Bleeding Espresso

Finally, finally we got rain yesterday.

Starting around noon just as I was peeling garlic to make this for lunch, it began to storm and continued for a good two hours with lightning, thunder, the works. I unplugged everything as a precaution, which turned out to be a good idea because we did have a power surge and lost power for a few hours after the storm.

So what was a girl in southern Italy without electricity to do on a rainy late August afternoon? Why, make a cup of mint tea and grab the latest book sent to her by a most lovely, generous blog reader:

Grazie mille Andrea!

Do you read Petite Anglaise, the blog? You should.

I’m *loving* the book as well, I must say. Ms Sanderson is simply a brilliant writer, but don’t take my word for it. Check out her blog, and then after you emerge from hours of reading through her archives, order her book.

So I read another 100 pages or so in this charming book that I’m finishing way too quickly and in between chapters, peeked out the balcony doors and used the zoom on my camera to take photos of some pink flowers (don’t think I wasn’t thinking of you, somepinkflowers!) that were passing the time catching raindrops.

And to think I was lazily reading and sipping tea while they were out there working so hard.

When was the last time you got rained out?

What do you do when you’re without electricity?

Buon weekend!

P.S. Remember to come and visit me at Italy Mag–The Historical Regatta of Venice is this week’s feature!

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Ever since I published these photos, I know our good friend Gil has been wondering about whether the prickly pears (fichi d’India) are ripe, and well, I’m happy to announce, the time has arrived (see left)!

So for today’s What’s Cooking Wednesday, a quick lesson in prickly pears.

The prickly pear, or fico d’India in Italian, is the fruit that grows on the end of cacti like in the photo. Those of you in southwestern US and various other hot, cactus-bearing places know this fruit well, I’m sure, but for the rest of you, the most important thing to keep in mind:

DON’T TOUCH THESE WITH BARE HANDS.

Yeah, the “prickly” in the name might have given you that clue, but it’s not what you think. It’s not the spines on the cactus that are prickly, it’s the tiny, nearly invisible hair-like spines that are *all over* the fruit that cause the trouble–and they are nearly impossible to wash off of you once they’re on. Trust me. It’s like having pins and needles all over your hands, and so not fun.

Now, I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t clean these. This is P’s job, and although some people soak them in water beforehand is advisable, I’ve never seen him do it. He’s just really, really skilled with a knife, but I still suggest you wear gloves and watch this video to see some pros at work.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with prickly pears, you’re probably wondering what they taste like. Well, um, they’re unique. They’re sweet but not too sweet, kind of a cross between a fig and, I don’t know, a plum maybe?

One thing I can say is that they are very seedy, and no, I don’t mean like from a questionable part of town, I mean like this:

And truth be told, this is my favorite way to eat them. Fresh, seeds and all.

Another popular way to prepare them is in jams or marmalades; you’ll find countless recipes for those with a quick Google search.

But for some unique recipes, check out these from fellow bloggers:

• Prickly Pear Cactus Fruit Vinaigrette from Sara of Ms Adventures in Italy

• Prickly Pear Juice from Ilva of Lucullian Delights

• Prickly Pear Cactus Fruit Salad from Scrumptious Street

• Prickly Pear Granita from Esi of Dishing Up Delights

• And here’s a tutorial on how to clean prickly pears at Vanilla Garlic

Buon appetito!

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In the last group of questions, two specifically addressed my settling into life here in southern Italy. I shall do my best to answer them. (Not sure why these photos aren’t very crisp, but please do click on them to see them in better quality on Flickr.)

(1) AmberBee of Under Western Skies, formerly of Quasi Italiana!, asked “Do you think that you would feel as settled in a large city, or do you think your small community there (and the fact that you can get to know everyone) has helped you feel welcome there, and that it is really ‘home?’ Do you think your happiness quotient would have changed had you lived in a different part of Italy… Or would Italy have been ‘home’ no matter where you live there?”

This is an excellent question, AmberBee. Let me say that I felt at home in this village from the first time I visited, when I knew no one, spoke no Italian let alone Calabrese and had a very responsible job and promising career ahead of me in the States.

When I was here that first time, I felt like my soul connected with this place on a level I couldn’t make sense of myself. I cried when it when it was time to go home, even though I knew I would be back. In fact, I knew a few days into my trip that I would live here–a silly proposition, really, for someone who couldn’t speak the language and knew no one in the country.

I didn’t know when I would live here and for how long, but it was almost like I didn’t have a choice. And looking back, I’m not sure I did.

When I did go back to the States for a few months, this place pulled me back every day even though I was perfectly happy to spend hours on end with my niece and nephew there. But there was just *something* inside of me telling me where I needed to be, and it was here.

No, I don’t think it’s “Italy” in general or even “Calabria” that I call “home.” It’s this village. And yes, I do think that P, his family and the welcoming neighbors have helped me get settled, and I believe that’s exactly the way it was meant to be.

I hope that answers your question.

(2) Vita asked: “Do you have some philosophy or view point about that - like that Italians have simpler, happier lives? I know that’s a very personal question and I know people have asked about what you miss in the States and I’ve read those posts (coffee, etc..) but I’m wondering about more esoteric ideas - like the way Americans are direct. The way things get done more efficiently - or, have you somehow moved through that and found that the way of life in Italy is somehow more satisfying to your soul?”

