One Week ’til Blastoff

One week from today, at this time, I will have schlepped my bags by taxi and train to Milano Malpensa airport; checked in, with machine gun carrying guards in the mezzanine above me; gone through security; waited; flown over the Alps to London two hours north; gone through security again; eaten an airport meal; wound my way through Heathrow; boarded, gotten settled and begun my 9 hour flight back to Seattle.

I just went grocery shopping. What favorite foods do I want to eat again (and again) before I go? I bought bresaola, and mortadella with pistachios, buffalo milk fresh mozzarella, fresh figs and sicilian tomatoes. One (or two) more meals of octopus? Who do I want to see and say goodbye to? How many more last hurrahs with my girlfriends? Where do I want to go? What will wish I had photographed?

As I buy groceries and supplies this week, I have to calculate how much I can use in six days. As I go for a bike ride, or subway ride, I have to realize it may be the last one (for a long while).

From a journal entry today:

“I have grown a sweet affection for this country. It’s not the starry-eyed, naive enthusiasm of a tourist’s love of the sights. But it’s a complex recognition of the quirks, an all-too-recent connection with individuals along my path, the creation for myself of a way of being, and as yet, merely a hint of who these people are. How can I stay away for long? I am leaving a part of myself here, and have lodged a part of Italy in my heart, to carry with me. Under what circumstances will I return, and for how long?”

My Raw Meat Salad

My Raw Meat Salad

I’m going to miss my Insalata di Bresaola, my salad of dried, cured (raw) beef. Boo hoo. They can’t bring bresaola into the U.S. from Europe because of the mad cow disease X years ago…

But a nice salad with a bed of rucola (arugula), some bufala mozzarella (fresh mozzarella from buffalo milk), tomatoes from Sicilia, cucumbers, bresaola, some ground pepper, salt and oregano, drizzled with flavorful olive oil and a little balsamic vinegar… Be still my beating heart. Mmm, mmm good!

Tasting Wine with Friends

Tasting Wine with Friends

The grape varieties and resulting wines here in Italy are numerous and quite different than in the U.S. What better way, then, to learn about the wine I’m drinking than to take a wine-tasting class. After attending intensive language classes last winter, I figured I was ready to enroll in the preliminary class series offered by the Organizzazione Nazionale Assaggiatori di Vino (ONAV) – the National Organization of Wine Tasters.

Some of my Seattle friends have joked that the class was a bunch of people sitting around drinking wine. “Hey! How do you like this wine?” “It’s great. Pass me the bottle!”

No. It was a series of 18 lessons, 2 per week, from 9:00 in the evening ’til 11:00 or so. It was held across town and I usually got home on the subway after midnight. (I started the class in February.) The course content was very technical, including discussions of chemistry, cultivation and fermentation processes, wine types and their characteristics, defects and regulations.

And all of this was in Italian. Each session was taught by a person with a different expertise… and a different manner of speaking. On good nights I understood 80% of what was said. (At least I think so.) There were a few nights when I may have understood only 10 -20%. Most lessons were complete with powerpoint presentations, charts and graphs. What I couldn’t understand by listening I could understand by reading. I felt I was learning more than I knew before, even though I didn’t get it all.

Most evenings, we had 4 wines to taste, being given a small sampling of each but not even taking the first sip until about 10:30. We used a complex table to judge each wine for its visual, olfactory and in-the-mouth characteristics, tallying a score for each wine on a 100-point scale. We judged on clarity, tone, intensity, frankness, fineness, harmony, body, persistence and overall ranking.

Taking the class did change my understanding of and appreciation for wine. And it probably spoiled me for drinking “cheap wine”, though here in Italy I can get a pretty nice, very drinkable wine for 4 or 5 euro. ($5 or $6)

When the class was ending in late April, we were told to prepare for the final exam. Yes. A final exam! I considered not taking the test; after all, I had attended the course simply for my own interest, not to become an official sommelier.

Having convinced myself to take the exam, I then considered taking the test in English, an option offered. But no. I took the 10-question short essay test in Italian. I had to understand the question; know the answer and know how to say and write it in Italian! We then had 5 wines to taste and judge; our judgments of the wine were expected to fall within a few points of the ONAV judgments. (ONAV was serious! They had several versions of the test. We had to sit with an empty chair between us. And we had to remain silent.)

