Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

As you gather with friends, family, loved-ones or strangers I hope you all have a fantastic day full of fun times, great food, and wonderful memories!

It's a bit strange to be living and working in Italy on what is arguably the Most Important American Holiday Of The Year. More turkey, potatoes, yams, corn, rolls, brussel sprouts, cranberries and French's French Fried Onions are consumed today than on any other day of the year. Additionally on this day, fewer wars are fought, fewer greenhouse gases are emitted, more peace, love and understanding is spread, more babies smile, the world spins a little more slowly so the day is longer, more hugs are given and hi-fives slapped. (All facts are my own or taken from Wikipedia.) In short, it's the most bestest day of all.

So it's a little unsettling and with more than a little sadness that I find myself working on Thanksgiving and Friday. All my efforts to stage a celebration of sorts were thwarted by the fact that it's my roommate Alice's 23rd birthday and she is taking it seriously. I'll be commandeering parts of her party as I see fit and calling it Thanksgiving. We'll be going out for dinner to have pizza - Thanksgiving Pizza? That just doesn't work. I comfort myself by trying to find some humor in the fact that I am working in an Italian office to support US clients, US clients who all happen to be on holiday. Is that funny?

I also dug out some photos from Thanksgivings past...

Wow, what a bird!

The proud chef. And he didn't even burn himself.

Thanksgiving Roth Brothers style - a potluck with good friends.

I'll be thinking of my family and friends who have opened their homes and shared their food with me over the years and all the great memories you've given me. Warmest wishes to you all - my brother Turkey Trotting around Portland, my sister, her husband and daughter munching away in China, my parents joining my Uncles in Houston, and my family in London ignoring the whole thing as they should. As well as friends vacationing in Mexico, partying in Chamonix, and celebrating in Sunriver, Aspen, Leavenworth and everywhere else. We're spread far and wide but sitting down at our various tables with family and friends I like to think we're joined by our thanks and gratitude for all we've been blessed with in the past, our joy in the present and the hopes and expectations for the mysteries and pleasures to come in the future. You're all in my thoughts; I miss you and wish you the best.

I wonder what Eric is doing right now?

Video Delights

Just as I was finishing work today, my Skype rang with the Heinrichs on the other end. My work computer has audio support for Skype but no microphone so I could hear them but couldn't talk back. I had to type all my responses which made for an interesting conversation. But it was neat to hear from the kids and talk about Thanksgiving plans. Someone will be snowboarding and mountainbiking this weekend providing the answer to a frequently asked question on this blog.

On the way home, I dropped a letter in the mailbox at the post-office and with this simple task, achieved another small victory. It began with me having to figure out where to buy a card since they are not sold in supermarkets but, as it turns out, in book stores, called libreria (where you buy books) not biblioteca(where you check out books). It's a lot of fun selecting a card when you can't read what it says. "Oooh pretty picture, I'll take it!" Card in envelope, envelope addressed, time to buy a stamp. I refuse to go to the post-office to buy a stamp because that puts me in the clutches of the Italian bureaucracy and that I avoid whenever possible. In the post-office there is a small machine that distributes tickets. You take one when you enter and when your number is called you go to the corresponding window to be helped. But there are four buttons on the machine, each for a different post related service and as I've experienced, a terrible fate awaits anyone who takes a ticket for the wrong service. Fortunately, there are small shops called Tabacaria where you can buy stamps, along with lottery tickets, cigarettes, candy, and I think porn, and never step foot in the post-office. Stamp purchased (Vorrei spedire negli Stati Uniti per favore - 1 Euro - Grazia - Salve.) I headed for a mail-box, dropped my letter, and sauntered somewhat cockily into the night.

Back to a recurring theme...While completely benign, my successful interaction with the negoziante (shop-keeper) was cause for another head-slapping realization. I say head-slapping because it's a fairly obvious observation but one that gave me pause. Learning Italian has made me think about language in ways I never really did before (sad and embarrassing considering I've worked for language companies for nearly 10 years). As I learn these new sounds and begin to use them, I can interact with people - I can get things, ask questions, share thoughts (well not yet, but I will be able to). Before I knew what "Vorrei spedire negli Stati Uniti" meant and how to say it, the phrase was just a series of nonsense sounds and I couldn't get a stamp. But after learning the words and the correct way to say them, when I repeated them to the shop-keeper, I got a stamp. Wow. While it was completely innocuous interaction to the shop-keeper, it was astounding and thrilling to me. Because language is so natural and second-nature I didn't really think about it, until it became unnatural. Then its full power and implications smacked me in the head. Probably everyone who has ever studied another language has already had this realization so here I am late to the party, but wow, neat-o.

