A HARTE APPETITE: HOW SWEET IT IS: BALSAMICO IS THE OBVIOUS EXCEPTION TO THE PERCEPTION OF VINEGAR

Perhaps you've noticed the recent newspaper ads for something called the vinegar diet which promises that you can lose weight without counting calories or going hungry. The hitch is you have to drink vinegar (you're apparently allowed to lace it with a little honey) several times daily.

I haven't tried the regimen, but I suspect it would sour me even further on dieting. Unless, however, I could substitute that most unvinegar-like of vinegars, the balsamic variety.

Authentic balsamic vinegar, a conspicuous exception to the old adage that you can catch more flies with honey, is as highly prized by gourmet cooks as caviar, truffles or saffron and, in terms of price, in the same category. A three-ounce bottle of the very best balsamic vinegar can fetch as much as $500. Thus, cookbook author Diane Seed reports that when her house was burglarized a few years ago she knew the thieves were gentlemen of discernment. They took a bottle of her best balsamico with them. No wonder that in Italy, where it is used as an aperitif, it is often part of a wedding dowry. One manufacturer in Modena, in northern Italy, the birthplace of balsamic vinegar, even produces a chocolate candy filled with the stuff.

The origin of balsamic vinegar (the word may relate to balm, suggesting its comforting qualities) is impossible to pin down precisely, though clearly it's a recent development as vinegars go. Generic vinegar goes back thousands of years and was probably discovered accidentally when some unsuspecting cook left an uncovered jar of wine, itself the product of fermented grape juice, out in the open where it underwent a second fermentation. (The word vinegar is derived from the French, vin aigre, for sour wine.) Vinegar's origin is so ancient that there are no less than eight references to it in the Bible (four in the Old Testament and four in the New), not counting the inadvertent reference in an edition published in Oxford in 1717 when the word vineyard was misprinted as vinegar. That edition has been known ever since as the vinegar Bible.

The first reference to balsamic vinegar dates to the 11th century when a Benedictine monk wrote about a barrel of vinegar given as a gift to King Enrico II of Franconia. But it was not until 1598, when the Duke of Este moved his court and his barrels of vinegar to Modena, that the elixir gained wider attention, though it was reserved for the upper classes. By the 18th century word of the potion had spread elsewhere in Europe. Still, the condiment was largely unknown in this country until recently when noted cooking teacher Marcella Hazan and opera superstar Luciano Pavarotti, a native of Modena, both began to sing its praises. Now it is the rage.

The celebrity status of balsamic vinegar has not been without its drawbacks. Demand for the product has resulted in a flood of cheap imitations of the real thing, and perhaps nowhere in the world of cuisine is there a greater difference between the real thing and an imitation than when it comes to balsamic vinegar. By contrast, the disparity between margarine and butter is trivial.

Genuine balsamic vinegar is an artisanal product made from grapes, chiefly the Trebbiano variety, cultivated in the provinces of Modena and Reggio in northern Italy. No additives are legally permitted and the grapes must be cooked over a direct flame in an open pot. They are then stored in wooden barrels and aged over a period of years (12 is the minimum), usually in an attic called an acetaia. The attic allows the vinegar to take advantage of the climate of the region, letting in hot air in the summer and cold air in the winter to promote the desired chemical changes. As the liquid thickens it is decanted into progressively smaller barrels, sometimes several hundred years old, made of oak, chestnut, cherry, mulberry or juniper, and which impart subtle flavors. Before it can be sealed in exclusively designed bottles, the finished product must pass a blind tasting and be certified as "aceto balsamic tradizionale," the words which guarantee that it is the genuine article.

The truth is the very best balsamic vinegar is priceless and often not sold, but kept in the family for special occasions. For instance, Italian families that maintain vinegar attics often put up a barrel of balsamico at the birth of a child and serve it on its 21st birthday, or at Christmastime they taste a spoonful of the oldest brew on hand in memory of loved ones who have died. But demand for balsamic vinegar has increased production and there is still plenty left if you are willing to pay for it. Look for the word "tradizionale" on the label and expect to pay per ounce what you would for fine perfume. "Extra vecchio" or extra old balsamic vinegar must be aged at least 25 years instead of the minimum 12 and, obviously, will cost more, but Darryl Corti, an importer in Sacramento, recently advised the New York Times that any bottle selling for less than $50 is probably inferior.

The high cost of the real thing has resulted in a slew of cheaper so-called balsamic vinegars, which isn't so bad in itself because you probably wouldn't use the $75-an-ounce stuff to make a salad dressing. Save that, as the Italians do, to drizzle over finished dishes such as grilled meats or vegetables or even over fruit or ice cream. (A sublime treat is genuine Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese splashed with balsamic vinegar.) But even though there is a place for the cheaper industrially produced balsamic vinegar, finding a good one is problematic because, unlike the genuine article, its production is largely unregulated.

