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ROME
RISTORANTE LA PERGOLA
A meal at La Pergola is always a significant event, so let me set the scene. The restaurant is on the top floor of the Rome Cavalieri Hilton Hotel. This is no ‘ordinary’ Hilton hotel. On a hill next to the Vatican, away from the hurly-burly of the city centre, its spacious public areas are packed with so many important works of art that it is possible, upon first entering, to think that your taxi has brought you by mistake to a luxurious museum. Are those paintings really by Tiepolo? Yes, they are. But you must get to the 9th floor, so it is into the lift – to ascend to the pinnacle of haute cuisine.
It goes without saying that the glassware is the very best Riedel and that the napery is linen of the highest quality. But this time the napkin set before me was embroidered with my initials. And the place setting was of silver gilt, made for the British Royal household and bearing the Royal motto, Honi soit qui mal y pense. Not a bad motto that – Evil be to him who evil thinks. Certainly, my thoughts were entirely benign as I surveyed the scene around me. I was not inside, surrounded by pieces of majolica, antique tapestries and extravagant flower arrangements, but out on the terrace. And before me was spread the Eternal City, with the floodlit dome of St Peter’s basilica to my right. The evening air was mild and the waiters in their black waistcoats and bow ties were solicitous. I sipped a glass of Dom Pérignon 1999 and thought that there was nowhere in the world I would sooner be.
And so let me come to that food. First, let me set out the prices, which – given that we are here consuming the results of some of mankind’s most brilliant culinary endeavours – I consider to be terrific value. A 9 course set meal is 195 euros; a 6 course set meal is 170 euros; and 4 courses from the carte are around 175 euros. My meal was of nine courses – some from the set meal and some from the carte. I began with crispy bread cannoli with sea bass and a brunoise of melon and celery. At once I was overcome by wonder. Exquisitely light and delicate, this was a dish for a prince. The balance of flavours and textures between the crisp fish and the finely chopped melon and celery was remarkable. Then, evidence of Mr Beck’s innovative flair. Never before have I tasted foie gras with mint. But here they both were: the former of the duck variety, caramelized with lemon foam and a spot of balsamic vinegar; the latter in the guise of an ice-crush. I suggested to Mr Beck later that the mint might be better as freshly chopped leaves, in a little sweetened vinegar. Still, there was no doubting the exciting and innovative nature of this dish.
You will have noted that the kitchen here does not shy away from complex and difficult dishes. Now was to come proof that it can do ‘simple’ with equal brilliance. The ‘intermezzo’ of white asparagus, mushrooms and Parmesan mousse was joyfully simple and simply joyful. My meat was pigeon – tender and tasty, with the sweetness of a purée of dried fruit bread magically offset by the acidity of a pomegranate ice-crush. After these wonders came a trolley of delicious Italian cheeses, a Grand Dessert of numerous small courses and a miniature chest of drawers, silver-plated and full of tempting chocolates and petits fours.
You would expect the cellar at La Pergola to be impressive. It is. Sommelier Marco Reitano (second from the left in the group picture) brought me his two volumes, one for Italian wines and one for the ‘foreigners’. From the latter, let me give you a tiny glimpse of its wonders (the prices are all in euros). From France: 1955 Dom Pérignon (3,800), 1893 Yquem (10,000), 1976 Romanée-Conti (9,800), 1945 Pétrus (7,500), 1945 Haut Brion (6,700), 1961 Latour (9,800, magnum); from California: 1992 Maya (2,500); from Chile: 1998 Almaviva (255); and from Australia: 1981 Grange (1,200). Mr Reitano loves these gems. But this knowledgeable and affable fellow also takes considerable delight in guiding his customers to the more affordable delights of the Italian list. Thus I began with an intriguing Soave Classico. If I had been given this blind, I would have been fairly sure that it was a fine German riesling – such was its elegance and its gorgeous abundance of petrol. (La Rocca, Pieropan, 2004 – 65 euros). Then came a veritable fruit salad of a white from the Friuli region – made from chardonnay, pinot grigio and sauvignon blanc– with just the right acidity to accompany the pasta and shrimps (Lis, Lis Neris, 2004 – 70 euros). And for my red, it was one of my Italian favourites – Luce, the thrilling result of the co-operation between Frescobaldi and Mondavi. This was the 2001 vintage (170 euros), which Franco told me was an exceptional vintage. Decanted, it was still big and tannic, with years ahead of it. Its vast reserves of black fruit burst from my glass, jammy and voluptuous. These three bottles provided me with wonderful drinking. My admiration for the good people at La Pergola is boundless. Theirs is one of my favourite restaurants in the world. In my pictures, you will note that Chef Heinz Beck is smiling. In truth, he has a great deal to smile about.