And now for some Italian YouTube fun...



Raimondo can't get enough of this one. Berlusconi's accent cracks him up every time.



We can't tell if this is endearing or desperate.

I wonder what Eric is doing right now? (He's in the Suburban, driving to Sunriver.)

Picture This

And now for some pictures...

The local indoor fresh food market. Fish caught that morning. Vegatables for sale by the farmer. Also bread, meat, cheese. Opens at 7am and is closed by Noon. It's nice to walk through on the way to work although you smell a bit fishy when you come out the other side. It pays to make friends with the farmers because you tell them what you want and how much and they select and bag the produce or you. Friends get the better selection at a cheaper price than the riff-raff (that's me).

Another view. On the weekends, this space is converted into a bar/club. A DJ sets-up where I'm standing. The stand in the far corner sells meat and cheese plates. All the tables below have cushions placed on them and people dance in the aisles. The balcony across the way becomes a bar and art gallery. It closes around 10pm so everyone can head-out after and early drink and some socializing.

And then there is this guy. The hygiene standards are impeccable. Reminds me of going to the market when we lived in Africa.

This is the girl playing the violin the other night that I wrote about. She was fantastic. I didn't get a picture of it but a little further down the street there was a man playing the bag pipes. He was dressed in a sort of native costume so either he was playing some sort of traditional music that I don't have an ear for or he was just learning to play because it sounded awful. People were literally scattering in all directions and covering their ears to get away from him.

Euro-style techno music provides the soundtrack for the kids who ride this carousel.

And here is the chestnut seller and the old men who gather around him every evening to talk about the day. I wonder what Eric is doing right now?

Italian Recipe 2

Over dinner last night we continued to make plans for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. Alice's birthday is also on Thursday so it will be a double celebration. I introduced the idea of a pot-luck and it looks like that's what will happen. I will be baking an apple pie. The roommates are convinced that apple pie is the only acceptable dessert and because I am American I automatically know how to make them. And also turkey. Should be interesting.

As part of my planning I've asked a couple people for suggestions for "Real American Thanksgiving Traditions" I can "share". I've received a couple so far:

After carving the turkey, the carcass should be strung-up from the ceiling. People eat with their hands tied behind their backs. First one to tear off a bone wins.

Have everyone smell their gravy before they eat. When their faces are close to the bowl - push their faces into the gravy. Raise your hands above your head and yell "America".

If you have any other suggestions, leave a comment.

Pasta with Tuna, Tomato and Olives

Start a large pot of water to boil. Once the water is near boiling, start making this quick sauce in a separate pan.

In a smallish sauté pan over med-low heat (so the oil doesn’t start to smoke), pour in olive oil, enough to just coat the bottom, and throw in a couple cloves of garlic still in their skin but smashed. While the garlic infuses the oil, slice 2-3 cups of cherry tomatoes in half. Increase the heat on the pan a bit, add the tomatoes to the oil and begin quickly sautéing. As soon as the tomatoes start to break down, add in .5 to 1 cup of sliced green olives and a half to a whole can of tuna fish (I use one tin of tuna for two people and the tin is 200g, about half the size of those in the US), lightly drained. Sauté all the ingredients together. Add a bit of spaghetti sauce to add thickness (my addition, not traditional but I think it helps bring everything together). You should end up with a thick, chunky sauce. Season to taste with whatever seasonings make you happy. During all of this, the water boiled and you cooked your pasta to just a few seconds shy of al dente - use short noodles, fusilli is nice. Drain the noodles and add to the sauce over low heat to finish cooking the pasta and combine the flavors. Reserve a bit of the pasta water to add to the mixture if it needs to be thinned out.

Serve hot with good bread but no cheese. Cheese and fish do not mix.

In Italy most of the tuna comes packed in olive oil. In the States I always bought the tuna in water but the oil has a great flavor and adding a bit of it along with the tuna really adds to the dish.

