Savigno is a 40-minute drive from Bologna, over rolling country roads into the heart of the Colline Bolognesi (the hills outside Bologna). Upon arrival, a kitschy sign welcomes visitors to the “Town of Tartufo,” a reference to Savigno’s main industry—truffle hunting (see page 225). The beige and pastel–hued town center isn’t much more than a main street flanked by porticoes, a church, and a parking lot, but it looms large in my culinary memories thanks to Amerigo dal 1934.
Amerigo Bettini opened his eponymous trattoria in, yes, 1934. For many years, it was the town’s main draw, aside from the truffle hunting. I wasn’t fortunate enough to dine there under his reign, but his grandson Alberto, who took over from his father about 10 years ago, is doing wonderful things there. The rustic restaurant and food shop, which had seen better days, has once again become a dining destination that attracts chefs and culinary travelers from all over the world. Alberto claims his version of Amerigo is modern, but I feel as though the soulful dishes now served in the trattoria’s five rooms are quite restrained. The plating is, perhaps, a bit contemporary, but the flavors on the plate are classic.
If you visit Amerigo, I suggest starting with tigelle (soft disks of fried bread) draped with thinly sliced cured meats. Then move on to one of the planet’s most satisfying dishes, tortelli filled with crema di Parmigiano-Reggiano, liquefied salted cow’s milk cheese. Don’t skip the tortellini, which are served in a savory broth as tradition demands; they are so tiny you can fit eight on a soupspoon. Seasonal truffles appear throughout the year: black spring or summer truffles are grated over fried eggs or pasta; in autumn and winter, uova Amerigo—egg soufflé with a flurry of white truffle shavings—is the way to go. For dessert, try the ricotta drizzled with saba, a local grape molasses that delivers a sweet counterpoint to the cheese’s savory tang. Whenever I linger over coffee and grappa under the same wooden beams, vintage light fixtures, and wrought iron decorations that Amerigo installed himself, I contemplate how even just a 40-minute drive can transport you to a different, but connected, food culture.