This will come as no surprise to anyone who has lived in Italy. The Italians have a broad streak of racism running up their backs. Things will be said that would never, ever be tolerated in the U.S.
An American chef in an Italian restaurant? I was a novelty, something not to be taken seriously. Even though I cranked out the pasta, not the Roman chef who literally was clueless about making pasta. Or his idea of bread being something that was given an hour or so to complete its one and only rise before going into the oven. I was never going to be Italian enough. A disturbing article that raked up some buried muck.
Off an on for the past few months I’ve been following the trash saga in Naples. Essentially, they’ve run out of places to put the trash, or as the NY Times suggests, they ran out ages ago and relied on organized crime to illegally remove and dump trash. Well, it seems this benign neglect and inertia of the people in charge has finally come to bite them in the ass. The illegally dumped trash is polluting water buffalo milk and the buffalos are producing tainted milk and mozzarella. In classic Italian fashion, rather than get to the root of the problem, according to the NT Times article, the immediate reaction is to counter the bans that other countries are putting in place to stop buffalo mozzarella from being imported. It’s not until the bottom few paragraphs that they discuss the need to find a place for the trash so that the problem does not continue. Italian domestic consumption of buffalo mozzarella has already dropped by 40%, but the health commission isn’t meeting until tomorrow to start discussing the problem. Nothing quite like jumping up and nipping a problem in the bud. The other burning question is why aren’t cows affected? Many mozzarella producers raise cows and water buffalo, so why the distinction? Is no one testing cow milk mozzarella? And could that be because the industry is so much larger, and better organized? Or am I just too cynical?
The cheese in the picture is ‘burrata’, a type of buffalo mozzarella that has a normal mozzarella type skin, and a creamy, buttery, runny, delicious inside. My son brought some this weekend from Philadelphia’s Italian market. We made a sauce with basil, a touch of mint, lemon juice and olive oil to anoint this excellent, locally made burrata.It was as tasty as any I've eaten in Italy, it was superb and proof that mozzarella is probably best when eaten from a local source.
It’s that time of year again. I smell a little spring in the air and it’s time to think about going back to Italy. What I’d give right now for an aperitivo in the piazza. And a slice of prosciutto. And a little gossip about what’s been going on all winter in Montone. The long dark days are over and some of our friends are already heading back to Italy. We’re like some seasonal herd that feels the mystical pull to return to the Mother Country. We’ll be heading back soon enough, but in the meantime, I’d sure like a little aperitivo to pass the time.
We’re back!! The bags are sort of unpacked, we are sort of over the jet lag, and we are still a little over whelmed by being back. There were lots of good byes, and a few tears when we left, but we will be back in Montone soon enough, and it’s time now to enjoy being back. Everything is so big here…the streets, the cars, the noise, the people. I rode my bike around the city yesterday, doing some errands, absorbing the sights and the energy, with everyone looked so busy and confident, striding around, talking on all sorts of phone devices. It seems as if everyone is on the phone, all the time. It’s miraculous, you can have a phone signal just about anywhere. No more finding a little niche or angle within a stone wall village, here you can stride and chat everywhere. However, could you all lower the volume a bit? I really don’t want to know what’s in your top right hand bedroom drawer, and I don’t care how many handful of beans you are putting into your sack. Enough about cell phones! I’m happy to be back!
We are heading out for the Thanksgiving weekend to be with family, and I can’t wait. I’m giving thanks that I have my family, good food and wine, a roof over my head, friends who love me, and I wish everyone who celebrates Thanksgiving a very happy holiday!
P.S. I’m not cooking anything! I’ll just assist, and wash dishes!
And to whom shall we turn to for news of Montone while we are away? That would be the Mighty Marcia di Montone! Marcia is having the adventure of a lifetime: she lives in Portland, Oregon, but has decided that she will live in Montone for 6 months; from November to March. She closed up her life States side, left her cat with a friend and moved into our little village without knowing a soul. That’s not quite true, Jody and Tom, the owners of her house were here to meet her and introduce her around, and I had met Marcia through my blog. So armed with determination, a spirit of adventure and the ability to speak Italian, she’ll spend a quiet winter in our little village. Marcia’s adventure started off with some high drama when she took a terrible fall on the street during Festa del Bosco, and broke her arm, very badly, un brutta fractura. She had to spend five very long and unpleasant days in the hospital before we were finally able to spring her from that horrible confinement. Now Marcia is walking around with a large cast on her right hand, and is figuring out how to do everything with her left hand. For five minutes, try using just your left hand. I can’t last more than two minutes without getting very frustrated. However, Mighty Marica di Montone, is taking this all in stride, with a dash of humor and making the best of it. Marcia came with us for our farewell pizza dinner in Trestina (Yes, for those Montonese among us who crave good pizza, there are 2 good places in Trestina! And if you offer to buy us a glass of wine to drink with the pizza, we will divulge the whereabouts of these hidden gems. The quest for good pizza in Umbria is elusive: a place will be good for a short while and then it’s not. Bummer.) So, am I ready for the noise and bustle of New York City? I think so. We played a game at dinner last night and tried to come up with some food that we missed from the US, and I have to say it was a very short list. I know I want some Indian, Chinese, Thai and Viet Namese food, but I can’t say there was anything that I was craving while we were in Italy. So we raise our glasses and drink a toast to Marcia and to our return to New York.
