To Everything There Is A Season

One of my constant whines – I can only imagine the surprise it must be for many of my friends to think I would actually whine about something – when I first returned from Italy had to do with food. It just wasn’t the same in Canada. Things weren’t fresh picked – they had been shipped in unripened and allowed (or forced chemically) to ripen in the store. There was not flavor! No great variety! And many of the vegetables and fruits were available – if in perhaps a state of tastelessness – year round. There was no seasonality!

Now given the climate in Ottawa the idea of fresh picked does have its seasonal limitations – the probability of anything growing is low and the improbability of anyone harvesting at -32c are reasonably high. But come on now variety? Would that be so hard to do?

Though things are looking up for varieties – particularly heirloom vegetables – but this photo taken at a flower shop in Sorrento will give you an indication of the variety of tomatoes that are grown in Italy.

You say tomato - I say TOMATOES! Eleven!  Count them - eleven types of tomatoes.  You name the occasion and you've got a red (yellow or green) ball of goodness that was made just for Nona's secret recipe.

Eleven – count them eleven different seed packets and none of them are “heirloom” – just your average Italian garden variety. Some for sauce, some for salad, some for roasting (god is there anything closer to heaven than roasted tomatoes?), others for stuffing, yet another for matching with a good Mozzarella di Buffala. I recall buying tomatoes from our local greengrocer (who by the way is still there and greeted us with big smiles and the hope that we were back to stay) and the first question was always: what are you using them for?

And of course what was available depended on the time of year – for everything. The watermelons were sweet and juicy in August but forget finding any on the market in September, artichokes were the last weeks of March and the first week of April, figs (the sweet, pale green skinned Italian variety) in June and July and this time of year: late October early November it’s kaki season!

A type of persimmon, but unlike any from North America I've every tasted, the kaki has a custardy texture with just a touch of astringency.  And apparently you can use it as an instrument to foretell the weather for the coming season.

Sidd joined me at Peter and Joe’s in savouring the joy of a chilled kaki ready to burst its orange skin and deliver creamy, custardy, astringent but sweet goodness.
I’m not sure if they remember my child-like (okay perhaps childish is a better adjective) joy when kaki season arrived but it was the perfect finish to a splendid meal with cherished friends in a place I love.

November 10 - 1871:Henry Morton Stanley locates missing explorer and missionary, Dr. David Livingstone in Ujiji, near Lake Tanganyika, famously greeting him with the words, "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"

Spaghetti Frittata - From Our Christmas Pot Luck

The gang at work did a pot-luck lunch today so I thought I'd bring a touch of Italy to the festivities with a spaghetti frittata.  I first had this quintessential Neapolitan dish at Leon d'Oro, a quintessential Neapolitan trattoria in Piazza Dante.  My friend Wendy loving and accurately described this friendly family run restaurant, that she visited last month,  over at Flavor of Italy.

This is a great way to use up left-over spaghetti, vegetables or whatever catches your fancy.  Its a good buffet dish, a lunch/brunch dish with a salad or as a primi for a more elaborate dinner.

1/2 lb of spaghetti*
3 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
4 eggs plus 1 egg yolk
Salt
Fresh ground pepper
Other ingredients can be added - almost anything that you would normally use with spaghetti - bacon, cooked zucchini, roast peppers, basil, canned tomatoes or left-over tomato sauce. 

1. Cook spaghetti until just slightly al dente - it will undergo further cooking later.
2. Drain and toss while still hot with butter, Parmesan and parsley and allow to cool completely
3. Lightly beat eggs in a small bowl with salt and pepper
4. Add the beaten eggs to the spaghetti and mix thoroughly
5. If you are using other ingredients they should be added and thoroughly mixed in at this point.
6. Spray a 11-12 inch non-stick skillet with Pam or 2 tablespoons of butter and heat over a medium burner until foam subsides.
7. Pour mixture into skillet and spread to an even thickness over the bottom of the pan.
8. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes without touching the pan.  The tilt the pan slightly and bring the edge closer to the centre of the heat.  Cook for  minute or so and then rotate the pan about a 1/4 turn and cook for another minute.  Continue until a full circle has been completed.  This will make sure it is cooked evenly. Lift the edge with a spatula to see if a nice golden crust has formed on the underside.
9. Place a platter slightly larger than the pan upside down over the pan and turn it over.  Let the frittata plop onto the plater.  Grease the pan again and side the frittata back into the pan.  
10. Repeat the cooking process above until the second side has formed a good golden crust.
11. Transfer to a cutting board and cut into wedges.  

