A O!

Hey! That's what "a o" means in Rome. Pronounced "ah ohhhhh," it's used to get someone's attention, whether it's vendors trying to sell you their stuff or that the cooks need something in the kitchen.

Rome, like every big city, has its own form of gab. "Beh" -- so what?

In the kitchen, they call me " a signora," (ah see-nyo-rah). 

In fact, as in the movie "Logan's Run" where a lighted signal in the palms of  a fictional, future-city's dwellers.  When the city folk turn 30, they must die to keep the population numbers under control. In Italy every woman over 30 goes from signorina (miss) to signora (ma'am) at mach speed (men aren't "mister" until 50, or so the kitchen folk tell me). 

But, instead of "signora," Romans shorten the term or respect to "a signo'," (ah-see-nyo), dropping the "ra" at the end of the word. I only found out recently what these guys were actually saying and for whom it was intended. I didn't realize that every time they yelled out "a signo" they were talking to me -- getting my attention, asking me to move to reach into the fridge and pull out some proscuitto. 

Now we all say "a signo'" every few minutes -- yelling it out really. It's our own private joke.

As Plain as the Nose on Your ... You Know the Rest

Throughout Roma, there are delightful continuously running, stone water fountains on every street. I thought they were for washing hands, watering pets, or whatever required quick moistening. That is until Lisa put her finger at the end of the spout and water came up from a hole in the middle of the tube -- voila! A drinking fountain. 

These fountains are called  "nasoni," or big noses and when you see them, it's actually pretty clever.

Apparently, these "runny noses" have been around since ancient times and are not only considered safe drinking water, but have actually been tested (if you can believe the Italian government) to "prove" that the water is better than bottled -- some of the best drinking water in all of Italy.

Yesterday I saw a man drinking water from a regular fountain fountain outside of Cantina del Vecchio's doors. I pointed and said to Allan, "look!" He said that people drink from Rome's fountains all the time and the the water is safe. Imagine form and function -- what a concept.

In the Cucina #6

Every day just before the lunch service, we, in the restaurant, eat. Today Chef Paolo made the tradtional Rome dish Penne Arrabiata (Angry pasta with penne).  He says it's easy, fast and cheap. As a rule, Arrabiata is served with penne (quills) pasta, diagonally cut thin tubes.  I ask, why penne? Paolo says because it's traditional. Carbonara and Cacio e Pepe goes with spaghetti, Amatriciana goes with bucatini, etc. It's kind of like peanut butter going with jelly. Although, really, he says, you can do whatever (kind of pasta) you want. 

Chef Paolo starts with oil -- lots of oil -- about 3/4 of a cup (maybe more).  Hey explains, "you must have a lot oil." I don't ask him why. 

He adds two whole cloves of garlic, fries them brown and removes them from the oil and throws them away. Then he grabs a fistful, literally, of red pepper flakes, and throws them in the oil and cooks them for a few minutes. I'm already thinking there is no way I can eat this -- it's going to be WAY too spicy. Then he ladles in 3 cups of tomato sauce, chopped parsley and salt. He tosses in 600 grams (about 1 1/3 pounds) of penne pasta that's been cooked to al dente (not a moment more). He starts tossing the pasta (with one hand, moving the large skillet up and down, backward and forward), and adds -- MORE OIL!

He divided this into six pasta bowls. I timidly tried a few penne, prepared to say "basta!" (enough!). To my delight, the pasta was absolutely delicious; the sauce fiery but absolutely tolerable.  I explained my apprehension and he replied offhandedly, "Why? You have pasta."

The lesson? The pasta neutralizes the heat of the pepper flakes. 

As with the risotto, Chef Paolo explained, "You have to learn the proper way to cook the pasta. It's not just for consistency, but for taste," he said. "Over cooking pasta changes the taste of the pasta too much. It becomes plain, 'senza gusto' (tasteless). When you cook it too much, you can't taste the flavor of the pasta." I can't argue. 

NOTE: Like all good chefs, Paolo removes the green center of the garlic before using it. In Italian it's called the "anima" or soul of the garlic. Love it!

Here is Chef Paolo's Penne all' Arrabiata:

Penne all' Arrabiata

3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

2 cloves of garlic, cut in half lengthwise

1/3 cup hot red pepper flakes (or more)

3 cups prepared tomato sauce (see earlier recipe)

1 cup chopped parsley

Salt to taste

1 1/3 pound penne pasta, cooked al dente in salted boiling water. Drain but do not rinse. 

