Rome on the Range

Pasta perfect.

2010-02-09T13:59:00.004+01:00

Before my lethal injection, I want pasta. Lots of pasta with as much bolognese I can stuff down. (I also want pizza and ice cream, but that's another story).

Every day at Cantina del Vecchio there was a pasta meal. Working in a kitchen for 10 hours a day, you eat a lot, except when you're busy (which is a lot). Before each meal rush, there was a staff or family meal. Usually the chef would ask a pretty waitress what she wanted to eat that day or our glorious leaders (Allan, usually) would have a special request, which we would also get to sample. In general, however, it was pasta in one form or another.

In bad American restaurants, pasta is often cooked ahead and dropped quickly into boiling water to heat up. In bad homes it's cooked, then rinsed under cold water (heaven help me), before it's warmed in the microwave oven.

It Italy, pasta is not only an art in its ingredients and preparation. It's practically religious in it's regulations on correctness of cooking and serving. This I learned my first day on the job.

At the far end of the line, beyond the giant stove, there was an metal vat. A metal tub really, filled each day with fresh water and a handful of salt. In this water metal baskets perched, ready to accept fresh pasta (pasta fresca) or dry (pasta secca). The boiler is industrial in a restaurant kitchen -- imagine a deep fryer, but for water).

The water came to a boil and there it raged until closing. First the water was clear, our family meal had the first fresh water -- good, thought I. As the day progressed, the water became thick and white from the floury pasta. Better, learned I as the days passed.

As pasta water becomes affected by the pasta cooked in it, it becomes not just a vehicle for cooking, but an ingredient. The cloudy water was added to pasta sauces (it made the sauces creamier), added to soups for thinning to heat and added to just about anything needing it (it's something you know instinctively just by being Italian, I think). Ladlefuls of this murky half-liquid are added -- it is an assumption -- not written or described in any recipe.

Using new water to cook pasta is a concession. Water has to be new sometime. But that old water (really middle-aged) is the best for pasta perfection. There's a point when the water becomes over-the-hill -- when it's super starchy thick, at 11:00 at night, it's time to close shop). It's hard to cook pasta in lava.

The cleaning of the pasta cooker was the de facto end of the working night. When we could turn off that monster, dip pots in to remove the heavy liquid and lift the still hot water liners, we knew the end was near. That's when exhaustion turned into a last burst of energy because no one could leave until that kitchen was clean.

At home, when I cook pasta, I have to use clean water. Pity. I know that at least five pounds of pasta cooked in the same pot (a pound at a time) and my water is only now perfect. Alas, unless I'm cooking for the masses, I don't have a choice. If only I could bottle that used water for later use...

Pannetone

2009-10-23T13:38:00.008+02:00

Everywhere you look on Italy's streets, vias, alley and piazzas, you'll see panettone. No, not the delicious holiday bread/cake/pastry with candied fruits you see on sale everywhere around the Christmas season. What you see are concrete lumps at the corners of buildings that stop cars, motorcycles and bikes, not to mention pedestrians, from bumping into corners of buildings. You see, with ancient towns, there are few sidewalks or "shoulders"on many of the streets, so buildings butt-up right to said streets. Apparently, the locals think these traffic control devices remind them of the dessert.

My great friend and genius Lisa Tucci (she really should have her own column/show/you name it) is a great observer and tour guide. Not only does she know an awful lot about the sites of Rome (and Italy in general), she's full of little tidbits they never mention in any visitors' literature. When she told me about street panettone, I was delighted.

She also mentioned that Italy's many dogs use these as de facto fire hydrants, never failing to lift a leg when a panettone is handy. Lisa's dog, Trevor (Treverino in Italian), quickly demonstrated, unprovoked. Now I can't look at a stone or concrete "blob" without remembering and smiling about panettone.

Here's a recipe and link I found online with what appears to be a wonderful recipe.

Jim Lahey’s, “Easy” Panettone

Ingredients:

1 cup raisins

2 Tbs light rum

2/3 cup tepid water plus 2 Tbs hot water, divided

3 ¾ cups all purpose flour

2/3 cup sugar

½ tsp salt

½ tsp instant dry yeast

¼ tsp grated lemon zest

½ vanilla bean, split lengthwise (I used 1 tsp vanilla extract)

3 large eggs, at room temperature

1 Tbs honey

12 ½ Tbs unsalted butter (10 ½ Tbs cut into Tbs size pieces and well softened; 1 Tbs melted; and 1 Tbs chilled)

2/3 cup candied fruits, chopped into small pieces if large.

Procedure:

Soak raisins in rum and 2 Tbs hot water (8 hours or overnight)
Mix flour, sugar, salt, yeast, lemon zest, and vanilla bean in stand mixer bowl with paddle until well mixed. In another bowl, whisk together the eggs, the honey, and the 2/3 cup of tepid water. With mixer at low speed, slowly pour the egg mixture into the flour mixture – up speed to medium low, and continue mixing until well combined. Add 10 ½ Tbs softened butter, 1 Tbs at a time, mixing until well incorporated between additions (Frozen/cold butter softens nicely in the microwave, but since each is sooo different, you’ll have to experiment to find the perfect time for yours – mine would be soft in about 15-25 seconds for this chunk.). Increase mixer speed to med high and mix until dough is smooth and elastic – about 8 minutes.
Drain raisins and mix with chopped fruit and 1 Tbs melted butter – stir into the dough mixture with a wooden spoon.
Put mixture into a large bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and put into a cold oven for 12-15 hours.
Lightly flour a board, and put the dough on the board – remove the vanilla bean, and sprinkle a light dusting of flour over the dough – pull the edges of the dough up onto itself, and turn it over into a ball.
Prepare your Panettone mold with either a paper liner or a piece of baker’s parchment held with a paper clip – move the dough into the mold, cover with a damp kitchen towel (not terry), and put in a warm spot where it can rise for 3-5 hours.
With an hour left in the dough rising time, turn your oven on to 370 degrees, and heat.
Cut an X in the top of the risen Panettone, and place the remaining Tbs of cold butter in the middle of the X – Put the Panettone mold/can on a baking sheet/pan and bake for an hour to an hour and a quarter – I needed 1 and ½ hours – test doneness with a skewer; it should be moist but clean – if you see dough, give it another 5-10 minutes.
When done, remove from oven, and remove from mold/can – measure 1 inch from the bottom of the Panettone and slide 4 skewers through the bottom from one side to the other – now suspend the Panettone upside down into a large stock pot (or two chairs), and let it cool completely, about 1 hour.

