Life: This Italian Life Plus One

  SARONNO, Italy - It seems like a lifetime ago that I posted that last article. So much has happened, not only to my eyes but to my life. Obviously my eyesight is better, not 100 percent, but certainly good enough to start writing again and that makes me very happy. I miss my little blog and I’m delighted to be back, even if I have to limit my posts to once a week.

 My Darling Daughter

But there have been other changes as well. My all-grown-up daughter is living with me now. We had been talking about it for well over a year, skyping almost every night, her from New York and me here in Saronno,  making plans and planning trips as I tried to make Italy sound like Paradise on Earth. Even with my super selling skills there were times, many times, when I thought it would never happen. 

While it wasn’t exactly a “hold your nose”and jump" moment for her, after all she was coming to her mother and her mother’s protective embrace, I understand how difficult a  decision it was for her to make. Life is different here. Milan is not New York, and Saronno, well Saronno isn’t even a borough. Not to mention the problem of her not speaking Italian. 

“Not to worry,” I said.

But there was plenty to worry about. In the beginning I hovered over her like a helicopter.  Certainly she thought I was just being an over-protective parent, but the truth is after waiting half my lifetime for this very moment, I was terrified to let her out of my sight. How could I let her go to Milan alone? What if she didn’t come back? She doesn’t speak Italian and she wanted to go – by herself – into a city of 1.5 million people, none of whom speak one word of English (only a slight exaggeration). What if she gets lost, gets hurt, gets scared, who will help her? My rational self knew it was a ridiculous fear but that didn’t stop my heart from pounding every second she was gone and no matter what I did it wouldn’t stop until she walked back in through the door. 

It was actually worse than that. I didn’t even want her wandering the streets of bucolic Saronno. How could I put into words the years of heartbreak and worry that I suffered so deeply when we were separated? How could I explain the overwhelming love and emotion I felt at actually having her near me again, of the joy of being able to go into the next room and hug her whenever I wanted to, and I wanted to a thousand times a day. How could I risk losing that? I couldn’t. This is my baby girl we are talking about.

But that phase has passed. I’m sure she’s more than delighted that I’m not calling her every five minutes just to see how she is. What she doesn’t  know is what torture it is not to call her. All I want is to hear her voice and be reassured that she is still alive. And I swear it’s only when I think I’m going to explode with worry that I pick up the phone and dial her number now.  

In the meantime things in Italy are changing faster than the speed of light and there is much to be said about that, but it will have to wait.  Here in Saronno I am taking each day as it comes, grateful for each and every one.  And that’s as it should be. See you next Sunday. And yes, Zaronno still rulez.

AUNTIE PASTA: Amerigo the Beautiful

GENOVA, Italy - This is a story about food, the food prepared and served on the mythical Italian sailing ship the Amerigo Vespucci. In the 74 years the ship has been around, the Amerigo Vespucci and its crew of 16 officers, 70 non-commissioned officers and 200 sailors and cadets of the Italian Naval Academy have sailed into ports all over the world. And good sailor that it is, it throws a party at every port it sails into.

Party Time on the Amerigo Vespucci

Some of the on-board parties are as elegant as dining at the Ritz, while others are as informal as a Texas barbeque. If you are lucky enough to be invited to sit at the Captain’s table you’ll be served by a waiter in a starched white jacket and white gloves. You’ll be offered your choice of two starters, two first plates and three main courses, one of which will be a fish dish, plus vegetables, fruit and desert. And after dinner a drink up on deck with the Captain is in order. Throw in a full moon, a couple of stars and you'll think you have landed in a scene from the James Bond classic Diamonds Are Forever.

But life on board ship is not all gold trimmed dishes, damask tablecloths and walks in the moonlight, especially for the young sailors who keep all the brass fittings spit shined and the sails billowing. Life onboard goes on 24 hours a day which means the sailors work in shifts and the kitchen has to be ready to put out food, even at midnight. 

Welcome Aboard

The cooks are all graduates of one of Italy’s prestigious hotel schools. After their culinary training period they can stay onboard, working in the kitchen for five years. It is probably one of the most difficult jobs on the ship. Not only is the kitchen small and cramped, but when the ship is in port and the rest of the crew get time off, the kitchen crew is working double time. There are always visiting dignitaries to entertain, cocktail parties and dinner parties to host.

