Archive for the ‘scenes from village life’ Category
The Skinny on Prickly Pears – Fichi d’India
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!
Settling Into Southern Italy
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!
dancing, cooking, fashion and babies
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.
love thursday: afternoon in the giardino
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!
how i ended up in italy, what i miss and when i’ll be leaving
Continuing on with answering questions, I’ve grouped together ones that address how I got to Italy, what I miss and whether I see myself moving back to the United States.
First, I’ll talk about how I got here for Sparky Duck of Philly Transplant, Chel of Chasing Contentment and Stefanie of Stefanie Says (who asked how I got to *this* village specifically).
I’ve written about my decision to move to Italy in You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello, and I’m not sure I can do better than that, so I’ll direct you there. The short answer to how ended up here is basically that I wanted to come, but I do hope you’ll read my more thought-out response by clicking on the above link.
How I ended up in this particular village is more fully addressed in House of Violets, which explores the many signs that I received from the universe telling me I was on the right path by moving here. As you might imagine from the post title, violets were involved.
Both of these posts, by the way, are some of my favorites that I’ve written, so please do check them out if you have some time.
Oh, and Chel also wanted to know where I grew up in the States. The answer is that I’m a proud coal cracker from the heart of the Anthracite Coal Region in Pennsylvania, which you can read more about at CoalRegion.com.
Someday I’ll tell you all about cruisin’ Shamokin, working at Knoebels Amusement Resort (the K is *not* silent) and our own version of Friday Night Lights over some Vitamin Y if you like der butt.
And if you think I came halfway around the world and *didn’t* bring a few pieces of anthracite with me in a mini coal bucket, holy cripes, you’re crazy in the head!
Now, Thotlady and Paul of Crazy Like Whoa would like to know about missing the States. Thotlady wrote “I am sure you get homesick for family and familiarity. But do you ‘deep down’ miss the states?” whereas Paul is looking for something more specific that I miss.
To put this in perspective, I’ve been living in Italy for nearly five years (my anniversary is at the end of August), but don’t hate me, Americans: I really don’t miss the States.
As Thotlady said, I definitely miss family and also friends and being able to spend physical time with the people I love (especially my niece and nephew) but there is nothing really intrinsic about life in those United States that I miss.
Perhaps a few years ago, I might’ve said something about the differences in bureaucracy, 24-hour stores, certain fast food, but really? Eh. Life is what you make of it no matter where you are, and I’m really, truly happy here. I don’t spend too much time thinking about “But in the US…” because it’s not helpful to anyone–least of all to me. I’m not saying Italy is perfect by any means (talk to me when I have to wait in line to pay a bill at the post office!) but I’ve learned to love my adopted country, wrinkles and all.
That said, you know what I do kind of miss, Paul, that falls outside the family and friends category?
Waking up on a gorgeous, sunny (humidity-free–it could happen!) Philadelphia weekend morning in my quaint (rented) row home that I *loved*, walking up to the corner for a *big* (maybe flavored) coffee and powdered (Tastykake) donuts and then going home and settling in to read a huge Inky from cover to cover. And then doing the crossword puzzle.
I also miss going to Phillies games. And walking around the Italian Market. And spending hours in the Philadelphia Museum of Art and Borders.
So yes, there are *some* specific, uniquely USian experiences that I still do miss, or at least Philadelphian ones.
I suppose it’d also be nice to have the choice to flit to NYC, Boston or DC for the weekend as well, but Rome, Florence and Sicily aren’t shabby options either.
And finally, NYC/Caribbean Ragazza, herself a recent transplant to the Bel Paese, asked whether I see myself moving back at some point.
Only if dragged kicking and screaming to the plane, cara.
I know, mai dire mai (never say never) but I *can* say that I’m staying put for the foreseeable future. Italy definitely isn’t the place for everyone, but it certainly is for me. How do I know that? Cheesy though it may be, I feel it deep within my very core, and I’ve felt it from the first time I set foot in Calabria in 2002.
And I’m smart enough not to argue with my core.
Thanks for reading!
Be sure to come back next Monday for more answers to readers’ questions!
Have something you want answered? Ask in the comments!
Michelle 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
Recipes
