Christmas has come and gone and now it's that odd week before New Years where it feels like a holiday but everyone is working. Nothing is quite normal. Some stores are open but most are closed. There are lots more people out cruising during the daylight. Restaurants are full at lunch too instead of just at dinner. The PSG offices are officially closed until 10 January, but no one bothered telling America to close too so a few of us will be working here and there to take care of our US customers. It's not too bad because if I wasn't in the office I'd be at the house trying to watch as many episodes of Dexter in a row as possible. That much serial killing really isn't healthy.
Since no one has to work during the days, there is something to do every night. Last night I went with some friends to Chiaravalle for an aperativo and to watch some live music. As I've mentioned before, I love the aperativo. It's meant to be a cocktail and some small bites to loosen the appetite for dinner. But the spread usually put out is more akin to the all you can eat line at the Hometown Buffet or a small Indian casino. What could be called a line but has more similarities with the lift scrums at Meadows (their motto: if you aren't moving forward you're going backwards) forms early and doesn't go away until the final piece of pasta is scrapped off the table. It's the perfect situation for someone with my gentille and delicate appetites. On the way back to Ancona, a friend called and when she heard we were in the car invited us to stop by for dessert and limoncello. She lives with her family on the fourth floor of an apartment building and the ceilings of the apartment easily had to be fifteen feet. What's with all the tall ceilings in this country? We played Wii (I watched. It's an Italian Wii and therefore isn't set-up for an American.), ate chocolate and drank their homemade limoncello. An early night since I was home by midnight.
Raimondo went to his parents' house for Christmas. He wasn't supposed to be home until the 29th but couldn't stand his family any longer and came home last night. Even though I was expecting to be on my own for a couple more days, I had put on pants in the morning and kept up with the dishes so fortunately it wasn't a disaster when he walked in the door.
On my way home this afternoon I'm going to take the food route back to my apartment. It's what I've taken to calling my favorite way home. I walk to a small pizza place and get a slice to go. I can arrive in front of a bar (a coffee shop to an American) right as I finish the slice and have a caffé normale. As I'm leaving I buy a piece of dark chocolate. I finish that right in front of the pizza place next to my building. Another slice gets me through the lobby door and up the stairs to the apartment. Perfetto!
I'll close with a very public thank you to Shelby for her beautiful card that arrived on my birthday and Pidgeon, Jenn, Eric, Morgan, Luke, Max, Sara, Sam and Tommy for the huge box of treats and cards that I opened on Christmas. It was wonderful to receive. And an early thank you to Carl, Sharon and Dave whose are unfortunately caught-up in Italian customs. Guess you should have used a bit more coffee to wrap that weed.
I wonder what Eric is doing right now?
Monday, December 28, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Buon Natale e Tanti Auguri Tutti!
As I write this it's 1pm in Italy which means most of you are still asleep in bed. Unless you have small children or an irritable bowel and then you are probably up. Whatever your condition, Merry Christmas! I hope the day, and the season, treat you all well.
For those of you wondering what a person who is 9212 kilometers (rough guess) from his home does on Christmas, let me tell you.
(I will have to do this with words alone too because it looks like my trusty G9 has died and I haven't bought a new camera yet. Before doing that I am hoping to find a Christmas miracle online that will tell me how to cure the gremlins in the camera. Fingers crossed.)
My celebration of Christmas actually began on Christmas Eve. Doesn't it always? I went to a dinner last night with a friend from work, Fabrizio, and his wife Daniela. I was joining a group of families that has been getting together for years. Dinner was in Falconara, a city on the coast about 12 kilometers to the north, at the house of one of the families. Rarely do you get a chance to see into the future but that's what this evening was. All of the adults have known each other for years, since the kids were toddlers. Now the kids are all grown and they are still getting together. I had to think this is what it will be like for us as all the kids grow from ankle biters into waist biters and finally into car thieves and high school drop outs.
For dinner, they did this really weird thing where everyone brought food to share with everyone else. Great concept. I think I'll bring it back with me. I just brought a bottle of booze which was warmly received. Dinner was a four course affair. There was a long table down the center of the room with a make-shift bar set-up in the center. The table would be loaded down for each course, the food eaten and cleared and then the next course laid down. We had antipasti and then a primi of pasta (5 kinds!) and then secondo of stewed fish with potatoes and then dolce with cake, nuts, fruit, dates and lots of wine and sparkling wine to wash it all down.