For seven months a year about 450 people eat, sleep and live on this three mast full rigged sailing ship. Their day is organized around meal times: when the ship is in port breakfast is served from 7 to 8, lunch at 1 and dinner at 7:30. When the ship is at sea and operating 24 hours a day, meals are served twice in a 24 hour period. They try to keep life on-board as normal as possible and even at midnight when the night crew is about to start its shift, the cooks are in front of the ovens pulling out pizzas for those who want to eat something before they start work.

Seconds Anyone?

The kitchen routine must be carefully controlled, especially when the ship is out on the sea. It would create serious problems to run out of flour, water, meat and pasta when the ship is far from shore sailing the ocean blue. But it isn’t enough to stock up on these staples; the chefs must also offer balanced and varied meals. These sailors wouldn't dream of eating leather hides, wormy biscuits, and whatever rats they catch like the sailors who traveled with the early explorers.

As the ship prepares to leave for a long journey, dozens and dozens of tons of non-perishable foods and high quality Italian food like Parmigiano Reggiano cheese and San Daniele prosciutto are brought on board. At each stop hundreds of kilos of perishables, like fresh fruit, vegetables, eggs and milk, are restocked, while other non-perishables, like cans of tomatoes, pasta and frozen foods are restocked every month. 

Amerigo the Beautiful

It takes a lot of food to run the ship. 500 meals are served each day, plus breakfast. This number swells to 900 during the summer months when there are more people onboard and buffets for up to 250-300 guests must be prepared. Buffet menus call for five types of antipasti, four types of first dishes, four main dishes plus salads, vegetables and of course, spectacular deserts. 

Even though the ship is large there is limited storage space. Food and drinks are stored in special out-of-the-way areas under the stairs deep in the bowels of the ship. There are two storage sections for dry food and two groups of refrigerator/freezers for fresh and frozen foods. All the food to be prepared for parties big and small must be brought up the steep and narrow stairs. When the sea is a little choppy and the ship is bobbing and dipping on the waves you can well imagine the challenge of carrying trays of jiggly Panna Cotta while trying to keep your balance as you squeeze up the narrow stairwells.

Regular meals are prepared in the “big” kitchen where the stoves, grills, deep fryers and refrigerators are. Food for special parties, wine tastings for 40-50 people, cocktails for 100 or buffet dinners for up to 300 are prepared in the “small” kitchen, which is even smaller than the “big” kitchen.

The cooks on this historic ship may spend most of their time hidden away in the depths of the kitchens but their work is essential. It is their job to keep the crew of the Amerigo Vespucci healthy and happy with a cuisine that matches the rich and vibrant history of the ship itself.

Comments and observations are always welcomed at thisitalianlife@yahoo.com

AUNTIE PASTA: La Pescaria

Venice, Rialto Bridge

VENICE, Italy - With dawn’s first light breaking over the Venetian lagoon, the fish merchants of the Rialto market are already at work on their displays of fresh fish and seafood culled that morning from just beyond the Venetian lagoon. The fish market, called La Pescaria, is not very big, about thirty or so fishmongers and their helpers. They stand under canvas canopies supported by age-old colonnades. What you see today may not be that old, but seafood has been sold in this spot for more than 500 years.

The Rialto market has always been much more than just a fish and food market. In the past it was the major trading point between the Byzantine Empire and the Venetian Empire. Its location, near the Rialto Bridge is particularly important as the bridge, which connects the district of San Polo with the district of San Marco across the Grand Canal, was the only way to cross the Canal on foot for hundreds of years.

And for hundreds of years, the fishmongers have stacked, iced and priced the prawns, scampi, squid, baby octopus and fish of every size and color. Today they head for the closest bar before the chefs of Osteria Da Fiore, Hotel Albergo Cipriani and other posh restaurants and hotels start making the rounds in search of their piatto del giorno. And right on their heels are the local housewives, who are just as critical about freshness and taste as the chefs.

