Monster Zucca

Being a vegetarian my entire life- as well as a lover of food and a passionate cook- I’ve learned, over time, to be inventive in the kitchen. Furthermore- while living in Italy attempting to be a “healthy eater,” as well as a non-meat eater- it becomes somewhat wearisome eating the same “verdure alla griglia” (grilled vegetables) and green salads. I’ve always done my best to smile and chew- when eating at some of the best fish or meat restaurants in the world- raving about the eggplant this and the fennel that and the outrageous taste of the tomatoes and the freshness of the lettuce. And of course, there are the numerous evenings when I “fall off the wagon” and eat several baskets of bread, plates of creamy cheeses and heaping platters of carbohydrate-filled pasta.

In my kitchen, though- it's a different story.

Having lived all over the world- I have taken parts of each cuisine- different dishes and cooking methods- and integrated an assortment of items into my repertoire. I love to cook- I love to invent- and I love to experiment. That being said, I am lucky enough to be in Italy with some of the freshest produce in the world.

Yesterday, a friend of Antonio’s family lugged this huge green stripey vegetable thing into my kitchen. After he noticed my arched eyebrows and confusion, he says to me: “é una zucca- te l’ho portato dal mio giardino giú.” Translation: “it's a pumpkin. I brought it to you from my garden in Naples.” Turns out, upon dissection, it was indeed a pumpkin. So this fat, long, green thing- weighing half of what I do- was at last plopped down on my kitchen counter with a wink and a few words that can be translated into: “get to work.”

With my massive zucca, I invented about six dishes. I could have done more- after avid Internet research- but I am, as of now, limited in fancy kitchen equipment and elaborate ingredients. Basically, if it’s not grown, made and packaged in Italy- it’s nearly impossible to find. Of these six dishes, two were pretty good, one was a disaster, and three were absolutely delightful. So delightful, in fact, that I thought I would share- should anyone else come face to face with a monster pumpkin.

Below are pics and recipes.

1.     Pumpkin Parmigiana

Ingredients:

Fresh Pumpkin- thinly sliced

Olive oil

Smoked provolone cheese

Parmesan cheese

Salt

Pepper

Pepperoncino (hot pepper flakes)

Garlic

 

To prepare the pumpkin: Take about 10 thin whole slices, drizzle extra virgin olive oil and salt- turn the oven to 225 f and cook until slightly browned.

Take another slice of the pumpkin and grate about 2 ½  cups- in a pan- saute two chopped cloves of garlic with pepperoncino, until garlic is soft and throw in the grated pumpkin, stirring until fully cooked and a bit brown- add salt to taste (also, if you like spicy- add more pepperoncino). Once the cooked shredded pumpkin has cooled, add about ½ cup grated parmesan and stir until mixture is even.

Take a medium sized casserole dish and begin layering- first, cover the entire bottom surface with the pumpkin slices (they should have enough oil on them to not have to grease the pan. Next- add a layer of the smoked provolone (this can be substituted by any soft cheese- but I think the smoky flavor goes well with the sweetness of the pumpkin. Add another layer of baked pumpkin and after, another layer of cheese. On top of the cheese, spread the shredded pumpkin/parmesan mixture as another layer in the dish. Follow that with the final layer of baked pumpkin slices Finally, sprinkle the remaining grated parmesan cheese over the entire surface of the top layer and bake. I left it in the oven for a good 40 minutes- but it will be ready when the top layer is sizzling and brown. Let cool.

Unfortunately, we had guests for dinner that night and I totally forgot to take a photo before we dug into the dish. However, I did manage to salvage one slice. Photo below.

 

2.     Pumpkin carrot soup

Ingredients:

Fresh Pumkin

Whole Large Carrots

Vegetable Bouillon Cubes (1/ two cups of water)

Onion

Garlic

Olive Oil

Pepperoncino

Pepper

Salt

Plain Greek Yogurt

Honey

Boil about 3 cups of water with 1.5 bouillon cubes. Throw in two halved small onions (I used red, but any onion will suffice- depending on your tastes) and two whole garlic cloves.

While the water and ingredients are boiling- slice the pumpkin into ½ inch slices irrespective of size and drizzle with olive oil and salt and let bake until soft enough to cut into easily. (I used about 1 lb of pumkin)

Once the pumpkin slices are well cooked, throw them into the boiling water, along with a few cleaned and peeled carrots (I used ½ lb carrots). Add a bit of pepperoncino and a bit of olive oil.