I passed! It was a little, personal triumph.

Last Sunday we had our diploma ceremony at the beautiful Ferghettina vineyard high on a hill in the Franciacorta region east of Milan. Our class was joined by classes from other locations of the Lombardia region of Italy for one grand celebration.

Not having a car, I could not have attended without the kindness of my classmate, Giuseppe, letting me ride along with him and Alessandro. Once there, we met up with Federica and Valentina from our class.

Rocco and Gianni were also there, as were other classmates.

Our names were called out individually and we went to the front to receive our diplomas.

Afterwards, we were treated to Ferghettina Brut, along with typical meats, cheeses and breads. On that sweltering hot day, a tour of the winery’s cool, underground “cantina” was a refreshing break, and fascinating.

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Ahh, nice and cool standing next to the 2008 Franciacorta Brut.

After celebrating with our other ONAV classmates, the 5 of us headed off in two cars to a place that Federica had heard about. It was a laughable, roundabout tour through the countryside of Brescia trying to find the agriturismo, Cá del Lupo. We enjoyed a light lunch on the terrace: Alessandro, Valentina, Giuseppe and Federica.

Alessandro.

Valentina.

Giuseppe.

Federica.

It took much hemming-and-hawing to decide whether to go walk along the shore of Lago d’Iseo. We consulted the GPS to figure out how to get there and how long it would take.

Lago d’Iseo is between Lago di Como and Lago di Garda, nestled in the ring of mountains to the north.

Alessandro and I goofed off at the cartoon characters on the lawn.

I spent my very hot Fourth of July at a winery, a farm and a lake, with 4 dear people I hardly knew. We had a wonderful time and laughed a lot. One of more of them may end up on my doorstep in Seattle some day!

Earl & Matthew

Earl & Matthew

How do you give a 13-year-old a whirlwind overview of Milano and other spots in Italy?

I had grown up picking rocks off of Earl’s parents’ waterfront on Three Tree Point, just down from the house I have in Seattle now. (In other words, he’s known me since I was born.) So when Earl decided to take his grandson, Matthew, on a tour of Italy, and knowing that I’m here in Milano, he got in touch with me and we started planning the whirlwind. By the time the trip was only a week away, Earl wrote to say they were “counting the hours”.

The two travelers arrived at Milano Malpensa Airport, jet-lagged but excited. We caught the train into the city, with one minute to spare.

Like Hannah and Zibby two days before, Earl and Matthew’s first stop, with mere 21-pound packs still on their backs, was the Spezia Milano Pasticceria. They needed a little something to take to their hotel room and picked out a dozen sweet treats. (The best in town.)

The guys needed a break after their long travels, and a little freshening up. We met up a couple of hours later when they came over to my apartment just 2 blocks away to “skype” family back home. Then we walked up the canal, Naviglio Pavese, to a pizza restaurant with a wood-fired oven. I don’t know what was so funny, but Matthew enjoyed his 5 cheese pizza. Much of it was packed home though, and ended up in my frigo (and made a high-fat breakfast for me the next day).

Earl and I shared an antipasta plate of mixed cheeses and meats, then a pizza of prosciutto, mushrooms and artichoke hearts.

Still recovering from the trip, “The Boys” called it a night early without the evening stroll along the canal (to the gelato shop), and headed back to their hotel for a good, long night’s sleep.

In the morning, having missed the breakfast part of the “bed & breakfast”, they came to my apartment for made-to-order, prosciutto/grana/peperoni/cipolla omelettes with bread, jam, blood orange juice and strong coffee. Once they had been fueled for the day, we headed for the subway.

It was a day to scout for Leonardo around town; he had lived in Milano for 20 years as a young man and left his mark across the city. Our first stop was the Castello Sforzesco, an impressive moat-encircled castle in the center of town. From there we moved on to The Museum of Science and Technology and its Leonardo da Vinci exhibit.

We saw some incredible models representing the ideas in Leonardo’s Codex Atlanticus!

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We had 3:30 tickets for The Last Supper and needed to check in a half hour beforehand. Their tours are very precise in their beginnings and endings so that they can best control the atmosphere within the chamber that hosts the fragile mural. To actually SEE the original painting, the inspiration for so many reproductions and college lectures, is an experience to add to a lifetime.

