That's balsamic vinegar? You've been conned

A recipe for Tomato Tarte Tatin

Even in a sachet, Italian Balsamic vinegar carries a Protected Geographical Indication

Effusive reviews of divine holiday destinations or seductive restaurants bring out the mean in me. I’m definitely not going to reveal to which paradise I’m headed in August because I really don’t want to see you and yours on the beach towel next to mine. So I would prefer you not to know what a wonderful off-the-beaten track Italian town is Modena, almost untouched by tourists who aren’t themselves Italian. Foreigners landing in Bologna, the nearest airport, stay there to eat the glories of that official ‘City of Food’, or head to nearby Parma for more of the same. They rarely branch out to Modena, only 20 minutes away by train. If they do get anywhere close, it’s to Maranello and the Ferrari Museum.

Even if you don’t know where to find Modena on the map, you do know where to find its vinegar in your supermarket. Americans buy more than 1 million bottles a year of Balsamic Vinegar, Modena’s most famous export. This impressive number vastly amuses the people of Modena: only 94,000 bottles of their balsamic vinegar are produced annually for the total global market.

In the US, a bottle of ersatz Balsamic Vinegar costs around $3.99. This condiment is contrived by boiling down quantities of red wine vinegar with added sugar and colouring it with burnt caramel to create a dark sweet liquid. In a marginally superior version, a small percentage of concentrated grape must is added to the vinegar.

Not a wine supplier but a Balsamic Vinegar store in Modena (an arcade opposite reflected in the window)

Traditional balsamic vinegar is a whole different beast. Cooked grape must alone - freshly crushed grape juice, skins, seeds, and pulp - is fermented and aged in wooden barrels. Prized for its complex flavour, the key is in the exclusive and excluding word ‘Tradizionale’.

On the long list of applications Italians use it for, Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena is unlikely to appear casually as an ingredient in vinaigrette. Apart from anything else, it’s too expensive, a young version costing around £50 for 100ml (under 3½ fluid ounces) of 12-year old balsamic.

You can’t save money by asking for a younger one. It doesn’t come any younger (though it does come a whole lot older. 100ml of Malpighi’s 100 year-old balsamico costs $1025). To be labelled an authentic Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena with a Protected Designation of Origin certificate, it must be aged for a minimum of 12 years, matured in a series of casks made from very specifically chosen woods that get progressively smaller. Generally, cherry is used at the start of the process, for its red fruit notes. Since its wood is porous, the vinegar must be moved on, into barrels of mulberry wood for different red fruit tones. The porous nature of that wood adds oxygen to the process, helping in the acidification of the vinegar. Then it goes into chestnut, a much more sealant wood, and rich in tannins which add a bitter note. Next, ash followed by oak bring a suggestion of vanilla to the liquid. They also provide barrels of a good seal so that oak casks are generally those used to store the finished liquid. If it’s included at all in the process, the smallest barrel will be of juniper, which adds an intense spicy and resinous aftertaste. But juniper barrels are scarce so it is rarely used, and then only for limited amounts of balsamic destined for very specific use. Finished barrels are stacked in an arrangement called a ‘batteria’, with, not surprisingly, the largest at the bottom and the smallest at the top.

Even if it were produced in Modena, I daresay all this doesn’t sound like the stuff you’ve bought in your supermarket for less than $5.

Balsamic vinegar may have become popular in the late 1970s but its creation in Modena goes back to the 11th century. While the term ‘balsamic’, connoting ‘restorative’ or ‘curative’, was first recorded only in 1747, according to the ledgers of the House of Este, the vinegar had been in production there from the late 1200s. The Este family ruled Modena, Ferrara and Reggio Emilia from the 13th to the 16th centuries, its court known for its sophistication and its patronage of the arts. When the historic regions of Emilia and Romagna, stretching west from the Adriatic coast, joined the newly-formed Kingdom of Italy in 1861, Modena’s balsamic vinegar was promoted as a speciality of the new nation.

Italians use Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena sparingly by the drop, much as you would a finishing salt. They dribble it on desserts like vanilla ice cream or sliced strawberries as often as they do over grilled vegetables, steamed fish or chicken breasts.

It’s particularly good sprinkled on burrata or a Caprese salad, or roast veal and pork, or beef either roasted or in a carpaccio. It’s also a revelation with aged Parmigiano Reggiano and sipped as a digestif.

Ask for a bottle of the real McKoy for your next birthday present. You can then sprinkle drops over this Tomato Tarte Tatin. The original Tarte Tatin was of course made with apples. Legend, not always a reliable source, has it that Stéphanie Tatin, who with her sister Caroline ran the Hôtel Tatin in Lamotte-Beuvron south of Paris and was responsible for the cooking, one day burned the apples being cooked in butter and sugar for a pie. She saved the dish by laying the pastry over them and flipping the finished pie. The hotel guests clamoured for repeats.

You can make Tarte Tatin with most fruits and many vegetables. If you don’t have any genuine Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena, dot this tomato version with teaspoons of soft goat’s cheese and a good deal more basil.

Photo Klaus Einwanger: Bruno’s Cookbook by Martin Walker & Julia Watson

Serves 4

25g/¾oz butter
splash of good olive oil
800g/1¾oz medium tomatoes, halved across the middle and seeds scooped out
1 tablespoon soft brown sugar
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon fresh basil leaves or fresh thyme, plus extra to serve
375g/13oz short pastry
Aceto Balsimo Tradizionale di Modena (optional, though lovely)

Preheat oven 220C/425F.

Line a 23cm/9 ins tart tin with buttered baking parchment.

Melt the butter with a generous splash of olive oil in a large frying pan. Add the tomatoes skin-side up in a single layer (you can do this in 2 batches if they won’t all fit) and cook over a low heat until they release their juices. Lift the tomatoes with a slotted spoon and arrange in the tart tin skin-side up – cram them in as they will shrink a little and you don’t want any gaps. (I’ve actually cooked these in the photo skin-side down. But cut side up makes a better looking tart.) Add the sugar and vinegar to the frying pan, and cook, stirring, until the pan juices are reduced to a syrup. Drizzle over the tomatoes in the tin, then scatter with the extra herbs.

Roll the pastry out to a generous 25-26cm/9½-10ins round. Lay on top of the tomatoes, and tuck the edges back under this pastry lid. Prick holes all over the pastry with a fork.

Place the tart on a baking tray. Bake for 30 minutes or until the pastry is golden. Let the tart sit for 10 minutes, then run a knife round the edge to release the pastry. Lay a serving plate upside down over the tart. Holding the serving plate and the tart tin, flip them together so that the tart is released onto the serving place with the tomatoes upwards. Peel off the parchment paper. Scatter with more ripped basil to serve. Then dot sparingly with genuine Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena.