Carne cruda is not tartare. I must say this immediately because Americans conflate the two, and they are not the same thing. French tartare arrives with egg yolk, capers, cornichons, mustard, onion, and enough distractions to mask indifferent meat. The Piedmontese version from Alba has none of these. It has beef. It has lemon. It has olive oil. It has shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano. That is all.

This simplicity is not primitive. It is the confidence of a region that produces some of Italy's finest beef, from the Fassona cattle of Piedmont, and sees no reason to bury that quality beneath condiments. What you keep out is as significant as what you put in. The Albesi understood this centuries ago.

The beef must be hand-chopped with a sharp knife, never ground. A meat grinder crushes the fibers and releases moisture, leaving you with wet, pasty meat that tastes of iron. The knife preserves texture. Each piece remains distinct. The dish should have resistance when you bite into it, not collapse into mush.

When white truffles are in season, the Albesi shave them over their carne cruda instead of cheese. This is one of the great luxury preparations of Italian cuisine. But the version with Parmigiano is no lesser dish. It is simply what you make the rest of the year, when truffles are not perfuming the hills of Langhe.