Let boil until carrots are soft- about another 10 minutes.

Blend the entire soup mixture. Add about 1 cup greek yogurt, 1 tbsp honey and salt and pepper to taste. Blend again. Serve.  (I sprinkled a bit of parsley on top- but parmesan cheese, thyme, cream or yogurt can all work as garnish).

 

3.     Really Easy Pumpkin Zucchini fritters

Ingredients:

Pumpkin

Zucchini

1 egg

Breadcrumbs (I prefer whole wheat, but white work as well)

Salt

Pepper

Olive Oil

Grate about 5 cups of fresh pumpkin and 2 cups of zucchini. Beat the egg while adding salt and pepper to taste. Mix together the egg and grated vegetables. Add breadcrumbs into the mixture until it becomes thick enough to mold into small patties.

Heat about 1 inch of olive oil in a frying pan. Place the patties into the oil and fry until golden brown on one side- flip and repeat.

I would place the patties on paper towels to drain some of the oil out before you serve. They are also great with a bit of greek yogurt on the side as dipping sauce- any variation works. 

(p.s. excuse the photo quality- I used my blackberry)

This is the zucca- and a few slices:

These are the slices baking in the oven. I know they look like pancakes. They're not.
This is a slice of the parmigianna. It was better than it looks:

Pumpkin Zucchini Fritters:
Pumpkin carrot soup:

Summer Snapshots

Sardegna photos as promised...

שנה טובה

Italy shuts down in August. Restaurants, businesses and at least half the shops are completely out for the count. Of course, a number of establishments must remain open due to the influx of tourists. But for the locals- Rome is, for all intents and purposes, closed. “When in Rome,” I try my best to do as the Romans do. And when “out of Rome,” I did as the Romans do as well.

The first half of the month was spent in Sardegna- in one of the most delightful and lavish hotels I have ever seen- hobnobbing with the rich and richer (and their Russian girlfriends). It was the vacation of a lifetime- shared with some of my best friends and loved ones, reminding me daily that life really is about the company we keep. Nearly two weeks were spent overindulging in excessive buffets, wakeboarding amongst yachts and massive seaside villas, shopping on private beaches and attending glittering parties and events while our eyes shimmered from the fine champagne running through our veins. (photos to come shortly).

The second half of the month, as I mentioned, was in the United States. I landed in Chicago, spending five days catching up with my sister who just moved to the city and attending the wedding festivities of one of my closest friends. I met Marissa seven years ago. We were both fresh out of college and decided to make a go of teaching English abroad. After an intensive TEFL course, Marissa and I were sent off to Lodi, a small town just outside of Milan. In truth, I lasted about three months as a teacher (some things just aren’t for me) and then bailed, leaving Marissa to brave the fog and Northern Italian winter alone. 

Marissa eventually forgave me and since then, we have kept in touch- keeping one another appraised throughout the years and miles that separate us. During the wedding weekend, we had the chance to revisit our ancient histories and laugh about our long-ago woes. I was reminded of all that I have to be thankful for- including: losing the freshman 15, finally speaking fluent Italian and for living, yet again, in my favorite country in the world. Most of all- I am thankful for people like Marissa who I have met by chance across one ocean or another- and having forged friendships that withstand the tests of time. Since the Lodi days, Marissa and I have each separately been around the world a number of times. We have both fallen in and out of love on a number of occasions, moved cities again and again, and somewhere in there- we managed to get masters degrees. The best news of the weekend came when Marissa told me that she and Jeremy will be moving to Rome next year- totally by chance- due to Jeremy’s career in the government. It’s a big world- and anyone who says differently has yet to see it- but it is the people in it that make it smaller.

After Chicago, I sauntered (rather- took a train) over to Michigan and spent a week with my family in their summer home, enjoying nightly sunsets over the lake, boatrides, lazy days on the beach and an abundance of good old american food. 

Back in Italy- the first week of September was relatively slow. As the Romans were unhurriedly filtering into the city- opening their shops, organizing their schedules, and arranging their plans- I was making deals with myself. September, as opposed to January- is the beginning of a new year. It's a time to create improvements- renew hope and fulfill agreements and promises- or at least try to.