Heat oil in a large skillet over high heat. Add the garlic and cook until well browned. Remove garlic and discard. Add the pepper flakes and cook for 2 minutes. Add the tomato sauce and bring to a boil, stirring frequently, reduce heat to medium-high and add parsley. Cook for one minute more, adding about a tablespoon of extra-virgin olive oil. Add the pasta and toss well, adding salt to taste. Makes 6 servings. 

Navona!

This is my path home every night. I turn right out of Cantina del Vecchio's kitchen doors. I walk the curved via and turn left toward Piazza Navona. I cross Piazza Navona diagonally and turn left at the toy Store (Berte -- with it's spooky looking lifelike baby dolls in the window).  Two minutes later, I'm home.

My daughter Raquel used to say, "I'm unique ... just like everyone else." Every night the crowd at piazza changes. Teenage and twenty-something girls in tight jeans and boots. Family's on vacation, with maps open figuring it all out. Every language spoken as friends pose in front of any of the three famous fountains. Diners, well, dining at the various restaurants, the Brazilian Embassy, a toy store and other businesses line the piazza. And everywhere there is gelati, eaten from crispy cones or paper cups with tiny colored plastic spoons. 

Yet the people are all the same, on their own uniques trips, with their unique experiences. These will be their fond memories. I always wonder how many photos include me in the background. 

I also wonder, if I think they all look the same, what do the locals and money-making folk think -- charicaturists, painters, photographers, entertainers (there's the gyspy band playing the entire Sinatra songbook, the Statue of Liberty impersonator I almost bowled over while watching my step, the occasional King Tut, the guy who blares CDs and performs with little puppets that dance to the music), and those guys that sell light-up plastic thingamajigs that are probably made in China.

NOTE: More than once, I saw brides and grooms at the famous piazza taking their wedding photos (CD guy played Mendelsohnn's wedding march during the portrait-taking). 

In the Cucina #5

At Cantina del Vecchio, food is prepared at the moment. There are not vats of cooked pastas waiting to be heated. Other than long-cooking sauces and some entrees, risotto, pasta for instance is made to order. 

Risotto, which most magazine and cookbook recipes specify takes at least 30 minutes to cook, is made in about 20 at Cantina. They make it in a skillet and, as when they prepare pastas, use a tossing motion to incorporate sauces. I call this motion tossing, because the skillet is taken off the heat in one hand, and  its contents tossed up and out of the pan and back and forth at the same time. This gives the pasta and risotto a creamy texture as liquids and cheese are incorporated. Risotto and pasta are served very al dente -- more so that what most American's think of as dente. 

It takes practice to get this motion right, as American pancake flippers will tell you. But once you do, you'll use the motion for everything from turning eggs to tossing your own pasta. Your first attempts may find some of the food on the floor or in your face or on your clothes (so I hear), but practice does make perfect.  

The following  recipe doesn't call for tossing, but stirring in a pot. This is an easier way to make it, especially if you're making more than two servings. It's not the Cantina version, but it produces a creamy, delicious meal. Don't overcook risotto or it'll turn into a soggy mush. 

If you feel like using the toss and turn method, have at it. 

Basic Risotto

This is a basic recipe for risotto -- add other ingredients like saffron (with the broth), or sauteed mushrooms or fresh vegetables (at the end) as you like. 

 

2 Tbsp. olive oil

1 1/2 cups chopped onion

1 1/2 cups arborio rice (not regular long grain rice)

1/2 cup white wine

4-5 cups chicken or vegetable broth

1 cup fresh finely grated Parmesan cheese

Salt and pepper to taste

Olive oil to drizzle over risotto

Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the onion and saute until the until softened. Add the arborio and cook, stirring for about a minute. Add the wine and cook, stirring, until the wine is absorbed. Add the broth, one cup at a time, stirring constantly, until the broth is absorbed after each addition. Cook until the risotto is creamy, but still al dente. Add salt and pepper to taste. Stir in the cheese and serve immediately, drizzled with olive oil and addtional cheese. Makes 4 servings.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.

My McDonald's tray liner was wealth of information. (More about Micky D's later). Besides the calorie content of my Big Mac meal (fries 470 calories, Mac 490 calories -- you do the math). 

Anyway, the up-facing liner told me about the Rome Marathon on March 22, beginning at the Roman Colosseum. I'm there, sorta. I took the day off, and just knew I wanted to end up at the Colosseum and its neighbor, the Forum.  The race began at 9:00 a.m. and snaked around the city, including my neighborhood. Barricades were set up throughout the area marking the route. I had to negotiate around and through the barriers. A little after 11:00 a.m., I made my way to my usual stomping ground, Piazza Navona, just a a couple of minutes walk away. The piazza was quiet -- a rock band played and people were milling as usual. I bought my daily gelato (strawberry and almond) sat down for a few minutes, waited and watched.