This week, we had to take a quick, overnight trip to Milano to take care of a bit of business. We left Montone in foul, sleety weather, which turned into a full on snowstorm around Bagno di Romagna. And, of course, there was a long detour on the E45 highway that took us up and over a treacherous, snow covered, gorgeous mountain pass. So, it was a long drive to Milano. Think of it as driving from New York to Vermont, in a snowstorm.
We got our business out of the way, and then had a gorgeous morning and lunch in Milano, all to ourselves. Like two country bumpkins who had forgotten what life in a big city could be like, we wandered around by the Duomo in Milano, doing a little shopping, see the art exhibit inside the cathedral, and of course, having lunch at one of our favorite restaurants, Girarosto. Girarosta is a businessman’s lunch place, with waiters in white jackets who’ve all worked there since they were young, and that was a long time ago. The food is simple, grilled meats and fish, but everything is clean and delicious. It’s the sort of place where you hope that nothing will ever change, and we’ve been coming there for at least 10 years, and so far, our wish has been granted.
Milano is a sleek and chic city, where café life is alive and well, and it was a good place to get back in touch with our city skills because tomorrow morning we head back to New York. It seems so strange to be closing up our house, covering up the furniture, saying good byes. I can’t wait to see family and friends when we get back to the States, and I know we will be back in Montone soon enough, but I also know that I will miss being here. I will miss the morning sounds of the street sweeper who uses a broom made of twigs, the two little boys and their mothers who hurry to school at a few minutes to eight, and of course the bells ringing the hour. Instead we’ll wake up to traffic noises on Broome Street, but I guess that brings life back into balance. At least for us. So, ciao for now, and wish us a safe journey home.
Our friend Alina made us a Romanian feast! We work with Alina at the restaurant, and we’ve become friends. She’s an incredible asset in the kitchen, hardworking, beautiful, and best of all, fun to be around. We’ve been through a lot in the kitchen at Erba Luna, and she is a great team player to have around. The other day, to say thanks for some help that we had given her, she went all out and made us a Romanian lunch. We’re not talking about a little lunch, we’re talking about multi course extravaganza. To start: Salata beuf: a chopped vegetable salad with chicken meat. Alina described it as being like the Italian Russian salad, but this was much lighter on the mayo and more flavorful. Italian Russian salad is this vegetable salad that is swimming in Russian dressing. It shows up at parties and potlucks, and it is a strange dish indeed. Salata de vinete: a pureed eggplant appetizer that is best spread on bread. It has a lovely char flavor, but no pictures because it’s a little shy and not very photogenic. Ova Umplute: a sort of deviled egg, with parsley and no mayo. The egg is seasoned and compacted; almost back into it’s original texture and served at room temperature. Delicious. Then again I’m a big fan of deviled eggs, even if they are sort of retro.
Then came the soup course: ciorba. According to Alina, some variation of this soup shows up on the table at most meals. This was a tomato base, flavored with meat and lemon juice. It was light and flavorful. You could see why on a cold Romanian evening, in the frosty shadows of the Carpathian Mountains, this would be a very good thing to eat.
Now we are up to the meat course: a stuffed cabbage roll called sarmale, served with a bit of cream. Alina says that when she can, she makes the same dish using grape leaves. I ate more than my share of these, they reminded me of my mom’s stuffed cabbage, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had that! Mom, are you listening?? Then just in case we were still hungry, out came some roast beef and sautéed zucchini. By this time, we had opened the second bottle of wine and our stomachs were full and we were just so touched that Alina had gone to so much trouble on our behalf. Then she brought out the cake! My, my, my.
A Romanian friend of Alinas heard what she was cooking, so Loridana showed up around 3:00 specifically to eat all the leftovers….and she did manage to devour quite a bit in a short time. She had to head back to work, but not before we indulged in some Romanian dancing. I’m afraid Jeff confused Romanian folk dancing with the jitterbug, but it didn’t’ seem to matter! Thank you Alina for a very special time.
It’s been a long time, about six months, since we drank an American wine. Our friends Jody and Tom, from Portland Oregon, left us a gift of a bottle of Lemelson Pinot Noir from the Wilamette Valley. I was always a fan of big, chewy wines, the kind of wines that are like a sensuous roll around on silk sheets; but spending time in Italy has made me appreciate the somewhat more austere taste of Italian wines. Think of the difference between hopping into bed with Marcello Mastroianni versus Marlon Brandon. Well, I have to say that getting reacquainted with the Marlon Brandon slice of life was a lot of fun. We set out a big table of cheeses, and wine and some delicious tartufo flavored salumi and talked about just how good the wine tasted. After a few months of ‘deprivation’ it was an eye opener to taste this style of wine again. There is an ongoing discussion in the wine world about how European wines are generally more food friendly than the big American and Australian wines. I do have to say that it would have been difficult to pair this wine with a simple meat based dinner. However, it paired beautifully with the big cheese and salumi flavors, and there was something about the different tastes on the table being anchored by this strong wine flavor that really worked, but in general it’s a challenging wine. And pairing wine and food IS challenging, when you get it right, the food just sings, when you get it wrong, you wind up with a sour taste in your mouth.
