Caffé Culture

The birth of my niece has brought me stateside once again and even though I am in love with this beautiful bambina, I can’t say I don’t miss my Italian luxuries (which are normal everyday things, but luxuries to me!)

Gone are my morning cappuccinos and cornetti… Now if I order a cappuccino, I get one of these humungous cups filled with I don’t know what. This is what I got the other day when I ordered a cappuccino at a local breakfast place. This cup was almost bigger than my head! And the contents? Some powdered mix from a push-button machine—no actual espresso. There has got to be tighter rules on what places can get away with serving!

The Italians, although not much of a rule-based culture, are very strict when it comes to food and coffee. So I thought I would give a little caffé lesson so you can be more in the know on the correct way of serving these beverages. But first, a little background and a few cultural comments about il caffé.

Strawberry Pan d'Oro

This is called Pan d’oro, or golden bread. It is a panettone, which is a sweet bread, but it is not the classic one we know with the round top, raisins and candied fruit pieces. This is a very tall, star-shaped and airy vanilla bread from Verona that is served covered in zucchero vanigliato, or vanilla scented powdered sugar. Are your teeth hurting yet? Yeah, it’s sweet. It’s a favorite with the kids not only for the sweet bread factor, but also because it’s fun to shake it up in the bag with the sugar. There are always volunteers for that! 

La Polentata!

Before leaving for a trip back to the US, I was invited to join my cousin and his family and friends for la polentata, or polenta party. They live just outside of Rome and I was going to pass a few days with them before my flight out. I was very excited at the prospect of joining a real polenta party! I had never been to one before, and even though my in-laws questioned why I was going to Rome for a polenta party, I couldn’t wait! Italians are very particular about traditional dishes and some think that polenta just can't be made outside of Lombardia (the region that is known for polenta). But seriously, it’s cornmeal in a box…something that can be made anywhere—even as FAR AWAY as Rome.

Marvelous Movers

Italian cities are cluttered with large apartment buildings, narrow streets and many old buildings with 5-7 stories, often without an elevator. The buildings lucky enough to have elevators are only made for a maximum of two to four people. If you have ever been inside an Italian apartment building elevator, you know how cramped it can be. When my in-laws come home from grocery shopping, they load their tiny elevator with the bags and my mother-in-law rides it up while my father-in-law takes the stairs!

So in my curiosity of wondering how things work, I have always wondered how people move their furniture into high floor apartments. Plus, Italians have large pieces of furniture; in part because the standard for ceiling height is at least ten feet. They have entertainment units aptly called parete (meaning wall) because it fills an entire wall; an armadio, or wardrobe, for each bedroom that is at least eight feet tall and also covers an entire wall; dining room furniture, couches etc. I have found myself scratching my head many times trying to figure out how they move these monoliths from one place to another. And you never see people moving in or struggling to carry furniture up the stairs--so how do they do it?

Leftover Panettone – Part 2

For the second installment, I made another dish I LOVE, Bread Pudding (made with panettone). This is very simple to make and with a sauce that I invented on a whim, it's even more amazing.  Panettone is very soft, buttery and fragrant and makes a wonderful bread pudding. I'm just sorry that I'm posting this in February when stores no longer sell panettone, but you can still get it on Amazon. But if you happen to have one left-over from the holidays, then you are in luck! Otherwise, bookmark this and return to it in December.

Haute Cucina

The French are obsessed with les parfums (perfumes). 

The Italians are obsessed with la pasta. 

So while the French have Chanel N. 5, the Italians have Spaghetti N. 5! 

It’s the little things that give you a glimpse into a culture…wink, wink.

Leftover Panettone - Part 1

In Italy, the Christmas season doesn’t start with store shelves filled with decorations and presents—it starts with shelves of Panettone. These tall, sweet breads welcome the holidays and the many huge meals that go with them. You never go to someone’s house without a big box of panettone in hand. The problem is, if you’re not a born and “bread” carb junkie like most Italians, by the end of the holiday season, you will have quite the collection of panettone. So what is one to do with all these huge, packaged breads? February is almost over--I need to get cookin'!

One of my favorite things to do with traditional panettone (even more than eating it plain) is to make French toast out of it. The thick, buttery slices filled with raisins and candied oranges goes so well served fluffy and hot with a bit of syrup and orange marmalade. And it’s even super easy. 

The Peanut Butter Ambassador

Peanut butter. A condiment so common in the US, that no one gives a second thought about it. It is so stitched into the fibers of the American life that we just take it for granted. But here in Italy, it just doesn’t exist. In southern Europe, peanut butter (like pecans and fresh cranberries) is a rare and abstract American food that many people have never tasted and some have never even heard of. So seeing it on the shelf of a tiny international food store, located between asian fish sauce and dried shrimp was a very exciting moment. It was a discovery that reunited my husband with his beloved peanut butter. 

