Fish on a Sunny Day

Fish on a Sunny Day

Wow. An absolutely gorgeous day in Milano. Is this what Fall is like in Italy?! Sunny after some 2:00 a.m., drenching downpours recently. Fresh air, yet nicely warm. No humidity to be bothered with. It was a day that screamed for a bike ride along the canal.

Fish are always present in the Naviglio Pavese Canal, and I’ve been told they’re fussy about biting. I see them when glancing over as I ride along. Sometime in the last week or so they’ve lowered the water level down to just a couple of feet. Perhaps this has affected the fish, and perhaps it’s just their biology (spawning time?) but now they are clustered in clouds! AND I saw three of four that were brilliant gold or gold and black. Koi let loose? Whatever the reason, I had to stop and simply watch them.

NaviglioFish2

I still don’t know what kind of fish they are. One day I stopped to chat with an elder fisherman and I should have had pen and paper with me to write down what he told me. “Trota” was one fish that was easy to remember. Trout! But I see a few others with different markings and body shapes, which keep up my curiosity.

NaviglioFish1

I Bought a Branzino!

I Bought a Branzino!

Nope. It’s not a Vespa-type scooter or a little car. It’s a little fish.

BranzinoRaw

A couple of months ago, while at the Saturday market, I was overwhelmed by the seafood choices I had no familiarity with. No halibut, salmon or rock cod here. There was fish I knew nothing about except for a couple I had ordered from menus: orata and branzino. “But what do I do with it?” Besides. I had neither a filet knife nor knife sharpener, so I was ill-prepared.

Having just returned from a visit to Seattle this week, (filet knife and EZE-Lap sharpener in hand), hankerin’ for fish*, and doing a “fast stroll” near the Naviglio Grande (the big canal) I found a street-side fish market in my path. “Uno branzino”, I said to the guy. He wrapped it up. I paid 4 Euro, 6 bucks. I threw it in my bag and went on to shop for fabric. (Fabric and fish in the same bag? Hmm.)

(*By the way, can one ” have a hankerin’ ” in Italy. I’m not sure the translation works.)

Saturday evening. Canal-side. The place was lively with people strolling at a slow pace. Here I was, trying to keep my usual 4.5 mile-per-hour Indian Trail pace. (Fat chance, Maureen. Take it easy! Relax for once.) Maybe that’s something Italy will teach me: how to stroll properly, without being “on a mission”.

At 7:00, I stepped into the little fabric store NOT like those in the U.S.! Dark, jammed floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, and much of it had probably been there a long time. I was looking for, and found, fabric for a baby quilt. (Just try buying quilting supplies in Italian!) I left moments before they closed at 7:30.

It was the first time in 4 months I had gone out in public wearing blue jeans (!) and tennis shoes (not quite blinding white). I had been cleaning all day and felt like being comfy. At 8:00 in the evening, sleeveless, it was muggy enough that I was working up a sticky sweat. (All the more reason to slow down.) Most everyone else was either paired up or on-the-make, so blue jeans and tennis shoes never entered their minds, I’m sure!

Meanwhile, I had a scantily-wrapped branzino in my bag with baby quilt fabric, so I figured I’d better hustle to the grocery store, buy whatever else I needed, and get home and cook!

I hadn’t noticed at the fish stall that the fish had not been gutted. No problem. I’ve gutted many a fish in my day. And I found out that branzino, (which is actually a European Seabass), has a pretty wicked, spiny dorsal fin! A pair of scissors made short work of those half dozen thorns.

BranzinoGuts

Based on it’s size, roughly 11″ stem-to-stern, I figured I could cook a branzino much like a nice-sized rainbow trout. Flour, salt, pepper, mixed herbs…and since I had just been in Seattle, I threw in some of Chef Tom Douglas’ Salmon Rub (Brown Sugar, Paprika and thyme). A little extra virgin in my new grill pan, crank up the heat and throw on the fish. Veggies searing in the pan next door promised a lovely dinner.

(By the way, note the pan in the upper left. I’ve boiled water for coffee twice and that’s the amount of white, calcium build-up that occurs! I have to scrub the pan hard every day.)

BranzinoGrillin

Ahh. The smell of fish cooking with oil. One would think it’s a good time to open the windows, especially on a muggy night! No way! I wouldn’t sleep all night; the mosquitos would eat me alive. I opted for the fishy smell and a good night’s sleep.

“Mr. Branzino” cooked for about 20 minutes or so. Perfection. A glass of Grillo from Sicilia, a couple slices of cornmeal bread and at 9:30 I was ready to eat. Note that the branzino is served up right alongside my Mac, my updated to-do list, the utility bill from the landlady, a job ticket, trip receipts and hardware warranty info.

BranzinoServed

BranzinoSucculent

Delicately flavored. White. Moist. Cooked perfectly. Mmm. In trout fashion, I lifted the tail and peeled the spine and upper half away from the lower. I didn’t eat the skin because trying to scale the fish earlier had been making more of a mess than necessary, so I simply lifted the fish flakes away from the skin and gobbled them. Then I flipped the other half, easily lifted the skeleton and enjoyed the rest of the fish. What a delicious meal!

BranzinoFinito

FROM WIKIPEDIA:
The European seabassDicentrarchus labrax, also known as Morone labrax, is a primarily ocean-going fish that sometimes enters brackish and fresh water. It is also known as the sea dace. As a food fish, it is often marketed as mediterranean seabassbronzini or branzini(“branzino” is the name of the fish in Northern Italy; in other parts of the country it is called “spigola” or “ragno”). In Spain, it is called “lubina”. It has silver sides and a white belly. Juvenile fish maintain black spots on the back and sides, a feature that can create confusion with Dicentrarchus punctatus. This fish’s operculum is serrated and spined. It can grow to a total length of over 1 m (3.3 ft) and 15 kg of weight.

Its habitats include estuaries, lagoons, coastal waters and rivers. It is found in the waters in and around Europe, including the eastern Atlantic Ocean (from Norway to Senegal), the Mediterranean Sea and the Black Sea.

It is mostly a night hunter, feeding on small fish, polychaetes, cephalopods and crustaceans.

The fish has come under increasing pressure from commercial fishing and has recently become the focus in the United Kingdom of a conservation effort by recreational anglers. In Italy the seabass is subject of intensive breeding in salt waters.

Gleaning the Early Fall Corn Field

Gleaning the Early Fall Corn Field

When I rode along the canal the other day, sure enough, the corn field had been cut bare. There were two men out gleaning, walking up and down each corn row looking for remnants. They had filled their wheel-barrow full.

They seemed puzzled about this woman in her hot pink bike top stopping in the corn field. I held up my camera and yelled to them that I was taking photos. They nodded and continued on. So did I.

CornGleaning

Never Eat Anything Bigger Than Your Head*

Never Eat Anything Bigger Than Your Head*

I HAVE made “Muskrat Cacciatore” before, but that was long ago and far away. It was pretty darned good, (yes, it DID taste “just like chicken”) but I think this big guy might be a bit tough. He’s got to be TWICE the size of my head, the granddaddy of them all.

MuskratGrandad

Kliban-HeadThere’s a group of seven muskrats that I see every evening that I go for a ride along the canal. They have a favored spot with some brush for cover if they want it, but they seem fairly used to the bike and foot traffic going by, and nonchalantly continue to forage for roots at the tree bases in “their spot”. They don’t seem to be bothered by anyone (hunted or trapped). There are “no hunting” signs posted along the bikeway.

Imagine, 15 minutes by bike south of Milan – a major, international, cosmopolitan city – and there are “no hunting” signs and muskrats having the time of their lives!

MuskratSilhouette

*Acknowledgements to B. Kliban and his wonderfully bizarre humor.
His book title came immediately to mind.

The Stress of Grocery Shopping

The Stress of Grocery Shopping

I’m not joking when I say that one of my consistent sources of stress here is in grocery shopping. It’s easy to take for granted the comfort of knowing WHAT I’m shopping for and HOW to shop for it. And when I don’t know those two things there’s an absolute and certain anxiety aroused. That may sound ridiculous, but it’s true.

SaturdayMarketProduce

It’s one thing to shop at the grocery store. I’ve greatly improved in that realm. At least there are labels and I can pick up the items to read and figure out what I’m looking at, what to do with it and whether I want it. I’ve gotten better at discerning ingredients listed in Italian, and labels these days often feature a photo which gives a hint of ingredients and serving suggestions.