Oh Vita, where can I begin? I’m not a high-strung person by nature. The rat race never attracted me even when I was in school with quite a few rats (and snakes and worms, etc.). I don’t need things done yesterday, and I certainly don’t need everything I could ever imagine available to me 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Quite frankly, I don’t need very many “things” at all.

So is the laid-back, simpler Italian (village) lifestyle more satisfying to my soul? Well, I’d say yes. I have simple needs when it comes right down to it, and as a Libra, I can even be overwhelmed by too many choices.

But do I think Italians are happier because of the general way of life here? Intrinsically, no, I don’t think so. I know a lot of Italians who get just as fed up with inefficiency and waiting as the average American would and who would love to give Telecom and, ahem, Berlusconi a swift kick where the sole don’t shine.

Here’s my thing: Happiness is an individual thing, and I’m lucky/blessed to be in charge of my own happiness–not everyone has this luxury. Even better, every moment gives me a new opportunity to choose happiness. How cool is that?

I’ve found my happy place, quite literally, and no, it’s not paradise all the time, but what fun would life be if there were no lemons? You all know I love lemons.

More questions answered next Monday!

If you have any, leave them in the comments!

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And yet no kitchen sink.

Anyhoo, I’m back to answering your questions, and today we’re going to address some light-hearted ones—tune in tomorrow for the more philosophical edition.

(1) Wanderlust Scarlett of From the Shores of Introspect and Retrospect wants to know if I dance.

Hmm…well…are you sitting down?

Once upon a time in high school I was a cheerleader.

So during those two years, dancing was pretty mandatory at least to the extent of cheerleading routines (and I still remember parts of some of them!). Overall, I would say I can keep the beat fairly well, but I have never taken any formal dance lessons so unlike nearly every Italian around me, I can’t do the fancy stuff.

That said, I am so *not* one to get up and dance just for the fun of it or at weddings, etc., except for some fooling around in my house. But I do love to sing! In private. I’m rather shy actually.

(2) Sue (blogless as of now) wants to know if I make up all of the recipes listed on my ‘recipe’ tab myself? “Or, have they been handed down, found in books, etc.? More importantly, do you ever have to refer to a recipe card to make things or are you one of those women who has it all in her head?”

OK, well I certainly didn’t make up all the recipes. I try to relay the story of each recipe as I post them—so that something from my grandmother, like Italian Wedding Soup, or from my grandmother’s neighbor Louise (Louise’s Banana Cake!) is credited as such.

I do get some from books as well like the Calabrian Cuzzupa recipe from Cucina di Calabria by Mary Amabile Palmer and Ricotta Pound Cake from Dolce Italiano by Gina DePalma. And now, I also find lots of things to try online and mention that in the write-ups.

And I definitely follow recipes when it’s something new that I’ve never made before. Many of the everyday dishes I make, though, are just in my head (although I do try to record them here to share!).

(3) Sue also wants to know whether I dress more like an American or an Italian.

This is a bit difficult to answer since I live in a small town in Italy, which means people are so *not* dressing like they do in Milan. Actually people in this village dress pretty much like small town America, from what I remember of it.

So let’s get at this from a different angle. Do I do designer labels? No. And if you’re talking stereotypical Italian fashion for women (including stilettos, super tight jeans), nope, don’t do it at all—but neither do a lot of the Italian women around here.

I wear what I like and what I think is flattering on me—so much of Italian fashion just isn’t. Plus I’m not much into trends; I prefer classic. Eh, I wear what I wear. Punto e basta.

(4) Flurrious wrote: I have a question about this recent Twitter entry of yours: ‘Back from the dentist. No pain meds offered. Apparently I look like I want to build up pain resistance for childbirth.’ And my question is: tap tap tap tap … well?”

I answered this originally in the comments but this was fun enough to repeat here for those who didn’t see it, so here’s my response:

Ahem. Gulp. Let’s just say that one Novocaine-less trip to the dentist hasn’t prepared me for much of anything. Except having more of a fear of returning.

And I know Paul of Crazy Like Whoa has been itching to ask baby questions, so hopefully this will satisfy that craving.

Hah! Get it? Craving!

OK, tomorrow, more answers about adjusting to life in southern Italy!

P.S. The photos are all of prickly pear cactus flowers from May.

22 Comments »

You don’t have to take me on a trip around the world to make me happy; an afternoon in the garden with my P and my pooches will do just fine thankyouverymuch.

You’ve seen the girls playing in the greenery, and well they weren’t the only ones to enjoy the day. P was, for the most part, working, but I was busy snapping photos.

Some of my sexy worker bee, here with some sort of ghost hovering:

Admiring his work:

Taking a rest:

Giving Luna petties:

And then he begged me to stop:

But not before I got one of the two of us (minus some of his head–oops!):

Happy Love Thursday everyone!

I wish you many carefree afternoons with your loved ones.

P.S. I suppose the secret is out by now that I really don’t wear makeup all that often. Hope you’re not offended. Although it’s a bit catty and not at all in the Love Thursday spirit to point you to photos of celebrities without makeup, I’m doing it anyway: Caught without makeup. Enjoy!

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