Archive for May, 2007

What’s Cooking Wednesday: Tuna and Bean Salad

Continuing with the refreshing summer theme from last week, this week’s What’s Cooking Wednesday is a tuna and bean salad.

It’s light but filling, healthy but still tasty, and slimy yet satisfying. Always wanted to use that in context. Lion King fans? Anyone?

Oh, and there’s no cooking involved at all, so it’s pretty darn fast as well.

Tuna and Bean Salad
(Tonno e fagioli)

2 cans cannellini beans
2 cans tuna fish
1 small onion cut into chunks
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons lemon juice
salt and black pepper to taste
chopped parsley

Pour the beans into a strainer, rinse, drain well, and put in your serving bowl or platter.

Add tuna and onion in large chunks over the beans.

If you want, make the dressing in a separate bowl, but I just add everything all together in the same dish. That’s olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and parsley.

Toss well (and carefully so as not to break too many beans) before serving, and be sure to taste test first for anything missing.

I add another squeeze of lemon just before serving as well.

Ah, and I should warn you that I won’t be around the rest of the week due to a work conference, so while I’m gone, you have some homework: (1) Be sure to check out the full list of What’s Cooking Wednesday participants over at Shannon’s place;

(2) Have a lookee at Sara’s (Ms Adventures in Italy) Parmeggiano Reggiano Stuffed Onions Wrapped in Prosciutto di Parma;

(3) Explore The Left Over Queen’s Foodie BlogRoll over on my sidebar; and

(4) Report back here and tell me what other kinds of recipes you’d like to see around here, especially any specific ingredients you’re looking to incorporate.

Buon appetito!


just another kitten saved

Yesterday afternoon as I was checking my favorite blogs working hard, I heard a kitten crying, over and over. So I did what any reasonable person would do.

I opened the door and responded, “Meoooooow.”

And the kitten answered.

And I meowed.

And the kitten answered.

We played this game for about thirty seconds as I intermittently asked “dove sei?” (where are you?) but always received the same response. Clearly this little one was stuck somewhere.

So I followed the noise, and I tracked down the kitty to an attic-like space above my neighbor‘s house, only accessible from the outside by a rather unique staircase.

Anna Maria had been up there earlier, so the little one must’ve gotten closed in sometime in the morning. I told Anna Maria what I thought had happened, and she gave me the OK to rescue the kitty.

I started to ask her for a key, but then I realized I was in Calabria, and the likelihood of the door being closed with more than a clever contraption was low. Sure enough, a knotted rope greeted me, and as I started to untie it, I was assured that the kitty was inside because through the crack in the door, its little blue eyes glared at me before it hissed, swatted, and ran into the corner.

Once I opened the door, I saw a space full of firewood, old chairs, stacked terra cotta roof tiles, various sacks, and assorted empty crates, jars, and bottles.

But no kitty.

I searched all over, meowed, and even poked around with a stick to ruffle some things about, but there was no sign of life.

I wanted to leave the door open for a bit to allow the kitten to let itself out, but it was extremely windy and Anna Maria would never go for it. So after a few minutes, I retied the rope behind me and formulated my plan to wait until Anna Maria went to church and then try again.

I was going to have to resume Operation Rescue Kitty da sola (alone).

And so when I heard the bells calling the faithful to Mass, I peeked my head out the door and meowed.

And the little one answered.

I climbed back up the stairs and performed the same routine as before, just in case it was now ready to come out.

Nothing.

So I tied the door partially shut, leaving room enough for escape, descended the stairs, and then started meowing loudly. At this point, I was pretty sure that its mother was around–there is one particular chubby stray that always used to hang around, but I hadn’t seen her in a while. I now assumed she had been on maternity leave.

And I was right.

Within seconds, (skinny) Mamma came rushing around the corner. She looked at me as if to ask, “Where’s my baby?” and so I pointed up the steps. She trotted up there to the crack in the door; immediately the kitten emerged, and they were reunited.

Baby rubbed all around Mamma as Mamma tried to clean the grime off Baby. And boy was the little one hungry.