Someone finally told me how to order my favorite, bresaola. It’s not ordered from the meat counter by the slice, it’s ordered by the gram. OK. Fine. But how many grams do I need? I was raised with ounces and pounds. How big of a pile of paper thin bresaola would 100 grams amount to? As it turns out, 80 to 100 grams is about right for me to order, and I now know what it amounts to. I can order bresaola and prosciutto with the rest of them and not sound completely like I’m from outer space.

In the produce department, it’s absolutely forbidden to handle the fruit and veggies with bare hands. There’s a ritual in buying produce and I had to learn that first thing! I go to the little stand to get my wispy thin plastic gloves. THEN I select my fruit and put it in a plastic bag. THEN I make note of the code number for my item and take it to the scale. I punch in the code and the machine spits out a UPC label. Very simple. But if someone hadn’t told me about that, or if I forget and get up to the checkout stand with unmarked produce, heaven help me!

There are handy tote-along plastic bins on wheels at the entrance to the store. Pretty handy because I usually don’t need a big cart. They have a compact “footprint” and are pretty deep. Therein lies the problem. The produce is at the entrance to the store. I go in, get my tomatoes, peaches, plums, rucola and other delicate, soft fruits and vegetables and put them in my bin. As I continue shopping for yogurt, milk, cheese, wine, bottled water, the heavy things either get piled on top of the fragile things, or I have to constantly shuffle the contents in my cart to put the heaviest at the bottom. I could get my cart, walk immediately to the end of the store, shop in reverse, end in the produce department, then walk back to the cashier at the opposite side of the store. I suppose I could try that and see how it goes.

Then there’s the checkout! This is when I need heaven to help me. I think the checkout stand at the grocery store is the epitome example of Italian speed-demon impatience. I walk up and stand in line with “all the other Italians” (ha ha ha). When it’s my turn, I empty my cart onto the conveyor belt trying to get the heaviest items out from the bottom of the pile and put them on the belt first. The cashier asks me if I want a bag and if I do its extra cost gets added to the tab. (Take note, Seattle.) Well-trained, I always have my own bags, so I say “no”. While I’m still unloading my little cart, my grocery items are flying out the other end and rolling down on top of each other into a big pile. Believe me, I unload as fast as I can so I can immediately start loading up my bags as fast as I can. Invariably, the cashier finishes the race before I do, there’s a line of people waiting, my total is rattled quickly in Italian (I’m getting better all the time at hearing and understanding euro totals), I don’t have my reading glasses on, I can’t see the still-unfamiliar coins to know their denominations, and I haven’t even finished loading up my groceries! It would almost be funny if it weren’t so anxiety-producing!

I’m always glad to get out of the grocery store.

Ahh. Then there’s the Saturday Market I discovered for the first time today. Open air. Lovely, end-of-summer weather. Picture-perfect produce, meats, seafood, cheeses, breads and sundries. This market makes Seattle’s Pike Place Market look like nothing. (Really. Sorry, but it’s true.) Everything is arrayed so beautifully, all so artful. I shot photos for the first hour or so. All so gorgeous.Idyllic, right?

FioriZucchi

RadicchioMelanzane

Then it was time to shop. Uh oh. Trouble. New rules here. No labels. No handling the products to investigate. And it wasn’t clear what the buying process was. Who do I talk to and when is it my turn?

After wandering around dazed and afraid for a while, I got bold. What I wanted was simple and recognizable: tomatoes on the vine, fresh figs, prunes, green beans, onions. I told the guy at the front, but then he told me I had to go off to the side to pay for it first. OK. But when standing in line, I watched them fill bags with other people’s orders. They take this beautifully displayed fruit and THROW it into a paper bag! There go those nice tomatoes, those ripe peaches, those soft, fresh figs. After watching this for a couple of minutes, I walked away, telling the guy I decided not to buy any. After having been a farmer for so many years, I just can’t bring myself to buy fruit and veggies from someone that is throwing my food. And I don’t get to select it myself, so don’t know until I get home that the figs are overripe and smashed open, the tomatoes punctured and the prunes bruised. Let alone not yet having the vocabulary to tell them I want just one vine of tomatoes, not a whole basket, etc. When they don’t allow us to pick up the food, I don’t have the opportunity to select 4 nice tomatoes and gently place them in a bag to be coddled during my walk home.