It can be served hot, lukewarm or at room temperature but never just out of the refrigerator.


23 dicembre/decembre - San Giovanni da Kety

Castles of Rome

I don't know it just seems to me that that rather literal translation of Castelli Romani just doesn't say it! In fact I'm not sure there is a translation that would do the region justice.

Right on our door step - this Sunday's jaunt to Ariccia took 45 minutes, okay according to TomTom (the GPS system) it should have only taken 33 but then good old Tom doesn't always take into consideration that a whole lot of Romans are leaving the heat of the city on a Sunday morning. But the point is that within an hour's drive of the apartment there are wonderful towns to head to for a look-around, a meal - often a local specialty, a nice regional wine and a pleasant stroll.

The area is built on the remnants of a volcano which means the ground is fertile and it's been an agricultural area since people first settled in the area. Two of the craters form lakes - Albano and Nemi - which are a source of recreation for modern Romans as well as natural reservoirs for the surrounding communities.

The great Roman families of the Renaissance built summer palaces on the volcanic slopes of the area to escape the summer heat, stench and malaria of the swampy crowded city and enjoy the cool breezes of the hillsides. And of course the farms and forests around them provided produce, poultry, meat and game for their tables.

Ariccia was the summer stronghold of the Chigi papacy and the Palazzo - renovated to designs by Gian Lorenzo Bernini for Alexander VII - was the summer home of the Chigi famly until they turned it over to the city in 1988. The Piazza and Chiesa di Santa Maria Assunta in front of the Palazzo was also designed by the great Neapolitan born creator of much of what we see in Rome today.

Palazzo and Chiesa face each other across what once was a piazza and is now the main road into town. The fountains are capped with the familiar Chigi family crest. Bernini's church was modeled on the Pantheon. He had been instructed by Alexander to make it a "Pantheon Marian". The colonnades on either side, which once housed Papal offices, are now a bar and trattoria.

Behind the main altar is a fresco of the event that gives the church its name: the Assumption of the Virgin as painted by Jacques Cortois a Burgundian artist. The main decoration is the stucco work by Bernini's faithful disciple Antonio Raggi that adorns the dome. He also created the striking Evangelists stucco work for Bernini at San Tomaso di Villanova in Castel Gandolfo. And just in case there is any doubt who paid for the building of the church - there's that familiar Chigi crest again.

Church has always been theatre but in this case a church on Ariccia's Corso Garibaldi has been turned into a theatre. Town centre was almost empty on Sunday afternoon - but I discovered all the action was the other side of the Piazza - mind you it was kind of nice to have the place almost to ourselves. In the hot summer sun that bougainvillea was almost blinding in its intensity.

And it seems that each town in Castelli has its own specialties - food or wines. Frascati and Velettri are known for their wines; Nemi as I mentioned a few weeks ago is the strawberry capital of the region; and Ariccia is the home of porchetta. In the Piazza alone there are three take-aways serving only this local specialty. A boneless pork loin is rolled, stuff with herbs and slow roasted over a wood fire. Then it is sliced and served - most often cold - with various simple additions. Porcine heaven!

Corso Garibaldi ends at a belvedere overlooking the fertile farm lands of the region and it was there that we settled in for lunch at Spazio Art'è, an enoteca that was featured, so the owners proudly showed us, in a recent edition of La Cucina Italiana. The service was friendly and when I mentioned I had to be gluten-free they sprang into action showing what I could and couldn't have. So my anti-pasti was a sauted mixture of zucchini, arugula and ciccoria (chickory); followed by - what else? - Porchetta. The large plate of roast pork, enough that I took some home for dinner the next night, was served with prunes, pine nuts and a drizzle of balsamic reduction. Dolci was a tangy lemon semi-fredo which was a refreshing end to a very satisfying lunch. The meal was washed down with a very nice white "Vertus" from the region.

Though it would be nice to go back and see a bit more of the Palazzo - we took an hour long guided tour of the main rooms of the Piano Nobile, many of which were used by Lucchino Visconti in The Leopard. There were a few other areas that we had left unexplored and look definitely worth the visit. And another plate of porchetta wouldn't be so bad either.