A short while later the first indication of the race was visible. Hand cyclists for those who couldn't run (with handlebar "pedals" that propel), began to ride by to the crowd's applause. It was then that I -- and so many around me -- started snapping pictures. 

The first runners were preceded by sirened cars and motorcycles with spinning blue roof-lights. Among the runners was the eventual winner -- #36, Kenya's Benjamin Kiptoo. 

By then, the crowd at Navona was thick and energetic. 

The runners kept coming, first a few at a time and then came the first woman, marathon winner, #12, Ethiopian, Dado Firehiwot. 

I stayed and shot pics for another 20 minutes before going back to the apartment. From the terrace (remember, I'm in the penthouse), I looked down at piazza San Andrea de la Valle and watched runners trickle by (I was near the 35th Kilometer -- almost 22 miles into the race, so the crowd had thinned at at that point). 

At 12:30 I began my trek to the Colosseum. I followed the same path, on sidewalks, as the marathoners. Traffic was re-routed and pedestrians had to wait before crossing streets at designated stops.  At bigger piazzas along the way, the was live entertainment from around the globe. 

The city was jam-packed. If there are 3.5 million people living in Rome, 3.475 million of them were out in the sunshine today. Add the tourists and you get the picture -- the crowd was thick. It was hard to get around. 

A a refreshment area, plastic cups, water bottles, apple and orange wedges littered the street, the pavement drenched from the gatorade and water. Passing  the Imperial forum and finally ending up at the "Colosseo" -- the colosseum.

I found a shiny mylar blanket given to runners and I snatched it up as a souvenir. 

Frustrated at the pace and with map in hand, I decided on side streets as the route for my quarter-mile stretch to the forum. 

 

Campo Tales -- High on Produce

A mere few minutes away from where I'm working and staying is perhaps the finest open air market in Roma. The piazza Campo de Fiori (literally "field of flowers") is a favorite haunt for foodies from around Rome and the globe. 

Even on the coldest, breeziest, rain-threatening day since I've been here, the market was crowded on a Friday morning with locals and tourists buying fresh produce, meats, fish, poultry and fiore (flowers of course), spices, nuts and cured and smoked meats, cheeses, dried fruits, kitchen utensils and more. For tourists only, you can find the usual t-shirts, printed aprons with all things Italian, silk scarves and ties, etc. 

With 50 Euro in my pocket,  I let loose buying 'antipasti' ingredients for the evening's get-together at the apartment (Lisa invited some friends over for cocktails). 

In the thick of Campo de Fiori, I got my usual "shoppers high" that comes with food shopping. Although Lisa gave me a list: bread, tomatoes, basil and some tiny stuffed peppers, with cash in my pocket, I'm I can't be stopped (except when my Euro run out).  

I ogled the artichokes, spied the tiny fragolini di bosco (strawberries the size of marbles), checked out the Rombo (turbot) and spigole (see bass).  

My first purchase was eggplant -- not on my list, but I couldn't resist.  I paid my 3 Euro and went in search of the peppers. A half-kilo of Sicilian green olives, mixed nuts, a red bell-pepper, grape tomatoes, fresh basil, mushrooms and a couple of onions later, I was on my way home. I stop at the supermarket and bought some fresh bread and grissini (breadsticks) and a few steps I was home, my dopamine levels still elevated from the experience. 

I never did find the tiny stuffed peppers. 

 

In the Cucina #4

So far, I've had to cut guanciale twice. It's not as easy as it sounds.  

Italy loves it's smoked and cured meat products. At Cantina del Vecchio, during "happy hour" (every night from 7:00 until about 10:00 p.m), you'll find the bar lined up with Pinocciliona (from Lombardi), salamis, and such (more about this later), served with assorted cheeses, brushette (with fresh tomatoes on the side) or spread with tapenada (pureed olive spread) and the daily fritatta, a room temperature omelet, cut into squares. 

Back to the pig. If you're not familiar with guanciale, as I admit I wasn't, here's a little description. Basically, it's cured, not smoked, pork cheek or jowel. In fact, when I asked about it (I thought it was pancetta -- stupid American!), Guiseppe pointed pulled on his own cheek to describe it. The meat, very fatty, like bacon (don't use bacon, too smokey), when whole, includes the actually pig skin on one side (complete with little hairs) and is cured with salt, coarse ground black or red pepper.

