…a little bit late, but here is the latest photo Friday.

(The previous photo Fridays: #1 here, #2 here., #3 here and #4 here, #5 here, #6 here, #7 here, #8 here, #9 here, #10 here)

Green soothes the noise and work and travel and busy-ness. When I lay on a grassy field looking up to the trees, I feel the earth pulling me towards her, in a cosmic motherly hug. There is something extremely humbling when we look up at a tall tree and realize that we are not the main living organism on this planet. My dream for this summer is to head out West and visit the Redwood forest to feel my minuscule self disappear in nature’s embrace, climb a sequoia and wander in the forest…

… and then there are simpler ways to get my green fix. Like this simple “minestrone” that can be rendered sophisticated by adding a tablespoon of pesto (green, of course). This Italian staple is a great healthy -yet tasty- soup to make when you have a few extra vegetables in the crisper drawer. If you would like to make it a little richer and layered in flavor, you can sauté the onion with some bacon or pancetta (or bacon) in olive oil before you add the vegetables. To go the extra mile (and give a more caramelized, rich flavor), you could toss the vegetables with olive oil and then slow roast them in the oven at 400F (200C) for an hour, before pureeing.

You can watch the video on how to make the soup (it appeared this past week-end on Atlanta’s channel 11):

Serve alongside a simple salad, like a cherry tomato with purslane (or other green), seasoned with salt and olive oil, and dinner is ready.

(The previous photo Fridays: #1 here, #2 here., #3 here and #4 here, #5 here, #6 here, #7 here, #8 here, #9 here)

The photos from this week include a few pics from the garden, a camping trip in the North Georgia mountains with the boys, a 20s “carnivale”, a trip to London (I combined a work trip and a visit with my mother who came from Rome. We spent 2 full days together enjoying each others’ company over tea, sweets, books, a bit of shopping, and some London mist)

I have been working and traveling a lot, but I promise a food post very soon.

Ciao, Amelia

Camping:

Garden:

Patterns on a floor… and Alice in wonderland?




20s “carnivale”:










Flying to London:

test




































From London’s table: Fried brie with berry sauce / fish and chips with mushy-minted peas

From my kitchen: Baguette with butter, radishes and 3 salts / fresh heirloom-tomato-basil soup with grilled cheese

(The previous photo Fridays: #1 here, #2 here., #3 here and #4 here, #5 here, #6 here, #7 here, #8 here)

The photos from this week are from a variety of places/events. We did a small plane ride, i had a 20s-themed birthday party, we went for a strawberry field trip, and we celebrated Easter Sunday at home. Plus other daily life stuff.

Ciao, Amelia

Let him catch the revelation of Jesus in his resurrection. 

Let him say not merely, “Christ is risen,” but “I shall rise.”  ~Phillips Brooks

Easter is a very special time for us Christians and it is one of the most hopeful times.

This year I am especially spent, so I welcome this time to reflect and hope and renew.

Every time I feel this way I head to the kitchen, my home temple. A place where i use my hands for manual work as I free up my mind: almost a form of prayer and meditation.

The kitchen has been such place for centuries… Incredible peace and re-assurance can come from preparing the same foods that are passed on for generations and prepared around the same exact time of the year. Today, we are frequently missing the element of ritual in our life. I find it necessary and restoring.

Casatiello (or Tortano) is a savory Neapolitan bread, enriched with salame, cheese and pepper. During Easter,  eggs are added on top (and baked to hard boiled consistency) . The name Casatiello derives from “caso” (cheese), which is used in the filling. This bread is incredibly rich of symbolism, as many of the dishes prepared traditionally during the Christian holidays. Eggs for faith and rebirth, the circular shape for Jesus’ crown, the criss-cross dough over the eggs for Jesus’ cross, the risen dough for hope, the pecorino (goat) cheese for the sacrificed lamb. It is amazing that one dish can hold so much hope…

Here is to hope and renewal: may we all “rise”! Buona Pasqua (Happy Easter)

And a few more pictures of spring:

You mark your mileage and look in the rear mirror to the road you have driven so far. And it’s long, and windy, and beautiful, and full of bumps. It’s YOUR road.

