Uncategorized

by

Sarah at Nomadderings gives an update on the devastation of L’Aquila in the second half of this post. Her comments bring an ache to my heart again for this lost city.

nomadstable's avatarNomadderings

Day 6 began 1200 meters up to learn about lentils. We parked the bus and ventured down a dirt road to see wild pea and lentil crops and learn about the ancient agriculture of the region. Back on the bus we wound our way up into the mountains to explore incredible vistas and watch nomadic sheep herders bring their flocks into the high valleys.  And eat meat…lots of meat. On sticks.  That we got to grill ourselves…sweet!  Bikers, RV’s,  travelers from around the world and families from the region all converged on this odd little place to eat meat. Meat brings people together, indeed. Arrosticini is the traditional mutton skewers eaten in this region. The place we stopped had rows of narrow grills, dishes of salt and lots of hot coals. Off to the side was a local farmer who brought in fresh peaches, figs and watermelon…grilled meat, beer and…

View original post 282 more words

by

The only time I visited the Gargano, a severe rain forced me to buy an umbrella in a village shop. We didn’t make it to Vieste, but this post from Kimberly Sullivan has inspired me to put it on my list.

kimberlysullivan's avatarKimberlySullivan

A photo doesn’t lie and Vieste, this lovely, perched seaside town located in the Gargano peninsula (the spur of the Italian boot) in the region of Puglia, honestly  is this picture-perfect.

The area has ancient origins, evidenced by the 3rd century tombs and Ancient Greek vases discovered around the town. The town and the entire coastline suffered numerous attacks by Saracen and Ottoman invaders in the 16th and 17th centuries.

Dotting the coastline are numerous, impressive watchtowers, which once served to warn the population of invaders arriving by sea.

More recently, this little fishing village has developed as a popular tourist site. Vieste is a wonderful holiday spot.

The town itself is filled with picturesque streets and lovely views over the sea.

There are many restaurants in the old town center and a colourful daily market off of Via dei XXIV maggio, in the new town. Stock up…

View original post 299 more words

by

The search for bad wine

Our experimental procedure.

During a two month stay in Italy, my husband and I enjoyed a glass of wine with many of our meals. We rented ‘self-catering’, or kitchenette apartments in some places, and bought our own groceries, so had the opportunity to buy bottles of wine from local shops and markets in many parts of southern Italy. And it was so inexpensive!! We were very happy with the $4 and $5 bottles, and pleased we were getting such nice wine at that price.

But what was the $3 wine like? We didn’t want to drink the Italian equivalent of Annie Green Springs or the vinegary Chianti I recalled from my youth in Alaska. We decided to give it a try.

My sister, Marlie Johnson, checks out some Calabrian grapes on the vine.

The $3 wine was perfectly acceptable, so, hey, why not try the next one down?

We carried on with our experiment, right on down to the$1.50 bottles and found every one to be at worst tolerable, and sometimes surprisingly good.

The brand, you ask? They year? Sorry, I’m not talking about brand name wines. In little shops we found locally made wines not produced for export. I imagined them being made in the ‘cantina’ in the walk-out basement of a farmhouse at the edge of town, whatever

The cantina in a private home in Sinalunga, Tuscany.

town we were in, put up in giant casks. Maybe they grew the grapes in a local vigna, or maybe they bought them at the market or a roadside stand, where crates of grapes were stacked for sale in the fall.

We concluded, after many happy hours of experimentation, that Italians do not tolerate bad wine.

by

Stefan gives some tips for a better Caprese salad, an example of simple and delicious authentic Italian food, and I’m going to try some of these soon!! Does anyone else warm the fresh mozzarella over a bowl of hot water? I have to try it!!

StefanGourmet's avatarStefan's Gourmet Blog

Insalata Caprese is almost too simple to blog about, but I do have some interesting tips to provide. At the risk of writing the same thing over and over, this dish is a classic example of Italian cuisine that relies completely on the quality of the ingredients. Use the best flavorful ripe tomatoes you can find, fresh fragrant basil, the best extra virgin olive oil you can afford, and last but not least the best mozzarella you can afford (and find!), preferably buffalo mozzarella.