Guanciale (pronouced gwahn-chee-ah-lay), is used a lot -- in Amatriciana and Carbonara pastas dishes, served over a Caesar salad and anywhere else you feel like adding it. It's usually not eaten without cooking it first.   

When it's sizzled up in a skillet, it's the shizzle. 

Here's how you cut it. First, remove the tough pig skin (it's caramel colored, hard to the touch and covers a layer of fat, which you want to keep). So, using a super sharp knife, cut off the skin. Next, slice the pork thin -- like thick bacon (you can do this by hand, but we use an electric slicer). Then cut the slices into thin strips. This is a greasy job and I keep thinking throughout the process that a slip of fat-laden knife could end badly.  

Pasta all'Amatriciana

You most often see this sauce paired with bucatini, a stringy, hollow pasta. This is my version of the recipe.

2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

6 ounces gaunciale (if you can't find it, use pancetta)

1 cup minced onions

1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes

4 cups fresh tomato sauce (see earlier recipe -- do not use regular canned tomato sauce)

4 cups cherry tomatoes, halved

Salt and pepper to taste

1 cup or more, fresh finely grated combination Pecorino and Parmesan cheeses

12-16 ounces pasta, such a bucatini, linguine or fettuccine

Fresh finely grated Parmesan cheese, on the side. 

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Cook pasta to al dente. While the pasta is cooking, prepare the sauce. 

Heat olive oil in a large skillet (or large pot) over medium-high heat. Add the guanciale and cook, stirring often, until the guanciale is golden (do not overcook -- this is not supposed to be like crispy bacon). Add the onion and cook for 3 minutes. Stir in tomato sauce and tomatoes and cook for 2 minutes more. Add salt and pepper to taste. 

Drain the pasta well and add to the skillet (or pot) and toss well. Add cheese a little at a time, tossing well each time to incorporate the cheese. Adjust salt to taste. 

Serve hot, with extra cheese on the side and drizzled with addtional olive oil.  Makes 6-8 servings. 

Thatsa Notta a Spicy Meataball

In Italy, the only time polpette --meatballs -- meet pasta is in the dictionary. Traditionally, you'll never find  spaghetti and meatballs together, ever. At Cantina del Vecchio, their smallish (about 1-inch in diameter) polpette are mild -- not spicy -- yet flavorful and served with a side of olive oil and rosemary roasted diced potatoes.  The meatballs are heated with plenty of fresh tomato sauce. About 5-6 meatballs are arranged in a small pile on a plate or "piatto fondo,"  deep plate or shallow bowl (like a pasta bowl). The sauce is spooned over the meatballs and the potatoes arranged around (no sauce on the potatoes). 

We use tenderloin pieces (those that are leftover from the tenderloin) and grind it together with veal scraps.  

Basically this easy recipe if comfort food in a tiny sphere. Form this into a loaf for delicious meatloaf. 

Polpette

Like all good Italian (and other) cooks, meatball texture is adjusted "all'occhio -- to the eye and feel for that matter. But here are the measurements. Adjust milk and bread to create a uniform mixture. 

1 1/4 pounds ground beef

1 1/4 pounds ground veal

1 cup finely chopped parsley

1 tsp. minced garlic

1 cup fresh finely grated Parmesan cheese

1/2 cup milk

3 eggs, lightly beaten

5 slices (or more) white bread, crusts removed, dipped in water, squeezed to remove excess water and crumbles

Salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350-degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment and set aside. 

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl and mix until uniform. Form the mixture into 1 1/2-inch balls and arrange on a baking sheet (they will grow slightly). Bake for 15 minutes or until just cooked through. 

Heat in tomato sauce (see earlier recipe in this blog) and serve with potatoes arranged around the meatballs and sauce. Makes about 40-60 meatballs, depending on the size you roll them. 

Roasted Potatoes

2 pounds thin skinned white or gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 3/4-inch dice. 

1/4 cup olive oil

2 garlic cloves, peeled, uncut

1 Tbsp. fresh rosemary (not chopped)

Salt to taste

Preheat oven 400-degrees F.  Line a baking sheet with parchment. Toss all ingredients together and arrange on the baking sheet. Bake for 30 minutes, turning once or twice. Makes 6 servings. 

Cucina a Presto!