All amounts are approximations. Use as much or as little of anything as you like depending on how many people you're feeding, how you like your sauce, and your favorite flavors. You can also cook the tomatoes for a short amount of time and keep them mostly together, or for a longer amount of time depending on how much you want them to break down in the sauce. It's more traditional I think to cook them short and quick just to soften them but still maintain their inherent wholeness and being. Basically they cook the sauce just long enough to put heat into everything and combine the flavors but leaving everything fresh. I personally like it cooked a while longer (by that I mean I start the sauce when I start the water instead of starting it just before the water boils) and for everything to break down into more of a sauce.
Buon appetito!

I wonder what Eric is eating right now?

Life Goes On...

These days, we’re in the middle of an Indigenous People’s Summer, l’Italiano l’estate or a Tuscan Autumn, whatever you call it here. It is mostly sunny to partly cloudy and reasonably warm which means it’s 15 to 23 most days. I’m really enjoying it. We’ll have a couple days of wind and rain to make you lose your mind but soon enough the sun is back. Nothing like what it should be or what Portland is normally like this time of year. I’ve heard it’s not typical and I’m being spoiled, but I deserve it. And with the office hours we keep, 9am to 6pm, it’s at least bright when I walk to the office and I have a window so I’m not stuck in the perpetual night of this time of year.

On Saturday I met my co-workers Lothar and Shazia in the morning down in the main piazza. They live about 15 kilometers out of town (Ancona’s Hillsboro?) and had come in to do a bit of shopping. The weather was again perfect and it seemed like everyone from town as well as the surrounding areas was in the square doing what Italians love to do. Namely, stroll up and down the street, shop, talk and drink coffee. Quite a sight to see a few thousand people all out and about for no specific event or reason. I would call it impromptu but since it happens all the time that doesn’t really fit. It’s really what I love best about being here – the constant gathering of people just to walk and talk and see each other. It’s so cliché but there is such a strong sense of community. The kids always gather in the same couple of places. The old folks have their benches and cafes and everyone else just strolls around stopping to talk to everyone they know and getting caught up on the latest.

I was meeting some friends later that night for dinner and on my way to catch the bus (yes, I have figured out how to use the local bus system) to meet them I passed a woman playing a violin. She was really quite good too. There was a light fog in the air, and she was standing in front of an old building along one of the main shopping streets. People were stopping to listen and if it hadn’t been such a beautiful moment I would have laughed at how much of a postcard moment it was. I half expected Mickey Mouse or some other fictional creature to pop out and lead us all to Paris-land or something. It was as if someone had been told to describe their idea of the typical evening in a small Italian town and it had magically come to life.

Dinner was good. It was three couples and me so I felt like a bit of a gate crasher which is not a new feeling since arriving. I’ve realized I’m becoming a terrible listener. When everyone starts to speak Italian I tune out and my mind starts wandering. It’s almost automatic. Sometimes I don’t even notice right away when it has switched back to English and I’m being asked a question.

I’m still not used to the way dinner is served here. The antipasti/appetizer section I get although would it be so hard to offer some wings or a plate of nachos. The appetizer concept has been perfected by Americans. But then comes pasta, which in a decent portion, could be dinner. After the pasta comes meat and just meat. If you want anything with it you order separately like it’s a fancy steak house, but this is everywhere. Who wants to eat just meat? Put a couple beans on the plate and call it good. And after that comes salad. The meal is just organized wrong but it works for them and they’re a country and I’m a foreigner so I’ll keep my criticism to myself and this post. And at this point I would kill for a good blue cheese dressing on my salad. I have to admit that it’s nice not to have to listen to the cameriere (waiter) list off the 9 dressings since all salads only come dressed with oil and vinegar. Oh but then there is the prosciutto. All sins are forgiven when they serve me the prosciutto plate.

I’m starting to get a little bored with life here which perversely, I’m a little excited about. A month or so ago I never would have thought that was possible. I was in such a complete state of shock and bewilderment over it all. Everything was either an adventure or a trial and it felt like so much work to accomplish even little chores that I was too pre-occupied to be bored. But now life has settled into a bit of a routine around going to work, doing things in the evening, going out on the weekend. I am impatient to learn the language better to make getting around easier and to help with making more friends but that will come. What used to feel like a 30 foot wall with no way over now feels like a 15 foot wall with a chance to climb it somehow. We’re studying prepositions right now and they are a beast. There aren’t rules for when to use certain ones and why, you just have to learn it. Anyway, with the boredom comes the desire to start exploring a bit. Between buses and trains I think once I have a few things figured out I should be able to be fairly mobile. There are a lot of towns within a few hours of Ancona for good weekend and day trips. Even Rome is just three hours away. Breakfast in Ancona, lunch at the Vatican, dinner back in Ancona. Doesn’t sound too bad.

