Archive for the ‘30 days of thanks’ Category

Apples & Thyme: Celebrating Time in the Kitchen with Mothers & Grandmothers

When I first read that fellow bloggers at African Vanielje and The Passionate Palate were hosting a tribute to mothers and grandmothers in the kitchen, I knew I’d have to participate.

Like many women who love to cook and bake, I’ve been taught, guided, and inspired by the women who have come before me, namely my mother and paternal grandmother.

I’m not sure how closely I’m playing by the rules, but here is my entry for:

Apples & ThymeLet’s get one thing straight from the get-go: Everything I’ve learned about cooking and baking, I’ve learned from my mother and grandmother.

First and foremost, I’m talking about recipes, of course. I’ve already featured plenty of the best handed down to me from my mother and/or grandmother (click on the photo to go to the recipe):

Italian Wedding Soup:

Italian wedding soup

The World’s Moistest Chocolate Cake:

World's moistest chocolate cake

Breaded Veal Cutlets:

Breaded veal cutlets

Ham and Cabbage Soup:

Ham and cabbage soup

Louise’s Banana Cake:

Louise's banana cake
But as anyone who has ever dabbled in the kitchen knows, cooking and baking are about more than just recipes. I credit my grandmother and mother with teaching me the basics–what heat to use, how often I need to stir, why garlic should be added after onion. These things came from watching the pros at work.

And truth be told, I never really cooked or baked alongside either of them with any regularity; like many masters, they worked best alone, but every now and again, I helped make gnocchi (forked ‘em to make the grooves), mixed meatballs (loved getting my hands gooey), and measured out ingredients for baking (I always was anal).

But what I did most was watch and learn. It may surprise you to know that I never did much cooking or baking at home; I really only started experimenting and getting a feel for the kitchen after I moved out on my own. But when I needed information, experience, and guidance, some things that had been instilled in me from an early age rose to the surface.

And what really sticks with me, each and every time I step into the kitchen, are two major things that I apparently learned by osmosis as they were never stated.

The first is that you need to have confidence in what you’re doing. If you’re constantly second-guessing, you’ll be too nervous to really get into a groove and to let your tastebuds take over, and that lack of confidence will show in the dish.

I learned to cook by trial and error–and many phone calls to my grandmother and mother even with the recipe in hand, but I always had in my mind the mental picture of the women in my life ruling, absolutely commanding, their kitchens. Somehow that seeped in, and gave me confidence as well.

No, things don’t always come out perfectly, but practice definitely helps, and you can’t be afraid to get in the kitchen, get to work, and get comfortable. It gets easier.

And the second lesson? Make it with love. Everything tastes better when you put your passion, your emotions, your love into whatever you’re making, and this transcends food. No matter what you’re doing, if you do it with enthusiasm, it’ll come out better. No going through the motions here–believe me, you’ll taste it.

Both my grandmother and mother always prepared food the same way no matter who was eating the food–whether it was just themselves or upwards of thirty people. And I could always taste the love.

I am so thankful for the lessons I learned in the kitchen from my grandmother and mother as they have most certainly made me the cook and baker I am today–not the best, not the worst, but definitely someone with a sense of confidence, adventure, and joy in my favorite room of the house. And while we’re talking about thankful:

30 days of thanks

Today I’m thankful for:

The wonderful women in my family, particularly my mother and grandmother, although there are many others. My mother is without a doubt my best friend, and I still go to pick up the phone and call my grandmother every now and again even though she passed away six years ago last month.

The bonds we share with other women are always special, but I’ve been so lucky to have such precious relationships within my own family; I know not everyone has that, and I am extremely thankful that I have been so blessed.

Reminder:

You still have time to write up your Apples & Thyme tribute (deadline is tomorrow!), so go to African Vanielje or The Passionate Palate for details.

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[tags]apples & thyme, mothers, grandmothers, cooking, nablopomo, 30 days of thanks, recipes[/tags]


Murder and Xenophobia: Troubled Times in Italy

[UPDATED AS NOTED BELOW]

I don’t know even know where to begin to write this post and I don’t know where it’ll end up, but I feel like I should so here it goes. I hope you’ll stick with me.

