High Flying Clothes

If you live in Italy, you hang your clothes from your balcony or window. It's just the way it is. But it gets interesting when you live on high floors. The higher up your apartment, the more dizzying it is to hang your clothes and the longer your stuff has to fall. It is not uncommon, if fact, to encounter a lone sock or shirt on the street. Common courtesy here is to pick up the item and stick it in the building's mailbox. Or, just step over it and ignore it like most people do. Fortunately, this has never been a problem for me--until today. I was hanging up a sock, and the clothes pin suddenly snapped out of my fingers and to my dismay, I watched it plummet three stories to the ground below.  Ah, my first clothesline victim...at least it wasn't a piece of clothing. But it serves as a good wake-up call! 

Gypsies!

This afternoon I heard the distant sound of a trumpet playing a haunting tune. Curious, I looked out the windows, trying to see if I could find where it was coming from. I checked from the balcony—nothing; kitchen window—nothing; bathroom window—much louder but I couldn’t see anything. Then I heard some drumming…could it be a procession? Maybe it was some saint day that I was not aware of (I’m actually not aware of most saint days—SO un-Italian of me). I finally gave up and continued cleaning paint drops from the furniture.

After a few minutes, the music got so loud it was like it was right below the windows. I ran to the kitchen and peered down to the parking lot. There was no procession, it was a small gypsy band serenading the neighborhood. So that's where the music was coming from! They were really good! 

Gypsies have a lot of connotations attached to them--mostly negative--like the widely known issue of pick-pocketing and their chaotic, messy camp sites that caused their recent expulsions from France. But the most common element of this group of nomadic people is their ability to play music. From the subways of Paris, to alley ways in small towns, to squares throughout Europe, gypsies play great music. When I was living in France, I always loved that my caffé crème or my salade de chèvre chaud would be accompanied by lively music played on a fiddle or an accordion. And I would always give them change because hearing live music brightens my day and that is certainly worth the change in my pocket, right?

But today, I didn't even need to leave the house! My apartment was filled with great music for at least 10 minutes and after I dropped a little baggy of change, I was serenaded from below my window. Click play to here my serenade...

Springing Up Gaddafi

The Fiuggi Terme (hot springs) are some of the oldest springs in Italy. The Romans cherished the waters, and ever since the Romans, Fiuggi water has been bathed in, “taken”, bottled and even prescribed by doctors for it’s high mineral content, ability to flush uric acid from your body and it's purifying affect on the kidneys. Even the Servizio Sanitario Nazionale (national health system) recognizes the water as a treatment for kidney stones and urinary tract infections. Today, most grocery stores and markets in Italy carry the green glass bottles on their shelves. Sangimini is the company that runs the bottling of the water with strict quality controls and the resort/spa.

Let’s-a-Make-a-Meat-a-Balls!

Spaghetti and meatballs-- it’s a classic. It’s the first thought most Americans have when they hear Italian food. That, and the red and white checkered tablecloths, the candle in the Chianti bottle and “That’s Amore” by Dean Martin playing in the background. But even though this all-too-familiar scene for Americans has very little to do with actual Italian culture, I thought I would take you through the steps of making some authentic polpette (meatballs).

When the fridge is bare...

Recent remodeling in our apartment had caused us to stay elsewhere for the past week. However, we are now back in our apartment and loving our fresh new bedroom and bathroom. But our fridge is bare and grocery shopping doesn't happen until this evening. So what do I eat for lunch? As my mother has recently discovered (due to living in Norway without a car), the most creative dishes are made when your fridge is empty! So I bypassed my empty fridge and went straight for the cupboard. Garlic, chilli pepper flakes, olive oil, and black pepper. That should work! In goes the last 125 grams of orecchiete (ear-shaped pasta) to the boiling water and I start browning my garlic and chili pepper. Toss it all together, top it with a drizzle of Balsamico and freshly grated Grana Padano. How was it? Amazing!!

Demolition Derby

On my way home this afternoon, I passed a school that has been on the corner of via Venezia and via Alberto Ferreri for decades. Ok, there was no derby, but they were in the process of tearing down the building. Of course, the first thing I noticed was the crowd of spectators with their arms extended, holding their cell-phones to take video of the destruction. Most likely, these transfixed spectators were once students inside that depressing, post-war structure and may have dreamed many times of this particular moment. Maybe they were lingering to give a deep sense of satisfaction to their inner-child. Or, maybe some were melancholy, remembering their teachers and their little desks. But whatever their motives, there we stood, watching the claw break through the walls and the floors like they were crackers. [You can click to enlarge the picture for more detail]

What Time Is It?