I wonder what Eric is doing right now?

Cruising

Tonight after work I went for a stroll which is the Ancona version of cruising. We’re in the middle of a stretch of perfect late fall weather so I was in no hurry to get home and neither was anyone else. The evenings right after work are prime-time for cruising. As it is anywhere and has been for years, the purpose is the same – walk around to see and be seen, check out the hotties and wait for something more interesting to happen. The kids cruise in large packs, trading between groups like the baseball off-season gone mad and massing at corners to talk, smoke, text, and wait. The adults are usually in pairs and I imagine are bemoaning how much better things were back when they were young and there weren't all these rascally kids around. It is constant, casual motion with an eye out for the best place to be and be seen. Wherever you are somewhere else might be better so off you go. What you never see are people by themselves. So in that regard, I’m a trend-setter, bucking convention, challenging perceptions as I walk along solo. The people watching is fantastic – bars filling with people having their aperitivo, pizza stands doing a brisk business in slices, dogs crapping under foot, people rushing to finish their shopping before everything closes for the evening – all to the soundtrack created by the mad church bell ringers religiously marking the passing of another five minutes.

As I was having my saunter and challenging the local paradigm, a couple pushing a stroller with twins passed me. It was one of those double-wide strollers quite common in the States but apparently an apparition here. That the twins were adorable, flaxen-haired bambini in matching outfits eating matching gelato didn’t hurt, but everyone they passed did one of those classic double-takes made infamous by men everywhere. It was almost like Raphaella Fico herself was walking down the middle of the street in only her metallic bikini.

The roommates all went home for the weekend so I have the apartment to myself. I think I might mark the development by eating small amounts of all their food, just enough so that I know I ate it, but they don’t notice it missing. Yes, I really am that wild. They did a really nice job of cleaning-up before they left so I came home to a sad and empty but sparkling clean house.

We four roommates are bonding quite nicely. I am constantly being evaluated for how good an Italian I will make. We’ve devised a scale where I started out in Austria and the more Italian I manage to be the further south I will be placed. It's like one of those fund-raising thermometer signs, just upside down and shaped like Italy, not a thermometer. Following the success of a pasta dish this week I have managed to cross the border into Italy. Next stop, Bologna. We generally eat dinner together several nights a week and I really enjoy those meals. Sometimes Deborah will cook for all of us or everyone will try to make their own meal simultaneously, sharing space in the cramped kitchen. Conversation is usually a mixture of Italian, English, French and some German with good natured teasing, bizarre jokes that are lost in the switching of languages, hilarious misuse of words from other languages, and quizzes about what was learned in class that day.

I don’t know how it happened but I got really lucky to be sharing an apartment with Raimondo. I learned how to spell his name correctly; we get along quite well, easily tolerate each other, and share a common sense of humor. He’s a physicist doing physics research (I assume) at the university. I asked him if this means he spends his day rolling a ball bearing down a ramp into a spring and measuring how far back up the ramp the bearing goes. Something like that he said. He also likes to make jokes at the expense of mathematicians which all seem to start the same way, “There is a physicist, an engineer and a mathematician…” Deborah and Alice (it’s pronounced ah-li-chay in Italian, but she was named for Alice in Alice in Wonderland after her mother discovered the book while on holiday and pregnant with her) are very sweet, concerned that I learn Italian quickly and don’t remain single. They’ve both decided that their older sisters are perfect for me.

It was a good week at work. My team actually closed a couple projects which translates (get it!?!?) into income rather than expenses for the company. They were small but as most leading sales experts would agree, a small sale is generally considered better than a large non-sale. We also submitted our second large RFP. If we’re selected for any of these RFPs I’ll be able to go on cruise-control for at least 3 days.

As an aside, for those still curious, the challenges posed by the Italian computer and keyboard have mostly been overcome. They are almost more natural feeling than my American laptop. That said I can’t figure out how to resize Media Player. It’s either in mini-player mode or full-screen with no way to place the pointer on a border and shrink it so it’s full-size but not full-screen. I can’t read the Italian interface to figure out how to shrink it. If you have suggestions please leave a comment below.