Our latest cheese discovery is caciotta. It’s a young, smooth, relatively bland flavored cheese that can come from a cow, sheep or water buffalo, depending on which part of Italy you are in. Recently, we served it at the restaurant, melted, with black truffles and honey. This is a cheese that melts beautifully, it gets all brown and bubbly and acts like a neutral palette to play off of other flavors. Our favorite variation is to sprinkle some fennel flower pollen on the pieces before melting and then a bit of honey right as it comes out of the oven. The caciotta on the left was flavored with oregano and some red wine, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the fennel variation. If you can track down some caciotta, this makes a great, quick meal, along with a salad. And it tastes great with some Pinot Noir! Thanks again, Jody and Tom!
It’s been a wild ride and I’m happy to be back in the blog world and the real world! Last week was our festa, and this is the first moment that I’ve had to sit and digest. It feels like I’m emerging from a tornado shelter and I’m sort of stunned that the world, and Montone looks like it did before the Festa. According to the Chinese calendar, I was born in the year of the horse. I once read that the horse knows that when there is a celebration, there is extra work to be done. Great, I’m a horse. Jeff, on the other hand is a lucky dragon. Some guys have all the luck, me I had to work like a dray horse to get ready for the celebration. We prepped all sorts of sauces for the restaurants: ragu of goose, of wild hare, of cinghiale (wild boar), racks of venison and lots and lots of pasta. Unfortunately, we did not have a whole of truffles. Although we had some at the restaurant, this is not a good truffle year, white, black, Umbrian, Piemontese, we are all suffering this year.
Everyone kept an eye on the weather, and on Thursday, opening day, it was a little nerve wracking. All this hard work and preparation could come to nothing if it rained, but the gods were with us, and the weather was crisp and cool all weekend.
Our block is the main street in town, and I wish I could describe the pandemonium that was on our doorstep. I tried to photograph it, but even that doesn’t capture the intensity of the crowds. We have a long hallway on the ground floor that leads to the street, and the walls are thick, old stone walls, so no sound comes through, then when you open the door, this wave of noise and chestnut smoke just washes over you and sucks you onto the street, like a riptide. For four days, every time you open your door. By Sunday night, when we crawled home from the restaurant, in the dead of a quiet night, with the garbage piled high everywhere you looked, it certainly looked like everyone had had a fine time at our Festa del Bosco. Monday morning is sort of grim and hang over like, with everyone dismantling their stalls and heading home or to the next festa. It is quite amazing how quickly everything gets cleaned up and put back to normal. And so, the quiet season begins in Montone. All the transient Montonese, the ones with house in Rome and Milan, have said good by until the Christmas holidays, or until the spring. Most Montonese complain about the quiet season, but to me, its peaceful and beautiful, and puts balance back into your life. And it gives you more time to fool around in the kitchen!
I recently read that in Umbria alone, there are 627 sagres, or festas being held this year. For a very small region, that is a lot of festas, and the fall season seems to be the most popular time of year. A few weeks ago it was that wacky potato festival in Pietralunga, this Sunday we went to a very traditional (i.e. no naked ladies dancing in the street) festival in the lofty village of Monte S.M. Tiberina. We ate roasted chestnuts, drank wine from the Cantino del Convento, where they promised that all the grapes were all smashed with holy feet, watched traditional, fully clothed, dancers and looked at all sorts of crafts. All in all, it’s a fun way to spend a few hours on a Sunday afternoon. An added bonus was the spectacular sunset which deserved a festa all its own. Monte S.M. Tiberina (whose name is far too long for such a small village) is a gorgeous hilltop village; it seems much higher and much more remote than Montone and until yesterday, we’ve never seen more than 3 people walking around. That’s 3 people combined, from 4 separate visits. We’ve always laughed and said that it was a ghost town with great potential, but lately, we’re hearing more and more about the town and the surrounding area, so maybe Monte S.M. Tiberina is having a bit of a renaissance. I will say this, they know how to roast a fine chestnut.
Preparations started today for our Festa del Bosco. First it was the chestnut lady who sets up in front of our door, she was checking to be sure everything was ok, that we would move our plants indoors, and if I wanted to put my car in the garage, I better do it before sunrise tomorrow. This afternoon they hung up little lights over everyone’s door; you are expected to provide the town with the electricity for the lights. The chestnut man should be lighting his fire on Thursday, so if anyone has any great recipes for food that is smoked over chestnut flames, let me know, because my kitchen is directly over the flames and the smoke and I can hang a hunk of meat out of the window. I’m sure that would fit in with the whole medieval theme….
This will come as no surprise to anyone who has lived in Italy. The Italians have a broad streak of racism running up their backs. Things will be said that would never, ever be tolerated in the U.S. 