Today I was out early to run errands and get groceries for lunch. But after walking all over town from the calzalaio (shoe repair shop) to the market, I wasn’t sure what time it was. I had to have lunch ready by one o’clock and it struck me—what if I’m running late? I pull up my sleeve to look at my watch--not there. I didn’t put my watch on this morning! Crap, what time is it? Just then, as if God had heard my plea…the church which I happened to be walking in front of gleefully answered my question. 

Push play to hear how I knew it was 12 noon...

Addio 2010!

On the very last day of the year, one cannot go about like it is just any other day. One must be reflective on the previous 364 days and full of hope and dreams for the next. Plus, you need to be celebratory, even if especially if your previous 364 days were difficult, arduous, stressful and exhausting--like mine. If this last year was not amongst your finest, December 31^st is a particularly fantastic day! It signifies that all the muck of the year is finally over and tomorrow starts everything fresh. For my husband and I, we were filled with a sense of relief and optimism that we haven’t felt in a while. We were so happy to see 2010 come to an end, that we started off the day by celebrating! Illy cappuccini and fresh berry cornetti at Pasticceria da Sylvana on corso Cavour was the perfect start to this final day of 2010. I hope you enjoyed your final day as well.

Norway+Italy=Polar Opposites

I have to say how very impressed I am with Norwegian people. Their culture, their mentality, and their hyper state of logic is so refreshing. On the outside, Norwegians can seem a bit curt and maybe not quite warm (and they will be the first to tell you about that). But when you talk with someone, or know them personally, they are the most honest, warm, caring, jovial and straightforward people I have ever known. Time after time, from strangers in grocery stores, to paramedics, Norwegians prove themselves to be stand-up, caring people. When you make a friendship, you are brought in and the honesty and openness of their lives, feelings and life events just blows me away.

Norwegians have no need to show a façade or be passive-aggressive. They tell you what they think and what is on their mind, and you always know where you stand with them. They may seem abrupt or even rude by American standards, but it is fantastic! There is no subtext, no treachery, no hiding behind lame stories or excuses. They are honest, man! And when you are injured and in need of help, they are caring, supportive, and light-hearted all at the same time.

Polar Bear Pride

Norwegians have a thing for Polar bears--especially northern Norwegians. I was recently going through some picture albums and came across a few pics I snapped of some of the MANY stuffed polar bears that are scattered all around the small city of Tromsø. (If you've never heard of Tromsø, check out my mini-video: Live From Tromsø, Norway!) Polar bears are not only a part of their history, but also part of their identity and pride.

Tromsø is known for many things, including the land of the midnight sun, having the northern-most university in Europe, called "the Paris of the north" (I completely disagree with that one), the most joked about by locals is being a city where polar bears roam the streets. While this was true a very long time ago, it has of course become old lore. It is still true for some of the northern-most islands of Norway, and I have actually met a few people from islands where polar bear sightings are common (and they're very proud of this). But the only polar bears you'll see in Tromsø are stuffed.

Norway Is Big Sky Country

Before coming to Norway, when I thought of the most beautiful sunsets I have seen, I would think of three or four that stuck in memory. But now, being amazed by breathtaking sunsets and generally amazing skies (even at night) is so common to me that I have lost count.

During a recent conversation with a Tromsø local, I was discussing how incredible it was to have such amazing sunsets as a normal, common occurrence. To my amazement, it was explained to me that these are not just common, but predictable by season. Apparently, during the late summer months, when the sunsets start happening again, they paint the sky with bright pinks and magenta. Fall brings warm, golden sunsets like fire and the winter brings pale pastel pinks as a soft backdrop to the bright white snow. And it is true! I have been in Norway from August to the end of November and I certainly have seen the sunsets change with the season. When I first arrived, the sun was not setting until around 3am--which was really more of a twilight than a full on sunset.

Chernobyl Chicken

This comes from a collection of cynical writings I did while at University in Wisconsin. These are "Tales From the Tundra, circa 2000:

As I sat on the hard futon, blindly staring at the local news the other night, I saw something that I just could not believe. Please understand that I usually avoid the local news here in Central Wisconsin because it is just so painful to watch. Bad lighting, bad audio, lame stories, etc. Unfortunately, I was a captive audience awaiting the miserable weather forecast, when all of a sudden a story of “local color” filled the screen.

If I may make a brief interruption to remind you about the couple of problems that California has had with environmental pollution over the years. Things like the DDT spraying that eventually led to the problems with eagle eggs; toxic waste dumping by evil corporations that polluted the water and ocean, and numerous oil spills that killed thousands of cute little furry animals and birds. We are quite aware of the problems that may arise from pollution, but when there’s a problem, or symptoms of a problem it usually gets handled and cleaned up. Of course there were numerous jokes made about frogs with six legs and babies with arms growing out of their head, but the problems were always taken seriously.