Right around midnight a bunch of people walked to one of the local churches for mass and I decided to join them. It was nice to be in church surrounded with people even though I didn't understand much of the service. I spent some of the time thinking about the Christmas Pageant I used to go to with Eric, Jenn, Morgan and Luke. It's just not the same when there aren't a bunch of little kids dressed as Mary, Joseph and other barn animals. Back to the present, I've been to enough masses though that I could follow along. After the service, we walked back to the house a little after 1am, had a coffee and apperitivo and some more dessert and then everyone headed home. I went to bed around 3am I think.
On Christmas, that's today, I got up around 11:30. It's 20 degrees (mid 70s) which is bizarre especially since it snowed last weekend. No one is in the apartment so I am alone which is nice. I have the bells from all the churches for company though. They keep ringing and ringing. A friend (her name starts with a P and it rhymes with Midgeon) sent me a big package which I have left unopened for about a week. Finally get to give into the temptation. After dinner tonight I'll join some friends and that will just about wrap-up the day.
I hope wherever you are and whatever you're doing that you all have a wonderful and happy Christmas. I'll miss the lobsters Matt and Inga, but I will probably sleep better not hearing their screams.
Auguri!
For those of you wondering what a person who is 9212 kilometers (rough guess) from his home does on Christmas, let me tell you.
(I will have to do this with words alone too because it looks like my trusty G9 has died and I haven't bought a new camera yet. Before doing that I am hoping to find a Christmas miracle online that will tell me how to cure the gremlins in the camera. Fingers crossed.)
My celebration of Christmas actually began on Christmas Eve. Doesn't it always? I went to a dinner last night with a friend from work, Fabrizio, and his wife Daniela. I was joining a group of families that has been getting together for years. Dinner was in Falconara, a city on the coast about 12 kilometers to the north, at the house of one of the families. Rarely do you get a chance to see into the future but that's what this evening was. All of the adults have known each other for years, since the kids were toddlers. Now the kids are all grown and they are still getting together. I had to think this is what it will be like for us as all the kids grow from ankle biters into waist biters and finally into car thieves and high school drop outs.
For dinner, they did this really weird thing where everyone brought food to share with everyone else. Great concept. I think I'll bring it back with me. I just brought a bottle of booze which was warmly received. Dinner was a four course affair. There was a long table down the center of the room with a make-shift bar set-up in the center. The table would be loaded down for each course, the food eaten and cleared and then the next course laid down. We had antipasti and then a primi of pasta (5 kinds!) and then secondo of stewed fish with potatoes and then dolce with cake, nuts, fruit, dates and lots of wine and sparkling wine to wash it all down.
Right around midnight a bunch of people walked to one of the local churches for mass and I decided to join them. It was nice to be in church surrounded with people even though I didn't understand much of the service. I spent some of the time thinking about the Christmas Pageant I used to go to with Eric, Jenn, Morgan and Luke. It's just not the same when there aren't a bunch of little kids dressed as Mary, Joseph and other barn animals. Back to the present, I've been to enough masses though that I could follow along. After the service, we walked back to the house a little after 1am, had a coffee and apperitivo and some more dessert and then everyone headed home. I went to bed around 3am I think.
On Christmas, that's today, I got up around 11:30. It's 20 degrees (mid 70s) which is bizarre especially since it snowed last weekend. No one is in the apartment so I am alone which is nice. I have the bells from all the churches for company though. They keep ringing and ringing. A friend (her name starts with a P and it rhymes with Midgeon) sent me a big package which I have left unopened for about a week. Finally get to give into the temptation. After dinner tonight I'll join some friends and that will just about wrap-up the day.
I hope wherever you are and whatever you're doing that you all have a wonderful and happy Christmas. I'll miss the lobsters Matt and Inga, but I will probably sleep better not hearing their screams.
Auguri!
I wonder what Eric is doing right now?