Panettone – a worthy addition to the special treats of Butter Season – and a holiday tradition that deserves, at least, to be on every baker’s resume. Try it – it may become your tradition too.

Tartufo! (And in my cucina)

2009-07-28T14:41:00.009+02:00

Each day I walked quickly through Piazza Navona on my way to Cantina del Vecchio. From my building, I turned left from the door. Walked about 30 yards to the corner. Turned left. Crossed Corso dei Rinascimento and diagonally crossed Piazza Navona (from south to north) and turned left at the corner of the restuaruant Tre Scalini.

Tre Scalini means "three steps" and that's exactly what greets you at the door, three shallow steps into the eatery. Outside, even in inclement weather, is outdoor seating. Diners will always, when possible, dine facing the piazza (not the building).

Waiters outdoors will invite folks walking by to eat at the restaurant (as they do at all tourist spots). I always just rushed by on my way to-and-from work -- 4 times a day. Never did the waiters begin to recognize me. I was just another American.

I knew from Lisa that this was a famous spot -- especially for the Tartufo. What is tartufo? The word itself translates into "truffle." Here tartufo is a dessert, chocolate gelato that's molded into a rough sphere and dredged in cocoa powder (to resemble the gourmet funghi). Imbedded in tartufo is a surprise -- a maraschino cherry and bits of chocolate. It's served with whipped cream and a sweet crunchy pirouette cookie.

My last afternoon, before the evening shift, I met my new friend Wendy (an amazing and lovely singer from Indiana, now living in Rome) for coffee and tartufo at Tre Scalini. I ordered. It came. I studied it. I poked it. I used a knife to cut into it. I gingerly inserted my spoon and scooped up a morsel. I tasted. Rich. Chocolate. Cold.

In short, Tartufo starts with deep chocolate gelato. Keep in mind that I had, for the last several weeks, eaten gelato daily -- often twice a day. I became an expert in gelato consumption and a whiz at flavor identification (much like I became a Jelly Belly pro during a certain jelly-bean phase). The tartufo was delicious. And eating it there, at that restaurant in that piazza in that city in that country was a "bucket list" experience. But it was gelato. So, it was good, but it was gelato for 9-euro (about $13 or so). Wendy graciously treated.

As with any great memory (especially of food), gestalt came into play in my enjoyment of tartufo. Here it wasn't just the tartufo -- it was Wendy, it was my last day in Rome, it was Piazza Navona, it was a changed and improved Annabel, wiser and more fulfilled in my new life. It was one small dessert for me, one giant leap for Annabelkind.

Here is my version of Tartufo.

Tartufo

In a pinch, use very good quality dark chocolate ice cream as a stand-in for the gelato.

1 pint dark chocolate gelato

1/4 cup finely chopped good quality bittersweet chocolate

2-3 maraschino cherries

1 cup cocoa powder

Fresh lightly sweeteened whipped cream

Pirouette cookies (or sweet wafers)

Soften the gelato slightly and stir in the chopped chocolate. Form the gelato into spheres (2 to 3 spheres per pint). Use your fingers to insert one maraschino cherry per sphere. Transfer the spheres into a dish and freeze until hard. Remove from freezer and use your hands to form the tartufo into a slightly flattened sphere (see photo above). Just before serving, roll the tarfufo in cocoa powder and serve with whipped cream and wafer. Makes 2-3 servings.

In the Cucina #9

2009-07-08T22:57:00.006+02:00

I have a passion for fiore di zucca or zucchini flowers. At Cantina, every few days we would receive a fresh delivery of these golden blossoms, wrapped as delicately as eggs and handled just as gingerly. Whenever i saw them at Campo di Fiore, I wanted to buy them. But for what? I wasn't cooking in my penthouse and if I bought them, it would be only to ogle their loveliness. I wanted them any way -- stuffed with cheese, or meat or potatoes or simply dredged in flour or cornstarch and quickly fried and used as a garnish for Cacio e Pepe or rissoto. I've only ever experienced fiore di zucca fried, which is just fine with me.

Zucca means squash (they call pumpkins zucca in Italy), so zucchini is the diminutive of zucca. Zucchini, botanically, are a fruit (like tomatoes and cucumbers -- it has to do with ovaries and flowers and seeds and stuff), but are always referred to as vegetables. Sometimes you'll find small zucchini still attached to the flowers or the bigger blossoms on stalks from male plants). Any variety squash blossoms are perfect for all recipes.

Here are two recipes -- one stuffed, as when I ate them in a restaurant in the Jewish quarter and fried simply, as a necessary garnish, at Cantina del Vecchio.

Fiore di Zucca (Fried)
Zucchini flowers

Cornstarch

Vegetable oil for frying
Place a grate or many layers of paper towel over a baking sheet. Set aside.

Heat about 1/2-inch of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. The oil must be quite hot (rippling) or the flowers will be soggy.

Pinch-out the pistils or stamens (the things sticking up, if any, in the centers of the flowers). Dredge the flowers in cornstarch. Drop the flowers in the oil and and fry, quickly, until golden. Carefully remove the flowers with a slotted spoon or tongs and transfer to the prepared baking sheet. Drain well. Use at room temperature as a garnish (topped our caccio e pepe with the flowers) on just about anything from salad to pasta.