Real fresh buffalo mozzarella is very hard to find outside of Campania, the region around Naples in Italy where it originates. I’ve had it a few times when I was visiting the region. Because of the freshness it is outstanding and has a completely different texture from the same mozzarella after a day in the refrigerator. When driving around in Campania, there are mozzarella producers all…

View original post 485 more words

by

Poetry: “Italian Reasons”

It’s the fifth Friday, time for a surprise, a different topic, a break from the usual routine. I wrote this poem in 2002. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.

 

Italian Reasons

 

InL’Aquila, in a square near the university

The students gather, drink caffe corretto,

And deal endless hands of scopa.

Late at night they stumble home in clusters,

One by one left here and there, until the mountain night claims silence

Briefly, then the morning traffic starts to rumble here and there.

 

Zio Guido’s dark wine leaves me dizzy,

With a morning headache, and I know no more

Than I did about why one brother went toArgentina

And the other toNew York.  Italian reasons,

Like a rain out of season, flowing through the dusty streets

And out of sight between the ancient stones.

 

My uncle shows me how to play the kings and take the sevens. 

Between supper of pizzetta and the strategy of scopa,

He tells me how he brought the sheep

Down the backside of the Maiella in the fall

When he was twelve.

 

That year sticks in his memory,

Because in the end, at the bottom of the mountain,

He found his mother weeping.  The brothers

Who had seen him off in April

Were gone.  Zio Guido shares the truth

As he knew it.  I tell him my father’s truth

As I know it.  They aren’t the same, like two sides

Of a coin, whose value we don’t yet know.

 

In his car we speed through valleys and tunnels

To the near-abandoned village of his youth

As if showing me the very house will prove him right.

Parked outside the crumbling walls, Zio Guido stares hard,

Reliving a scene like a silent movie. “You see?” he asks. 

I see his pain, a pain that masked

The hopes and dreams for which his brothers left him

With their bewildered mother, angry father.

 

Driving home he grips my arm,

And reclaims, in some small measure, the brother of his youth.

A tear runs to his mustache for shelter.  I pat his hairy hand.

My father told me stories of little brother Guido, the shepherd boy. 

He had his reasons.

 

Rain has wet the dusty road toL’Aquila.

The city lights shine in clearer air.

 

by Sandy Frykholm, 2002.

by

Here’s an Italian food I haven’t tried! Sounds YUMMY.

Nicholas DiGiovanni's avatarWorld of Wonders

Above, my grandparents’ hometown of Scerni, in the province of Chieti, in the Abruzzo region of Italy.

The irony did not escape me. There I was, at a holiday weekend picnic/barbecue in a relatively affluent town in New Jersey, surrounded by friendly and  interesting and educated people — in a setting and surroundings where my Italian immigrant grandmother would have felt like she’d landed on another planet…if she even knew or believed in the existence of other planets,  seeing as she believed the moon landing and moon walks were faked.

(She also believed in the evil eye. And once, when we made a family trip to upstate New York and visited a place called Howe Caverns, we actually convinced Grandma DiGiovanni to take an elevator down into the caverns. We even got her to get into the flat-bottomed boat which took visitors on a ride on the cavern’s underground river…

View original post 480 more words

by

I loved reading about Zac’s adventures in Calabria, and his photos! Had to SHARE!

zacyork's avatarZac, Global Citizen, Reporting

I spent the last few days sans Internet, in a hostel on the south-western coast of Italy. Without the use of much technology I was able to turn my mind off. Some would say this would mark the start of my most recent decent into madness. But rather, it would seem to have started before we arrived on the hillside that would be our home for five days.

Pass the time. For the traveler, a time honored way to pass the time arrives as a book. While in Roma Termini, I was presented with an opportunity to purchase a book, written in Italian. With an upcoming stretch of time I would be spending in solitude and, without the distraction of Internet- I bought one of my favorite stories. La Metamorfosi by Franz Kafka has brought me great joy, as I stumble through the pages (there are many words which I…

View original post 370 more words