In 1965, the Italian Ministry of Agriculture legally defined balsamic vinegar, but the statute contained several loopholes which permit commercial manufacturers to use vinegar aged only for days, not years, dilute it with wine vinegar, and sweeten it with caramel and still quite legally call it "balsamic vinegar of Modena." And that's just in Italy. In the U.S., just about any vinegar can be called balsamic and the manufacturer can say almost anything on the label. Even statements of age may be suspect. The result is that for commercial balsamic vinegar, even price is not a reliable guide to quality. Generally speaking, however, an artisan-style balsamic, which is aged but not for as long as a true balsamic, will be superior to the commercial variety you typically find in the supermarket. At $16 and up per bottle it's more expensive, but still affordable. Wood-aged is preferable. If the vinegar was made in Modena or Reggio (the label will say API MO or API RE), so much the better. Finally, you needn't be above doctoring an inferior so-called balsamic vinegar to suit you. A trick some restaurants use to create something reminiscent of true balsamic vinegar is to mix two tablespoons light brown sugar with one third cup of the cheap stuff and boil it down to a quarter cup.

Whether it's inexpensive or costly, it's a shame to relegate the balsamic vinegar you have at your disposal just to the salad bowl. As the following recipes demonstrate, it can add subtle nuances to a variety of foods. Even though it's vinegar, as Jackie Gleason would have said, "How sweet it is."

Balsamic Glazed Pasta

This simple dish, which I adapted from a clipping in my files, is quick and easy and would be especially good when tomatoes are in season.

Ingredients:

8 ounces bellflower, gemelli or similar pasta

1 teaspoon olive oil

1 cup chopped onion

1/2 pound kielbasa

1/2 pound mushrooms, halved

2 teaspoons minced garlic

1/2 cup balsamic vinegar

3 Roma tomatoes

1/2 cup parsley

1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Directions:

Saut onion in olive oil at medium-high heat until it begins to soften. Add kielbasa and brown for 2-3 minutes. Add mushrooms and garlic and cook, stirring frequently, until mushrooms release their liquid. Reduce heat to low, add vinegar and simmer 4-5 minutes. Quarter tomatoes, then cut each quarter in half. Chop parsley. Cook pasta in boiling water until tender and drain. Combine pasta, balsamic mixture, tomatoes, parsley and Parmesan and toss. Season with salt and pepper and additional Parmesan if desired. Serves four.

Roast Chicken and Potatoes with Balsamic-Black Pepper Sauce

This dish used to be served at the old Rainbow Room in New York. The recipe is adapted from a version which appeared recently in Bon Appetit magazine.

Ingredients:

1/2 cup olive oil

3/4 cup chopped onions

1 tablespoon thyme

2 tablespoons flour

3 and 1/2 cups chicken broth

1 and 3/4 cups beef broth

2 and 1/2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

2 pounds red potatoes

1 and 1/2 tablespoons chopped garlic

1 tablespoon fresh rosemary, chopped

1 cut up fryer chicken (5 pounds)

Directions:

Saut onions and thyme in 2 tablespoons oil over medium-high heat until onions begin to brown. Add flour and stir 1 minute. Gradually whisk in broths and boil until reduced to 1 and 1/2 cups, stirring occasionally. Add vinegar and pepper. Cut potatoes lengthwise into 1-inch wedges and toss with garlic, rosemary and 1 tablespoon oil. Arrange, rounded side down, on baking sheet. Brown chicken skin side down in remaining oil, about 15 minutes. Turn over and cook another 5 minutes. Place skillet with chicken on rack in bottom third of a 375 degree oven and place potatoes on rack in top third. Roast 45 minutes or until potatoes and chicken are cooked through. Serve with sauce.

Poached Pears with Ricotta, Walnuts, and Balsamic Vinegar

This elegant recipe, adapted from an Internet site devoted to balsamic vinegar, demonstrates that it not only enhances salads and main courses, but desserts as well.

Ingredients:

1 cup water

1/2 cup sugar

4 pears

1 cup Ricotta cheese

1/4 cup toasted walnuts, chopped

4 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

Directions:

Combine water and sugar and bring to a boil. Peel, core, and halve pears and place in baking dish. Pour syrup over and bake at 350 degrees until tender, 20-25 minutes. Cool slightly and serve with a dollop of ricotta, a sprinkling of walnuts and a drizzle of vinegar.

Got a culinary question you'd like to ask or an idea you'd like to see treated in this column? Send your suggestions to A Harte Appetite, c/o The Southeast Missourian, P.O. Box 699, Cape Girardeau, Mo., 63702-0699 or by e-mail to tharte@semovm.semo.edu.