If they are lucky they will find granseole today. Granseole are small crabs, about as big as a man’s hand, that are found in the rich vast tidal basins of the marshes around the island of Murano. While crabs are good to eat at any time, during the spring and autumn something happens to them that makes them even more delicious: the young male crabs shed their shells in order to grow larger ones. During this change, the muta, fishermen catch the crabs and put them in a special tank called vieri. They are held there for about a day, just long enough for them to be soft enough to eat, shell and all. At that point they are no longer called granseole but moleche, soft shell crabs, and they are quickly carried off to the Rialto fish market to be sold.

There are two good ways to eat them: the first is fried. My first encounter with fried soft shelled crabs was in Bookbinder’s in Philadelphia. A friend of mine, Ken Klein, convinced me to try them. I confess I was a little squeamish at the beginning, but by the end of the meal I was licking my fingers just like everyone else around the table.

The easiest way to cook them is to coat them with flour and fry them in oil. I think Bookbinders coated them with breadcrumbs, but it was a long time ago and I may be wrong. Mostly I remember how delicious they were.

Another way to cook soft shell crabs is to stuff them, or rather, let them stuff themselves. Put the live crabs in a bowl of beaten eggs, salt and grated parmesan cheese and let them sit and take in this mix for a few hours. When they have eaten their fill, take them out, coat them with flour and fry them in hot oil. They may not look particularly appetizing, but they truly are. The texture is soft and creamy, the taste a cross between crab, oyster and lobster and all good things from the sea.

ON THE ROAD: Lost in Venice

This is another in the series of monthly travel articles inspired by a New York Times article on 31 places to see in 2010. All of the towns on my list are in Italy, most are small, rich in history and art and for the most part off the beaten track except for this month which features Venice, a city whose track most definitely has been beaten.

VENICE, Italy – If you have even visited Venice you know first-hand that finding your way around is difficult. Even the locals get lost and scratch their heads at the confusion. But the reasons why the city is the way it is are simple: it’s the illogical way the city is numbered. They use a system based on a centuries old concept of the civic number, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Venice, Grand Canal

Let me back up and start with how the city is organized. There are 118 islands that make up central Venice divided into six wards known as sestieri. Within each ward, buildings, parts of buildings and in some cases even walls and boarded up windows are numbered in ascending order. In the smallest ward, Santa Croce, the numbers run from one to 2359, in Castello, the largest, from one to 6828.

Because everything is numbered in sequence, if you are looking for Number 73 Calle Porta, in Santa Croce, the building could very well be across the street from building number 624. It depends on how long the street is. To add to the confusion, if you are looking for a business most of them have two addresses: the street address and the post office address. For example, the building at Castello 5138 and the one at Calle Lunga S. Maria Formosa 5138 is actually the same Venetian mask shop.

Venice, High Water on the Grand Canal

In addition to sequential numbering and two addresses many of the city’s three thousand streets have the same name. For example there are at least fifteen Calle del Spezier and twenty-three Calli del Magazeri. Adding the name of the sestieri might be a good idea, like Calle del Forno 1752, sestieri of Canaregio. Except that within the sestieri of Canaregio there are nine separate Calle del Forno, each one as independent as a sassy three-year-old, not to mention fourteen separate Calle Del Spezieri, and thirty-one Calle Della Chiesa.

During the 12th century the Great Council of Venice decided to impose a property tax and divided the city into the six wards we see today, but a fixed numbering system was never established. When city managers wanted to take a census, they would simply assign temporary numbers to the buildings. You can still see traces of these numbers, in the form of Roman numerals, carved on many doorframes throughout the city.

Venice, No. 2566 Calle ?

It wasn't until 1801, four years after Venice fell under the rule of Napoleon, that the city was mapped and the names of canals, streets and alleys were stenciled on building walls and at street corners. The French organized the city on the basis of two numerical progressions, one for each side of the Grand Canal, and the numbers were written on the buildings in black. Each ward was then assigned a separate progressive numbering system with no regard to street names. That system was consolidated in 1841 and at that time it was decided that the numbers would be written in red with a black border.

Venice, Is this Really 1552?

You can still see those numbers on many of the buildings. In fact it is not unusual to see buildings that have all three: Roman numerals, black numbers with black borders and red numbers with black borders. You will also see three or four different numbers painted on a blank wall or above a bricked over door. Those numbers represent buildings that have been torn down or buildings that have been consolidated into two or more larger structures. It was much easier to paint numbers on a wall than renumber the entire neighborhood.

Venice, No 2822. Is this the place?

