• Located in the beautiful town of Neive; go early for an aperitivo at any of the wine bars in town or take a well-earned walk on its cobblestoned streets after the meal.
  • Traditional Piemontese food, but more choices of the choicest ingredients the Langhe has to offer.
  • Glass fridges full of aged/aging beef — atypical of the region’s traditional cooking style.
  • Great preparation of offcuts (brains, sweetbreads) … not just tripe or Finanziera.
  • Pictured here: a taste from the kitchen, a lovely 2019 Nebbiolo to go with, a dish of pudding-soft calf’s brain with a sweet and hot shallot compote, a soft-poached (maybe sou vide) egg on fonduta of local cheese with fried spring artichokes, traditional pasta encasing three roasted meats served in its jus, Amy on the balcony between courses (putting the “ooooh” in Umano), and pan-rendered-roasted duck. Lip smackin’ good.

Dear reader: today in food, we took lunch at Umano, because I lost a bet. It’s not important, but I swore up and down that I had an amazing pasta with fava beans at “X” restaurant and it was actually somewhere else. Such are my problems … and my “punishment” was paying for lunch at a new restaurant Amy had her eye on: Umano (h/t: Val, whose nose for wine is equally as good as her taste buds). 

Great vibes from the start when we were welcomed with an ear-to-ear smile. Then we took the stairs … passing the kitchen and its refrigerators of age-dried beef (definitely not a “thing” here) … up to the third floor with its four 4-tops (which is to convey its intimate smallness). We appreciated Max’s recommendations on the menu, including the wine. When we hedged a bit at the cost and vintage of the the [2021] Bruno Giacosa Nebbiolo, he offered a 2019 (which was off the list). As I said: nice guy!

For the menu, Max suggested Amy start with the fried brains, take a vegetarian pasta, and finish with grilled sweetbreads. That’s a pretty fucking bold move on first-timers — also seriously fucking delicious. And I’m pretty sure that I prattled off a enough cliches about brains, plays on offal, etc. that would have made my ediors of yesteryear bristle. 

For me, I took the soft egg on a lake of fondutto (see What to Eat) with fried artichokes. I won’t lie: it’s exceptionally sexy, even if it doesn’t photograph well (unlike my wife). I moved to plin (in my top five) and finished (sorta) with the best roasted duck I’ve had in eons. Perfectly cooked (I should have taken a picture) and rendered with a lobe of foie gras dressed in jus and smidge of apple puree. That trio of ingredients (plus a bit of roasted shallot and flash fried green) on a fork is truly amazing: trust and believe.

I will be back, in no uncertain terms. I will be happy to lose many more bets to (1) try grilled aged beef, (2) order the ribs that a neighboring table enjoyed with crispy potatoes (yes, I’m thinking more duck fat), (3) look to Max for more inspiration, and (4) take less hastily photographed food porn simple because I couldn’t wait to tuck in.