücher
voll, kamen zurück. Nahmen einen
Kredit auf, 50 000 Dollar. Mieteten
sich im Museumshof ein, fanden außerdem
einen Laden an der Lake Avenue,
ihre eigene Eisdiele, die bald eröffnet wird,
ihr Missionswerk.

„Du kannst dir im Supermarkt“, sagt
Leo, „grauenvolles So-als-ob-Eis kaufen,
für zweieinhalb Dollar das Kilo – oder du
legst ein bisschen drauf, leistest dir eine
kleinere Portion und erlebst etwas damit.
Und erinnerst dich, mit Glück, den Rest
deines Lebens an den Geschmack.“

Drei Jahre haben sie ihren Coup vorbereitet.
Ihre Haselnüsse kommen aus dem
Piemont, die Pistazien aus Sizilien, die Vanille
von einem ökologischen Anbau
auf Madagaskar, schwierig
war die Wahl der Schokolade: Sie
experimentierten mit 40 Sorten
und entschieden sich für Valhrona,
mit etwas van Houten. Und
mindestens so wichtig ist das, was
sie nicht benutzen, all das, was auf
Eispackungen normalerweise hintendrauf
steht: Emulgatoren, Stabilisatoren,
Fruchtpüreekonzentrat,
stattdessen das beste Obst,
das man in Kalifornien kriegen
kann – für die Pfirsiche, Erdbee-

VOLKER CORELL

ren, Mangos fährt Leo zu einer

Plantage nördlich von Santa Bar-

Dies ist seine Mission. Denn

Leo will Amerika retten.
Er will Amerika retten, indem
er, gemeinsam mit seiner Frau Lisa, Ehepaar Bulgarini: Geschmack als Statement

das beste Speiseeis des Landes
kreiert; eine Erfolgsgeschichte wollen sie
schreiben, an deren Ende die Amerikaner
etwas unendlich Wichtiges gelernt haben
werden über Geschmack und Sinnlichkeit;
während sie, Leo und Lisa, reich geworden
sind und nach Rom zurückgehen und
abends auf einem Balkon sitzen werden,
auf den Campo de’ Fiori blicken und die
Rotweingläser heben: Auf dich, mio Amore,
und weißt du noch, damals, als alles begann
in jenem kleinen Museum in Pasadena?

Die Erfolgsgeschichte, so sie eine wird,
beginnt hier, eine Autostunde nordöstlich
von Downtown Los Angeles, Kalifornien.

Das Pacific Asia Museum liegt an der
Los Robles Avenue, vier kleine Säle, in die
sich kaum je ein Besucher verirrt, mit steinernen
Buddhas aus Angkor, 11. Jahrhundert,
und japanischen Masken der Edo-
Periode – und wenn man das alles gesehen
hat, tritt man in einen von Ginkgo-Bäu

die Schokolade: butterig, prachtvoll, in verblüffender
Balance.

Meine Güte, Leo, wie kriegen Sie das
hin?

Viel Arbeit, sagt er, die besten Zutaten,
und vollkommene Hingabe kann auch
nicht schaden.

Als Leo und Lisa sich kennenlernten,
vor drei Jahren, beschlossen sie, aus ihrem
Leben etwas Besonderes zu machen. Lisa
ist die Tochter eines ungarischen Revolutionärs,
der nach dem Aufstand 1956 in
die USA emigrierte und neu anfing, und einer
Chinesin. Lisa studierte Musik, Jura,
Biologie und suchte dabei nach dem Mann
ihres Lebens und der besonderen Aufgabe.
Und dann traf sie Leo. Der liebte sie und
erzählte von dieser Gelato-Idee, die er
schon immer hatte.

Sie kratzten ihre Ersparnisse zusammen
und reisten zwei Jahre lang durch Nord

bara, sieben Stunden Freeway,

dreimal die Woche. „Aber du

merkst es“, sagt er.

„Geschmack“, sagt Lisa, „ist ein Statement,
fast eine Revolution, fast schon
politisch.“

„Unsere Einstellung zum Essen spiegelt
alles wider“, sagt Leo, „das Verhältnis zu
Gemeinschaft, Tradition, Natur, zu uns
selbst.“

Ihr Eis wird teuer sein, aber nicht unbezahlbar;
eine Revolution für alle, im Becherchen.
Sie sind optimistisch – und übrigens
glauben auch andere an den Erfolg
der zwei Eisheiligen. Leo erzählt von einem
halben Dutzend Franchise-Angeboten.
„Wenn Amerikaner Geld wittern, werden
sie übereifrig“, sagt er. „Ich warte, bis
wir für die Partys der Stars und Milliardäre
die Desserts liefern – dann kann ich
mir meine Partner aussuchen. Und wenn
es nicht klappt, haben wir’s zumindest versucht.“
Er lächelt.

„Noch etwas Pistazie?“ Ralf Hoppe

132 der spiegel 34/2006