Armed with an enlarged photocopy of a map of the ward of Santa Croce, a friend of mine decided to test the French system. On paper the ward looks like a rectangle and initially she thought it would be a fairly straight forward challenge. Here’s her story.

She started with number 900, which begins midway along Fondamenta Rio Marin (a fondamenta is the wide sidewalk along a canal, a rio is an internal canal). The numbers 900, 901/a and /b were followed by 901/c, 902 and 903 which she found after a right turn onto the Calle dei Squartai. At the end of the street, the numbers crossed the calle, backtracked down along the opposite side and returned to the fondamenta where they continued. For no apparent reason number 913 came before 912.

Venice. This Way To the Train Station

She said the numbers continued in more or less a straight line until Campo Santo, the smallest of the two church yards of the Church of San Simeon. At this point the numbers went around the church yard and then down a nameless street which opened onto the larger church yard, Campo San Simeon. From there the numbers continued around that church yard until they reached the Hotel ai Due Fanali, which has number 946 on the front door and 949 on the back door. Number 947 is the right-hand window of the hotel lobby and she said she never did find 948. While number 950 is a real building, numbers 951 to 956 are simply stenciled on a wall. A dead end. At that point she gave up. I would have too.

Venice, Bridge of Sighs

But not all is lost.The city father’s understand the dilemma and the city is well marked. And if you do get lost, well half the fun of Venice is wandering through the church yards and over bridges, finding yourself in a maze and finding your way out again, isn’t it?

AUNTIE PASTA: Back of the Box

SARONNO, Italy - Even before the idea for this blog was fully developed, I knew I wanted the Auntie Pasta page to be about food, but not about recipes. But since then I have included some recipes on this blog, and in going through my collection of recipes the day, I found there were others that I would like to share with you as well.

What got me thinking about recipes was the review of the new summer cookbooks in the Sunday New York Times last week, including one that claims to teach you what your grandmother never taught you. Grandmothers seem to play an important part in the cooking lives of a lot of people, me for one.

My Grandmother was a very good cook but I never saw her open a cookbook, in fact I don’t think there were any cookbooks in her house. She just seemed to know what to do. She, like most women of her generation, had learned to cook by watching and doing what she was told when she was a kid growing up in Italy.

Preparing food was serious business in Italy at the turn of the 20th century, there wasn’t a lot of it and there was no messing around in the kitchen. She carried that philosophy with her to the New World, and when she told me to watch the pot of boiling snails on the stove and make sure none of them escaped, you’d better believe my five year old eyes were glued to that pot lid.

By the time I was given that responsibility I had eaten, and helped prepare all types of greens, tripe and snails, rabbit and venison, rolled meatballs, cut fresh pasta into strips of fettucine, chopped parsley and knew the difference between regular mint and the mintuccia that Aunt Mary sent from Italy. I was a cook in training and didn't know it.

Sometimes it was difficult not to start playing with the gooey mess that water and flour make before it becomes pasta dough, or pressing ground meat around my ten little fingers and playing an imaginary hamburger piano. It wouldn’t take much to keep me in line though; a look would usually do the trick. That was the culinary discipline part of my training.

As a young bride I would often call my mother and ask her for recipes. She was not a patient person and her instructions were short and to the point. Sometimes I would get recipes from my aunts, scribbled on scraps of paper with vague proportions and approximate instructions. They were my mentors, and even though I was young and had a lot to learn, they treated me as an equal, cooks talking to another cook.

In those days before Gourmet (unfortunately now defunct) and Food and Wine, before Julia Child made culinary history with her French Chef television series, and long, long before the advent of celebrity chefs, that is how we all learned to cook. A certain amount of knowledge was always assumed and the key points of a dish were often all you needed, i.e. clean and boil artichokes before you season them and put them in the oven to bake - a small, but crucial detail that results in being able to eat them rather than throw them away, as I did on my first solo flight into the wonderful world of artichokes.

I use quite a few recipes I find on the back of boxes of pasta and packages of things here in Italy but I’ve hesitated to include them in this blog because the instructions are often vague and the measurements approximate. But I’m wrong. You are cooks and if we speak cook to cook, I think it will work out. With that in mind, here is a Sicilian fish recipe that uses frozen codfish, but you can use any firm, white fish, fresh or frozen.