13 luglio - San Dario

Kaki Time

No that's not a misspelled fashion statement. Its Plantae Ericales Ebenaceae Diospyros time of year here in Italy. Its guaranteed that in late October-early November a wander past any fruit stand or market display will reveal white Styrofoam trays holding three ripe orange/brown/golden yellow squishy balls of delicious goodness. Or there will be bins of yellow hard fruit ready to take home and ripen on the window sill. And they will appear as a frutta along with the ubiquitous ananas (pineapple) on restauarnt menus.

In North America we call them persimmons, in other places they are Shizi, Date Plums, Black Sapote or Mabolo depending on the variety and location. The variety grown in Italy - 5th in worldwide persimmon production - is the Japanese persimmon or Kaki.

Persimmon is not a fruit that I ate much back in Canada - maybe in a pudding once or twice at Thanksgiving but that it would be about it. As I recall North American persimmons were small and even when ripe had a slight astringency that could be almost unpleasant. Not so the Kaki - Kakis??? what is the plural? - appearing in the markets here. They are large, plump and soft to the point of appearing to the unaccustomed eye as being overripe. When split open they reveal a sweet, custardy centre with two seeds encased in gelatin. And the taste - well for me it brings to mind the Ancient Greek appellation: Fruit of the Gods.

As well as having all sorts of medicinal and nutritional value it appears the seeds can be used as a weather oracle. According to Wikipedia:

It is said that one can predict the winter by taking the seeds out of some persimmons and then slicing the seeds. The shape that shows up the most inside each seed will indicate what kind of winter to expect.

The three shapes resemble three eating utensils:
A Knife - there will be a cold icy winter (as in the wind will slice through you like a knife).
A Spoon - there will be plenty of snow for to shovel.
A Fork - there will be a mild winter.

I'll have to try that tonight and let you know what my kaki predicts - though I would be surprised if many spoons showed up here in Italy.

28 ottobre - I Santi Simone il Cananeo e Guido

Stuffed Peppers, Anyone?

Despite the name I've been assured the food is exceptional.
Apparently this restaurant was indeed once a Taxidermist's. And Salvador Dali was one of their regular customers. One occasion as well as ordering a lion, a tiger, a rhinoceros for a show he was creating in the adjacent Plaza Real, he also ordered 200,000 ants! I'm still trying to figure out how you stuff 200,000 ants - and with what?

22 marzo - San Benvenuto

I'm Such an Ex-Pat II

That old adage about great minds etc. Well don't I go over to visit Michelle at Bleeding Espresso this morning and what's she talking about but the way to make an ex-pat happy. And how is that - comfort food from home, of course. And I thought my little shopping trip on Sunday was an adventure, take a look at all the goodies she stocked up on. The comments from various ex-pats and ex-ex-pats and would be ex-pats give a great insight into living away from home.

And she got bacon too!

06 gennaio - La Epiphania

Frutta Fesca

This morning when I walked down the hall to the kitchen the mingled scents of peaches and melon were filling the air.


20 lulgio - San Elia profeta

Parlo di Piu e del Meno

• According to Blue the in-flight magazine for Aegean Airlines 2008 has been declared the year of the Feta by the Greek Government! Greek cheese manufactures have been up in arms over the imitation feta coming out of Denmark, Holland and Germany the past few years. It’s a billion dollar industry worldwide so the financial stakes are high and Greek producers are worried about cheap imitations that pass themselves off as the real thing. Feta marketing is going into full swing in Greece and throughout Europe. The new EU safeguards on Feta labelling – wouldn’t you have loved to hear that resolution, no doubt defining percentage of water, salt and curd content, read onto the order paper – guarantee that within Europe only Greek Feta can bear the proud name. Look for the πραγματική ελληνική φέτα on the label.

Parsi took us for lunch at a wonderful place called Cinnamon - traditional Greek with a twist. As you can see we dug in.

• Yes we have recycling here in Rome and many of us collect our plastic, paper and other recyclables to put in the handy bins on the streets. The problem appears to be that the city forgets to collect them.

• I now feel that I have finally arrived in Rome. I have become a regular customer at a barber shop at the bottom of Via Nazionale. I first went there because it was close to the language school and open. There are two barbers – Walter, an older bespectacled gentleman with a trim goatee and an air of ownership, Mimo, a younger more casual gentleman with a permanent tan and an artful comb over – and Luisa, an extremely attractive full-figured lady, who does the manicures, scalp massages and general reception and clean-up.
  