We have since purchased three jars, as gifts for friends that really like peanuts but have NEVER tried peanut butter and I have also introduced my sister-in-law to this new nut butter. She has officially classified it as better than Nutella! Wow. There must be something about discovering a new flavor that makes it so special. I mean, I know peanut butter is good, but you should see how Italians go crazy over it! I feel like I’m spreading peanut butter joy. 

San Valentino

For Valentine’s day, my husband took me to dinner at Il Settimo Cielo (Seventh Heaven), a beautiful restaurant which sits atop a hill overlooking the entire bay of La Spezia. Now, eating out for dinner in Italy is a very different process than in an American restaurant. Your evening starts by ordering your vino and an antipasto, or appetizer. After these are brought to you, the waiter will leave you alone for a long while, as this is your conversation time. When you are good and ready to move on to the next course, il primo, you call the waiter to order your pasta, and the story repeats. When you are ready for the next course, il secondo, you call the waiter over to order your meat dish. And so it goes for i dolci, or dessert course, your caffé, your amaro, or after dinner drink and il conto, or check. It would be considered rushed and unnecessary to order all your dishes at once and your waiter will never come around several times to check on you or interrupt your meal without you calling for him. 

As Easy as...Quiche?

Although I am Italian, live in Italy and speak Italian, my personality, mentality and actions are more French than anything else. In fact, my Italian husband always asks me why I didn’t marry a Frenchman! Anyway, my style français is most evident in my cooking style. I love to cook all types of food, Thai, Indian, Mexican, etc. but the dishes that I consider my mainstays are always French in nature. This brings me to my all-time favorite lunch: La Quiche. In France, lunch specials abound with different quiches served with a salad, or even better, fresh, hot, pommes frites! Mmm…

The best thing about quiche is that you can make unlimited versions. But since we all know quiche to have a crust, it can be a deterrent for whipping one up at home (it was for me). Fortunately, there is a much easier way. Here is my recipe for a crustless quiche that will be the easiest quiche ever! Actually, there is an even easier version, which uses leftover grilled vegetables (thus no sautéing), and is really my favorite. But it’s still winter here, so no grilling. For this quiche, I have used zucchini and tomatoes (because that is what I had on hand) but I encourage you to use your favorite ingredients.

Strange Fruit

Every once in a while, I come across some kind of fruit or vegetable that I either have never seen, never eaten, or never dared to prepare. But seeing as how I am intrinsically curious and always up for a challenge, I like to give it a try. I am actually quite a bit more daring than my husband, but when I was struck with fascination at the container of bovine nerves, he quickly put the kibosh on it. At least I have gotten him to like vegetables enough to conquer the plant world. So what would you guess this is? (I have not altered these pics, it really is this color)

Making Herbes de Provence

One of my favorite things to cook with is Herbes de Provence. I use it in just about everything. But, as you may know, this seemingly normal blend of culinary herbs can get quite pricey. It’s just something about having a French name that adds a few to the price. Don't think the price reflects import charges either, because the other day I saw a tiny jar at my local grocery store for almost 4 euros!! That is an outrageous price for herbs in Italy and I'm only a few hours from Provence! Fortunately for me, my garden in Sicily has the perfect climate for these herbs and planting them was my first order of duty (after clearing about 15 years of weeds) when we moved in last year. 

After a recent weekend trip to back Sicily, I found my garden overgrown with lavender, sage, rosemary, thyme and oregano! I immediately started snipping away in order to bring back copious fruits of my labor. If you have your own herb garden, you can easily make this mixture as well. 

No Way Perrier!

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

Ever since I first stepped foot in Central Wisconsin, I have seen these green bumper stickers on the back of beat up, rusted out American cars that read: “NO WAY PERRIER!” And ever since I saw the first one, I have wondered what it meant. Was it something against that damn bourgeois sparkling water, a statement against those damn Frenchman that come to our country to have sex with our wives, or was it something totally unrelated? I have wondered this for so long, yet everyone I asked didn’t have the faintest clue as to what I was talking about. By the end of this last semester here, I had completely given up on my quest for truth.

Low and behold, my first night out with my friend last weekend, an older man next to me at a bar struck up a conversation with me. After a while of discussing random topics with this old man (whom was quite talkative after throwing a few back), he brought up how Point Beer (the local Stevens Point brewery) used to taste really good until the city made them switch from natural spring water to city water. He explained that there is a naturally occurring spring not far from Stevens Point that produces some of the purest, cleanest and most mineral rich water. Then he told me that it became so popular that Perrier wanted to build a plant nearby to bottle the water. Well, the townspeople did not like that idea! They didn’t want those damn French people to take all their water! Thus the bumper stickers creatively displaying their dismay with a strong statement like: “NO WAY PERRIER!”

I told the man how delighted I was to finally know what that bumper sticker meant, and he was happy to have helped me. Then I pointed out that it was good to know that Perrier really bottles natural spring water, but he didn’t seem to appreciate that idea. Plus, telling him how much I loved France and French people didn’t really help either. He wasn’t very talkative after that. 

You think he had one of those bumper stickers?

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...