Earl and Matthew were both spent after our sightseeing. We each wolfed down a panino of prosciutto, brie and “red mayonnaise” then headed back to the subway. I was heading north to buy our train tickets for the next day, and they were going to test their navigational skills and get themselves back to their hotel. (Matthew had great fun later trying to convince me that they had gotten lost and had been wandering around for hours.)

We regrouped later for evening skype sessions with the folks back home. (At 6:00 pm here, it’s 9:00 am on the U.S. West Coast.)

The big question was “where shall we go for dinner?” With so many options, I wavered in my recommendation, but kept thinking about octopus and potatoes at the Carlotta Café south along the canal. I wasn’t sure how adventurous Matthew would be, but we went anyway, and took a cab since neither the subway nor our feet would get us there easily.

Dinner was DIVINE. If you ever want a good meal in Milano, head to the Carlotta Café! Matthew ordered gnocchi with speck, (like a lightly smoked prosciutto) and rucola (arugula) in a fabulous, creamy sauce.

Apparently, Matthew really liked the sauce! (Matthew! I can’t believe you did that!)

Earl and I ordered the evening special, a 7-course, fish-based meal that kept the food coming all night. At our first urging, Matthew took a little taste of the fresh-caught anchovies and he was hooked from then on. He quickly swooped in on a half dozen of the slim, silvery filets, then scooped up a portion of the much-anticipated octopus and potatoes. I was pleased by his willingness to sample the seafood variety.

Our 29 Euro-per-person meal included:
– “Paper Music” bread, hot, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with salt
Piovra tiepida con patate e olive (Octopus with potatoes, olives and olive oil)
Alici marinate (Fresh anchovies on a bed of rucola)
Carpaccio di spada (thin slices of raw swordfish)
Ostriche (Raw oysters)
Paccheri all’isolana (pasta, tomato, tuna, basil)
Spaghetti con bottarga (spaghetti with grated, dried tuna roe)
Branzino vernaccia (Roasted branzino fish with olives)
Mirto (an after-dinner liqueur from myrtle leaves and berries)
Pardule (a star-shaped, pastry desert from Sardegna)

We ordered a nice, chilled bottle of Vermentino di Sardegna vino bianco to go with our seafood.

By the end of the evening we were having quite the time chatting with Erik, our wonderful waiter. When other restaurant patrons ordered a roasted, suckling pig, Erik brought it by to show us. And when it was time to leave, we met the chef/owners and the others in the kitchen, complimenting them on our fantastic meal.

Carlotta Café
Alzaia Naviglio Pavese, 274
20142 Milano
Tel: 02-89546028

The next day we hopped the train northeast, to the town of Varenna, along the eastern shore of Lago di Como (Lake Como). Earl and Matthew were scheduled to meet with a travel group at 5:00 that evening to continue their whirlwind tour. Since I hadn’t seen Varenna before, I accompanied them on the train trip and to their steep hillside room-with-a-view. From their balcony, they looked almost due west to Bellagio (hidden by the 3 tall cypress trees), and north to the town of Varenna.

We had a little wander around the town and a lunch by the lake shore.

After lunch, we walked just around the bend for a treat of pistacchio, coconut and vanilla gelati, which we ate while leaning on the railing looking out over the water. We said our goodbyes, gave each other hugs, and then went our separate ways for our own exploration.

We had two very full, delicious and beautiful days! What an introduction for Matthew – nicknamed “Mateo” – to the sights and food of Italy. I’ll be curious to know what his highlights are.

It’s Tomato Season

It’s Tomato Season

It’s hot. It’s sunny. And this weather is exactly what tomatoes love. They are deep red, full of flavor and SWEET! Some I buy directly from the farm down the road. Some come from Sicilia. It is tomato heaven and there’s no reason to eat anything else except as an accompaniment to the tomatoes: fresh basil, fresh mozzarella, olive oil, oregano, bresaola, bruschetta, etc. Ahh! You should be here!

After La Montanara, Why Eat Again?

After La Montanara, Why Eat Again?

“I don’t have to eat anything the entire rest of my life. Nothing could be better than this meal”, said Sally.

It’s worth a trip to Bologna just to eat at Trattoria La Montanara. This small restaurant serves food that will make you swoon. (Be sure to reserve a table ahead of time so you’re not disappointed.)