Ricotta Stuffed Zucchini Flowers

12 large (male) or smaller (female) zucchini blossoms
1 cup of ricotta cheese
1 large egg
1/2 cup of freshly grated Parmesan cheese
3 Tbsp. chopped fresh basil
1 Tbsp. fresh chopped parsley

1/2 tsp. saltVegetable oil for frying

Batter:

3/4 cup flour

1 cup sparkling water or club soda

Place a grate or many layers of paper towel over a baking sheet. Set aside.

Pinch-out the pistils or stamens (the things sticking up, if any, in the centers of the flowers).

Combine the filling ingredients in a small bowl and mix well. Add additional salt to taste.

Combine the batter ingredients in another bowl and whisk well. Set aside.

Using a teaspoon or a pastry bag, fill or pipe the filling into the zucchini flowers. Pinch and twist the flower tops lightly to enclose the filling.

Heat at least one-inch of oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. The oil must be quite hot (rippling) or the flowers will be soggy.

Dip the filled flowers upside down (holding the stem ends) into the batter and fry them until golden. When cooked, place on the prepared baking sheet. Serve immediately, or rewarm before serving. Makes 4 appetizer portions.

I'm Lovin' it.

2009-07-08T21:32:00.003+02:00

Lisa T. says her late father said the best bathrooms in Italy (indeed the world) are in McDonald's restaurants. So whenever I spotted a McDonald's, I went (if you know what I mean). I went at the Mcdonald's near the Pantheon. I went in the McDonald's at Piazza di Spagna.

Fact is, I love McDonald's and I'm not too snotty to admit it. And I make a point of going in every country I visit. Why, you may be thinking, with all the amazing food in Italy, would I want to go to Mickey-D's? Because in every country the food is different. In India there was no beef served (see my blog whossarinow.com). My New Delhi experience included a Maharaja Burger, for example. So, I've chowed in Rio De Janeiro, Bangkok, Moscow, Paris, Marakesh, Tokyo, Beijing and Rome.

I must confess, I didn't actually feel like eating at McDonald's in Rome. In Thailand I craved American fast-food after two weeks of the local grub. Same thing in Tokyo. But in Rome, my diet was so exquisite, I had to force myself to order a Big Mac meal.

McDonald's restaurants in Rome are really quite chic -- they have that contemporary, designer look that's tasteful and somewhat luxurious with granite-topped tables, plenty of wood accents and nary a golden arch. And the menu's include simplistic images so that ordering can be accomplished via a point and order method for all the turistas. The Italian menu includes items you'll never find in American. There's the special Sfiziosita, triangular spinach croquettes with real Parmigiano Reggiano. And there's crunchy fried shrimp, among other things. And beer.

I walked into the McDonalds near Largo Argentina one Thursday after shopping at Campo de Fiore. I ordered from the McMenu and asked for a Diet Coke -- a big one finally. I wanted some ketchup for my fries, but for about 30-cents for each packet (on top of the nearly $9 you pay for a meal), I decided to eat my fries neat. My entire meal, packaged in universal wrapping. It looked and tasted exactly like I was eating it in Bloomfield Hills. Exactly.

And, afterwards, I peed in the lovely, clean bathroom.

Here's what Romebuddy.com wrote about McDonalds in Rome.

McDonalds have about twenty joints all around town now. They first opened here about fifteen years ago with a place in Piazza Di Spagna. At that time Rome city council was very suspicious of the whole idea, so they specified to MacDonalds that they had to build a restaurant which was in character with the historical architecture and culture of the area, both inside and out.

McDonalds responded by building the most bizarre McD's restaurant you'll ever see - The facade is very low key, not the familiar red and yellow corporate colors, but gold lettering on dark grey marble, so it's difficult to spot at first. Inside, you'll find mock-marble replica fountains, real terra-cotta brickwork, fresco murals, salad bars and displays of fresh fruit in wooden barrows similar to those in Campo dei Fiori.

Other branches added later around other districts of Rome are more conventional in appearance. Although there's now a McDonalds in every far-flung suburb of Rome, the main locations you'll need as a tourist in the central Rome area are at:

Piazza Di Spagna
Via del Corso
Piazza Barberini
Via Nazionale
Piazza della Repubblica
Piazza della Rotonda (opposite the Pantheon)
Piazza Sidney Sonnino (in Trastevere)

Dancing Queen

2009-04-19T13:35:00.002+02:00

If there is a theme song to my experience in Rome, it's Abba's "Dancing Queen." In fact Abba's greatest hits was always playing in the background somewhere in the restaurant. Chef Paolo would connect his cell-phone to small speakers in the kitchen and kick on the tunes. Everyone in the kitchen would sing along.

Chef Paolo, a musician as well as a chef, would begin to cook and dance at the same time. I called him the dancing chef. At times he would get wild, tossing pasta, creating sauces, grilling and sauteeing, with feet and head moving in rhythm to the beat.

I tried to videotape Paolo (I wanted to secretly post it on YouTube), but each time I whipped out my Flip camcorder, he suddenly became shy.

Occasionally when it became too loud in the kitchen, what with all the singing and dancing, someone would peek into the kitchen and tell us "basso" -- quiet!

Allan and Vittorio

2009-04-19T12:39:00.008+02:00

Cantina del Vecchio

VittorioCantina del Vecchio has two main partners -- Allan and Vittorio -- and one of them is in the "front of the house," in the restaurant dining room, at all times. That's seven days a week, from early morning until late -- really late.

Allan is British born, but has lived in Italy for 35 years. Despite his many years in Rome, he still exudes a British "air" about him -- at first a bit aloof -- with a quiet manner. He's never loud (ever).

He's an observer and expert on social nuance. He's the one I would ask for translations (I could get along mostly with my broken Italian, copious gesticulation and charades). I counted on his perfect Italian and he never failed to explain to me not just pronunciation, but the musicality of the language. Words in Italian (more so than in English), depend so much on delivery.

Allan is a true foodie. He loves cuisine and as a trained professional sommelier (from Rome's Hilton school) will always a recommend the perfect wine pairing for every dish. He's the one I searched for approbation in everything. A compliment from Allan means something.