It’s coming soon and I’m sad to be missing it. We (no, I am not referring to myself in the third person, it was Dave and I) went last year and it placed the rest of the day pitch perfect. “Have a great time,” to all who participate.


A small triumph earned this week in my quest to learn Italian that gives me hope for the future. I had to go see my landlord to give him the rent. He is a doctor and told me I could just come to his clinic during office hours and drop it off. Since patients would be waiting he told me to let his segrataria (receptionist) I was a friend and not a patient and she would go get him and I could jump the line. Reasonable enough plan except that she doesn’t speak Italian. On the walk over to the office I rehearsed my lines and sweated. The way my nerves were acting up it was a good think I was headed to a doctor’s office. I walked into the segretaria (reception area) to find it full of waiting patients. Great, I had an audience. To my surprise and delight, I managed to utter my lines, she behaved herself and followed our little unwritten script as if we had been rehearsing for weeks and soon enough I found myself in the doctor’s office. I’m a big boy now! We chatted a bit, his English is only a bit better than my Italian so we get by on an amusing and confusing mixture of the two, and at the end he told me if I even need anything to see him, the care would be free. I don’t know if that’s because he’s my landlord and fried of Lothar or if that’s socialized medicine, but I’m thinking of learning the Italian word for Percoset.

I received a first hand report on what Eric was doing “right now” this past Wednesday. Jenn happened to be on Skype the same time I was and we were able to chat and trade gossip for a bit. As devout Luddites we both marveled at the wonder of us chatting live separated by thousands of miles yet immediately connected by some geek’s code, electricity, wires and voodoo. Jenn marveled at the fact that I was sitting in my office in Italy and I marveled at the fact that she hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. Lazy!

Twenty posts and a month and a half later I’ve received a few nice compliments on the blog and I just want to say thank you for reading and following along. Have fun at Meadows this weekend, Jerks.

This is the fabled pasta sfoglia ricoperta al cioccolato. Feel free to come visit and I'll take you out for one with a machiatto caldo.


I wonder what Eric is doing right now?

Another Week Means Another Weekend

It wasn’t a good weekend to be an American in Italy. The US women lost two matches to Italy in the Davis Cup (a big story here; besides football the only sports story to make the regular news) and in Moto GP, which is a huge deal here because of 9-time world champion Valentino Rossi, the Americans Ben Spies and Nicky Hayden were soundly beaten by Rossi in Valencia in the final race of the season. The air of a nationalistic feud is starting to stir between Raimundo and me.

I’m waging a silent, solitary, mostly unsuccessful fight over the organization of the silverware container. The holder has perfect, separate slots for cooking utensils, cucchiai (spoons), coltelli (knives), forchette (forks), and cucchiaini (teaspoons). I organized them all into their “proper places” one night after doing the dishes. If we keep them stored in their right place everything fits and everything is easy to find. To my dismay, no one else seems to have sensed this amazing new system and continue to store the flatware willy-nilly (a technical term). I regularly reorganize it with the hope that the structure will osmose (it’s a word!) its way into the hearts and minds of i miei coinquilini (my roommates). Today I caught Raimundo separating the spoons and forks. Progress!

As it seems happens most Friday nights I stayed late at work. I didn’t mind this time because it was to do an estimate for a new US client and since I was hired to increase sales in the States it seemed appropriate. The BDMs I hired in September are starting to gain some traction and while the numbers are small right now I’m feeling that momentum is starting to build along, with my optimism.

It had been raining most of the week but Friday night was crisp and clear as I walked home. The chestnut guy was doing a brisk business. By the time I got back to the apartment, Alice had already left for her parent’s house for the weekend but Deborah and Raimundo were staying. They were having salad for dinner and I chose to make a pasta with tomato sauce with zucchini, mushroom and prosciutto. When it was ready they both asked if they could try and some and declared it delicious and were optimistic that there was still a chance I might become a good Italian after-all. (A big step forward after my disaster a couple weeks ago when I made a quick snack out of a spaghetti and meatball sandwich and they decreed all hope for me lost.)

