Posts Tagged ‘living it italy’

Posted on April 23, 2009 - by napavalleybath

Falling in love…

How could you not fall in love with this..….

Yesterday it was warm but there were dark clouds in the sky…..I knew the dry time was limited so I set out to do some of my daily tasks early….as I was walking my normal route to Elizabetta’s, I came across a small boutique that I hadn’t noticed before….I popped in and was overwhelmed by the abundance of stylish clothes at a reasonable price…and made in Italy….I’ve been good to date and mother’s day is just around the corner…so I purchased a few shirts and went on my way.

A few doors down was one of the many churches that I visit…this one is special because it is a church that we went to on our visit 8 years ago…and one that has a beautiful statue of the Virgin Mary with real candles to light….so, with my bag in hand,  I dropped in to have a chat with Mary and light a candle for a dear friend of mine…hung out for a bit to the sounds of a new organist trying his best at keeping a tune…and then went on my way…peacefully.

As I crossed the Piazza della Repubblica and headed toward the alley, my short cut, I knew I was running out of time….as I stepped into the alley, the sounds of thunder began to resonate off of the walls…and a light but consistent rain began to fall from the sky….I put my hood on…and watched my feet as they stepped feverishly from one wet cobblestone to the other……I began to hear another familiar sound….clippety clop clippety clop…..I looked up and trotting toward me at lightening speed was a beautiful white horse pulling a carriage….it was moving at a fast trot…down the cobblestone….like a scene out of an old movie….the grace in which this horse moved was like that of a ballerina….fluid in motion… mane blowing in the wind….classic.   As it came closer, the thunder roared again.  I stepped up on the sidewalk and watched the horse trot by…wow…so beautiful….so surreal.   This was not the first time that I felt like I had stepped back in time….or onto a movie set.

Elizabetta’s was a nice respite from the rain…..we bid our usual ciaos and I announced my hope for the evening…..I wanted to make fried ricotta.  I had found a recipe as I always do but so look forward to Elizabetta’s spin.  She had a perplexed look and said ah yes….we make this in Tuscany…..but I don’t make too much…and then she went and grabbed a worn beautiful cookbook and began to explain how this chef is one of the best in Tuscany and he shops at her store every day…..and yes, he has the recipe…..continue this story and recipe at sholiveoil.com/recipe.

I picked up a few extra things from Elizabetta…organic sun dried tomatoes and fresh mozzarella…..one of our new favorite crostinis is bread…arugula…mozzarella….sundried tomatoes and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and sea salt.  Emily likes to add Balsamic Vinegar…which is also a nice add.  It’s not easy to find high quality sundried tomatoes…we sell the best I could find back home.  I always make sure the tomatoes are packed in Extra Virgin Olive Oil….not an olive oil or canola oil….it usually means the producer is serious about their ingredients.

Anyway, Elizabetta also sent me home with the most adorable package of Confettra Di Cotogne..she tried to explain what it was but I couldn’t understand…the picture on the little box looked like a potato hanging on a tree and she was describing it by picking up lemons and oranges and putting them together …I wasn’t getting it.  She said to put it on cheese…very very good…. I was curious and sold.  I had to get parmesan for the fried ricotta so she said to slice a thin piece and add “this” and it is wonderful.  (And it is wonderful….it is simply quince jam…but solid..not jammy….perfect with cheese….).  And by the way…if you are going to serve it….you may want to call it “confettura di cotogne”…gives it a bit more pizazz then quince jam.

I loaded up my bag….bid my ciao grazies and off I went….back across town.  I came the back way and took a left off of Via De Neri and up the alley way to our flat…before I reached our flat, I ducked into my right to see Christian, over pasta man.  Christian makes fresh pasta from organic flour from their ranch every day(except Sundays).  It’s quite an operation….I asked for spagetti today….per quattro persone come al solito….he smiles goes in the back and gets the dough that he made that morning….cuts it based on how much he thinks we need….puts it in a machine that flattens it (all the machines are old…traditional)….he then takes it and puts it in a machine that cuts it into the pasta…he cuts the strings in half and proceeds to the cutting board..where he carefully places it on the wax paper…adds some more organic semolina….and mixes it a bit…and then closes the package with great care.

“Abbiamo oggi il pane” he says….ah their organic bread that they make on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays only….always a treat.  So, he adds a loaf of bread to my bag….and rings me up….3.50euro for the pasta and 1.50euro for the panne.   As I’m bidding my ciao grazies and buono serata (he taught me to say buono sera when I arrive and buona serata when I leave)….Christian reminds me…ravioli domani!  I smile….they only make ravioli on Fridays…with spinaci and ricotta….why?  Because on their farm they make ricotta on Thursday only.  There is such charm to limited availability….when it is based on such goodness….it puts you in a food rhythm….and makes everything special. And when people are out…they are out….so you learn to get their early….I’ve been late a few times…and went without…and although disappointed…there is even a charm to that!