Vittorio is so warm, he is (as Raquel would say) practically in flames. He speaks passionately and always with his hands. He is what I think of when I think of the Roman "manner." Of course, he IS Italian. He is quick with a smile and downright affectionate -- appropriately of course.

Vitorrio, too, knows and loves food. He has an Italian chic sense of style and seems to always be concerned about eating too many carbs. It's hard to be strict with Cantina's perfect pastas and intoxicating desserts. For him, the kitchen prepares meats and fish seared and never includes potatoes or other any other starchy foods. But you could tell he really missed them and would occasionally indulge (passionately), as I saw him a few times, eating even a bit of the kitchen's luxurious rosemary roasted potatoes (see recipe below) or a molten chocolate tortino or layered "mille foglia" -- a Napolean by any other name. Each time I would comment, "no carbiodrato!"

Roasted Rosemary Potatoes

2 pounds peeled new or gold potatoes

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Finely ground sea salt to taste

2 Tbsp. rosemary leaves

Preheat oven to 450-degrees F. Line a baking sheet with sides with parchment or spray with nonstick cooking spray.

Peel and cut the potatoes into 1/2-inch cubes and transfer to the prepared baking sheet. Drizzle the oil over and toss well. Sprinkle with salt and rosemary and toss well with your hands. Spread the potatoes over the baking sheet in a single layer. Roast, uncovered, for 30-minutes, or until the potatoes are tender and lightly golden. Makes 6 servings.

Earthquake Near Rome

2009-04-06T05:11:00.003+02:00

ROME, Italy (CNN) -- A 6.3-magnitude earthquake struck central Italy early Monday, less than six hours after another quake hit the northern part of the country, the U.S. Geological Survey said.

A spokesman with the Italian civil protection agency said had received reports of collapsed buildings, and officials believe there were possible casualties.

The quake struck at 3:32 a.m. (9:32 p.m. ET Sunday) about 95 kilometers (60 miles) northeast of Rome and about 10 kilometers (6.2 miles) deep.

Rescuers were called out to the city of L'Aquila, at the quake's epicenter.

At about 10:20 p.m. (4:20 p.m. ET) Sunday, a 4.6-magnitude earthquake hit northern Italy, about 55 km (35 miles) southeast of Bologna at a depth was 6.4 kilometers (4 miles), the agency said.

In the Cucina #8: Knuckles

2009-04-04T06:20:00.009+02:00

Not all Italian pasta is made the same. Gnocchi literally means knuckles, in Italian. Indeed these little dumplings do remind you of a hand's knuckles when you make a fist. At Cantina del Vecchio, one of their most delicious dishes is gnocchi, made fresh as needed. You won't find it on the menu, though. Instead there are notes at the bottom of the lunch and dinner menu, "I primi classici della tradizione romana sono sempre disponibile," -- The traditional Roman pasta dishes are always available." To Romans and those in the know, it's assumed you know what these dishes are (if you're Roman, you know what these are -- just ask).

Anyway, gnocchi are at their most basic, made with potato, egg and flour. What can be added to the recipe -- pumpkin, spinach, herbs, cheese -- is completely up the gnocchi-maker. The dough should be pretty soft or, when cooked, the dumplings turn into heavy gut bombs. If you've ever had weighty gnocchi, you know what I mean. You feel it all day. Not good.

The dough is then rolled into long ropes and cut into pieces. It's boiled for just a couple of minutes until they rise to the surface. Cook them too long and they turn into a glue.

Here is my version Gnocchi.

Gnocchi

There are countless recipes for gnocchi (pronounced nyow-kee)– which means “knuckles” in Italian. Some call for nutmeg or added cheese, many are flavored with herbs or vegetables like spinach or pumpkin. This is a basic gnocchi. These aren’t shaped and don’t include the “thumbprint” indentation you often see in these little potato dumplings.

4 Russet or Idaho potatoes (about 2 pounds)

1 large egg

1 teaspoon salt

2 cups flour, or more as needed

Peal the potatoes and cut into 2-inch chunks. Place in a pot filled with cold water and 1 tsp. salt. Bring the water to a boil over high heat and cook until tender, about 30 minutes. Drain very well and allow to cool for about 5 minutes.

Use a potato ricer to mash the potatoes (or beat them in a mixer) into a large bowl. Form a well in the center of the potatoes and add the egg and salt. Add about 1 cup of flour the potatoes and, using a rubber spatula, stir in the flour until incorporated.

Flour a clean surface and turn the potato mixture on the surface. Using both hands, begin to stir and knead the dough, adding the flour and working it in until the mixture forms a soft, sort of sticky dough (you’ll know the dough is ready when you can pinch off a piece, roll it into a small ball and it holds it’s shape – it should still be quite soft).

Dust the surface again with flour. Cut the dough into six pieces. Roll the dough (like Play-Dough into a 1/2-inch diameter (thick) rope 1/2 inch thick, flouring the dough if necessary as you roll to keep it from sticking. Cut the dough into 1/2-inch pieces. Place the dough on a floured or cornmeal sprinkled baking sheet. Repeat with remaining dough. Chill if you’re using within the next day or freeze (freeze on the baking sheet – when frozen solid, transfer to a zipper bag), until ready to cook.

To cook gnocchi:

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Drop half the gnocchi (or all of it if your pot is really big) into the boiling water a few at a time. Stir the water to make sure the gnocchi don’t stick together. Cook until the dumplings rise to the surface. Cook the gnocchi, stirring gently, until tender, about 1 minute after they rise to the surface.

Remove the gnocchi with a slotted spoon or skimmer, draining in the spoon and keep warm in a warm oven (on an olive oil coated dish or baking sheet). When all is cooked, add sauce and grated cheese as desired. Makes 8 servings.

The 8th Hill of Rome

2009-04-03T03:23:00.004+02:00

The third night in Rome Lisa took me to an amazing party. The guest of honor was CSI New York's Hill Harper (click on the title above this post and you'll get more info about Hill Harper). Harper plays Dr. Sheldon Hawkes, the coroner on the show and was in Rome to speak to kids about ... oh I don't know. But the Embassy was throwing a bash for him and my well-connected friend Lisa was invited.