The murder of 21-year-old British exchange student Meredith Kercher in Perugia has thoroughly shaken Italy and England, judging from the coverage it has gotten in British press. And rightfully so. Accidents abroad happen all the time, but murder? And yes, murder is always horrible, but in this case, the suspects make it even more troublesome–especially as none appear to have had any history of violence.

Kercher was stabbed in the neck after, police say, she resisted a sexual attack that in some way involved her American roommate, 20-year-old Amanda Knox, a student at the University of Washington also studying abroad, Knox’s Italian boyfriend Raffaele Sollecito, a 24-year-old son of a urologist from Bari, and Patrick Lumumba, a 37-year-old married Congolese immigrant who runs the bar where Knox worked.

The details are murky at this point, but it’s been widely reported that Knox “confessed” to having some role in the killing; from statements leaked by Italian police, Knox said that while Kercher and Lumumba were in Kercher’s room, she stayed in the kitchen and covered her ears when she heard what were surely Kercher’s last screams. Sollecito’s statements have been all over the place, but he insists that he was at home the night of the murder.

[EDITED: Thanks to information from Steve Huff of The True Crime Weblog, Lumumba apparently now says he has an alibi and wasn’t even at the scene of the crime, making this an even stranger story.]

What it sounds like to me is that these three are telling conflicting stories and no one really knows what to believe. It looks like we’ll just have to wait this one out, possibly for forensic evidence to tell what really happened.

And while we mourn the loss of Kercher, who was studying at Perugia’s famous Università per Stranieri (just as our own Tina of Pecorino e Miele did), there is another fascinating aspect to this case from a cultural standpoint–the focus on the online presence of Knox.

Like many her age, Knox kept a MySpace (username “Foxy Knoxy”) and Facebook page, and there’s also a YouTube video of a drunk Knox slurring her words, and, well, being a young adult. Particularly interesting, though, is that on her MySpace blog, Knox apparently wrote a story about rape.

[EDITED: Courtesy of Steve Huff’s blog, you can find “mirrors” of Knox’s MySpace page here and of her blog here; both of the original pages have been made private.]

So here’s another question in all of this–how much should this online information matter? I’m not talking about from a legal perspective, but in the court of public opinion, is this fair? Is anything you put online fair game? Should it be?

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer has a great debate on this very subject: “Are we being fair?

For me, I think if you put the information out there, you can’t stop people from looking unless you make it private. You also can’t control their opinions. Would I want to live my life censoring myself just on the off chance that one day something could be used against me? Well geez, just about anything can be taken out of context anyway, so even censoring myself wouldn’t be foolproof.

Drunk videos? Well that’s something else entirely. I say if you’d be embarrassed for your mom, dad, employer, insert other authority figure here to see it, don’t post it. But teenagers (and adults!) don’t often think that far ahead, do they? But they should.

A short story about rape? I’m a writer, so should I avoid touchy subjects just in case I’m ever in the wrong place at the wrong time (not insinuating this is what happened to Knox)? Well that I can’t accept.

It’s an interesting question, and I’d love to know what you think.

*

Now, shifting gears, but still taking off from the Kercher murder–on the Italian side of things, one can’t miss the irony that right now on the heels of a murder allegedly committed by a Romanian immigrant from the Roma (“gypsy”) community, Italian lawmakers would like to be able to expel any dangerous EU citizen, although the targets are clearly immigrants from new EU members like Romania.

Read what other terrible things have happened, including a Roma camp being torn down and a mob attack, here.

Just yesterday, Italian and Romanian leaders met to ask for help from the EU in dealing with large population movements, but only time will tell just how xenophobic Italy can and will get. For many of us in the expat community particularly, we’ve noted how poorly immigrants are portrayed in the Italian media — often the only crimes you’ll see on a newscast are those committed by foreigners.

And by “foreigners,” I mean mostly Albanians, Romanians, and Africans.