Monday, December 14, 2009
The Gas Man
The Gas Man is the most dangerous man in Italy and he is trying to do evil to me. I will endeavor to explain.
The day I moved into the apartment, Michele, my landlord, warned me never to buzz in a stranger to the lobby downstairs with the intercom. He said people with stuff to sell will push all the doorbell buttons trying to get someone to ring them in and then will wander the building trying to sell their junk and generally make a nuisance of them self. Fairly common-sense advice for anywhere in the world and not out of the ordinary. But he also stressed that it was especially important that I never let in someone claiming to be the Gas Man.
Like the US, people come around each month to read the gas meter to see how much gas you have used so that they can then send the utility bill. However, in Italy, most of the meters are inside apartments (not on an outside wall or in a common utility room) so the Gas Man actually has to come inside to read it. This is the root of the terrible danger.
The Meter!
He told a story about a Gas Man that he had heard from someone he knows who knows somebody else who once heard from a reliable source, etc. Apparently, two university girls were in their apartment when the doorbell rang and a man said he was the Gas Man there to check the meter. They looked out the peephole and saw a man in what looked like the company's uniform so they let him in. But it turned out to be a thief who held them at knife point, robbed the apartment and escaped. At the time of this telling, I have just arrived in Ancona after a 19 hour trip, speak no Italian, have just met this guy who doesn't speak great English who is telling me a story that I may or may not be correctly understanding about a Gas Man who may or may not exist and I am terrified. Upon later reflection I suspect I may have over-reacted to the warning. But still it took me a few weeks to decide to tell Raimondo the story. He laughed and said Michele had told him the same thing when he moved in a couple years ago.
So for the past few weeks we've been creating Gas Man stories. Anything bad that happens or is unexplainable is the fault of the Gas Man. He is a useful character to have available and we've had a good laugh about it. Even Deborah and Alice have started to join in on the joke. No one takes it seriously.
Until a couple weekends ago!
Saturday morning I woke-up to the sound of the door buzzer. I don't know what I was thinking but I went to answer it. Someone speaking Italian asked something but all I caught was Dr. Caruso which is Michele's last name. He maintains an office in the apartment to receive his mail and faxes. Still half asleep and still not understanding the request I just said, "No" and hung-up the intercom and went back to sleep more annoyed than anything. It wasn't until later in the day that I realized I had foiled the clever ruse of the Gas Man trying to get in and commit larceny!
I told Raimondo the story when he returned after the weekend and we both agreed I had had a narrow escape.
Then later that same week, after work, Alice and Deborah left to buy a couple things from the grocery store. A few minutes after they had gone, the door buzzer went off. I assumed they had forgotten something and didn't have their keys. I went to open the door to let them in and as I did I looked out the peep hole.
Raimondo Demonstrating Proper Gas Man Checking Behavior
Standing off to the side was a man in a blue uniform with a clipboard, breathing heavily (maybe because he just walked up five floors or maybe because he was so evil), saying something (probably evil related) in Italian. The Gas Man had made it inside and was at the door!
What A Gas Man May Look Like
I told him no thanks and asked him to leave which he did. Once again, I had foiled the Gas Man and escaped my doom. When everyone came back that night we all agreed that the Gas Man is more clever than ever and we need to be very careful. And even more important, since I'm the only one to have seen or spoken with him, it stands to reason that he is after me. I will remain vigilant.
Perhaps it is just coincidence, or even more likely part of his convoluted, evil plan, but a few days after the latest incident we received a post-card in the mail from the gas company telling us that they had come by to read the meter but had not been successful and we needed to call the automated service with our meter reading.
I wonder what Eric is doing right now.
The day I moved into the apartment, Michele, my landlord, warned me never to buzz in a stranger to the lobby downstairs with the intercom. He said people with stuff to sell will push all the doorbell buttons trying to get someone to ring them in and then will wander the building trying to sell their junk and generally make a nuisance of them self. Fairly common-sense advice for anywhere in the world and not out of the ordinary. But he also stressed that it was especially important that I never let in someone claiming to be the Gas Man.