With my bag pulling at my shoulder and my lower back screaming in pain, I tighten my abdomen to take off some of the pressure….reminding me I STILL haven’t joined the gym……and then I turn the corner to my flat and bid ciao to the familiar neighbors….walk up two flights of stairs……and plop the goods on the table.  The three teenagers entranced in their computers jump up with excitement and ask what I got from Elizabetta….and what kind of pasta we were having….they help unpack the goods with a gleam in their eye as if it was a stocking at Christmas time….we pour ourselves a bit of Chianti and put dinner together…talking about Elizabetta…the recipes…our day….the food….tomorrow…life….and the haute dog beauty contest that we have just entered Bella and Alli in. ☺  We share a wonderful meal…..the kids fight about the dish duties….and I retire on the couch…..I read a bit and then put my book down on my lap….glance out the window as the church bells ring…this is still so surreal….the beauty of it all…..I never knew such a thing was possible…but I admit….I have truly fallen in love with this life….within this City…how will I ever go home?

I hope your days are filled with beauty!

Posted on March 4, 2009 - by napavalleybath

Dove è coltivate?

Dove e cotivate?…..an Italian sentence that I’ve mastered….it rolls off of my tongue just like non parlo italiano….you have to start somewhere…..

Where is it grown?  Yes…I’ve been knee deep in Slow Food Nation again….it’s a slow read as it is an intense book….the stories are great…..the technical parts are painful for me as spending too much time in my left brain can prove hazardous to my health…but I know…this is real….and I want to understand it all….even if I have to read one page a night to absorb this….we have a huge responsibility to rebuild our planet….on all levels….and it can’t happen if we are not willing to do the hard work….gain the understanding….knowledge…and then apply it to our choices in the marketplace.

The book brings out some very interesting points to ponder….one in particular that has made me reflect is that we need to pay attention to the carbon footprint of the product we are buying….and perhaps organic zucchini grown in Mexico has a bigger footprint then a zucchini that is locally grown….but not necessary organic.  Don’t get me wrong…I’m not an advocate of eating pesticides but there are so many farmers who farm without sprays, etc…but cannot afford to get the certification of organic.  So…dig a little deeper into the stories of your food…

I have to admit that I used to buy zucchini at Sunshine Market that was organic…it was from Mexico (that is why I used that example)…and it always felt a bit odd…but I wanted organic…..aha…..I want I want……I never gave thought to the resources that were used to transport it to our market….

Another example of my ignorance…we have been buying the most amazing apples from Elizabetta…the kids are devouring them…..the other day….after I learned my new sentence…I asked Elizabetta, “Dove e coltivate?”  She looked at me with a confused look as most Italians do when I try to speak their language…..so I said it again….very slowly….”Dove e coltivate….le mele?”  and she again looked as if I just told her that her mother was ugly….so finally I said….”grown…mela…dove grown?”  She laughed and said “ah…….”…and then she got a squimish look on her face….”ah….those come from Argentina….they are not in season here so we have to get them from Argentina.”….my heart sank……and I could tell she was not proud to give me that information…..as the majority of things in her shop are local….and the best…and I know just by all of my encounters with here that she believes in local…..but she’s in business…..I get that…and she has to give the people what they want….so she can survive…..and as a small business owner, I know how she feels.  But herein lies the problem my friends….we are each others own enemy….don’t demand…she won’t have to carry….and the planet wins….the only loser is the “ego” that WANTS an apple.

So I went home…with my dieci (10) Argentinian apples and announced to the girls….these apples are from Argentina…..and they both looked at me…..wide eyed….”but mom…we have virtually no carbon footprint here compared to home” Kaelin cries, “ In our biology class last year, we had the second highest carbon footprint of anyone in the class….can’t we just eat the apples since we don’t have our suv?!” she joked.   I stayed quiet for a few minutes as I pondered the whole situation….I try not to be fanatical about things…but this is real….our planet is suffering and we need to do whatever we can with the knowledge we have to support its recovery…..our habits need to change…..it isn’t really about the 10 apples….buts its about the priniciple…how can I be an advocate for our planet and then make choices that don’t reflect that…I believe that’s called hyprocrisy.

hypocrisy |hiˈpäkrisē|
noun ( pl. -sies)
the practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one’s own behavior does not conform; pretense.

Yes….that is hypocrisy.