Maybe it’s something about coming from countries such as the United States, England, Australia, etc., that have, after many struggles, (mostly) embraced immigrants, but for a lot of us, all we’re seeing is prejudice and hate. To be sure, all of the above-mentioned countries have immigration issues too, but what’s happening now in Italy is so deeply disturbing, and I don’t think I’m alone in feeling this.

There are ways of regulating immigration without resorting to sweeping generalizations about countries and their citizens, and I can only hope that the Italian government will explore them.

Virtually every ethnicity/race that has entered a foreign country has encountered prejudice and worse — we Americans don’t need to go too far into our history to stare the Jim Crow South in the face — but for Italians, for my adopted country, to participate in similar behavior just breaks my heart.

And I can’t help but think of the 11 Italians who were lynched in New Orleans in 1891 in one of America’s largest mass lynchings–after they had been acquitted of the murder of the New Orleans’ police commissioner.

And I just wonder where the prejudice and hate will stop.

30 days of thanks

Today I’m thankful for:

The safety and well-being of myself and my loved ones.

There’s nothing I’m more thankful for, in fact.


What’s Cooking Wednesday: Pasta with Broccoli

A quick, easy, delicious recipe for pasta with broccoli.

Read on...

village games: part II

Back in January, I unveiled a game that P and I play called (children cover your eyes):

Dove cazzo è?

Loosely, and cleanly, this means “Where the heck is it?” and these are the rules:

(1) I roam the village taking random photos.

(2) P has to tell me where I’ve found them–all of them.

(3) Loser cooks dinner and cleans up afterwards.

The last time we played, I underestimated P. Greatly. Go back here to see the photos he identified without a moment’s hesitation.

Annoying, isn’t he?

So now that I’ve had a few months to prepare, I felt I was ready, and we played again last night.

Photo Number 1:

Train on House No. 22, Calabria, Italy

 

This is what we call a “false sense of security” photo. Easy as it’s rather recognizable to say the least. Plus it’s on our usual walk with the dogs, so, as expected, he got this one right away. It’s the house of a Swiss couple that visits only in the summer if you’re interested, but no, I don’t know the significance of the train.

Like I’m wont to do, I turned up the heat:

Doorbell, Calabria, Italy
He threw out a guess (wrong) and then struggled for a few moments. I then made a strategic decision. I gave him a tiny hint–a photo of the door that’s across from it. Then it was pretty easy; this doorbell is within sight of the house he grew up in. He got it.

I gave him that clue because I felt safe, nay even a bit cocky, about the last photo that I was going to give him. Risky to be sure but I like to take chances.

Photo Number 3:

Sunshine Tile, Calabria, Italy

Hi sunshine!

At first there was a hint of recognition in his eyes, but that quickly turned into a squint, then a look off into the distance, and, ladies and gentlemen, I kid you not: the words “Dove cazzo è?” were uttered. Repeatedly.

I gave him clues, told him how close this is to our house (*very* close), how he doesn’t actually pass by there often (it’s the “back way” and there’s really no reason to go there ever unless you’re taking random photos for a guessing game), how it’s somewhere you wouldn’t expect (it’s outside the cantina of our 80+-year-old neighbor Anna Maria who doesn’t seem much the ceramic sunshine tile type . . .check the link for how she heats her house in the winter).

Niente. He had nothing.

HO VINTO IO!!!!!!!

That means I won, and I’m planning out my feast as I type. I’m thinking he should do Thanksgiving. What do you think?

30 days of thanks

Today I am thankful for:

My P. I’ve never been one of those girls that was always partnered off; indeed, I’ve spent most of my adolescent and adult life alone (not lonely even though in Italian it’s the same word–solo/sola!), and I’m quite good on my own. I *need* lots of alone time, in fact, and sometimes that goes over well in a relationship and sometimes it doesn’t.

So imagine my surprise when I truly enjoyed being part of a couple, and not only that, I’ve even managed to find someone who will play silly games like Dove cazzo è? with me and not think I’m strange. Or think I’m strange but go with it anyway.