Eventually Mamma decided on a more comfortable place for feeding where she could finally relax. You could see that she had just been worried sick about her little one from the way she collapsed once they were together again.

And another kitty family slept off into the sunset.

 Just so you know, I was never even remotely tempted to spruce up these photos a la the LOLcat movement. I find it a little creepy to be honest with you.

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[tags]cats, kittens, rescuing kittens[/tags]


Honoring the Fallen: The Unknown Soldier by Billy Rose

When I was in seventh grade, I was assigned to make a poem and picture book. I had to find poems on a subject chosen by me, which ended up being “Cats” because I had a calendar from the previous year providing easy illustration.

It was during my research for that assignment that my love for poetry blossomed, and, indeed, I memorized the first poem that ever touched me. I think of it every so often, but always on Memorial Day:

THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER

There’s a graveyard near the White House
Where the Unknown Soldier lies,

And the flowers there are sprinkled
With the tears from mother’s eyes.

I stood there not so long ago
With roses for the brave,
And suddenly I heard a voice
Speak from out the grave:

‘I am the Unknown Soldier,’
The spirit voice began,
‘And I think I have the right
To ask some questions man to man.

‘Are my buddies taken care of?
Was their victory so sweet?
Is that big reward you offered
Selling pencils on the street?

‘Did they really win the freedom
They battled to achieve?
Do you still respect that Croix de Guerre
Above that empty sleeve?

‘Does a gold star in the window
Now mean anything at all?
I wonder how my old girl feels
When she hears a bugle call.

‘And that baby who sang
“Hello, Central, give me no man’s land”-
Can they replace her daddy
With a military band?

‘I wonder if the profiteers
Have satisfied their greed?
I wonder if a soldier’s mother
Ever is in need?

‘I wonder if the kings, who planned it all
Are really satisfied?
They played their game of checkers
And eleven million died.

‘I am the Unknown Soldier
And maybe I died in vain,
But if I were alive and my country called,
I’d do it all over again.’

BILLY ROSE

At twelve years old, I didn’t have a clue as to what most of it meant, but it spoke to me and to my heart, and I’m sure it’s what started me down the path to a degree in history as I investigated what the references to Croix de Guerre, bugle calls, military bands, and profiteers were all about.

Today I’m remembering all who have given their lives in our country’s numerous wars–and although I may not agree with the current war, the troops and their families remain in my prayers. Thank you, and may we remember your service every day and not only a few times a year.


sunday scribblings: simple

Prompt #61: Simple*

 

I pull out my notebook to jot down some thoughts because I want to remember these moments forever–simple pleasures of being tickled by cool water trickling through my toes, digging my hands in the sand until they are covered in damp black and gold specks, brushing wisps of hair out of my face put there by the constant, lovely breeze.I write the date in Italian without thinking, and I smile.

I didn’t bring my journal or camera because a trip to the sea wasn’t in the original plan. I have to give final exams in an hour or so, but I decide to head to the beach instead of straight to school–no matter that I have no swimsuit or towel (although always sunscreen).

At least I’m wearing flip-flops and a little sand on my jean skirt isn’t going to hurt anyone.

Despite summer-like temperatures, I am nearly alone on the beach. Two bikini-clad blondes, already sufficiently abbronzate if you ask me, lounge nearby, laughing and joking, switching easily from French to French-accented Italian and back again. We exchange buon giornos, but nothing more. I wonder what brought them to southern Italy, but they seem content in their world, so I don’t ask.

I look up from my notebook and see the back of a shiny black head pop up from the water. Just as quickly, the head dips back under and flippers peek out where it had been. The Ionian Sea is so clear, he can surely see to the bottom without all that gear, but he seems happy, and that’s what’s important. I am reminded that an amateur diver discovered the famous Riace Bronze statues just south of here in the early 1970s, and I wonder whether similar treasures lie just below this guy’s mask.