Why is it such a big deal?  If I continue to demand things that are not in season…nor grown locally…then I will be feeding the supply…I will be supporting a market that is not healthy for our planet.  I don’t want to be on that team…nor do I want to set that example for my girls.  Is it a pain in the butt to believe that we, as individuals, have impact?…oh yea it is!  But one thing we tend to overlook is the emotional and (I believe), spiritual impact that good choices have on your being…much more satisfying then the fleeting sensation of a sweet apple.  (and I had NO intention of tying this in with good and evil….hmmm )….so if we can just get past ourselves and our ego and receive the real goodness that comes from that then it will be all down hill from there…

And…please…don’t get overwhelmed or fall into the “my small choices don’t really matter” club….just break it down…one ingredient at a time….and next time you pick up a food product in your local store….ask yourself that tough question……Dove e coltivate?  And make the right choices..for yourself…and your planet.

Oh…and about the apples….the kids have never asked for them again….although I’d like to believe that I have molded them into teenage advocates for the planet….I think it may have more to do with the discovery of the oldest gelato shop in Florence…just 3 blocks away…..lots of footprints there…but they are mainly ours leading to and from our apartment!

Posted on February 24, 2009 - by napavalleybath

A Wooden Table

I have found the most amazing enoteca….a wine bar…..right around the corner….

One day I decided to take a short cut down a cobblestone path..it’s actually a road…I have to accept that these “cobblestone paths” are roads…that cars race…..vespas wiz and bikes meander down…when you first arrive in Florence it is unsettling….you feel as if you are walking on a path and suddenly…without warning…. a vespa is flying toward you… you turn to find the sidewalk….and a car nearly sideswipes you…so you freeze…until the woman next to you hits you with her Gucci bag which inadvertently shoves you to safety….

Anyway…walking down the ROAD… one of the first weeks in my new neighborhood….I noticed a small wooden table with two small wooden stools sitting alone on the road…a pretty single flower springing out of a clear vase….I looked around….this table…it is on the road….and it is freezing outside…who would sit here?

As I approached, I immediately sensed the energy on the right…I glanced over into a window framed with beautiful thick wood…and a door to match….on the door the words read…Enoteca…..I started racking my brain for what that meant….ok I KNOW it means that they serve wine….but there’s a whole protocol around it….do they serve caffe…is that why they are open….I see paninis spilling over through the window…at 9am?…ah…I see a large espresso machine…and a man at the tiny bar receiving his caffe….I hear muffled music and laughter…hmm….I need my morning caffe….but I’m not sure if it’s protocol to go in there…and it’s so small that there would be no room to hide my ignorance….so I walked past…very slowly….looking in….knowing that this place was special….and I would be back.

When I got home, I quickly went to the internet to remind myself what a enoteca was…..” An enoteca is used in three diverse ways around town: it can be a wine store  a wine bar or a restaurant that prides itself on its special wine list”….hmm…..no mention of morning caffe and brioche….I then searched the travel pages for this particular enoteca…couldn’t find it.  I was on my own….it was up to me to find out whether I could go in for caffe or not….

The next few mornings, I would pass by the wooden door very slowly….casually glancing in to see …always a flurry of activity….people coming and going….speaking Italian…..well wishes, thank yous and laughter in abundance…it was a neighborhood haunt.  It was not until I had the most unappetizing experience in a “caffe” down the block that I became fed up with my behavior….you’ve blown a meal because you are too afraid to venture into small spaces….give me a break….it was at that point that I realized that even my pride would not hold up to my desire for REAL food…I would risk humiliation and rejection for the possibility of REAL food!  The next morning, after the girls left for school, I headed off with a renewed sense of self.   I approached the door of the enoteca…reciting quietly…un caffe per favore……grazie….that’s all I need to say….un caffe per favore….grazie…..and push…remember the doors here all push in……here it goes…as I entered, an immediate warmth surrounded me….it was true warmth….a small space…people…large coffee maker…stove….there was heat indeed…a true escape from the bitter cold…but there was WARMTH….a man behind the counter….nicely dressed….a bit older then me…..great jeans….big sweater…and he was singing…to the very loud music….and making caffe…..bantering (loudly) with his customers… the music playing was the same gendre as our stores back home…and his singing made me smile….I believe Frank Sinatra was on when I walked in…

I chose to play the gendre in our stores because it is the background music to so many great memories growing up…our house would be filled with music at times…and singing…and dancing….joyful times….and my dad…loved to dance the babies to sleep….usually would hold them up in the palm of his hand and dance….no one worried….he was a surgeon after all….and played quarterback for the University of Vermont….

The entire enoteca is the size of a large bathroom…there are three wooden tables squished inside and a bar area the size of an ironing board….it was filled with a few plates of pastries…brioche filled with soft cheese and jams that looked as it they had just been preserved…..thumbprint bisquits with nutella…oozing out the sides…..all usual things seen throughout Firenze…but I sensed something about these….they were special…..and why would that be…this was not a forno (bakery)…they didn’t make the breads….they obviously prepared some of these but others were chosen with great scrutiny from a local forno I presume….