This year, it just so happened that my first week back in Rome coincided with Rosh Hashanah…the Jewish New Year. Although I didn't attend synagogue- and I didn't blow the Shofar- I quietly celebrated at home on my own, making lists of all I plan to accomplish this year. I ate a modest lunch of apples and honey- as my days in Hebrew school taught me years ago, to signify a sweet new year. I thought about my family- and what growing up amongst them has instilled in me. I didn't pray- because I don't pray. But I did smile to myself thinking about my mother’s improvised holiday dinners- and being surrounded by the people who brought unconditional love amongst other blessings into our home- creating the childhood that will stay with me forever…even though that particular version of my family is long gone, as well as many of the people I loved so dearly in it.

So to all my family, friends and readers, I would like to wish you: Shana Tova- (שנה טובה)- a sweet new year to all. xx

Comparing and Contrasting

After 12 lengthy (but wonderful) days in the US- the longest period yet since 2005- I have a clear understanding of what it is I love…and hate….about being stateside. And after further comparisons, contrasts, and considerations- I have decided that I am happiest here, and not there- despite the absence of hydrogenated oils.

Below are my top 12 (for the 12 days I was in the states) things I missed the most when I was gone, and indulged in (multiple times) while I was home:

        1.    Cookies

        2.     Taco Bell – and Chipotle, but really- Taco Bell

        3.  Un-dubbed movies

        4.     Molly, my family’s GoldenDoodle (pic below)

        5.     Flip-flops and baseball caps (I would probably be shot dead if I walked down Babuino in Havaianas and a cubs cap)

        6.     Subway (the sandwiches, not the underground)

        7.     My mommy

       8 .   Pharmacies (CVS, Walgreens, Duane Reade, you name it, I went there…)

       9.   Dollars

       10.  Starbucks (at least 3 per city block)

       11.  Asphalt, pavement, cement, and the like.

        12.  Outlet stores

And here are the top 12 things I missed about daily life in Rome:

        1.     Bidets. Seriously.

        2.     Espresso (despite my love for- and wavering loyalty to Starbucks)

        3.     Extra virgin olive oil. On everything.

        4.     Passeggiate for no good reason other than to walk

        5.     Italian (excuse me, Italiano)

        6.     Aperitivi

         7.  Pasta al dente (as opposed to the mush they serve in America. Yes, I too am becoming a pasta snob)

        8.     Late dining (“late,” being anytime past 8 pm)

     9.     Cooking- in my kitchen, after going to my mercato, and serving hungry people on my piatti at my tavola. Americans don't really eat anymore.

        10.  Cafés

       11.  Pizza

        12.  Italy. In general.

Then, of course, there are the things that I adore and abhor- that don't really fit into either list- like central air. I love central air conditioning- but I froze my ass off in every store, house and restaurant. And now I’m sick.

I can't spend enough time in English bookstores, but it's rather annoying paying the airlines for extra weight- due to books than can easily, and more cost-effectively, be bought online.

I adore American baked goods- and ice cream: mushy centered cookies, brownies, caramel covered apples, grocery store cakes with buttermilk frosting, sundaes, fresh doughnuts, etc…but I’m less than pleased about the 2.3 kilos I gained. (that’s 5 pounds…but it sounds better in kilos).

So, with that…I’m off to the gym.

xx

(Above is Molly the wonder dog, complete with her swimming device especially designed for the treacherous waters of Lake Michigan)

Italianopea

There was an interesting article in last weekend’s Wall Street Journal about how language influences the way we see the world:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703467304575383131592767868.html?mod=WSJ_hp_us_mostpop_read 

In the article, Charlemagne was quoted stating, “to have a second language is to have a second soul.” After reading the article, I thought about this for a long time. My conclusions are that: maybe another language doesn't supply a second soul, but possibly a mirror into another aspect of one’s soul.

The Italian language, above all, is a romance language (sounds better than Vulgur Latin, doesn't it?). Living in “Italian,” I am seeing myself as more of a romantic then previously. By romantic, I don't mean that I make candlelit dinners and place rose petals on the duvet. Not at all. What I do mean is that in Italian, everything appears more beautiful- a sunny day has now become squisito (exquisite), a nice dress is stupendo (stupendous) and a good lunch is meraviglioso (marvelous). My sentences have dreamier tones to them when I speak and there is a slight possibility that some of my rough edges seem more tender. My extreme Passion, on the other hand, has always been a bit exaggerated. Yet in Italy, it’s normal- and accepted- and no one blinks twice.