Fiori di Merluzzo di Capperi (Filets of Cod with Capers)

Defrost the fish. Chop a bunch of parsley and two garlic cloves. In a frying pan heat 3-4 tablespoons of olive oil and when it is barely hot, add half of the chopped parsley, garlic and the fish. Season with salt and pepper. When the fish filets have cooked on one side, turn them over. Add ½ glass of dry white wine and when it has evaporated add a can of chopped tomatoes. Let the fish and tomatoes cook for about 15 minutes and then add the remaining parsley and garlic, a pinch of dried oregano and two teaspoons of capers. Cook for an additional 5 minutes. The recipe suggests serving the fish with mashed or boiled potatoes but I prefer serving it over white rice.

Two suggestions: One, use capers that have been preserved in brine, not in salt; and I found that if you fry a sliced onion in the olive oil before you add the parsley, garlic and fish, it gives the dish another layer of flavor.

If you try this recipe I would appreciate knowing how it worked and what problems you had, if any. You can write to me at thisitalianlife@yahoo.com. Buon Appetito.

AUNTIE PASTA: IS DIS ARONNO?

SARONNO, Italy - Ask anyone south of Milan or north of Como where Saronno is, you’ll probably be greeted with a blank stare. Ask if they have ever eaten Amaretti DiSaronno, or spiked their coffee with Amaretto di Saronno, and everything changes.

While the word amaretto (singular) and amaretti (plural) are the diminutive of “amaro” or bitter, and mean “a little bitter”, both Amaretto DiSaronno and Amaretti diSaronno are sweet.

Amaretto DiSaronno is an almond flavored liqueur which was first made in 1525. There is a lovely little story behind the origin of this special liqueur, the story of a romance between a painter, Bernardino Luini, a student of Leonardo daVinci, who was hired to paint a series of frescos in Saronno’s most famous monument, the Sanctuary of the Blessed Virgin of the Miracles, and a local girl he hired as his model.

The story is that out of gratitude and affection she wanted to give him a gift and created a liqueur by steeping apricot kernels in brandy. The Amaretto DiSaronno sold today is made from the original recipe and imported by Bacardi. The only difference is it is now sold in a glass bottle made by a Venetian craftsman from the island of Murano.

I confess I am not a big Amaretto fan but it is good if you are making Tiramisu and on ice cream. And on one of the web sites I saw a suggestion to add it to pancake batter. Might be worth a try. Here are a few Amaretto drink recipes you might want to try:

THE FRENCH CONNECTION
1 part Amaretto liqueur
1 part Cognac
Pour ingredients over ice into an old fashioned glass and stir gently.

THE GODFATHER
1 part Amaretto liqueur
1 part Scotch
Pour ingredients over ice into an old fashioned glass and stir gently.

THE GODMOTHER
1 part Amaretto liqueur
1 part Vodka
Pour ingredients over ice into an old fashioned glass and stir gently.

AMARETTO SOUR
2 oz Amaretto
1 oz fresh lemon juice
½ oz Simple Syrup
Pour all ingredients into a cocktail shaker. Add ice, shake vigorously, and strain into a sour glass.

Amaretti di Saronno cookies are a lot younger than Amaretto di Saronno, by about 200 years. They were first made commercially in the 1700’s by the Lazzaroni family of Saronno, but they too have a story.

It seems the Cardinal of Milan was scheduled to visit Saronno. As it was a very special occasion for the town, two young lovers decided to make a special cookie in his honor. They baked up a light biscotti confection from sugar, egg whites and apricot kernels. The apricot kernels gave the cookies a slightly bitter taste, which earned them the name “amaretti”. The cookies that the Lazzaroni family make today are made from the same three ingredients and still have the beautiful crunchy-chewy texture the original cookies had. They are the only cookies that can be called diSaronno.

Lazzaroni recently opened a couple of retail shops in Saronno, one of them is on the other side of the piazza in front of my apartment building. I like the shop because it carries their full line of cookies, which are very good.

They also carry local artiginale food products I never see in the regular grocery stores. One product I buy is a dense cake similar to an American fruit cake, but with bigger chunks of fruit. It’s not overly sweet and tastes great with that first cup of coffee in the morning.