Like the US, people come around each month to read the gas meter to see how much gas you have used so that they can then send the utility bill. However, in Italy, most of the meters are inside apartments (not on an outside wall or in a common utility room) so the Gas Man actually has to come inside to read it. This is the root of the terrible danger.
He told a story about a Gas Man that he had heard from someone he knows who knows somebody else who once heard from a reliable source, etc. Apparently, two university girls were in their apartment when the doorbell rang and a man said he was the Gas Man there to check the meter. They looked out the peephole and saw a man in what looked like the company's uniform so they let him in. But it turned out to be a thief who held them at knife point, robbed the apartment and escaped. At the time of this telling, I have just arrived in Ancona after a 19 hour trip, speak no Italian, have just met this guy who doesn't speak great English who is telling me a story that I may or may not be correctly understanding about a Gas Man who may or may not exist and I am terrified. Upon later reflection I suspect I may have over-reacted to the warning. But still it took me a few weeks to decide to tell Raimondo the story. He laughed and said Michele had told him the same thing when he moved in a couple years ago.
So for the past few weeks we've been creating Gas Man stories. Anything bad that happens or is unexplainable is the fault of the Gas Man. He is a useful character to have available and we've had a good laugh about it. Even Deborah and Alice have started to join in on the joke. No one takes it seriously.
Until a couple weekends ago!
Saturday morning I woke-up to the sound of the door buzzer. I don't know what I was thinking but I went to answer it. Someone speaking Italian asked something but all I caught was Dr. Caruso which is Michele's last name. He maintains an office in the apartment to receive his mail and faxes. Still half asleep and still not understanding the request I just said, "No" and hung-up the intercom and went back to sleep more annoyed than anything. It wasn't until later in the day that I realized I had foiled the clever ruse of the Gas Man trying to get in and commit larceny!
I told Raimondo the story when he returned after the weekend and we both agreed I had had a narrow escape.
Then later that same week, after work, Alice and Deborah left to buy a couple things from the grocery store. A few minutes after they had gone, the door buzzer went off. I assumed they had forgotten something and didn't have their keys. I went to open the door to let them in and as I did I looked out the peep hole.
Standing off to the side was a man in a blue uniform with a clipboard, breathing heavily (maybe because he just walked up five floors or maybe because he was so evil), saying something (probably evil related) in Italian. The Gas Man had made it inside and was at the door!
I told him no thanks and asked him to leave which he did. Once again, I had foiled the Gas Man and escaped my doom. When everyone came back that night we all agreed that the Gas Man is more clever than ever and we need to be very careful. And even more important, since I'm the only one to have seen or spoken with him, it stands to reason that he is after me. I will remain vigilant.
Perhaps it is just coincidence, or even more likely part of his convoluted, evil plan, but a few days after the latest incident we received a post-card in the mail from the gas company telling us that they had come by to read the meter but had not been successful and we needed to call the automated service with our meter reading.
I wonder what Eric is doing right now.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Italian Recipe 3
After an unexplainable pause I am back. Nothing worse than an outdated blog. I'll try to catch you up on the past couple weeks over the next few days.
Highlights of the interim period include the discovery of a great new restaurant here in town, deciphering the local bus system, the lighting of the Christmas lights in downtown, and a four day weekend featuring a visit to Cattolica and Gradara (a real live castle built for real castle reasons and not cartoon princesses).
I met a man today originally from Ghana who went to university in Cuba, married a Cuban woman and now lives with his family here in Ancona. He speaks French, Italian, English and two other languages.
One of my co-workers is a self-proclaimed feminist. She was describing her struggles with her boyfriend. They both work but when she gets home, he is sitting on the sofa and she has to clean the flat, cook dinner, clean-up, etc. She finally managed to teach him how to use the washing machine and wash the dishes but all of those skills are something he never learned. She said something interesting. "The biggest challenge facing the modern Italian woman is the Italian mother." And she is not optimistic much will change with her generation mentioning that sometimes she feels like Italy is still in medieval times.
And now for the food...
Spaghetti with Pistachio and Pepper Pesto
Alice invented this one and it was a pretty delicious discovery. The completed sauce has the consistency and texture of Genovese pesto but a completely unique taste. As always, ingredient amounts are speculative but if you have some fun and experiment a bit you should end up with something quite tasty.
