Food for a rainy day

Northern California was getting a purging as we arrived. Looking for something to warm us up out of the rain, we found Scopa on Healdsburg Plaza. (Scopa is an Italian card game, and not the exclamation used when breaking plates.)

Our waitress was on uppers, or else loved her job. We began with the wine, choosing a 2006 Nebiollo by La Spinetta, in northern Italy. I thought it tasted like a Cote du Rhone that had taken it easy. My wife thought it tasted like the anticipation of heart burn. The place where those notes meet is the locus of our marriage.

These bright green Spanish olives tasted younger than any I've ever had. Not briny. Grassy and clean, like young mango you would use to make pickle.

A grilled salad of radicchio, grapes, and bread. The radicchio was sweet rather than pungent; the grapes drew a raisiny-ness from being grilled. The bread, and a shaved hard cheese, gave all that sweetness someplace to stand. This was an unassuming dish with unexpected delights.

The star was this: a polenta with wild mushrooms and taleggio, served in a hot cast iron skillet. Creamy, earthy, and nutty. This is food that makes you want to slap your mother (for never having made it). [Mom, if you are reading this, that is just a figure of speech.]

Easy to eat, these arancini were fragrant with saffron, the risotto al dente. They only suffered from sharing the stage with other, brighter stars.

This was "Tonno" made from cured pork. I had read about this sort of preparation in "Heat" by Bill Buford and was excited to try it. It does live up to its name. The texture is quite like a tuna salad. (The accompaniment is a fig confit.) Somehow, without fish on the plate, it was fishy, and this was not entirely pleasing.

Chocolate souffle. Done!