Cantina del Vecchio has two daily shifts. One begins around 10:00 a.m and ends at 3:30 (the restaurant closes -- shut up tight at that time). The second shift begins around 5:00 p.m. I arrive in the morning at 10:30, leave at 3:30. I arrive in the evening at 7:00 p.m. and leave around 11:30 or so at night. That is my schedule every day. 

Sunday I took the morning shift off because I wanted to go to the flea market. I ended up not going because everyone said it was a haven for pickpockets and the prices weren't so hot. No big deal. I wandered around many of the sights -- the usual. 

My wanderings included walking up (and down) the Via del Corso, a crowded road that connects many of Rome's famous sites (more about this later). 

I've been eating every meal at Cantina (usually a few bites at a time -- I've got to taste everything!). Today, since I wasn't working during the day, I decided to have some Italian fast food. When I travel, I always eat local fast food, just to see how it's treated (and mistreated). 

The menu is extensive. I always laugh when I see the options at fast food joints  -- they always strike me as funny I ordered a #2  for 6.5 Euros (about $8) -- a special of the day. Pizza with salad or dessert. I chose salad (agugula, radicchio, cherry tomatoes, corn and tiny croutons). Other combos offered pizza with French fries or more "food" -- see the link on the left.

The pizza I ordered was topped with tuna, olives and capers and included a mixed side salad and a Diet Coke. The pizza was served on a pizza-shaped plate. It was what we consider thin crust (the crust was a bit chewy), topped with tomato sauce, cheese (not sure the type), light (not white) tuna packed in olive oil, capers and whole black olives (not sure what variety). It was quite tasty and the slice, large. 

I sat down at a table. I eat pizza with a fork and knife, but around me, teens were folding the pizza in half (to make a smaller triangle -- crust out). Even though I wasn't very hungry (I had my daily gelato just an hour before), I ate the entire slice. The salad came with a side of dressing -- not some gloppy American concoction, but Fillipo Berio olive oil and white wine vinegar. 

All in all, I really enjoyed it. The company motto: Molto Fast. Very good. (snicker.)

And the people watching was amazing. 

When I went back to Cantina del Vecchio, Chef Paolo was not impressed. He said that you can find a Spizzico on almost any highway in Italy. 

Parmigiana!

Cantina del Vecchio prepares a lot of individual menu items. They're not only more elegant and imaginative, but they're easy to serve because they're portion controlled and heated to piping at the last moment. There are several appetizers presented this way, including "Tortina di verza e ricotta con crema di lenticchie," Cabbage and Ricotta Flan with Pureed Lentils," and Tortino di cipolla con fonduta di grana," a delicate flan nestled in a cradle of onion with a decadent cream and Parmigiana cheese sauce.  Even the "Caponatina di melanzane"  -- Caponata -- features a "tortino di ricotta all erbe, " or small herbed ricotta flan. 

Now that I'm fairly accustomed to the menu, it's been three months -- today a new spring menu is unveiled. Stay tuned. 

Yesterday I helped prepare "Picocola parmigiana di melanzane" of small Eggplant Parmigiana, a layered dish of eggplant, tomato sauce, fresh Mozzarella, Parmesan cheese and fresh basil. 

Here's how it goes (my version, obviously, since at Cantina there's no recipe to be found or followed anywhere). 

Individual Eggplant Parmesans

(Piccola parmigiana di melanzane)

3 small eggplants (about 1 pound each)

Flour

Sunflower or other oil for frying

Fresh tomato sauce (see recipe below) or your favorite prepared pasta sauce

2 cups 1/4-inch diced Fresh Buffalo Mozzarella cheese

1 cup fresh finely grated Parmesan cheese

Fresh basil leaves

Spray 12 individual ramekins or baking cups well with nonstick cooking spray. Layer several layers of paper towel on a baking sheet. Set both aside. 

Cut eggplants into 1/3-inch rounds. Dredge the rounds in flour. Set aside. 

Heat oil to very hot over high heat. Fry the eggplant on both sides until partly golden (you will do this in batches). As the eggplant is cooked, transfer to the paper-towel lined baking sheet. 

When all the eggplant is fried, spoon about 2 tsp. of tomato sauce in each of the ramekins. Top with an eggplant round. Add another 2 tsp. of sauce and a few cubes of Mozzarella (keep the Mozzarella cubes in the center). Sprinkle with about 1 tsp. Parmesan cheese and a leaf or basil Repeat two more times and end with a circle of eggplant. This may be made up to a day in advance up to this point. 