  I was made to feel welcome, despite a struggle with language, from the first time I walked in off the street. Mimo is my barber - Walter only deals with former Prime Minister Prodi, President Napolitano and the older long-time clients. But that’s fine because Mimo does an exceptional job with my fastly thinning hair. Luisa makes sure the nails are trimmed and glossy and gives the most relaxing scalp message immaginable. All the little formalities are observed – we shake hands on arrival and departures, health of my colleague (Laurent, who also goes there now) is always enquired after and the proper greetings and wishes for any approaching festival are exchanged. And we even have our little jokes about my bad Italian and Luisa’s emerging English.
  
  The day before we left for Athens I noticed that is was “almost time to buy a violin” as my mother use to say. As we were going to opening night at the opera with Parsi on the Friday I felt a haircut was in order. I dropped into the barber shop to see if they could take me after school at 4:30 but Mimo was booked up from 2 until 6. Luisa did a bit of fiddling, some frowning, then told me to come back at 4:15 and sent me on my way with a cheery “a presto.” I arrived back at 4:15 and somehow someone had been pushed back, someone else had been pushed forward and I was cut, manicured and massaged.
  
  When a man's barber does that for him, he knows he's arrived wherever he is.

• And a final sign from Athens. When Parsi took us to lunch in the newly redeveloped Gaz area we saw this sign on a building near the restaurant. Anyone want to guess what it is?

25 marzo - Annunciazione del Signore

To Market To Market

Like most of the good citizens of Rome we head out to our local market on Saturday morning. We have a large two story enclosed market on Via Libia - all the streets in our neighborhood bear the names of places in Italy's former African colonies hence the area name Africano - about four blocks from the apartment. Strangely its also the same building where I go to get my Resident papers processed. The area just in front of the market is crowded with temporary stalls selling everything under God's sun and there's a small park much favoured by Senior Citizens and their patient Filipino caregivers


The first floor is fruit and vegetables, the second meat, fish, cheese, breads, wines, clothing and sundries. Its noisy, its crowded and at first confusing; now we have the stalls we go to regularly where we know we'll be greeted warmly, our bad Italian tolerated and kindly corrected, little extras will be thrown in and a piece of cheese or one or two olives proffered for our tasting.

It is unusual to see two men shopping together here in Rome and we sometimes get stares from other customers. At first it was a bit disconcerting but now we just smile and say buon giorno. One Saturday morning when I went marketing by myself the Nonna (grandmother) at one of our preferred vegetable stalls was most concerned that "il aultro signore e ammalatto?" I assured her that Laurent was fine and we settled down to choose vegetables for the minestrone.
One of the great things about the markets here is that there is still a certain sense of seasonality to things. As an example figs - in September and October there were fresh sweet juicy figs from Italy, in November and December Turkish figs that were not as tasty and now there are none to be found anywhere. And we have a wide variety of choices - at the moment there are three types of cherry tomatoes available and which ones you buy depends on what you are using them for.

Its also artichoke season and there was a choice of five or six kinds. We asked one of the ladies to prepare six of the globe artichokes for us and within a minute she had them trimmed, acetated with lemon juice and ready to be steamed, sprinkled with Pecorino, breadcrumbs and parsley for Sunday night's dinner.

Our deli of choice is always Mauro's; the first time we went there the young lady in the picture was so helpful, pleasant and jolly we just kept coming back. And the cheeses, cured meats and olives are the best in our particular market. They also do some very nice antipasti - grilled eggplant rolls stuff with sun-dried tomato and marinated in a spicy olive oil is a favorite in our house. And the fact that Mauro is a bit of a hot daddy doesn't hurt either.

There's so much available at the markets here in the way of seafood - fish, shellfish, eels etc. We still haven't gotten adventuresome enough to actually buy any. Neither of us are familiar with many of the fish caught in this area of the world other than Rumbo (which we have frequently at our local trattoria Lemoncini.) And though there may be 5 different varieties of eel available I'm not about to prepare them in my kitchen.

The people at our favorite butchers' are more than happy to put up with the strange mix of Italian-French-Spanish-English Laurent and I attempt to communicate in. There have been times when we've resorted to pantomime - my attempt to buy a whole turkey rather than bits and pieces is still the talk of the second floor. And being Italy, of course, other customers are more than willing to get into the act - advise is freely dispensed on why you don't want a particular cut of meat or what you should do with the one you just bought. Unlike most of our neighbors we have a very large upright freezer - most Romans will buy meat in small quantities every day or two. We tend to buy larger portions, which must raise the unasked question about how many people there actually are in our family. I'm often tempted to wave my hand in an extravagant manner at our bundles and exclaim: Per i otto bambini (For the 8 little ones). And I think we get the odd stare now!