LIFE: It's About Time

SARONNO, Italy - Before I actually moved to Italy permanently, I lived in Rome for a short time. I had decided to get serious about learning to speak Italian and figured living here and taking a course at a language school would do it.

Largo Carlo Goldoni, Rome

Through the school I found a room in an apartment in the center of town that was owned by a rather odd old woman.But that's another story for another time. The school was out on the Via Nomentana, about a half hour bus ride from the Via delle Vite where I lived. It was wonderful living in the heart of Rome, and I loved every minute of it. The only real problem I had, besides trying to conjugate Italian verbs, was that for some reason I just couldn't get into the rhythm of Italian life. I kept running out of money. By the time I would get back into town from a grueling morning session with those nasty verbs, most of the banks were closed.

Via delle Vite, Rome

With my stomach growling I would wander the streets trying to find one that was open so I could change dollars into lire – remember this was pre-Euro, pre-ATM days, and buy something to eat. Anything. I wasn't always successful. Most of the time I would put together what change I had and try to make the best of it. This is when I developed my love for those fried Sicilian rice balls called arrancine, although in Rome they are actually called suppli.

And I don't even want to think about how meals I ate at the Delfino Self-Service Cafeteria, (aka cheap and filling) which if I remember correctly is at the end of the Via del Corso. Actually, if I'm going to be truthful, my inability to pick up the rhythm of Italian life was more than just about making it to the bank on time. No matter what I tried to do, it seemed like it was the wrong time to do it. But I learned. I learned the hard way, but I learned.

One of the things that amazed me was just how many people were out walking the streets of Rome in the late afternoon. One minute the city would be almost empty and the next minute it would be throbbing with life. It was as if someone had rung a bell that signaled it was time to leave the house. And it’s still true, even here in Saronno.

Via Condotti, Rome

But like I said, I learned. Now, when friends and family come to visit they seem impressed that I know what time it is without having to look at my watch. They can't figure it out, but it's really very simple. If we have been walking around for a while and the foot traffic on the street is starting to thin, it is noon and time to head home. If it is the middle of the afternoon and the bars and cafes are filling up with customers, it is 5PM and time for an apperitvo. There's no mystery to it at all, just years of observation and conditioning.

Piazza di Spagna, Rome

Italians seem to know everything about time: the best time to eat, the best time to sleep, the best time to plant seeds, the best time to harvest, even the best time to have sex. You think I'm kidding? I'm not. Not long ago Italy's major newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, published a schedule of how you should organize your day. Of course this being Italy the day does not start with Wheaties, but with . . .

7 AM - As soon as you wake up you find yourself in the ideal condition to make love because your testosterone level (the hormone that stimulates our sex drive) is at its highest peak. This is true for both men and women.

8:30 AM - Time for breakfast and also the best time to take vitamins. This is when our metabolism is at its highest peak and there is less chance of what you eat turning into unwanted fat. Besides, if you take A, D and E at night there is a probability that they will disturb your sleep.

9AM - If you are going to have a flu shot, or another type of injection, this is the best time of day to do it. This is the hour when your adrenaline level is at its highest, which means you can tolerate pain better at 9AM than at 9PM.

10-12 Noon - Your brain is now working at full speed. Your attention span and creativity levels are at their highest. It's the best time to work.

12 - 1PM - Time for lunch. No getting around it. Lunch is important not only from a nutritional point of view, but also to maintain your body's digestive rhythm.

1-2 PM - Your attention level has dropped, maybe from eating all that pasta, and according to the medical community the best thing to do is take a nap. Napping, they say, is good for you.

3-5 PM - Your muscle tone is at its peak during this period, so this is the best time of day to hit the gym or take a walk.

4-6 PM - If you are a student and can't hit the gym, then hit the books, especially if you have math homework to do. It seems that at this hour your brain is more prepared to deal with concepts and logic.

6-8 PM - Ahh, time for an aperitivo and dinner. This is the time of day when your liver is the most disposed to digest alcohol. It is also the best time of day for a facial masque because your skin is more receptive to creams and lotions.

10-11 PM - Spend this hour relaxing before going to bed. Take a warm bath or drink a cup of chamomile tea, both put your body in the mood to sleep.

11 PM -7 AM – Make with the zzzzzzzzzzzz’s. Buona notte.