The weekend turned into what I guess is the typical Italian weekend – meet friends around 23.00 for drinks and to hang-out. Get home around 3am, sleep until Noon, relax and take care of things in the afternoon and then repeat Saturday night. On Saturday I had to go to the grocery store twice because I was thrown out the first time before I finished getting everything I wanted. It was 13.00 and that’s when they close for la pausa pranzo (the lunch break) so everyone out! Raimundo made a great clam and fish risotto on Sunday for lunch and the three of us ate together before watching the final MotoGP race of the season which Raimundo and I spent arguing (while Deborah rolled her eyes) about who is the better rider, Rossi or Spies. Rossi placed second to Spies’ seventh but this was only Spies’ third ever race in this division and he only had three hours total practice on the track. I spent the rest of the afternoon studying Italian, cleaning the apartment and watching snowboarding movies.

Sunday night we went to watch the Roma vs. Inter football match and have a pizza with Massi and Lorenza. There are lots of better places for pizza but none with televisions. The concept of the sports bar hasn’t really taken hold here.

Speaking of snowboarding movies, there may be better places to ride than Meadows but it is a little weird to not have a season pass and to think about missing the Oregon season. No weekend trips in Parkdale dragging Heinrich’s kids out of bed. No sneaking out of work for half days. No beers in the HRM parking lot. No sweet jumps. The season opened last weekend in the Italian Alps but that’s about six or seven hours from here by car. The nearest resort is in the Apennines about two hours away. They top out at about 3000 meters and won’t open for another few weeks. From the descriptions I’ve been given they are the Italian equivalent of Meadows. Some how, some way though I’ll get some days in this season.

I wonder what Eric is doing right now?

Yankees Win!

It felt like the 1920s having to follow the Series in the "paper", but maybe the really late 1920s since in this case, the paper was online.

There is now a man in Piazza Roma every night selling fresh roasted chestnuts. He looks a lot like the guy in this photo except a lot older and more Italian..er. It feels very Olde Worlde.


"sburocratizzare" means to reduce the amount of bureaucracy. It seems like a made up word.

At lunch today, a colleague of mine asked me how my Italian lessons were coming. Without really thinking about it, I responded in Italian and proceeded to describe my latest lessons and my teachers. Although just a brief conversation, when I think about where I was at when I arrived in September I get a sneaking suspicion that I'm actually starting to learn something. My mom told me that when we lived in Switzerland years ago that my sister (who was entered in a French school for the year) didn't say a word for six months and then one day began speaking fluently. Maybe that will happen to mio. (See, it's already happening.)

Drama in the apartment this morning! The girls went to a party last night and didn't come back until 4am. They were very good about being quiet, but being hungry, they used up my Nutella and Parmesan cheese while fixing a snack. (I'm guessing in separate dishes.) Between the dirty dishes on the table and in the sink and the missing food, my panties were all in a bunch as I left for work this morning. However, by the time I got home, they had replaced everything leaving me to unbunch my panties and needing to chill out a little. Maybe a tiny bit obsessive?

Next up, my first recipe for a newly discovered Italian dish. Hi to everyone in the New World. I wonder what Eric is doing right now?

Italian Recipe 1

In an email, a friend asked if I’d come across any new recipes for dishes that had made an impression. This is my current favorite. I don’t know what it’s called, but I had it in a restaurant and loved it and have been playing around with versions ever since. It's very heavy and rich but the saltiness of the pork and the bite of the spinach are perfect together.

Start a pot of water to boil pasta. Meanwhile, sauté about 200 grams (um a little less than 1/2 pound?) of diced pancetta in a little olive oil (enough to keep it from sticking at first but not too much since fat will be released and you don’t want it to get overly greasy). Once the pancetta is nearly browned, add fresh spinach and quickly cook. Optional: season with nutmeg, garlic and pepper to taste. You can also add peas, mushrooms or any other vegetable that suits you. The pancetta and spinach are the classic combination. The goal is to get this mixture hot and freshly cooked just as your pasta is done.

Stop the pasta just short of done as you will finish cooking it with the meat and vegetable combination. Traditionally, long pasta is used. Drain the pasta (but leave a little moist), then combine it with the other ingredients and mix thoroughly over a low heat. Here, they add about a 1/2 to 3/4 cup of panna da cucina to make it creamy. Over low heat, heat everything through to finish cooking the pasta. Serve with fresh parmesan.

Panna da cucina is Italian sour cream except that it isn't sour but has the same consistency. You could probably use sour cream or maybe just a bit of heavy cream and reduce it. Good luck. Enjoy!