I’m sure you’re all just dying to know what this story was, right? Well, it started off showing a picture of a very large egg. An egg that wasn’t quite as large as an Ostrich egg, but certainly comparable. The reporter appeared at a home in a small town where Mr. and Mrs. Wryzshingzrgvski’s chicken had laid this enormous egg. As soon as the camera started rolling, the wife broke the egg over a bowl, excited that she could make scrambled eggs for the whole family with just one egg. To her dismay, all this clear goo oozed out and produced ANOTHER normal sized egg inside. Mmmm…..those whites are full of protein, you know! And yes, they did eat the egg.

At this point, I was understandably speechless. I waited for the “investigative journalist” to give the scoop on the local aluminum plant that must be dumping their waste illegally. However, when it came time for the commentary from the intelligent anchor, once again, I was left dumbfounded. Little Miss Goody tried to make a cute little joke saying: “I feel bad for that chicken! Ha, ha, ha!”

YEAH....

If this happened in California, there would be several groups showing up to check the water, test the food, and walk around with Geiger counters to measure radiation levels. But here in the Tundra, it’s a funny little story that warms the heart.

Chestnuts Everywhere!

As my last post showed, autumn brings with it some of my favorite foods. In Italy, October starts the season of one my fall favorites—le castagne (chestnuts). So, after another Sunday lunch, bellies full and nothing to do…my husband suggested we go up into the hills above La Spezia and pick some fresh chestnuts. Now, if you have learned from my earlier stories, nothing entices me more than the combination of food and adventure! Plus, I had never seen chestnut trees before--it was a very exciting proposition.

Autumn in Italy

After spending a good deal of time in northern Norway, my return to the splendors of Italy was certainly welcome. But this time, instead of returning to Sicily, I returned to La Spezia, in northern Italy, about an hour east of Genoa and an hour west of Pisa. Markets in Italy are always seasonal, so what you see is what is best. It is fall now, and that brings with it some of my favorite foods. Fresh pumpkin, mushrooms, grapes, apples, chestnuts...these are the fruits of fall.

My first day brought me to the daily vegetable market. Oh, what splendor...

As the old adage says: 

"A picture speaks a thousand words"

Amazing Norway!

Nothing makes traveling more fun than exploring the area and the adventures it brings. This day’s exploration was a drive south of Tromsø, on mainland Norway (Tromsø is an island).  The adventure was where we were going to find food. We didn’t pack anything to eat, assured that we would come across some small restaurant or local diner for some traditional Norwegian food. Not the brightest of ideas, but I digress...

Anyway, we left Krokelvdalen, where my parents are living and headed south. Oh, we also didn’t have a map, so that adds to the adventure quotient, right? After fifteen minutes along the coast, we take a turn up a small street to explore a neighborhood.  It turned out to be a dead end, but we see the first of many little springs that shoot out from the rocks along the road. Waterfalls were everywhere, from full on waterfalls cascading down from snow-topped peaks to little springs trickling all over the place.

Live from Tromsø, Norway!

Fun project! Make a 2-3 minute travel show. Well, I just happened to be visiting a small island in northern Norway, so why not? One day, no script, only my Canon digital camera, a 4gb memory card and my Mac. So what do you think? Do I have what it takes to be the host of a travel show?

I Finally Saw The Moon!

At exactly 3:20am, August 24th, in the light pastel sky, the moon finally peeked over the mountain, showing itself for the first time since I've been here! I just happened to be up and I took a picture of it in celebration. And now, as I am writing this at 3:33am, the moon has almost completely sunken back down below the mountain. Good thing I took a picture!

Making Watermelon Jam

In Sicily, summertime brings with it so many wonderful things. Hot weather, cool beaches, fresh gelato, vacation time and the biggest anguria (watermelon) you have ever seen. Now, those super huge melons are something we don’t often see anymore, as the smaller hybrids are what we usually see these days. Genetic modification with zucca (squash) plants, which makes a much smaller, more manageable sized melon has now pretty much overtaken the market. And really, how many one to two person households can consume a 15 pound melon anyway? Unfortunately, that cross breeding has annihilated the original, sweet flavor of watermelon. Do you ever buy a beautiful watermelon and think to yourself, this just doesn’t taste like it did when I was a kid? Well, that’s why.

It's Summer!