SaturdayFruit

Yearning for good seafood, I found the fish booths down at the very end of the street. (Maybe other vendors don’t like the smell at the end of a hot day so the fish vendors are ostracized.) But I don’t recognize any of the fish, (only the shrimp, octopus and squid). I don’t have a good filet knife in the apartment and I don’t know the flavors of what’s in front of me. (Is it strong and “fishy”?) By this time I was feeling paralysis rather than excitement, so I ordered what the little old lady in front of me ordered: fresh shrimp. I can deal with that for now. I guess that, next time, I’ll just buy myself a fish, drag it home, throw it on the fire and see what it tastes like. (And maybe I should pick up a good filet knife in the meantime!)

FishStall

FormaggiSalumi

I must say that the cheese displays were beyond belief and I finally stopped at one on the side street, not the main drag of the market. This little shop was extensive and more personable and homey. I asked the cheesemonger “which one should I try?” He replied “all of them!”, and we both laughed. He gave me a little sliver of a soft cheese, but it was more mild than I had in mind. He had a huge round of pecorino with several bands of black peppercorns through its middle. He gave me a sliver of that one, and it had power to it. I bought the small wedge that had been sitting waiting for me. He weighed it and said it was 2,40. “2,40?”, I asked, wanting to make sure I heard correctly. “Yes, dear” he said in Italian, and he waited patiently while I squinted at my coins to count out change. I decided, then, to have him slice some bresaola, too.

SaturdayCheesemonger

The Perfect Lunch

The Perfect Lunch

One would think that in a coastal town on an island in the Tyrrhenian Sea it’d be possible to find a good meal of seafood. I was on a mission to satisfy a craving for a plate of mixed, grilled, fresh fish. I found it, and it was perfection.

It was 2:00 p.m. and I was hungry. I strolled the walk along the string of dockside restaurants and read the menus. The dozen restaurants were empty of patrons, and yet of them all, only one had a waiter that came out to the walk to greet me: “O Purticciull”. I told him I was checking out all the menus before I made a decision, then walked on. I walked to the wharf end, and turned around and went back. (The personal touch wins points with me.)

Ischia-OPurticciullWaiter2

I sat facing the marina, the small local boats, the luxury yachts and the cruise ships. I ordered my mixed, grilled fish and the waiter (I didn’t get his name) suggested a small salad, a “quartino” of white wine and some bottled water. Yes, exactly! I sat on that sunny day with my journal, at ease and breezy. When the waiter arrived with my meal I knew I had selected the right place. Heaven on a plate!

The swordfish, squid and scampi were fresh and grilled perfectly. Delicate, moist, tender. Every bite was savored. Absolutely what I had been looking for!

If you find yourself on the island of Ischia, reserve a meal for O Purticcull, and say thank you to the waiter for me.

http://www.porticciullo.it/index.htm

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Ischia-Salad

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Things I Found Today

Things I Found Today

BREAD: I went 3 metro subway stops north and took off walking east trying to find a bakery that Viola Restaurant had told me about. I don’t think I found it, but I did find a small loaf of dark, multi-grain bread and some green-olive-bread-sticks.

HEALTH FOOD STORE:  Continuing my quest for bread, I asked at a little produce shop. The guy pointed across and down the street to quite a large place that sells organic foods, produce, packaged goods, clothing, yoga items, books, etc. They had a fantastic display of breads!!! It was hard to choose one, but I selected a large round loaf that turned out to be kind of a sourdough whole wheat. Great! I also bought some organic orange marmalade to go on top of it for my breakfast.

SMOKED TOFU: The health food store sells smoked tofu: “tofu affumicato“. Hmm. Do you think it’ll satisfy my yen for my new favorite cheese, scamorza affumicato? Not likely! But, I thought I’d give it a whirl.

PORTA TICINESE: I had always stopped, when walking north, where Corso San Gottardo becomes Corso di Porta Ticinese. Today, I walked home southward, all the way from the 3 metro stops north. Wow. I had no idea what awaited me along that strip!

CILANTRO: Damnit. I wanted some “Mexican-style” beans and rice! But I haven’t been able to find cilantro, either dried or fresh. So I stopped in at a little cluster of street-side stalls today, heard music in Spanish, and stepped into the 8×8′ stall. Yes! I saw the familiar Goya brand and asked the woman where she’s from: Peru. I said, “great, we can speak in Spanish instead of Italian!” She’s been here for two years. Her coworker is from Guatemala. Funny how I felt at home. I bought black beans and fresh cilantro and will cook up something that answers my flavor craving. And I’ll be back at her stall when I need the Spanish side answered while here in Italy.