On a completely separate note, I was watching ‘The Shooter’ starring Mark Wahlberg with Raimundo the other night. He had never seen it and I had seen the American version so I knew what was happening even though it was dubbed. It’s a fairly decent if formulaic action/thriller movie that contains few surprises in the plot and comes to a satisfying and loud conclusion. As we were watching it though, I couldn’t help but be amused by Raimundo’s reaction to it. He was in constant fear for the hero’s life even though everyone knows the hero never dies. He also wasn’t sure if the main love interest and wise-cracking sidekick would make it even though they always do too. What I thoguht were obvious plot twists and story developments came as a surprise to him. I say obvious only because they followed the formula for most movies of this kind. And there were other moments in the movie that for an American who has watched hundreds of movies similar to this are pretty obvious but to him were completely surprising. I couldn’t decide if it was an issue specific to Raimundo or maybe since not as many American movies come to Italy if the formula still works more effectively here? At any rate, it made watching the movie much more interesting.

I wonder what Eric is doing right now?

Sexy Night

“Ragazzi, tonight is the sexy night!” Appropriately, they were yelled by a great guy named Vito. And with those words kicked off my first big, Italian dinner party last weekend. As usual, on Friday, if I don't have plans I happily eat a little dinner, watch some mad Italian TV and go to bed. The normal end of the week crash. Some things never change and I’m glad I got the extra sleep because I would need it on Saturday. However, for the first time since I arrived here, I left my camera in the apartment so there are no pictures to include. The leaden eloquence of my words will have to suffice.

Saturday morning, I slept in and woke to an empty apartment. All three of my roommates had gone home for the weekend which is common in the apartment and for a lot of Italy I guess. Since the country is relatively small and easy to get around, many people find jobs away from their hometowns but still regularly visit their family by taking the train home Friday after work and back to their job early Monday morning. That’s what my roommates do most weekends meaning I have the place to myself. Taking advantage of this, I did laundry (four people, one small lavatrice means it’s always in use during the week) and some cleaning in the morning.

Mid-afternoon, my friend Vayla from work came by and picked me up. He grew up in Ancona and wanted to show me some of his favorite places around the city. We went driving along the coast to Porto Nuovo (New Port) and then we went shopping. I bought some shoes. My first Italian ones. They are hideous so everyone here likes them. Most importantly for me, they have velcro fasteners so I'm ecstatic. After this excitement we went for an apperitivo which is the mid-afternoon, early evening drink and snack that carries you through until you have a late dinner. It’s pretty much Happy Hour, but in a custom that began in Milan as a way to bring in business from office workers during the hours between the end of the day and dinner, many bars now put out a buffet of small sandwiches and other finger foods that are free and all-you-can-eat if you purchase a drink. It puts American Happy Hour to shame. While at the bar we happened to start talking with the two women at the table next to us. They were visiting Ancona for the weekend from Holland. Tickets from Dusseldorf were 40 Euros so they booked a long weekend. Vayla was the perfect person for them to have met because he knows everyone and everywhere in town. He put them on the guest list for a private club and got them dinner reservations. In return, we got email addresses for if we ever happen to find ourselves in Dusseldorf.

Vayla had invited me to a dinner/birthday party for three of his friends later that night so we said our goodbyes to the Dutch girls in order to make it to dinner in time. Everyone dressed to the hilt like I sort of suspected they would but luckily I wore my new shoes so I fit right in. There were about 30 people for dinner and they all knew each other quite well and had grown up together. No one but Vayla really spoke English so I spent most of the night trying to guess at the conversations and not stare at boobs. By dressing to the hilt, for the girls that seemed to mean very low-cut tops. If you can't speak the language at least enjoy the scenery. (This is when I forget my camera at home!) But it was a really nice evening. By the end of it I suspect I was partially fluent in Italian and had made plenty of new friends. Or not. We left the restaurant a little after 1am and most of them were going dancing. I went with another group to another restaurant for a nightcap (is that what they are?) and didn't get to bed until after 3:30. It was my first sort of real Italian event and it was a lot of fun. For the first time I felt like I was experiencing a real, authentic part of the local scenery. I have yet to be invited to someone’s house for a meal cooked by their mom but I’m dropping as many hints as I can.
Tonight Inter plays Barcelona in a Champion’s league match so we’ll probably go watch that.

I wonder what Eric is doing right now?