Do you think you can actually see quality?  Or do you think that you sense quality?  Or maybe a bit of both…..Somehow…before I even ordered my caffe…I knew that every thing they put inside a brioche…or a thumb print was the best…it was the freshest….it was real….it wreaked of goodness…I had to smile…it’s happened again….I’ve stumbled upon a gold mine.

After “the man behind the counter” did the ceremonial avoiding the newcomer dance….the man came over and said prego….un cappuccino I said softly so the entire place wouldn’t recognize my accent…or lack thereof…..the man continued to sing…make loud exchanges with the regulars…and without as much as a glance my way, he set down my cappuccino…I said grazie and he said prego….yes prego can mean…what do you want…..follow me….ok….and thank you…..tell me that wasn’t hard to get a grip on at first!

As I took my first sip I immediately sensed the lack of heat…oh great..this isn’t hot….how can it not be hot….he just made it….I’ve been had!  Just as my heart began to sink, I was struck by sensation of the warmth in my mouth….the foam lay over my palette like silken sheets and the soft bitterness of the espresso meandered through..grabbing onto foam and folding it into itself..until the two tastes became a blend of one… flavors in perfect harmony….. that was all that I could hear….I set my cup down and thought….Holy Shit….what was that?! ….my eyes were fixated on the  stained foam that remained atop the elixir in my cup….I stirred it a little and tried it again… the bells of Santa Croce began to ring…..and I do believe…the angels began to sing.

I haven’t even begun to tell you about the pastries….and the paninis….and the “house wine”….you could write an entire novel on the tastes in this tiny space…and the warmth….not just the heat…but the joy…exuded by all who gather together….and share un caffe or a meal….whether meaning to or not…and maybe that’s part of the goodness…

Posted on February 18, 2009 - by napavalleybath

I Love A Parade!

I have to admit that throughout my childhood, history class was incredibly boring to me. I would memorize the facts so I could do well in the class but there was no understanding….no desire to absorb. As I’ve “matured” or gotten older I should say….I’ve come to value our past….our traditions. I think it may have really taken hold when I fell in love with the olive tree…..16 years ago….I first took note of my new love when I was sitting in a conference room in a large corporation in San Francisco….our group was chosen to evaluate the processes of the company and recommend efficiencies…the “process improvement committee”….aka PIP.

I’m not sure how it came up but our “leader” was telling us that her husband came in very late the night before and he was filthy….he had been harvesting olives for a new olive oil co that he worked for…..At that point in my career I had not given much thought to the olive…nor the tree…nor the oil it produced…so esoteric…..my dream was to get into investment banking and run a Fortune 500 company….I appreciated food…and that is why I ate out….seldom cooked….although my sister can attest to my beef teriyaki with sticky rice……and Kraft macaroni and cheese mixed with broccoli….two of my signature dishes.

As I sat in my chair…..around a boardroom table…..pitchers of water…glass tumblers and white napkins scatttered about……I locked into the words…”came home really dirty”…”harvesting olives”…..the ringing of the words sent me back to my childhood….growing up in the hills of the Napa Valley….spending most of our time outside…..playing….getting dirty….riding horses…mini bikes…giving away wild kittens at Vintage 1870….as I faded into the past…I began to visualize her husband…up in a tree….with a baseball bat (as she described it)…..hitting branches and getting covered in soot….it was at that point that I first felt the shift….I wanted a job where I could get dirty….wear jeans…climb in trees…..my heart started to beat with the pace of my thoughts…my veins began to pulsate as elation set in….I want to start an olive oil company….I’m going to start an olive oil co!

What I lack in research and development, I make up for in determination to make up for my lack in research and development….or at least I’d like to think so….  I immediately started reading every book I could on anything that had to do with the tree….and its oil…..I connected with a few people in the Napa Valley who were just getting started in the business…..and I took advantage of every class on production, etc…that was held by UC Davis.  My obsession had taken hold….and as I learned more…..I fell deeper into love…..with the olive tree and its history….and its place in our world.  History class had begun……

So why share this now?

There is not a place that you can look in my new home that does not wreak of history…the text books have come alive!

Today we attended a parade for Anna Maria Luisa de’ Medici…one of the members of the Medici Dynasty…a family that is credited for establishing Firenze as the “cradle” of the Renaissance.    The parade stopped at a statue of Anna Maria Luisa (see below) on the procession to her grave…the members of the parade gave tribute…played a special tune…said something in Italian…and then continued on ….I couldn’t understand the words that were said but I couldn’t help but feel the power….of this woman…and the reverence that was bestowed…..