The party was teeming with celebs -- Italian actors, TV personalities, movie directors, singers, big time judges, US Embassy folk, Hill Harper and me.

Long story short, I found Hill and we talked and talked. I whipped out my new FLIP video camera, handed it to who knows who and told them to start recording. I told Hill that my daughter Raquel's favorite show is CSI (it's absolutely true) and that's she's studying theatre at Columbia in Chicago. He said he was just at Columbia a few months ago talking at the college.

Raquel later told me that Hill is pals with Barack Obama (she thinks they went to Harvard together -- Hill is a Harvard Law School grad). He sent a shout out to Raquel telling her to stick with acting!

Well, in 2004, Hill was named one of People Magazine's sexiest men alive. And, honey, he is! Check him out here with yours truly.

In the Cucina #7

2009-04-01T20:28:00.003+02:00

The code phrase for a romantic encounter in Roma is "Allora ... andiamo a prendere un caffe," or let's get coffee. If someone asks you for coffee or a drink or conversation, it's because they are interested in some sort of nookie -- they are "flirtare," flirting with you.

I have decided that every man in Italy flirts.

Since it was decided in Cantina's kitchen that, "in the kitchen, we are all men," it wasn't long before I was part of the gang, so, no more holding back anything -- including, swearing, burping and flirting (not with me!) with every "bella regazza," pretty girl. One afternoon, a young cook practically begged the sweet cuban waitress, Dana "ti va un caffe." She said no. She always said no.

And these guys all have real girlfriends.

When a "bella regazza" entered the restaurant there was a flurry of excitement in the kitchen. I was constantly rolling my eyes when talk about these regazzas started. If she was, say, amply endowed in some way, hands gesticulated to show just how big. Or when a table of women entered, the questions were always, "are they pretty?" Special service with an extra big smile for these women.

Later NOTE: On the way back to the Rome airport at the end of my trip, the gruff looking. 50-something taxi driver, Paolo, began playing a Brazilian music CD in his standard-issue white cab. As the Carnaval sounds of "Partido da Vida" played in the background, Paolo became increasingly happy during the 40-minute ride. With my positive reaction to the Brazilian music, he turned the volume way up.

A few minutes before reaching the airport, he asked me to stop with him for coffee! Sorry, I can't -- I have a plane to catch. Only in Italy!

Non Si Butta Niente.

2009-04-01T20:01:00.004+02:00

One of the first phrases Allan, owner of Cantina del Vecchio, translated into Italian for me was "non si butta niente," don't throw anything away.

I'm frugal. I'm resourceful, I'm an environmentalist of sorts. I must have a depression mentality because it's hard for me to throw anything remotely useful away. Which is why every year when I purge my house of superfluosity, I call the Salvation Army or Purple Heart rather than bag it and trash it.

So, when I saw the perfectly good ends of red bell peppers find their way to the special compost rubbish tin, I nearly burst an artery. I fished them out, washed them and asked, "can I have these." Of course. I carefully wrapped the pepper ends in pellicola (plastic wrap) to take home to chop and add to fritatta (bell pepper in fritatta -- they thought I was crazy). From then on, "non si butta niente" became my mantra. On a day when fresh orange juice was being squeezed, I snatched up the peels and made candied orange peel, which Guiseppe, from Palermo, said was absolutely Sicilian (see my recipe below).

You might be wondering, how can they be so wasteful! Here's the answer. In a commercial kitchen, there is a lot of rushing around. Here, time IS money. To spend an extra 30 minutes cutting citrus peel into thin strips and boiling it three-times before rolling it in sugar costs more in time money than the finished product is financially worth. Sometimes it's simply not economical to use everything.

I would say to the kitchen staff, "See these peppers? They cost $3 a pound in the U.S. This is about 1 Euro worth -- if you found a Euro on the ground, would you pick it up?"

For the rest of my time in the kitchen, the staff jokingly taunted me when the dish-washing person threw away any food (usually it was from diners' plates who didn't finish their meals). And I always answered "che peccato" -- what a shame.

Candied Orange Peel

You can use any citrus peel for this. Mine is a simplified recipe in that I don't cook the peel in sugar syrup. But everyone agreed it was delicious.

6 large oranges (with thicker skin)

Water

Granulated sugar for dredging the cooked orange peel

Cut the peel fro to remove most of the white part, the pith. Cut the peel into thin strips and place in a medium saucepan. Cover the peels with water and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat slightly and cook the peel for about 5 minutes. Drain and repeat the process two more times. Drain the peel for the last time and place the peels in a dish or on a baking sheet with sides. Add sugar (about 1 cup is more than enough) and toss the peels so that they're well coated. Spread the candied peels on the baking sheet and leave out overnight to dry.

When no longer wet or very sticky, the peels are ready to eat. Makes about 2 cups of candied peel.

In Lisa I Trust

2009-04-01T19:09:00.010+02:00

Lisa Tucci, my friend and guardian angel in Rome, is amazing. If you simply suggest an idea, she will take said idea and make it happen. A rain-maker if you will. And I trust her (oh, yes, I do) when she tells me to do something. She says "salta" and I say, "how high?" That's why when she had me on my first day in Rome take a bus to the suburbs late at night with nary an Italian word in my vocabulary, I did it without question (it turned out okay, despite the wrong bus debacle).

After all, she did find me my job at Cantina del Vecchio and my penthouse digs in the heart of the most desirable neighborhood in ancient Rome. And she did take me to the quite intimate party where Hill Harper (star of CSI: New York) was the guest of honor.

So, when on one of our few visits together she took me to Rome's Gianicolo one sunset eve and said trust me, it's worth it, I trusted.

Gianicolo, or Janiculum Hill, is across the river. A winding drive up the hill and the vista is spectacular -- Rome is literally at your feet, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. You can see the hills of Rome (not all seveb, I believe, but certainly some of them). No wonder this romantic place is also known as a, if not the, Lover's Lane of bella Roma.