Ingredients for the pesto: maybe a 1/2 cup pistachio nuts, 1-4 small dried red chilies (red pepper flakes can probably be substituted), 1 clove of garlic, 1 medium tomato, 1/4 medium carrot, grated parmesan cheese and olive oil. (Adjust all amounts to taste, especially the chilies.)
The process here assumes the pesto is mixed in your saute pan using one of those hand-held boat motor type mixers. If you don't have one, combine the ingredients first in a blender or even better, in a mortar to be crushed with your pestle the way your nonna used to do it.
Start your pasta water to boil. Meanwhile shell about 1/2 a cup or more of pistachio nuts and roughly crush them with the bottom of a jar or something else sturdy. Place in your trusty saute pan. Remove the paper and mince the glove of garlic and the chili(s) and add to the pistachio. Dice the tomato and shred or finely chop the carrot and add to the pistachio. Add the grated parmesan cheese. Adding oil, use the mixer to combine everything until the pesto reaches your desired consistency. (Some people like it silky smooth, others prefer it to be more rustic.) Adjust ingredients for volume and taste. Place over medium heat and heat through thoroughly. During this time, your pasta water has come to a boil, you added salt to it and cooked the spaghetti to almost al dente. Drain the nearly cooked pasta (reserving some of the pasta water) and while still hot, add to the pan with the pesto and over low heat combine and finish cooking the pasta. Serve.
Hopefully your results match ours.
I wonder what Eric is doing right now.
Highlights of the interim period include the discovery of a great new restaurant here in town, deciphering the local bus system, the lighting of the Christmas lights in downtown, and a four day weekend featuring a visit to Cattolica and Gradara (a real live castle built for real castle reasons and not cartoon princesses).
I met a man today originally from Ghana who went to university in Cuba, married a Cuban woman and now lives with his family here in Ancona. He speaks French, Italian, English and two other languages.
One of my co-workers is a self-proclaimed feminist. She was describing her struggles with her boyfriend. They both work but when she gets home, he is sitting on the sofa and she has to clean the flat, cook dinner, clean-up, etc. She finally managed to teach him how to use the washing machine and wash the dishes but all of those skills are something he never learned. She said something interesting. "The biggest challenge facing the modern Italian woman is the Italian mother." And she is not optimistic much will change with her generation mentioning that sometimes she feels like Italy is still in medieval times.
And now for the food...
Spaghetti with Pistachio and Pepper Pesto
Alice invented this one and it was a pretty delicious discovery. The completed sauce has the consistency and texture of Genovese pesto but a completely unique taste. As always, ingredient amounts are speculative but if you have some fun and experiment a bit you should end up with something quite tasty.
Ingredients for the pesto: maybe a 1/2 cup pistachio nuts, 1-4 small dried red chilies (red pepper flakes can probably be substituted), 1 clove of garlic, 1 medium tomato, 1/4 medium carrot, grated parmesan cheese and olive oil. (Adjust all amounts to taste, especially the chilies.)
The process here assumes the pesto is mixed in your saute pan using one of those hand-held boat motor type mixers. If you don't have one, combine the ingredients first in a blender or even better, in a mortar to be crushed with your pestle the way your nonna used to do it.
Start your pasta water to boil. Meanwhile shell about 1/2 a cup or more of pistachio nuts and roughly crush them with the bottom of a jar or something else sturdy. Place in your trusty saute pan. Remove the paper and mince the glove of garlic and the chili(s) and add to the pistachio. Dice the tomato and shred or finely chop the carrot and add to the pistachio. Add the grated parmesan cheese. Adding oil, use the mixer to combine everything until the pesto reaches your desired consistency. (Some people like it silky smooth, others prefer it to be more rustic.) Adjust ingredients for volume and taste. Place over medium heat and heat through thoroughly. During this time, your pasta water has come to a boil, you added salt to it and cooked the spaghetti to almost al dente. Drain the nearly cooked pasta (reserving some of the pasta water) and while still hot, add to the pan with the pesto and over low heat combine and finish cooking the pasta. Serve.
Hopefully your results match ours.
I wonder what Eric is doing right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