There’s a teenage girl a little ways down, standing in the water, her short navy blue skirt grazing the surface. She’s whipping her head from side to side, struggling to keep her long, black, curly hair out of her way as she furiously types a text message on her phone. She’ll spend the entire hour I’m here on the phone in one way or another, but no one joins her. I wonder if anyone came after I left, and I hope that someday she’ll appreciate her own company if she doesn’t already.

A sailboat eases by, two men on board casually steering the craft between the scuba diver’s periodically surfacing head and a rather large fishing boat anchored in the sea. I can’t tell what they’re saying from here, but they’re smiling and laughing. The wind is perfect for sailing as far as I know, but admittedly, that isn’t very much. They go back and forth, back and forth, and I think that it’ll soon be time to call home and tell their wives/mothers to put on the pasta, as the time for pranzo is approaching. I wonder if they’ll take a contented nap after they eat.

I put down my notebook and return to the water I had waded in up to my knees when I first arrived–earlier today, yes, but as my feet sink into the wet sand, I realize, also five years ago. I am back in virtually the same spot in which I had first experienced the Ionian Sea, when I had vacationed here what seems like a lifetime ago, when I had no idea that I’d end up making a life here, when P and Luna didn’t even exist, at least to me.

I am taken back to the thoughts that were occupying my mind at that time–my twenty-five-year old mind that started to play with a silly thought of making a major life change, of stepping off the fast-track and pursuing the passions that had always been in my heart but that had been pushed aside for more practical considerations.

The water is calm, refreshing, and oh so clean–cleansing, one could say. I regret that I can’t go in deeper as I have to play professional in half an hour. I laugh to myself as I glance back at the sweater I brought along in case it got chilly. The sweater will stay tucked in my bag for another time, though, because today, the weather is perfect, the breeze is perfect, and this moment is perfect.

And I don’t want to ever forget it.

_________________________

*I’m posting this early because I won’t be around tomorrow; First Holy Communion time round here, which means some family fun.

Have a lovely weekend everyone!

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[tags]sunday scribblings, sea, beach, ionian sea, calabria, soverato[/tags]


feeling needy

I’ve seen this idea floating around the blogosphere for a while, but now that my good friend goodthomas has done it, I want to play too.

Here is some old-fashioned, Google-driven fun that entails typing your name and the word “needs” in quotes into the search engine feature. So, for example, I typed in “michelle needs,” being that “sognatrice needs” wasn’t going to get me very far.

Here are my 10 favorite results followed by my comments in brackets:

(1) michelle needs a family that will be patient, consistent, kind, loving [yes, yes I do; thank you for taking my needs into consideration]

(2) michelle needs to exercise her right to shut the f**k up [ouch, *somebody* needs anger management]

(3) michelle needs to move on with someone else since Tony’s no longer around [so long sucker!]

(4) michelle needs to just shut up [all right already!]

(5) michelle needs money so she can travel to Canada and the US to meet bloggers [well I don’t know if I would’ve phrased it that way, but sure, I’ll accept donations for an international blog tour, and I’d even make time for my patient, consistent, kind, loving family]

(6) michelle needs to come out and be our studio manager [not such a good idea since I don’t even know what that is]

(7) michelle needs help (no, literally) [as opposed to the figurative help I’m always whining about]

(8) michelle needs to clear and vacuum her cluttered bedroom [get out of my house freak!]

(9) michelle needs your votes now! [yeah! free espresso for all!]

(10) michelle needs to stop the madness and eat a hamburger or something [if you insist]

If you decide to do this, come back here and put up your link in the comments; and for anyone who doesn’t have a blog, feel free to paste the results right in a comment.

Buon weekend a tutti!

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[tags]memes[/tags]


Michelle KaminskyMichelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived. 

Calabria Guidebook

Calabria travel guide by Michelle Fabio

Recipes

 

Homemade apple butter
Green beans, potatoes, and pancetta
Glazed Apple Oatmeal Cinnamon Muffins
Pasta with snails alla calabrese
Onion, Oregano, and Thyme Focaccia
Oatmeal Banana Craisin Muffins
Prosciutto wrapped watermelon with bel paese cheese
Fried eggs with red onion and cheese
Calabrian sausage and fava beans
Ricotta Pound Cake