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© Francis Bown 2003
Germany’s three greatest gifts to the world in the 21st century are easily listed: Pope Benedict XVI, low alcohol sweet wines and Heinz Beck. The last, as I am sure you know, is in charge of the stoves at the Ristorante La Pergola in Rome. He is, without doubt, one of the finest chefs in the world. (The Michelin inspectors took far too long to award him a third star; but, never mind, it is there now.) I have enjoyed his cuisine on several occasions. Each time I have been impressed by the subtlety and precision of his palate, by the inventiveness of his approach and by his mastery of culinary technique. The man is a gastronomic genius. His fellow countryman and occupant of the Chair of St Peter might tell him that perfection can only be attained on the other side of the Pearly Gates, but – on the evidence of my most recent visit – Mr Beck seems fully determined to achieve perfection here and now.
It is always with a sense of wonderful reassurance that I leave the lift, walk across the marble and enter the dining room, because I know that I am placing myself into the care of Umberto Giraudo. (He is on the left of the group photograph.) I first met Mr Giraudo when I was dining at the Louis XV in Monte Carlo. He was then a waiter. Now he is the Restaurant Manager of La Pergola. For courtesy, efficiency and charm, I do not believe there is a better restaurant manager on the face of our planet. Like Mr Beck, Umberto has a goal: nothing less than perfection. Each time I eat here I know that there will be something new to make me smile with pleasure.
Along came the water menu, another sign of Mr Giraudo’s diligence. About 50 waters were listed, each with a description of its qualities. Most of the prices were around 8 euros. But one water caught my attention. It was from the United States and rejoiced in the name of ‘Bling H20’. The price of a bottle was… wait for it… 155 euros. I rubbed my eyes. It was still the same: 155 euros. This I had to have. And so was brought to me a bottle – studdied with faux-diamonds – of the most expensive water I have ever encountered. And lovely, pure well-water it was. Its outrageous price made me laugh, and added to the jollity of the evening. For I have always found La Pergola to be a place where fun and good food are constant companions.
My pasta course was well-cooked and intelligently conceived – wholemeal ‘maccheroncini al ferretto’ with red shrimps, smoked aubergine coulis and croutons. Next came a piece of theatre, of which I entirely approved. Over the medallions of lobster on clear coconut water, Umberto – standing by the table and with a characteristic flourish – sprayed vapour of vanilla. My companion was thrilled by the quality of this lobster, but for my palate it was very slightly undercooked. There was no complaint whatever from me, however, about the turbot. It came with artichoke and chive vinaigrette with caviar. I feared that the caviar – big bully as it sometimes is – might be overpowering. But no, its presence was perfectly judged. This was celestial harmony for the mouth.
The service throughout (orchestrated by the maitre d’ Simone Pinoli – on the right of the group picture) was, of course, of the highest order. An example will serve to illustrate its quality. With the fishy appetizers at the beginning of the meal, was served a glass of yoghurt and coconut sorbet. As usual, I was talking too much. My untouched sorbet began to melt. Without a word having been said, it was discreetly replaced.