Brutti ma Buoni
Meditating on finding life’s sweetness in imperfections.
The world is ugly but good.
Look closely at a flower past its prime, petals browning at the edges. There's beauty in its decay, wisdom in its withering. A reminder that perfection isn't a prerequisite for worth.
It bothers me to witness how many people spend their time chasing manufactured beauty, filtering reality through carefully curated lenses. But real life happens in the space outside Instagram posts or TikTok videos. It can be messy and broken, but these imperfect moments shape us into the individuals we are meant to be.
Nature understands this. The most amazing food often looks inedible – food that has us scratching our heads and wondering who thought that dirt-covered root would be something to eat.
Balancing good and ugly remains one of life's central challenges. Too much ‘good’ looks superficial and lacks the character that scars create. Too much ‘ugly’ and the world becomes a dark and depressing place, like a decaying apple clinging to a barren limb.
I was thinking about these contrasts between good and ugly during a recent train journey through central Switzerland. To my right, I saw the snow-capped Alps majestically rising from the green farmland. To my left, industry and the concrete cooling tower of Switzerland’s oldest remaining nuclear plant hiding behind a thin veil of ground fog dominated my view. In that moment, everything depended on perspective.
These kinds of philosophical musings usually lead my brain to...cookies.
I have an Italian cookie obsession. I don’t try to hide it. I accept this personality trait and try – sometimes with a great deal of effort – to prevent my mania from becoming uncontrollable.
My fascination with Italian cookies began while living and working in Northern Italy - specifically, the Piedmont region, where food (and cookies) are a main ingredient in culture and regional pride. I had the opportunity to learn from one of the finest chefs in Italy at that time. He taught me the secret of one of the region's most popular cookies - Brutti ma Buoni (literally ugly but good).
Our small group of aspiring chefs entered the kitchen one cold and foggy morning in February. Most of us gathered around the espresso machine while trying to shake off the effects of too many glasses of Barbera from the previous evening. Our chef instructor walked into the kitchen and introduced Chef Ugo Alciati, an intimidating presence in his white t-shirt, jeans, crisp apron, piercing eyes glaring over his unshaven face, and the aura of his 3 Michelin stars.
A few in the group were selected to work with Chef Alciati and learn the secrets of making hand-pulled grissini and the classic brutti ma buoni cookies traditionally made with egg white, sugar, and ground hazelnuts. I was thrilled to be in this small group while the others prepared pasta and other elements of that day’s lunch.
With a heavy Piemontese dialect, Chef Alciati commented on every move I made as I began whipping egg whites that would form the meringue part of this cookie. He watched closely to ensure I roasted the hazelnuts perfectly before removing their skins and grinding them to the right consistency. I carefully folded the hazelnuts and meringue. Chef Alciati stood at my side as I completed the next task – cooking the hazelnut meringue in a pot over moderate heat until the mix reached a distinctive golden-brown color. The chef quickly had me turn the meringue with a pastry scraper until the mix cooled slightly...but not long enough to harden. I promptly placed walnut-sized pieces onto a baking tray and finished the cookies in the oven.
Chef Alciati patiently explained to me how vital the cookies were – they would be the diner's last impression, and the last impression always stayed in the mind.
I was convinced...and the cookies were damned good.
I eventually mastered dozens of classic Italian cookie recipes, and serving freshly made Italian cookies after a cooking course or catered event became a sort of signature element to our offerings.
I was even kissed once by an Italian man after a private dinner when he discovered I had made the cookies.
Chef Alciati was right – the last impression matters.
Dive deeper into the history of these beautiful cookies by reading the thoughts from
about these classic Northern Italian cookies. She offers excellent perspectives from a different angle.I’m kicking off the series with a classic: Brutti ma Buoni, which some of you already know translates to ‘ugly but good.’ It’s a silly name because as you can plainly see, there is nothing ugly about these cookies. I mean, look at those spectacular cracks and crags. These cookies are gorgeously rustic nuggets of crispy meringue interlaced with crunchy chopped toasted nuts. Inside lies a tender heart. I prefer to think of them as “buoni di brutto,” an expression I learned just the other day from Giulia Scarpaleggia, which means ‘so good they’re bad.’ In other words, really good.
Read it here: Occasional Cookie #1
Brutti ma Buoni – My Vegan Variation
I follow the traditional method of making these cookies, using aquafaba to replace the egg whites. The technique I’ve developed works well, but it is much more temperamental to make than using traditional ingredients. Whipping the aquafaba requires patience and a helpful hand from a natural gum ingredient to create the proper structure. Baking cookies with aquafaba is also tricky; too long in the oven or using high heat will cause the structure to fail and the cookies to flatten.
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Do you have a cookie obsession?
What seemingly imperfect foods have you discovered that contain unexpected goodness? Or perhaps you have a cookie obsession of your own that reminds you beauty often hides in unexpected places?
Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below.
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I think you know I share your Italian cookie obsession, Jack. You're so right about finding beauty in imperfection, and once again I am impressed by your ability to translate a traditional recipe into a vegan rendition. Thank you for the kind mention and link!
These sound good Jack