Preheat oven to 350-degrees. Bake the eggplant for 15-20 minutes until hot. Carefully turn the ramekins over (they will be hot) onto individual plates. The eggplant should slice out easily. Serve with tomato sauce spooned over. Makes 12 servings. 

Fresh Tomato Sauce (the basic recipe):

2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

1 cup finely chopped or ground onion

1/2 cup finely chopped or ground carrots

1/2 cup finely chopped or ground celery

6 cups fresh diced plum tomatoes or 1 can (28-ounces) peeled plum tomatoes

1 tsp. sugar

Salt to taste

Combine oil , onion, carrots and celery in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Cook until the vegetable are softened. Add the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and cook for 1 hour. Allow to cool before pureeing or blending until smooth. If using fresh tomatoes, strain to to remove tomato skin. Adjust salt to taste. 

NOTE: you may add other ingredients like garlic, wine or fresh basil if desired to flavor the basic sauce. Makes 6 cups of sauce.  

Parole di giorno

So, each day I learn new words.  Parolacce (pah-ro-lah-chay) are curse words and each day I learn one or two more.  My favorite? Minchione (mink-ee-yoh-nay), which is used to mean "idiot," but actually has raunchier connotations. 

A darling waitress from Havana, Cuba, Danaysis wrote down for me "mi chi ti s'uncula" -- which means roughly, stick it where the sun don't shine. I toss that around a lot.

Irene (ee-rehn-ay), another waitress, wrote some others for me to remember. This is a colorful one -- "li mortacci tua" -- which translates (according to restaurant owner Allan) into "a curse on your festering dead relatives." Three more: "bastardo" (obvious), "figlio de una troia," son of a whore," and "testa di cazzo," dick head. 

Of course after nearly every instance I say, "sto scherzando" -- I'm kidding!  

Kitchen Tales

A restaurant kitchen is a dangerous milieu. There's fire, wet floors, boiling oil, razor sharp knives and ovens that are always on. Everything is exaggerated, compared to the usual home kitchen -- huge, weighty pots, shanks with 20-inch blades, tongs as long as your leg and skillets 2 1/2-feet in diameter. Add exhaustion, hurry, tension and bad luck and you've either smacked, burned, dropped or cut something that's gonna hurt. 

Yesterday, Guiseppe had a big red mark on top of his hand. A cut? No, a burn from the forno, oven. We started swapping kitchen war stories and I suddenly thought of the movie "Jaws." 

There's a scene in Jaws when the main characters, Hopper, Quint and Brody are in the belly of Quint's boat. They're eating, drinking and gabbing. They begin to talk about their scars. Each recount becomes progressive more gruesome as each thinks the wounds before were nothing. Finally Quint tells the story or all stories. 

Quint: ... Mako. Fell out of the tail rope and onto the deck. You don't get bitten by one of those bastards but twice -- your first and your last."

I burned my right index finger caramelizing sugar in my freshman dorm room making Brazilian Flan. Guiseppe almost lost part of a finger in a slicer. I nearly cut off the tip of my finger just last month slicing my favorite, yet extremely dense Zingerman's dried fruit and nut bread. 

Tomek, the youthful dishwasher, just then let fall a huge sauce pot. It fell right in the middle of his shin. The knot on his leg was the size of a tangerine. 

 

Via dei Teatro del Valle-- the street where I live.

I live in one of the safest neighborhoods in Roma. I've never felt a moment of anxiety during the walk home from work, often at midnight.  I am, however, always relieved when I arrive to my little via. 

No matter which direction I come from, the familiar sight comfort. I know I'm close to the apartment when I see my landmarks, which is a big deal -- the old streets all look the same in these parts. 

Directly next-door is the Teatro del Valle, a theatre. They they begin a run of "La Strada," a stage version of Fellini's 1954 film. Across from the apartment is the Teatro Bar (in Italy, bars are like snack bars that serve alcohol and limited menus, usually including salads and sandwiches). There are several small shops in and around the area, including a few that sell woven baskets, chairs, plant-holders, etc. Each shop displays a handwritten sign that reads (in Italian), "we fix any anything," or something like that. There's the evangelical church, a calzoneria (a shoe store), a wine shop, hair salon, bookstore,  a couple of restaurants, et al.

When I return from work, a 10 minute walk, I turn right at the defunct "Tipografia" shop. 

Parked along the narrow street, there are always a myriad of cars and and motorcycles. On theatre night, people crowd the street making it nearly impossible for cars, bikes or pedestrians to get by. 

Welcome to my hood. 