(That’s a long way to go for bread! There’s GOT to be something close to home!)

milanomap

A Modified Favorite

A Modified Favorite

This is my current favorite meal, either at home or at Viola Ristorante. A very simple but fabulous salad, perfect for hot days: a bed of fresh arugula, slices of bresaola, shaved pecorino in this case (or parmigiano), fresh tomato, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, fresh ground salt and pepper… and this time I modified the salad and added cauliflower and red pepper. (Viola adds paper-thin-sliced red onion, which is fantastic, but I didn’t have any.)

insalatabresaola

Bresaola. Mmm. I’ll shoot some photos and do a whole post on that, but it’s become a favorite. Good, lean, flavorful protein. Lovely on a salad like this. A good way to begin a meal, or simply make a meal.

This from Wikipedia:
Bresaola is air-dried salted beef that has been aged about 2-3 months until it becomes hard and a dark red, almost purple colour. It is made from eye of round and is lean and tender with a sweet, musty smell. It originated in Valtellina, a valley in the Alps of northern Italy‘s Lombardy region.

Land of White Flour

Land of White Flour

Forgive me, but… with pasta, white bread, pizza, focaccia, etc. it’s all WHITE FLOUR! I’m searching the city for a bakery nearby that sells a dense, moist, multi-grain bread. This is the closest I’ve found in a store, but it’s still too light and fluffy. (The really light breads dry up in a day and don’t last long.)

One restaurant nearby offers a multi-grain bread to nibble on before dinner, so I asked them where they get it! The baker is more than a mile away, but I’ll have to go look for it.

I hate to say it, but here I am in Italy and I miss Trader Joe’s Mille Grane bread round! Much more flavor, nutrition and fiber. 

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Synonyms, Language & Grocery Shopping

Synonyms, Language & Grocery Shopping

Sweet or Savory? Based on appearances, these little cracker/cookies could have gone either way. Unfortunately, I was in the mood for a little, sweet cookie, so my stomach overruled my mind. 

Wandering around the grocery store, of course all the labels and packages are in Italian. How do I know what I’m looking at and am about to buy? Word derivations and synonyms! Every trip to the grocery store requires “pattern recognition” and a willingness to be exploratory with language.

Take this label for instance… (I should have read it more closely at the store, but like I said, I WANTED these to be sweet!)

crackeringredients

The following is a reenactment of the mental hoops I jumped through when reading the ingredient list on this cracker label:

Fette – I had just learned that word so I could order bresaola. It means SLICES.
Pane – Like pan, in Spanish, it means BREAD.
Croccante – Kinda sounds like CRACKER, doesn’t it?
Semi – Semilla, in Spanish, means SEED
Zucca – Like zucchini… must mean some sort of squash, and I see PUMPKIN SEEDS.
Farina – Isn’t that what “Cream of Wheat” is called? OK. Ground grain. FLOUR.
Frumento – Who knows. Skip that one.
Formaggio – I know that one well: CHEESE
Emmental – Hey, it’s EMMENTALER CHEESE, with milk, salt and something, something.
Semi di Zucca – There’re the pumpkin seeds again, 8%.
Semi di Girasole – Sole is sun, and I see SUNFLOWER SEEDS.
Semi di Lino – Lino is linen. Linen comes from flax. Ahh! FLAX SEEDS!
Sesamo – Whew. An easy one. SESAME SEEDS.
Sale MarinoSale is salt. Marino is marine. Easy. SEA SALT.
Agente Lievintante – Looks like “levitating” to me. OK. LEAVENING AGENT.
Bicarbonato di Sodio – Easy again. BICARBONATE OF SODA (BAKING SODA)
Estratto di Malto d’orzo – EXTRACT OF ORZO MALT (Whatever that is.)
Pasta Acica (Farina di Segala) – More flour of some sort, but it’s so far down the list that it’s a minor ingredient.

No where did I read the ingredient Zucchero – SUGAR! Like I said, I was trying to convince myself that these were sweet and ignored all evidence to the contrary. Upon getting these home, I was surprised to taste a snappy, stout, seeded cracker with a hard toasted cheese layer on top. Likely one of my new favorites, but NOT when I’m looking for dessert!