The market photos were taken by Laurent this past Saturday, February 23, 2008.

26 febbraio - San Nestore

29 Hours in Milano - Savini Sweets

On Wednesday I headed into Centro - which in Milano means the area of the Duomo and Galleria Vittorio Emanuale. And wouldn't you know it I hit Savini just in time for a morning cappucc and a pear and chocolate fagottini - no it's a pastry, okay! Honestly you people!

Though I'm not all that big a sweet person I love the displays - you can almost feel the pounds going on as you look at them.

I really want to try that little mountain of meringue and whipped cream in the upper left, all studded with candied fruit and violets... hmmm candied violets. No don't think Homer ever said that!

A simple fruit salad becomes a work of culinary art. Notice the red-green-white of the Dragon Fruit - the colours of the flag of Italy.

It may just be me but even the flowers look good enough to eat.

14 febbraio - San Valentino

Food! Glorious Food?

Fortnum and Mason are known for their Food Hampers, incredible Wine Shop and though their Food Hall may not be as glorious as it once was its still pretty wonderful for a foodie. Cheeses, meats, pastries - savoury and sweet - are displayed with taste and a certain elegance. The world famous hampers would be a delight to receive - though Deb thought that one particularly generous fruit basket destined for a hospital would probably become a feast for the nurses and aides as there was just too much for any poor sod in convalescent mode.

Amongst the various sauces, the Patum Peperium* (A Gentleman's Relish) and English condiments we found these items for the jaded palate.




As my dear old mom use to say when she overcooked the roast - which was every Sunday: Put a bit of horseradish on it and it'll go down a treat.

* I did a major misspelling of this but have corrected it. All I had to do was check the one in the cupboard.

26 gennaio - SS Tito e Timoteo

Food! Glorious Food! - And Sartorial Options

Deb and I had our lunch at Fortnum and Mason's Fountain Restaurant last Wednesday before the Panto. Its a pleasant room in shades of mint and white with the F & M crest in gold highlighted fretwork, large windows looking out on to busy Jermyn Street, marble tables, crisp linen, heavy silverware, comfortable seating and very attentive waitstaff. And the food was excellent.

Based on Jonathan's recommendation we both had the Cêpes mushrooms in garlic cream to start - just the right amount of garlic to set off the woodsy mushers. Deb decided on the Seared Chicken Liver salad as her mains - ruccolo, lentils, large bacon bits and chicken liver, all crusty on the outside and pink on the inside. She was mightily pleased with her choice.

And that would be himself - looking like a deer caught in the head lights, there is a reason I don't post photos of myself too often - tucking into his Welsh Rarebit with grilled tomato and thick bacon rashers. Rarebit can often end up tasting like a bland grilled cheese sandwich - but this was a tangy blend of very old Cheddar, ale and mustard. And I had to have an order of Chips to go with it - you'll notice they came in a a silver bucket lined with a white linen napkin - classy and tasty. A glass of Pouilly Fuissé, at a very reasonable price, was a fine accompaniment. Deb being a wise woman skipped the sweet menu but I had a light Butter Milk and Honey Pana Cotta with roasted figs. We just had time for coffee, pay the bill and dash over to the Picaddilly Tube station and head across the river for the Panto.

During lunch I had glanced out the window and saw that Thomas Pink was having a shirt sale. We didn't have time after lunch so retraced our steps after the Panto. Let me explain that when you have an athletic build like mine - waits patiently for hysterical laughter to die down - it is difficult to get dress shirts that fit in North America. If I get the right neck size the shoulders are down around my elbows and the cuffs trail like gorilla paws; if I get the right sleeve length I turn a bright red and my Margaret Rutherford-like chins give me the air of a Dickensian bailiff about to foreclose on a poor widow. But shirt stores like Pink's have dress shirts in every conceivable size combination and style. A few whip rounds of the old tape measure and the friendly salesperson - a young lady from Virginia of all places - produced two shirts one French blue, one white, regular one-button cuff, button-down collar, size 16 neck, size 34 1/2 sleeve. The credit card was whipped out - American Express stockholders made happy and I now have 3 dress shirts that actually fit.

22 gennaio - San Vincenzo Martiri