That’s pretty special, I know it, and I’m so thankful to have found P.

If you’d like to read more about him (and see a photo), here are some P posts:

Amore Mio

Conversations with P

How a Jean Jacket and Some Wind Can Change Your Life
(story of how we met)

Let the Answering Begin: The Sequel
(Question 2)

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[tags]calabria, southern italy, nablopomo, 30 days of thanks[/tags]


puppy eyes & puppy sighs

Not to inundate you with puppy posts (yes I am and I will continue to do so), but we’ve reached another milestone.

Yesterday, the puppies began to see the world: Puppies with open eyes

And this is how interested Stella is in all of this: Stella turning the other paw

I joke. She’s really a great mamma; she just obviously trusts her crazy human with the camera.

How’s Luna, you wonder?

What puppies?
Just fine, thanks, with a little help from Nana in the States. Thanks for the toys and treats Nana!

And while we’re on the puppy tip, go check out “Sighs of the Heart,” sent to me by Maryann of Finding La Dolce Vita. Too cute!

30 days of thanks

Today I am thankful for:

Having the opportunity to be a part of the puppy process and a doggie mommy in general, not only with Luna and Stella, but with all the dogs that have been in my life:

Missy: a white poodle mix that my mom tells me I used to try to ride like a pony (and she still never bit me!); loved spaghetti and often had an orange snout because of it; she is the reason I am named “Michelle” instead of “Melissa” in case you’re wondering;

Peco: (PEE-koh), Missy’s son, black with a white strip down his chest and a Michael Jackson glove on one of his front paws (Peco was born in 1984 or so); sweetheart of a dog that had a penchant for running away and coming back smelling like a “pujack” as my grandmother said; would get shaved at the start of every summer and looked about 5 pounds thinner; aka “Rosco P. Coltrane” or Pecorino;

Maverick: named after Tom Cruise’s character in Top Gun, this was the first dog that was really mine and truly my baby; a big galoot of a mutt, he was a German Shepard/Rottweiler mix and was really a gorgeous dog; he picked me out at the ASPCA, wouldn’t let me leave without him, and then slept on my lap in the car the whole half-hour home; aka Maverick-a-rony-ravy-doodle-noodle-bug, Rikki Tikki Tavi, or as my grandfather called him, Albert; I still dream about him;

Beau: my mom’s little yipper with an unfortunate underbite; greatly resembled Toto from The Wizard of Oz; was fond of ripping the mail that came through the slot in the door and tearing it to pieces; aka Beau Dog Beau;

Max: my brother and sister-in-law’s Chocolate Lab who was, without a doubt, the most gentle dog I’ve ever known in my life; loved swimming in the pool and a raggedy old rope-like thing; every time I see Ninotchka’s Charlie, my heart smiles for Maxwell Smart, as I called him;

Samson: my brother and sister-in-law’s hyperactive Yellow Lab with whom I spent much time chasing and disciplining and petting and cuddling during my three-month stay with them back in 2004; aka Sammy Doodle;

Arturo: a gentle, shaggy-haired golden mutt that I adopted here in the village; at this point, village knew I was different because I actually let him sleep in the house; his untimely demise led directly to P’s bringing Luna home to cheer me up.

Having animals in my life truly makes every day better–sometimes more stressful to be sure, but there’s always at least one moment each and every day that I am thankful for my pooches, and so very thankful that my family encouraged good relationships with animals from an early age.

I see so many children and adults here deathly afraid of even Luna and Stella because they were brought up to fear dogs; I find it so sad that they’ll never know that slobbery lick when they’re feeling down, that wagging tail greeting you like you’ve been gone for years, that wet nose nudged under your arm or hand pleading for petties.

I’m so thankful for my canine friends.

P.S. I love kitties too–hi Patches, Cleo, Bella, Matty, Opal, and Kudzu(cchini)
and remember I saved a kitten once!

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[tags]dogs, puppies, nablopomo, 30 days of thanks[/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