Learning Italian in the Kitchen

Valentin likes to say that in the kitchen, we are family. And like all families, we're functionally disfunctional, although I must say of all the kitchens I've experienced, there is a lot of respect and cooperation among the cooks, chef, waiters and management. Perhaps because the kitchen IS small (like most Roman restaurant kitchens in old buildings), everyone is on best behavior. Still, I am learning a colorful Italian.

My favorite expression? Vaffanculo! Pronounced vah-fu-ahn-coo-olo, it means "F*#K YOU." I love it so much I try to use it in a variety of situations, appropriate or not. The staff all laugh when I say it.

In the Ghettoooooooooooo

Okay, this may not be completely accurate, but here goes. According to Lisa, my guide on all things Roman, the Jewish community in Rome is the oldest continuous one in all of Europe, since around 300 BCE. I learned subsequently that the history goes back to the days of the Maccabees.

In Rome, it was only when Christianity was adopted officially, was there open discrimination. Walls were built to contain the Jews in the mid 1500s and its residents required to wear "flair" (yellow on hats and scarves) to be easily identifiable. For more than 300 years, Jews were forced to live exclusively in this "quarter." In the late 1800s, the walls were torn down, but there is still a strong presence and Jewish feel to the area, with its synagogue (the main synagogue in Rome) museum and myriad of Kosher restaurants.

The Jewish quarter, about a 15 minute walk from my apartment, is bordered on one side by the Tiber, near the Isola Tiberina, Tiber Island.

We had dinner near the famous Fontana de la Tartarughe, the Tortoise Fountain, in the northern area of the quarter. We stopped at one eatery Lisa likes, Nonna Betta (Grandmother Betta) in the heart of the area, Via del Portico d'Ottavia. The area caters to Jewish (and non-Jewish) travelers and those who keep kosher in Rome. Some of the men in Nonna Betta wore yamulkas.

We experienced an evening of artichokes and more. We ordered Carciofo all Guidia (fried artichokes in the Jewish style), zucchini flowers stuffed with Mozzarella and anchovies (fresh anchovies, not the salty canned anchovies of America). The artichokes are so uniquely Roman I just had to add the recipe. We had Stracetto di Tonno and a uniquely Roman vegetable salad, Puntarelli (wild chicory or endive stems) with anchovy dressing. Delish!

Carciofo All Guidia (Jewish Style Artichokes)

NOTE: If you've never seen these, then it's hard to picture, but imagine friend whole artichokes or the bottom third of artichokes, deep fried in olive oil. We've seen these whole or served as just the heart and bottom leaves. For ease, I am including a recipe with the hearts and the lower leaves.

8 whole artichokes
Juice of two lemons
salt and pepper to taste
Olive oil for frying (start with 2 1/2 cups)

Cut the tops of the artichokes off to just above the heart (start slowly, you can always cut more).
Fill a bowl with water and lemon juice (enough to submerge the artichokes). Use scissors or a sharp knife to cut off the tough tips of the artichokes.

Cut off around the hairy "choke" and discard the spikey/hairy part. You WILL l want to keep the lowers leaves (they are essential to this recipe). Cut the stalk so that it is quite short (so the artichoke will sit flatter on its bottom).

Line a baking sheet with several layers of paper towel. Set aside.

Heat oil in a large skillet over high heat until very hot. Season the artichokes with salt and fresh ground pepper and drop them into the skillet. Cook them, turning once or twice, until the artichoke becomes a darker, browned color and are tender. Drain well on the prepared baking sheet and serve hot or at room temperature. Makes 4 servings.

Dead Man Walking.

I can't help it, but I'm just really clumsy. If I don't watch exactly where I'm walking, I will fall. And it's actually not a trip unless I actually do trip. In Jodhpur I fell in the market. In Florida I fell in the shower. I almost fell all over Tokyo. In Rome, old Rome especially (I'm living and working in Medieval Rome), the streets are all cobblestone. Uneven, stones missing, loose cobbles, cobblestone. I, in my cooking clogs (black patent leather Dansko clogs -- lovely), am just a step away from a bad experience and definite inconvenience. As Romans (mostly the young ones) traipse in stiletto heels, I'm barely vertical in my unstylish, sensible shoes. I've heard that humans have two natural fears. One of loud noises and the other of falling. E vero.

In the Cucina #3

When I walked into the kitchen today, Guiseppe had at least six pots going at once. 