Even as we were ascending the hill in Lisa's red Honda Civic, the beauty inspired an actual gasp -- and I'm no gasper (I've seen the Taj Mahal, I've walked the Great Wall, I've seen Jesus -- that is in Rio de Janeiro). Yeah, it was that stunning.

There are, course, other sights at Gianiculo. What's any Roman clearing without a fountain -- the Fontana dell'Acqua is a popular spot for wedding portraits to be taken. Then there's the Garibaldi monument. Apparently, according to Lisa (who I trust), Guiseppe Garibaldi helped unite Italy and fought against French attacks on Rome. Apparently, his the pregnant wife accompanied him into battle, so there is a monument in her honor nearby as well.

At the top of the hill, as in any touristic spot in Rome, you can buy snacks at vending truck. It was here that I spotted him -- the cotton candy vendor. Since cotton-candy is one of my favorite foods (I can hear my mother saying in her Brazilian accent, "you have verrrrry infantile tastes"), I had to pay the 2 Euro (around $3) for the penny's worth of spun sugar on a stick. Zucchero filato and the best view of Rome. Does it get better than this?

For some wonderful musings on all things Italy -- check out Lisa's blog at www.burntbythetuscansun.blogspot.com

A O!

2009-03-25T09:50:00.008+01:00

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

2009-03-24T09:17:00.005+01:00

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

2009-03-23T17:53:00.009+01:00

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!

2009-03-23T16:41:00.009+01:00

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

2009-03-23T09:35:00.003+01:00

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.

2009-03-23T08:09:00.005+01:00

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

2009-03-21T18:01:00.007+01:00

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

2009-03-20T16:00:00.008+01:00

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

2009-03-19T10:02:00.005+01:00

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!

2009-03-17T18:11:00.005+01:00

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!

2009-03-17T16:16:00.005+01:00

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

2009-03-17T15:43:00.003+01:00

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

2009-03-17T15:00:00.005+01:00

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.

2009-03-17T13:32:00.008+01:00

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

2009-03-15T12:24:00.003+01:00

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

2009-03-15T10:59:00.008+01:00

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.

2009-03-14T18:54:00.006+01:00

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

2009-03-14T18:08:00.007+01:00

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

2009-03-14T10:26:00.005+01:00

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.

Vending Machines Italian Style

2009-03-14T08:43:00.003+01:00

For the past two years, I've had a particularly soft spot for vending machines. It started when I visited Tokyo with nothing, just the clothes I wore and a purse. I wanted to survive only purchasing necessities via vending machines. To this day, I can't pass a vending machine anywhere in the world without inspecting it and its contents. I actually own two vending machines at home. One is filled with nothing but American candy. It's popular among my daughter's college crowd.

Around the corner where I'm living here in Rome, is a vending shop -- nothing but machines, all selling something to eat or drink. Actually, it's a "pecado," a pity, since there are hundreds of fabulous eateries every few feet with fresh, fatto a casa (homemade) goodies.

But back to vending. My friend Mary Jo knows my passion for the vending life. She found this article (see link) about Italy's vending life and pizza. Mama mia!

In the Cucina #2

2009-03-13T18:12:00.008+01:00

By the time I get to the kitchen in the morning, vessels filled with assorted concoctions are alive with heat. A pot full of shrimp heads will be a luscious broth. Another with tomato sauce will become an essential ingredient, added to Polpetti (meatballs), to the Amatriciana sauce (from an Italian city call Amatrice, about 70 or so miles from Rome), and more. Still another pot simmers with onions, celery, carrots, chick peas, tomato paste and water. In an hour it will be the Cantina's creamy Zuppa de Ceci, vegetarian chick pea soup, garnished simply with a few grinds of black pepper and a drizzle of olive oil.

Velentin, remember him (the adorable Romanian?) is furiously whisking a bechamel or white sauce for the Vegetarian Lasagne. He tells me in English, "you make the lasagne." My usual answer is, "mostra" (show me). While I've made my share of lasagne, of course Cantina's is Cantina's, so I have to see it prepared once. Valentin roasts zucchini, red and yellow bell peppers, and onions. He spreads layers of bechamel sauce (flour, butter or oil, milk and salt) in a pan, layers fresh sheets of pasta, adds more bechamel, the veggies, Buffalo Mozzarella, fresh basil and grated Parmesan. Repeat. Bake for 40 minutes. Of course these are but a few of the menu items being prepared. (Look for the recipe soon).

In the meantime he soup is now ready to be pureed. Here's the zuppa recipe I think is pretty close to how I see it prepared (made for 6-8 instead of 40!)

Zuppa di Ceci

1/4 cup olive oil

1 cup chopped onion

1 cup chopped carrots

1 cup chopped celery

2 cans (about 15 ounces) chick peas, drained

8 cups water or vegetable broth

2 Tbsp. tomato paste

Salt to taste

1 twig of fresh rosemary

Extra virgin olive oil, garnish

Fresh ground pepper, garnish

Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the onion, carrots and celery and cook until the onion is softened. Add the drained chick peas and water, raise heat to high and bring to a boil. Reduce heat slightly, add the tomato paste, about 1 tsp. of salt and rosemary. Bring to a boil again and cook for about 45 minutes, until the vegetables are very soft. Allow to cool a bit before removing the rosemary (if using) and pureeing the soup until smooth. Add more water if needed if the soup is too thick. Adjust salt to taste. Serve hot, garnished with fresh ground pepper, a drizzle of olive oil and some toasted, good bread on the side. Makes 6-8 servings.

NOTE: Small world. I'm now Facebook friends with most of my coworkers. There's Paolo, the chef, Guissepe, a cook, Valentin, another cook and Valentina, a waitress. Amjad and Donna (waitstaff) and Albano, the dishwasher/prep cook don't Facebook.

