Carne Cruda all'Albese

In Alba, in the heart of Piedmont's truffle country, they serve this dish as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And it is. Take impeccable beef, chop it by hand until it becomes almost silken, dress it with lemon and oil, and serve it immediately. That is all. That is everything.

The knife work matters more than anything else you will do. A meat grinder crushes the fibers and releases moisture, leaving you with wet, textureless meat. A food processor is worse. You must stand at the cutting board with a sharp knife and reduce the beef to fine pieces through patience. The result has a texture that cannot be achieved any other way: each tiny piece distinct, yielding, catching the dressing in its surfaces.

This is not steak tartare with its capers and onions and egg yolk. Piemontese carne cruda is austere by comparison, almost severe. What you keep out is as significant as what you put in. The restraint forces you to taste the beef itself, the quality of your olive oil, the brightness of fresh lemon. There is nowhere for mediocre ingredients to hide.