The entire language is like onomatopoeia: “a word or grouping of words that imitates the sound it is describing.” It’s like whatever you are feeling- is right there in the sounds that are coming out of your mouth. Ugly is brutto, beautiful is bello, love is amore and war is guerra. To walk across the street is to attreversare and a before dinner drink is aperitivo- and all these words have rolling r’s in the middles and end in vowels that softly tumble instantly into the next words. Italy is probably one of the most beautiful countries, aesthetically speaking, in the world. So it makes sense that the language would reflect that.

I would be exaggerating if I said that I am fluent in Italian, but I think that I’m almost there. More importantly, I live my life in Italian. Meaning: when I remember them, my dreams are in Italian- when I play scrabble, the first words that come to me Italian- and when I get angry, I curse in Italian. Naturally.

I have heard that the Native Americans believe that humans are the only animals narcissistic enough to actually believe we have souls. Although we are the only animals intelligent enough to form a concept of a soul, and beyond that- the only animals with sufficient language to communicate the concept of the soul, I think that the Indians had a point. So to say that I have a number of souls due to the languages I speak, as Charlemagne would have noted- I think it would be going a bit overboard.

What I can say is that thinking in another language has broadened my thought process. The way that I look at things changes through the words that denote the meanings of objects and events. Italians, like in the business they do, always leave open ends- the meanings of phrases can always be interpreted in one of 100 ways. And although this can be frustrating at times, I’m finding it quite useful. “Ci vediamo,” literally means, “we see each other.” In daily discourse, it means, “see you soon.” But it can also mean, depending on the person you are speaking with and the context, “see ya sucker,” “I’ll see you tonight,” “I'll see you around,” “I’ll see you later,” “or “I’m being polite but I truly have no intention to ever see you again.”

Going back to this mirror into the soul that I mentioned, I have repeatedly wondered about how the words I use shape my thoughts- and not the other way around. Therefore, by broadening the expressions I use to describe things through an entirely different language- my world has been expanded. A sunset is not just a sunset- it can be, in English- sundown, dusk, nightfall, twilight, the day’s end- and in Italian- tramonto, sera, crepuscolo and calare del sole. See what I mean? I now have 10 ways to refer to the setting of the sun. And that, in turn, changes the image that comes to mind when I describe a sunset.

On another note, rather than a second soul, or even a mirror- languages help us to understand our souls…being that it would seem somewhat obtuse to ascribe only one language to each soul. In understanding my own soul, I have noted that I spent years with Spanish. From growing up in Miami, to taking hours upon hours of the language throughout high school to doing my MBA in Spain- I should speak Spanish better than English by now. Not the case. Spanish never stuck with me- it didn't agree with my character. Yes, it’s useful. Yes, it's a simple language to learn. Yes, it’s very similar to Italian. Yet with all that- I never “took to it.”

I can speak Spanish. But I don't like to. Whereas, speaking Italian, for me, is like singing. I find joy in it. I find that I am more capable of expressing my true feelings in my limited Italian than I was ever able to in Spanish. Sometimes, I find that when describing something- I describe it more aptly in Italian than even in English. So as some friends like to say that I have become “italianizzata” (Italianized), I think that maybe I have always had an Italian soul- and the language has only helped me to become acquainted with it. 

Capri. In Pictures.

Apparently, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Being that words, to me, are some of the most precious things in this world- it is relatively difficult for me to accept this assertion.

However, after a number of days in Capri, I'm coming around. 

Below are some of the photos- and seriously, I don't think I have the words...

Next stops: Paestum and Sardegna!

Gandolfo the Great

In an effort to mix things up a bit, and a desperate attempt to escape the heat for a day- we took a little excursion out to Castel Gandolfo last Saturday. The town is around 30 km from Rome and serves as the summer residence of the Pope. It's a miniature and charming city overlooking picturesque Lake Albano and apparently, has been voted one of the most beautiful towns in Italy.

It was a nice day, although I can’t say that the heat was any more bearable than it was when we left the city. Upon arrival- we did what we do best: found the finest restaurant with the best view and ate ourselves into oblivion. Lunch was a four-hour affair, accompanied by marvelous wine in vast quantities. Before heading back to Rome (for dinner, of course), we took a stroll along the winding road down to the lake- while I snapped a few pictures just to stretch the legs on my underused camera. Verification below: