Iconic Meals (and what I’d pair with them): Goodfellas Prison Meal
One of my favorite, all time movies is Goodfellas - who’s isn’t?!
In the gritty realm of Martin Scorsese's cinematic masterpiece, we are thrust into the heart of the mob, where loyalty is both currency and curse. In the gripping drama and unflinching portrayal of criminal life, there's a surprising twist – a celebration of the art of cooking and the comfort it brings, even in the most dire situations. Food becomes a binding force, connecting the Italians in the movie to their shared culture and heritage. In college I went to go see Anthony Bourdain speak about food in film at the IFC theater, and he highlighted Goodfellas as a movie mostly about food foremost. One particular scene stands out, where the “harsh” reality of prison life is transformed into a culinary camaraderie, showcasing the power of food to provide familiarity and solace.
The Scene
That scene. You know the one!
Picture this: a bleak prison setting, bars casting shadows across the room, and yet, amidst this darkness, a warm light emanates from the makeshift kitchen. Here, dinner isn’t just a meal; it's a symbol of humanity and camaraderie. With Frank Sinatra singing Somewhere Beyond the Sea in the background, Henry Hill (RIP Ray Liota) narrates the scene with unexpected affection, describing the elaborate prison dinner ritual. First, there's a pasta course, followed by a choice of meat or fish. And then there's Paulie (Paul Sorvino), the culinary genius behind bars, using a razor to slice garlic so thin that “it would liquify in the pan, with just a little oil”. I will have this particular slice of the scene ingrained in my mind for eternity. The garlic slices!?! So thin!!! My mouth is watering! The aroma wafts through the air, teasing taste buds and transcending the confines of prison cells. The scene is a testament to the importance the mob places on teamwork, communication, and the shared act of preparing a meal. Amidst the clatter of pans and the sizzle of garlic, a sense of fraternity, brotherhood, emerges, proving that even in prison, the human spirit can find solace in the simple pleasures of food and friendship.
The Wine: Chianti
With all of the smuggled goods coming into the scene (bread, peppers, onions, salami, prosciutto, cheese, cocaine), a few bottles of wine are among them. However, they’re viewed so briefly I’m left wondering what wines they could be?! What would Henry Hill (given the choice) pair with such a meal?
Chianti, with its deep roots in Italian culture, emerges as the perfect accomplice to this prison feast. Chianti isn’t just a wine; it’s a character in itself. Its bold, robust nature mirrors the audacity of the mobsters, while its smooth sophistication adds a touch of class to the humble prison fare.
As the garlic sizzles and the pasta boils, Chianti steps onto the scene like a suave gangster making an entrance. Its deep red hue, reminiscent of a rich tomato sauce, tantalizes the senses. The first sip is like a revelation – the bold flavors of black cherry, plum, and a hint of spice dance on your palate, complementing the garlicky richness of the pasta and the savory essence of the meat or fish. Chianti’s vibrant acidity acts as the perfect counterpoint, cutting through the richness of the meal and cleansing your palate with each sip, preparing you for the next tantalizing bite.
Beyond its flavor profile, Chianti brings an air of celebration to the table. It turns a (seemingly) simple prison dinner into a gourmet experience. Just like the characters in Goodfellas, Chianti knows how to seize the moment, adding a touch of sophistication to even the most unexpected situations.
Chianti isn’t a grape varity, but a red blend from Tuscany, Italy, made mostly of Sangiovese grapes (typically at least 70%), and other varieties like Canaiolo, Colorino, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot. It’s a dry, medium-bodied, red with high acidity and high tannins with tasting notes described as earthy, rustic, tart, smokey and with notes of red fruits, herbs, tomato and tobacco. It pairs well with tomatos / tomato sauces due to it’s high acidity. For this meal in particular - the red sauce, with veal/pork meatballs - I’d like to think Henry snatched up a medium-bodied bottle of Chianti with high tannins, to complement the veal and pork. Maybe something like Castello di Bossi, Gran Selezione Chianti Classico or Selvapiana Vigneto Erchi.
In essence, Chianti isn’t just a wine pairing; it’s a partner in crime, enhancing the flavors, elevating the experience, and reminding us that even in the darkest of times, there’s always room for a toast to the finer things in life. So, the next time you find yourself recreating this prison dinner scene at home, don’t forget to uncork a bottle of Chianti (or your razorblades).