You can assess the gas tank capacity at this points, but who are you to know how long the road ahead is and where it might take you?

Sure, you might need some extra oil, the windshield is not wiping off perfectly, the window squeaks…

Then you realize that the best approach is holding your hands on the wheel, focusing on the conditions RIGHT NOW, and turning the music on to make the trip more pleasant.

You realize that you might have overcomplicated your needs and wants.

In reality, there is much wisdom and pleasure and happiness in simplicity. Yesterday is your memory, tomorrow your potential, but today is to be lived, one mile at a time.

I have done much planning, over-complicating, perfecting, mapping, racing… but the more I think of it, I am happiest when I keep it to the basics, when I have an unassuming engine, drive on a country road,  carry few good people in the backseat, ignore the map, enjoy the ride, and eat simple food.

So today I present you “fave e cicoria”, a peasant dish from the Apulia region of Italy, which we drove across last summer (a few pics below), and is famous for its secular olive trees and simple life style. This is “cucina povera”: poor cuisine. It’s simplicity is disarming but the flavor is rich (and good for you). The ingredients are poor and few, yet when brought together they form a special, unique flavor: dried fava beans (which are nutty and creamy) and chicory (use wild, if you can find it, or substitute any other bitter greens). I found dried fava beans at my local International farmers’ market. As per any dish with few ingredients, just use the best you can find… in this case, a very high quality extra virgin olive oil, with a fruity flavor, is tantamount to success. Even better if you can get Apulian oil. Life works much the same way: few, good ingredients usually work better anyways for me…

I just finished reading “Toast” by Nigel Slater. I am wiping off my tears from the last page, as I sit in my kitchen, chopping onions and carrots to make Sunday ragu’… unsure if the tears are from the onions or the way the book touched me deeply with its human nakedeness and nostalgia. I am transported to a different era, to a place in time and space… to my own growing up, with its special, quirky, unique memories.

Because I strongly believe that our life can be told through foods, and while I know it’s been written about before, I wanted to write out my family’s version of the “ragù della domenica” (Sunday ragout sauce). Yes, it is a bit cliché, no doubt!,..but, you know, sometimes, as we grow older, it’s in the clichés that we find comforting memories and heart-warming feelings… and yes, I am obviously getting older (and probably would not have written this story 10 years ago the way I am writing it now), so forgive my indulgence. Oh, and I also believe it is impossible not to love someone who makes ragu’ for you…

Once upon a time, many years ago, my father lived in a small town called “Piano”, near Sorrento. When he was just twenty-two he lost his father and was left with his mother and eight sisters (no brothers), the youngest of which was nine years old. His mother (my nonna Amelia), was a very strong and amazing woman who more than everything wanted to preserve the family unit, no matter how rogue and numerous. For until she was alive, every Sunday, she would gather all the family members at her home: children, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews, bringing everyone together around a long table. When I was very young, at the end of the meal, I would stand up on that table and dance and recite a poem to everyone…that’s what the little ones did. There would be lots of laughing, games, delicious meals… and of course plenty of gossips and quarrels even, as in every numerous family. There was always a lot of energy and a bit of drama but during dinner, the ragu’ reign sovereign and hearts stopped pounding so fast to slow down and come together in unity. Just to start running again right after il caffe’, of course. And then it was back to life as usual, each one to their own families, until the next Domenica (Sunday). No matter how complicated, family is family.

This is me as a child at nonna’s home: in the center (white shirt, looking into the camera) and on the table (on the right, with a 70s patchwork skirt)

More of my extended family around nonna’s table:

This is me as a child (on the window sill), and later on, with nonna Amelia (in her living room – she had an amazing green thumb):

Ragu’ requires heart, soul, a family waiting around it, and religious slow cooking for at least two hours, until it becomes thick and glazed: a deep, dark red color. It’s a layered yet incredibly simple-at-its-core sauce…like family. There were two version or ragu’: one made with costolette di maiale (or as called them “tracchioline“), which are pork ribs and one made with braciole (rolled-up meat filled with raisins, pine-nuts, parsley and sometimes more). My personal favorite (and fortunately for me less time consuming, so it’s the one that I make more often) is the first kind. I have combined both version below…so you can choose which one you prefer, or combine.