Palermo born and raised, young Guiseppe is always smiling. Tall with a spiky brushed this way and that coif with longish sideburns, I can easily imagine this twenty-something as a nine year-old, skinny with scraped knees. In a chefs jacket and apron, he looks unremarkable, but the other night, which he had off, he showed up in jeans where the waistband barely hugged the bottom of his skinny bum, a chain looped and in a leather jacket with All-Star-esque sneakers.

Anyway, Guiseppe was preparing tomato sauce, slow cooked onions (for individual onion flans, vegetable broth, vanilla pastry cream and Spezzatino di Manzo (a beef stew with red wine and rosemary), among other things. The stew starts out with a mirepoix, ground carrots, onions and celery sauteed in olive oil in a big pot. Beef, cut into cubes, is added and browned, red wine, tomato paste, salt and chopped fresh rosemary are added and the mixture bubbles until tender. 

Throughout the day, except during the lunch rush, he cooked and I helped. A few minutes after walking in I was making a butter based dough (butter, sugar, egg yolks, vanilla, flour and semolina, that is the basis for biscotti (or tiny biscottini), patacciotto (individual top and bottom crusted tartes, filled with vanilla cream). After that, I cleaned shrimp (save the heads!), pounded baby lamb chops (they're dipped in egg, dredged in breadcrumbs and quick deep fried), made individual eggplant Parmesans (with the fresh tomato sauce, fresh Mozzarella, grated Parmesan and fresh basil, layered and baked as needed.  

NOTE: I started working here on Tuesday. I was surprised by the small amount of fresh garlic in a small plastic container near the stove. I kept thinking the chefs were going to run out. Surprisingly, little garlic is used in Roman cooking. Other than obvious dishes like pesto (basil, pine nuts, walnuts, garlic, olive oil, Pecorino and Parmesan cheeses all pureed together), garlic is scarcely used here. I remember a story a couple of years ago about trying to nix garlic from Italian cooking. A little Googling and I found the story again. Click on the the title of this post (In the Cucina #3 for the full NPR story).   

Here's the recipe for Spezzatino di Manzo, my interpretation of Guiseppe's:

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 1/2 cups ground onions

1 1/2 cups ground carrots

1 cup ground celery

2 pounds beef (tenderloin, steak or stew meat), cut into 1-inch cubes

2 cups red wine

1/3 cup tomato paste

2 Tbsp. fresh chopped rosemary

Salt to taste

Water, vegetable or other broth, as needed

Heat oil with onions, carrots and celery in a large pot over medium-high heat. Saute until softened. Add the beef and brown on all sides. Add the wine and heat to boiling cook for five minutes. Add the tomato paste rosemary and about 1 tsp. salt to the pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and cook until the meat is tender and the sauce is thickened, adding water or broth if the mixture becomes too dry while cooking. Makes 8 servings.

Living in the lap of luxury, Italian style

After living with Lisa in her charming, yet distant apartment, I made a move -- I'm now a five-minute walk from the Cantina del Vecchio, so during the afternoon I can come home and relax a little before the evening shift begins. Where I sit typing right now, I'm in the thick of old Rome.

To bring a little perspective to my location, consider this: I'm a three-minute walk from Piazza Navona, a five-minute stroll to Campo Fiore, 10 minute walk from the Pantheon and a 20-30 minute (or less) amble from the Jewish Ghetto, the Vatican, and the Trevi Fountain and Spanish steps. This is my neighborhood. 

How did I luck into this situation? Lisa (who is in Lusanne, Switzerland, for a several days) has a high-ranking pal. I won't go into details, by her pal is traveling, so I'm staying in an airy (about 5,000 square feet) VIP penthouse by myself -- just me and the cat. This apartment is deluxe with all the American amenities including (but not limited to), American style bathrooms (five of them), four large bedrooms, an extremely roomy living room, dining room (that seats about 20), den with 47-inch flat screen and a laundry room complete with washer AND dryer (a dryer is a rarity in Italia). 

My bedroom (as many rooms do here on the top floor) opens to a veranda that's about 2,000 square-feet in size. My French doors lead to the left side of the veranda and just outside are six potted, fruiting lemon trees. A wall fountain trickles constantly and a conversation area with chairs invites me to sit down each morning. An outdoor fireplace divides my section from the larger open area, also filled with flowering trees, dining areas and lined with a flower boxes in full bloom.

NOTE: There's an old-fashioned elevator -- about 2x4 feet in size -- with wooden French doors inside and a woven metal cage that surrounds.  The first day I made the mistake of opening the French doors before I reached the floor level. The elevator stopped between floors and for a concerned moment (before pressing the button for the 4th floor and returning up) there was the risk of being stuck.