Today I am writing from the shores of the Mediterranean sea. That's right, I'm at the beach and I can officially announce the start of the Summer season. It has been a pretty chilly year so far and it has left the locals slightly confused. Normally, by the time July rolls around, everyone here is sporting a nice shade of molasses on their skin. But this year, it just hasn't been hot up until the last couple days. And even now it's thankfully not as hot as it usually is. Although this chilling affect made my winter a total nightmare, I am now loving it. We are half-way through summer and we haven't been awakened at five in the morning gasping for air and covered in a layer of sweat. We still get awakened at five, but it's from the neighbor's relentless  rooster! But my husband, Leo and I have been plotting it's demise...stay tuned for that one.

Anyway, back to the beach. Leo and I like to come to this fairly remote spot just outside the city. It's nice and calm and the shore has a long shelf, knee deep for at least 50 feet.  It is also a little more wild and natural than the other beaches and the only trash is what the sea spits out. The other beaches in the city are always packed with people, cars, noise and trash. Trash is a hugely terrible problem here. Well, I think it's hugely terrible. Others don't seem to mind going to a beach filled with plastic bottles, broken shards of glass, plastic bags and mounds of cigarette butts. Sure, they notice and they complain about it, but they are also the ones making the trash. It's yet another Sicilian dichotomy.

When people here go to the beach, they set up shop for the whole day, bringing picnic tables and chairs, big umbrellas and tons of food. The beach staple is pasta al forno, or baked pasta, in a huge pan to feed twice as many people as they have. Then there are secondary dishes like shrimp, salad, watermelon and then all the chips and sweets for the kids. Can you imagine how much trash that generates? They bring everything but the kitchen sink and it's a wonder how they fit it all. Sometimes when we see people unloading their car, we wonder if they'll start pulling couches and TVs out of their little sub-compact cars!

The two of us, however, prefer simplicity. A quiet spot, a couple of sarongs, a little cooler bag with some water and a good book (or journal in this case). When we first came to the beach together, years ago, we would take long walks with a garbage bag and clean up as much trash as we could. But now, we don't have to deal with it--we have to drive 25 minutes to get here, but it's so worth it.

Today is a fantastic day--a bright hot sun, a constant cool breeze and the sound of the sea gently lapping on the shore.

Che meraviglia.

How To Preserve Capers

This may have been the most fun thing I made during my time in Sicily. Not just because it was so simple, but because it included an adventure! Scouring the countryside for cappero bushes was an experience I will not easily forget. We searched for them down small roads and along stone walls. They were slightly elusive, growing in dry fields, among clumps of fan palms and other similarly shaped bushes. But it was the delicate, creamy blossoms that would give them away. For a detailed account of my caper adventure, see Wild Capers!

So after you gather your capperi, you need to wash them thoroughly. If you have enough, you can sort them according to size. The small, baby sized capers are what we are accustomed to getting at the store. But capers can get rather large as they get closer to blooming. Italians like these larger ones for salads. I was picking all the cute little buds that I was familiar with and my husband was picking the large buds that he preferred. Then there are the caper “berries”, which I had not known about previously. These are the seed pods that form after the flower blooms. They look a little like mini torpedoes, but they have a slightly different taste than the buds do.

Now, there are two ways of preserving capers. They can be preserved dry in salt, which is very common in Sicily, or they can be pickled with vinegar. I have done both, but I prefer them pickled.
  

To make capperi sotto sale, or preserved in salt, you must first butare l’acqua, or get the water out. Put your washed capers in a colander or strainer resting on a bowl and toss them with a generous amount of salt. Using a large grain salt works the best if you can find it. Leave the capers like this for two days, adding additional salt as needed, as much of it will drip out with the caper water. This is the time that your whole house will fill with the aroma of capers. After about two days of releasing their water and they seem a little shriveled, it is recommended that you leave them in the sun for a bit to dry out. Then you put a layer of salt on the bottom of a jar, layer the capers and continue to alternate layers of salt and capers until you get to the top. There is no boiling needed, as the salt does all the preserving for you. You can’t get more antique than that. Close the lid tightly and you can keep them for quite a while--maybe even forever. Store them in a cool, dark place for at least a month, and then you can start eating them. When using capperi sotto sale, take the amount you need and rinse them under cold water before using. If they still seem too salty, soak them in water for a few minutes.
   

Capperi sott’aceto, or pickeled capers, are much quicker and easier to make. Pack your fresh, washed capers into sterile jars. Bring a small pan of white wine vinegar to boil (measure enough vinegar to fill your jar) with a bit of salt and an optional bay leaf. If your vinegar is really acrid, you can add a pinch or two of sugar to cut the acidity. Pour the boiling vinegar over the capers, filling to the rim, close the lid tightly, and your done! Turn the jar upside down for twenty minutes to get a good seal and store in a cool dark place for about two months before using. Personally, I couldn’t wait that long and I tried mine after two weeks. They were so delicious!