NOTE 2: I'm writing this while watching the Colbert Report and cracking up. Colbert is talking about his image being used in Iran to sell men's clothes. I can hardly focus on what I'm writing.

Gelato!

2009-03-13T09:29:00.004+01:00

I'm afraid I'm a addict. I can't pass a gelati shop without an internal argument. I'm in Italy; I deserve this. It's ice cream; it's fattening. It's delicious. It's, as my mother would say, poison. But there are 30 flavors sometimes and some gelaterias offer more than 60 flavors like the shop I went to today -- pistachio, coconut, raspberry, lemon, hazelnut -- how can I say no. I can't say no. So I'm limiting myself to one galato each day -- piccolo, small. Less than two euro. Dividing the number of days by the flavors of gelati, I won't taste them all. It's a sacrifice, but what can I do.

NOTE: Just so the tourist know, many of the less fancy gelaterias have light-up three scoop sign above their shops.

My First Adventure

2009-03-12T18:25:00.002+01:00

I hesitate to tell this story because I know my mother will have a heart attack. But I'm still alive, so I'll tell it.

First a little background. My friend Lisa is intrepid, truly. She's lived far away from home, alone, for almost two decades. Nothing spooks her and she believes everyone is as fearless and as confident as she. Her mother Isabella says to her, "you don't believe in luck, you count on it." And since Lisa lives in a destination city, she's always hosting company in her apartment. Her motto to all her guests: "I can't take your vacation for you."

Okay, so remember Lisa took me to the restaurant on my first day of work? We took bus #30 from the piazza near her apartment (Piazza del Navigatore -- not in the main part of Rome, so it's not on most tourist maps). This first day I worked a double shift, lunch and dinner with a 3 hour hiatus in between. The shift ends about midnight, but I leave at 10:30 p.m. Lisa insists I take bus #30 back to her piazza (why spend $25 when you can go for one Euro?), I call Lisa from the restaurant so she can meet me at her spot.

I leave the side door of the restaurant. It's raining softly and the ally looks like a movie set with its shiny, wet cobblestone pavement.

I find my bus stop and hop on. I ride the nearly empty bus for three stops before asking the bus driver in my broken English/Italian how far away am I from Piazza del Navigatore. It turns out I'm at the end of the line going the wrong way. I get off the bus (it's now 11:15 p.m.) and I get on three-passenger #30 going the other way (the buses stop running at midnight). Finally on the right path, I've backtracked and finally arrive at my stop at about 11:30 p.m.

In the meantime, the handsome, young bus driver starts a conversation. He actually wants me to go with him to have a drink and "conversation." I tell him thanks but not thanks, but I'm flattered (Lisa says there's nothing like Italy to make a woman of any age FEEL like a woman).

I get off the bus. No Lisa.

I have to think. I remember somehow how to get home, ring the bell and Lisa buzzes me in. It's close to midnight. Hyped with the day's excitement, I'm awake nearly all night.

Tomorrow I go to work alone.

In the Cucina

2009-03-12T17:50:00.008+01:00

Cantina del Vecchio is open for lunch and dinner seven days a week. Lunch begins at noon, but the rush is from 2:00 until about 3:00 p.m. From 9:30 a.m. or so until the lunch rush, the morning is spent prepping -- making broths, chopping vegetables, trimming beef and such.

Fresh vegetables and large paper bags full of crusty, wood-oven baked loaves arrive in the morning. Greens, such as spinach, which in the U.S. comes triple-washed in bags arrives au natural, gritty with earth and in small bunches which must be trimmed and washed. Today there is baby arugula gathered in bunches. And fresh zucchini flowers are sunny yellow with green stems, waiting to be stuffed with a mixture of Ricottta cheese and whipped egg whites. Today we separated the the delicate flowers from the stems and gently tore them along natural seams to be lated dusted with cornstarch and flash fried as a garnish for dinner's Cacio e Pepe. Rome's most famous cheese and fresh ground pepper pasta, Cacio e Pepe, ismade with nutty-flavored sheep's milk Pecorino cheese. Pecorino Romano (from Rome, right?) is the only cheese you can authentically use in this recipe.

My friend Lisa wants only to know how to make Cacio e Pepe -- it's her favorite. So while Chef Paolo prepared, I grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper and scribbled down as much as I could figure out -- eyeballing the measurements. Of course, I could only hope to repeat this as Paolo prepared. Here goes.

Cacio e Pepe

NOTE: The pasta must be very al dente, which may seem a bit raw for American's. Still, avoid the urge to cook the pasta until soft.

12 ounces dry spaghetti

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 cup or more vegetable broth

1 cup each of finely grated Parmesan and Pecorino Romano cheeses

1-2 tsp. fresh coarse ground pepper or more to taste

Place a large pot of salted water to boil over high heat. When the water is boiling vigorously, add the pasta and stir it so it doesn't stick together in the water.

While the pasta is cooking, heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add 1 tsp. fresh coarsely ground black pepper. Cook the pepper until it begins to sizzle and pop. Add the broth (be careful, it will steam). When the pasta is just al dente (do not overcook), quickly drain (DO NOT RINSE) the pasta and add it to the skillet. Toss the pasta in the oil. Keep tossing until completely incorporated. Add the cheese, 1/2-cup at a time, tossing and stirring well to incorporate. As the cheese melts, it will create a creamy sauce. Divide the pasta among 4 large warm shallow bowls or plates. Sprinkle with more pepper and a grating of fresh Parmesan cheese. Serve immediately. Makes 4 large servings or 8 appetizer servings.

Range Rover

2009-03-12T09:30:00.002+01:00

For the first two days, I called myself "la fermera," the nurse. I'm watching and helping as much as I can -- I hand over knives, bowls, buckets of spinach, fistfuls of fresh rosemary and basil. I'm fast with a spatula. Need tongs? Here you go. Yet, poco a poco (little by little) I'm insinuating myself into the kitchen situation.