Sally and I took the train from Milano to Bologna, just a little over an hour. After sightseeing, our day’s highlight was the delicious dinner, seated next to the open doors at the sidewalk’s edge.

The antipasti plate included a prosciutto mousse, quiche of zucchini and smoked scamorza cheese, eggplant pudding with olive tapenade, and a spinach/sausage combo (already devoured by the time I shot this photo.)

Creamy, cheesy, risotto of asparagus and zucchini flowers. Oh my!!! Divine.

Tortelloni of potato and pancetta with a butter and sage sauce.

If you’re a meat eater, what could be better than a perfectly cooked filet with a thick, balsamic vinegar sauce?

Trattoria La Montanara
Via Augusto Righi, 15
40126 Bologna, Italia
Tel: 051 221583

Kitty Fix on Ricotta Day

Kitty Fix on Ricotta Day

Wednesday is “ricotta day”, the day they make fresh ricotta at the Cascina Femegro.

Even though I had just been there yesterday, a sunny afternoon and the thought of hours-fresh ricotta on some nice bread easily convinced me to hop on my bike. I headed south along the canal, and turned west into the farmland.

There are old, stone troughs spanning the drainage ditches that wind through the farmland.

The one-lane road is cyclists’ heaven. Add sunshine overhead on a spring day, and it’s perfection.

I bought 4 tubs of cheese: 1 for me, and 3 to give away to friends. I had no idea at the time that “friends” would include 9 cats in a lazy-but-playful huddle at another farm along the way home. They very cautiously came over to me as I crouched at the road side, did the “kitty squeak” and rubbed my fingers together trying to entice them. I’ve seen them there before, either on or under the roof of the small outbuilding at this historic building. The most affectionate was the tabby mamma cat that wallowed in the attention.

“OK”, I thought, “The ricotta was cheap. These kitties would enjoy it so much.” Yes. I unwrapped a domed mound of ricotta and split it up into several locations, allowing the timid cats to have a bite to eat away from the more dominant cats. After eating ’til their bellies were full, each found a spot in the sun and did their contented cat preening.

It was nice to get my “kitty fix” since I’m catless here in Milano (and since my kitty, Laddie, has died back in Seattle during my absence).

I wonder what the farmer will think when he finds the empty ricotta tub, and some remnants of cheese…

Springtime in Italy

The windows are open to the day’s remaining warmth while trout and green beans grill and steam for dinner.

I had awakened this morning to bright sun direct into my bedroom, and the day held promise. After some tasks around the house and a light lunch, I went for a bike ride along the canal, past magnolias, cherry trees and forsythia, and then west into the farm land. I rode to the dairy and bought grana padano and fresh scamorza cheeses. Tomorrow, Wednesday, is fresh ricotta day. That’s worth riding back to the farm for! They will have just finished making it by afternoon and it’s so light and fresh it should be eaten by the spoonful out of its tub.

The rice paddies are green with the first new growth, and I dreamily followed the curled road back through them, returning to the canalside path. The temperature and sunny, blue sky were so delicious, and I felt warm and easy.

Head Cheese & Olive Bread

Head Cheese & Olive Bread

After the flea market at Piazza dei Ciompi in Firenze last Sunday, I walked a few blocks further and saw yellow-tented stalls. Hmm. A food market: cheeses, meats, breads and a few other goodies. Some from Toscana (Tuscany), Firenze’s region. Some spicier ones from the south.

‘Nduja is a casing-stuffed meat that is spicy and spreadable. Very nice with good bread.

“Do you have a problem with cholesterol? Diet? The solution is Tometta (cheese) of 100% pure goats milk. Lower fat content.”

How about some deer meat salame?

I sampled gorgonzola mixed with black truffle and bought a little tub of that to take home. Sampled from a big round of pecorino. Then walked up to a meat vendor that fed me enough samples that I didn’t need lunch. They offered huge, cased, cured meats from which they’d shave a piece and use the knife to hand it to me: prosciutto, porchetta, salame, soppressata. I tried them all, peppered and mild, whole, ground and chunked and knew I wanted to buy a piece. After all the samples, I was indecisive because I liked them all, but I bought soppressata.

In the photo below, soppresatta is the large-chunk round near the black-rind cheese.