BTW, in case you are hungry, stay tuned: tomorrow I am posting a delicious slow cooked tomato-pork sauce: traditional “ragu’ della domenica”. It is the perfect thing to bring family together at one table on Sundays.

(The previous photo Fridays: #1 here, #2 here., #3 here and #4 here, #5 here, #6 here, and #7 here)

The photos from this week are from my spring break skiing trip to Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

In some cases it felt like Fargo, in others like the moon or some remote planet, in others like a fairyland, a magic winter wonderland.

(The previous photo Fridays: #1 here, #2 here., #3 here and #4 here, #5 here, and #6 here)

Farmers market and comforting Vietnamese Pho

A visit at the High Museum in Atlanta













A special stay-cation



Atlanta from up high


Downtown Atlanta


Trees in the winter




Helping my son on a school project (a native American village)

snacks in our household: salty and from the sea (roasted seaweed and sardines)

Me (being silly and playful, photos by my husband):

I have spoken before about my sweet nonna Paola before (here and here). She is from the island of Sardinia and still has kept many of her traditions and even some of the language…which I found out later, once I started learning Spanish, is very close to Catalan Spanish. Nonna come from a small village named Pattada, up in the mountains near Sassari, which specialty is knives. Long time ago, we went to visit and even got to see her original stone-built home. Over the holidays, while I was in Italy, I sat with her to listen to her family stories: her brother who migrated to Argentina, her sister who went to Milan to become a fashion designer, her younger brother who was killed by the fascists, while he was asleep… She also told me about how she met my grandfather, nonno Raffaele. Her older sister, zia Maria, was to be wed to a charismatic and handsome military fellow from the “continente” (Italy’s mainland, specifically Benevento). She came over for the wedding and during that time, my grandfather, a real old-fashioned and elegant gentleman, with thin mustache and a lean figure, courted her from afar, waving hello and tipping his hat  every morning, from the window. When she returned to Sardinia, nonno continued to court her for quite a while, writing her letters and eventually asking her to marry him. Eventually, nonna realized he was the one and they married. They lived in Benevento and then moved to Sorrento when my mother was young. And that is where I grew up. Nonna brought back from Sardinia many of her family recipes… isn’t food one of the most magical ways to carry your family and memories? I know it certainly is for me… and so here I am, in the United States of America, married to a handsome American fellow that courted me with letters 5,000 miles away after we met here 12 years ago, taking with me a small piece of my family roots: seadas. Nonna showed me how to make them over the holidays. Nonna “personalizes” her seadas with a touch of flavors from each places she has lived in: pecorino and miele di corbezzolo (a bitter honey from the blooms of a strawberry-like tree) from Sardinia, Strega liqueur from Benevento, and orange peel from Sorrento. So for me, when I bite into one of these delicacies, it transports me across her whole life and creates a unique tie to my origins.

In old times, in rural Sardinia, seadas (also knows as sebadas), a large round cheese fritter, similar to ravioli, were typically prepared during Easter or Christmas when the farmers would return home from the sheepfolds and make fresh fiore sardo (a pecorino  type cheese). The fresh cheese was used as a filling for the seadas, which were eaten as a main course. These days, they are served as dessert. The wonderful contrast of texture (fried crunchy flaky outside pastry, soft cheesy inside) and flavor (sweet-bitter from the “corbezzolo” honey and strong-sharp from the pecorino cheese) make them a very sophisticated treat. If you would like to pair it with a wine, you can go for a red Cannonau or a white Moscato.

Nonna Paola making seadas:

My son’s hands and Nonna’s hands, making seadas

A note on the ingredients: you can use pecorino if you can’t find fiore sardo. Also, to be honest, my Nonna now uses a soft aged mozzarella cheese called Caciocavallo (which is sweeter than pecorino…and it’s made in Sorrento!). You can use regular honey if you can’t find “miele di corbezzolo“. In addition to the all purpose flour, it is ideal to use 10%-20% of semola fina di grano duro (semolina flour) for the texture. Instead of butter you could use lard, which was traditional.