Yesterday, during lunch, Valentin, (an adorable 25-year old Romanian born cook) showed me the basics and felt confident to let me have at it. Since everything at Cantina del Vecchio is "fatto a casa" -- homemade (from the ravioli to every sauce to each amazing savory custard and dessert) -- I rolled pasta for ravioli and filled it with a fresh cod concoction that includes a sprinkling of fresh red onion, pinenuts and raisins -- only we couldn't find the raisins so we tossed in a bit of fresh pineapple! For an hour I stuffed and cut and shaped these half-moon stuffed pasta pillows.

Since there is not a cookbook to be found in this kitchen, I'm learning, by eye, the appetizers, salads, pastas, veal roasts, the stocks (vegetable, fish, beef, etc.) that are used to lighten and thin soups, sauces, etc.

Here's the thing, every couple of months, the menu changes. According to owner partner Allan, 30 or 40 new dishes are suggested and prepared. The vetting process begins and the new menu honed. So, by the time I'll start to get more familiar with the offerings, it'll be time to change. Next week, new offerings.

I nibble all day on some of Rome's best food. The kitchen and waitstaff eat veal Milanese, pasta, arugula radicchio salad and San Pellegrino. Throughout the day, tiny demitasse cups of strong espresso (half the portion of Starbucks) make their way to the kitchen. I'm not such a coffee drinker, so yesterday I had a Coca Cola Light (I miss it). The bottle was maybe 6 ounces, a tease to a girl accustomed to Big Gulps. Madonna!

Day #1

2009-03-11T07:42:00.002+01:00

So, Lisa took me to work on my first day like I'm in kindergarten. We pick up bus #30 from Piazza di Navigatore and 8 stops later were reached our destination near Piazza Navona (with three famous fountains). A five minute walk later and we arrived at Cantina del Vecchio. Allan Garner an owner of Cantina welcomed me and I was off to the kitchen for the first working shift.

I met Paolo, the chef -- he's 30. Then Amjer the waiter and Albano the dishwasher/helper. Yesterday I mostly watched, seeing how I could fit in.

Lunched was being prepped, though all of the soups and many of the entrees were nearly ready to go, needing heating, last minute cooking or assembly. The lunch menu (check out their site www.cantinadelvecchio.it) is not extensive (although Lisa tells me it is for an upscale restaurant). Why? It is the way. I imagine that with land at a premium, kitchens are small, and everything is fresh, fresh, fresh. Allan tells me that in Italy, ingredients must be fresh (nothing frozen) or it must be indicated on the menu that the items were frozen -- I'm checking this out, so stay tuned).

Lunch is served from noon to about 2:30 p.m.; after that "la cocina e chiusa" (the kitchen is closed) until "happy hour" at 7 p.m.

I thought I knew how to cook until today. I was humbled by the fare and just watching as pastas were prepared at the moment -- sprinkled lightly with Parmigiano cheese and served piping. More later about the food (I returned home by bus, alone at 11:30 p.m. -- more on that later as well, so and couldn't sleep most of the night, so I'm too exhausted to go on at this moment. And I'm off to the restaurant now at 8:30 a.m).

For now, long story short, yesterday was an amazing experience. Ciao, ciao!

Roma e bella

2009-03-09T18:39:00.004+01:00

When you're landing in Rome, it's not like landing anywhere else.

First a little perspective. Flying out of (or into, for that matter) Detroit Metro Airport is, sorry to say, depressing during the winter. The landscape is flat and industrial. It's monochromatic gray (in a bad way) and if the day is overcast or raining, downright sad.

When you land in Rome, you wonder for a moment, where is the airport? The gently undulating terrain is pastoral, with sienna hued homes scattered about. Plots of landed are divided by Cyprus borders and before you know it, your aircraft is in taxi mode. Almost to your gate you see these farms and houses. And even in March the landscape is green. Beautiful.

I landed, bolted from the airport and quickly retrieved my (or rather Lisa's requested items from Michigan) luggage and there was Lisa waiting for me with her found Italian Volpino dog, Trevor. We packed into her red Honda Civic (a boat of a car in Rome) and left DaVinci airport.

We got home to unpack and walked to lunch by her apartment near the Catacombe San Callisto (the catacombs that are a tourist site here in Rome). The ancient burial grounds (16 martyrs - count them - buried there) were in use mostly in the second-century. Just beyond the catacombs is the Via Appia (the Appian Way), built in 312 BC. It was the main drag between Roma and Greece. It is here that Saint Peter ran into Jesus while escaping crucifixion. Peter asks Jesus the famous question, "quo vadis?" (where are you going?), and Jesus replies to Rome to be crucified again. You know the rest.

We came home, I took a nap and now we're off to ... who knows where. When it's not tourist season in Italy, the country is mostly closed on Mondays.

Eat. Eat. Eat.

2009-03-03T09:05:00.001+01:00

A few months ago, I up and quit my day job in corporate America. Crazy, I know, during this time of mass layoffs and a worldwide economic disaster. So what? I've always been the independent type and optimistic as well.

Now what. Here's the thing. I'm not exactly sure. I have no REAL plan. However, here's what I'm thinking. I believe in my hearts of hearts that everything will work out -- my years of writing, cooking, catering, advertising copywriting, traveling, teaching, TV cheffing, camping, motherhood, suburban living, daily movie watching, and party giving and foreign language speaking propensity, will all come together (somehow) to allow me an interesting, maybe even fabulous, new career as the new me.

Yes, it is scary, and I'm hardly an ingenue. But I recently heard a quote that sums up my philosophy. I paraphrase: the opposite of fear is not courage, it is faith.

I have faith all will be well. So I'm off to Rome.

In Rome I will be cooking, writing, advising, learning and who-knows-what else. I will be at Cantina del Vecchio (www.cantinadelvecchio.it). It is a Osteria (wine bar) that is my friend L. Tucci's very favorite ristorante in Bella Roma -- right off piazza Navona and on Via dei Coronari, the antiques alley.

A friend recently commented that this sounds like the beginning of a book. Something like Eat. Pray. Love. I told her my book would have to be titled Eat. Eat. Eat.