In nine months this is one meat I hadn’t tried yet because it’s a Tuscan meat and not so common up north. My markets don’t offer it. Soppressata is made of the left over parts of the pig: cartilage, tongue, head scraps… you name it, nothing’s wasted. The head is boiled for a few hours then picked of meat, skin and all “edible parts”. All of the picked bits are chopped large, seasoned, and stuffed into a casing about 10″ across. The broth from cooking is poured into the casing to cover the meat parts. It is then hung and the liquid thickens and binds everything into a solid. (In the U.S., it might be called “head cheese”.)

The soppresatta that this vendor offered had a nice peppery bite to it. Soppressata omelette? Soppressata burger? “They” are saying that soppressata pizza is the new big thing. I believe it.

Here’s the front end of the porchetta – roast pig.

With gorgonzola and soppressata in my bag, I continued walking. I should have bought a nice Tuscan bread to bring home on the train, but didn’t. I’ve always marveled at these HUGE loaves I see at the markets. Ask for some bread and they just whack off a chunk. These loaves are about 4 feet long.

And look at this green olive bread!

This Toma cheese is so beautiful to look at.

Eat, That You Will Feel Well

Eat, That You Will Feel Well

Would you let 30 random strangers eat off your plate? Would you, in turn, eat off the plates of those 30 strangers?

The Uovo Performing Arts Festival included one “performance” yesterday of 30 individuals, by reservation only. “Mangia che ti fa bene”, “Eat that you will feel well.” For 10 euro, or about $13.50, I walked into the room to a very long table with 30 place settings, and a variety of ingredients:

  • bread
  • water
  • eggs
  • grana cheese
  • cabbage
  • parsley
  • apples
  • beets
  • sesame seeds
  • pumpkin seeds
  • fennel
  • olive oil
  • garlic
  • spices
  • cooked peas
  • oats
  • radicchio
  • spinach
  • fresh ginger
  • lemon
  • leeks
  • carrots
  • walnuts
  • fresh herbs

We were given limited, very loose guidelines.

We each grabbed a plastic apron from the group taped to the window.

Our project was to gather whatever combination of ingredients we desired, blend them and put the mix into a paper-lined, 3″ x 5″ foil pan. The 30 of us were elbow-to-elbow at the table and we were being filmed. We had graters, sieves, knives, bowls, half-moons and cutting boards at our disposal. Notes were provided about the health-inducing properties of each food item.

We asked for ingredients to be passed. We reached across the table. We laughed and chatted and mixed with our hands until our concoctions looked just right to us. Some pressed the ingredients through sieves for a uniform consistency. Others left chunks for spikes of flavor. Some formed loaf-like logs, while others patted their mix into flat casseroles. We bound up our creations in oven paper, scrawled our names on the wrap and sent the little tins off to be baked for 30-45 minutes.

While our dinners were baking, we were served lemon-slice salad, celery sticks with honey, and braised celeriac root. For our 10 euro, we also got a glass of red wine and some herb tea.

Trays of foil tins emerged from the oven, and the hostess called out names.  One-by-one, the “performers”, the dinner guests, opened and tasted their creations. There were 30 recipes at the table. Like a groundswell, the sampling started. People reached over with their forks and sampled their neighbors’ meals, and everyone started passing their dish around for others to taste. It was remarkable the range of culinary directions we had each taken. I realized later that I could have gone in the sweet direction and combined bread, egg, apple, ginger, lemon and arrived at a dessert to contrast with all the savory gratins at the table.

I looked around, tickled, chuckling and amazed. Would this happen in the U.S.? Could it? How could I bring this experience to Seattle? To Burien? I easily tallied that the 30 people at 10 euros each only brought in 300 euros. And I looked at all the food, and the utensils, and the wine and thought that surely this was not a money-making proposition. In the U.S., liability insurance alone for a one-day event of this nature would probably be prohibitive.

And would people in the U.S. be willing to pass their dish for their unknown neighbor to sample from, and then fork a bite from their neighbor’s plate and relish the combination of ingredients different from their own?

This does give me ideas for an uncommon Thanksgiving dinner… but many in my family would likely balk at the idea. (But they wouldn’t be random strangers.)

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Here’s the official, “as advertised” description of the event:

The aftermath was a mess of a table!