Nov 20 2011 Sunday in Firenze

I slept eleven straight hours last night so I didn't feel scrambled today as I did last night. Yesterday was an emotional day.

While walking toward the Arno River, I called Emiliano (a former student of Leo's)and his Sardinian wife, Caterina to see what time would be convenient for me to stop by their home today. A few months ago I asked if they could bring me salt from Sardegna. I've used all the salt which Leo and I brought during our trip to Sardegna three years ago. Today I am carrying for them, See's Candy, a little dress for baby Grazia and a stuffed Eore donkey I bought at LAX. We set the time for 5pm.

I went onto the La Fierucolina organic market (3rd Sunday of every month) in Piazza Santo Spirito. The church bells were ringing out a song for noon. I recorded it with my iPhone. So cool to use today's technology to preserve and take away the sounds which have rung here since the year 500.

I love this market and am grateful the timing was right. I missed it during my May visit last year.

I first went searching for a replacement woolen cap. It will be cold in Perugia tomorrow. After trying on quite a few, I decided on a cream color, wool one, hand-knit by the proprietor of the stand. She told me only uses organic materials for products she sells at this market. In Perugia she sells colorful hats instead of these earth tones. I gladly paid her 23€ for her handwork. The hat is comfortable and fits my large head.

The morning was sunny but not too cold. I tucked my new hat into my purse for safekeeping. I went on toward my favorite basket lady, sitting in her traditional spot, near the rim of an old fountain. She places fresh herbs on the ground in front of her table, which is decorated with a garland of fresh greenery. The air smells heavenly! Her baskets sell out quickly.

She also has a second table filled with dried flower bouquets and wreaths of fresh herbs. If I had an apartment here, it would be filled with her wares. I immediately found a huge twig basket for 40€. It pained me to put it back. Those freshly cut twigs would not make it through Customs and it would not have fit into my suitcase. Too visible, too fresh for carry-on. I still wince when I think about my beautiful olive wood cutting board I was forced to leave behind last year. It had been labeled 'a Potential WEAPON' by Italian airport police.

I always buy one basket from this sweet country woman. Her name is Marianna Baldasseroni.  She was not so shy with me this time. As I do every year, I told her I have five or six of her baskets at home in the USA. I said they are well loved. She smiled and said, 'I remember you.'

I choose one grayish basket with a brown stripe and then a smaller one which will make a great table bread basket. (22€ + 14€)

Leo used to tease me because I have so many baskets. He said baskets are for country people. But we used my baskets often to transport groceries on our trips to the desert. I miss him so much.

I didn't see the crepe stand which normally sells chestnut crepes spread with creamy goat cheese. I passed through the market again to check on the nearby (Giovanni) Galli Fornaio, a bakery I've visited often. Happily I found them open, with customers queued up.

I took a number. I am so glad my understanding is sufficiently good to understand the quick speaking counter ladies. Someday soon I want to speak just as quickly. I need to immerse here...

When my number was called, I already had milk from the refrigerator section in hand and I knew exactly what I wanted. In this hungry crowd I didn't want to slow things up. I chose a 3 inch slice of (warm) rectangular shaped sausage and cheese pizza and a piece of the pine nut torta (pine nuts on top of a molasses colored filling of raisins and pine nuts, over a shortbread base). Cost for all 4€. It will serve me for at least two meals and a few more snacks.

Heading out of the Piazza I passed a vendor selling 'Peace and Love' roasted candied nuts. He was just filling his large copper kettle with peanuts and shredded coconut. He was stirring with a gigantic wooden paddle.

I sampled. So yummy and still warm. I decided against a small paper bag (2€) and instead bought a recycled glass tomato sauce jar filled with both candied peanuts and squares of candied toasted sesame seeds for 6€. While searching for my money, I found my lost purple beret, in the side pocket of the purse. It pays to be well rested!

I returned to the hotel where I read and enjoyed my just bought goodies.

My afternoon planned itself. Using the shortcut Alessandro taught me, I walked to the SMN train station and bought a one-way train ticket for Perugia (10€). All of the old automated ticket dispensers have been replaced by easy to use, talking machines. Mine spoke English with a Russian accent: 'Take your change from the area on the right side.' It seems like they have also doubled the number of available machines. It was a very pleasant experience. The machines take both cash or credit cards.

Next on my list was the Farmacia Santa Maria Novella. Mistakenly, on my last trip, I decided not to spend 28€ on a satin bag filled with potpourri. This potpourri is made from all natural herbs and oils and it doesn't bother my asthma.

This time I bought three bags, in three colors: Rose, Green and Orange. I have a Violet one at home hanging on the entry hall tree. These are for my clothing drawers. I asked the commessa how to properly use these bags. She told me to stick them a few times with a pin whenever I need more fragrance. She gave no indication she had trouble understanding me. A gentile lady of a higher class.

Watching my time, I decided I still had time to see the exhibit at Palazzo Strozzi: 'Money and Beauty, Bankers, Botticelli and the Bonfire of the Vanities.' The ticket price was 10€ but I received a 'sconto' or discount of 1.5€. I had read on the bus yesterday to show the bus ticket for a discount. When asked, I was ready to produce the needed bus pass. My language skills are saving me a little money. For 5€ I rented a guide headset, leaving my California drivers license for security.

The walk through lasted 1.5 hours. The tour was really fascinating. I was pleased to see author Tim Parks took part in this exhibit. Medici finances has become his specialty. Quite a few Botticelli paintings were present. I did not get the guide, which was a mistake. I'll go back later and buy one.

I finished the tour at 4.30 which gave me plenty of time to walk to Emiliano's home. As I walked down past the Arno River, the evening light was fantastic. I took pictures along the way. One doesn't have to enter a museum or gallery to see art. Art is everywhere in Italy.

I love visiting Emiliano and his family. We had lemon tea and cookies. Grazia liked her stuffed animal. She is a sweet happy child. I learned two things from Emiliano. Those ticket checkers on the bus, now wear civilian clothes. In the past, they wore uniforms, and non ticket holders would exit the bus the moment these guys boarded. Emiliano said now they dress like businessmen. True. That's what confused me yesterday.

Emiliano told me I can take the train to Volterra from Pisa. He wrote out the schedule for me. I'll need to take the 5.30 am train from SMN and transfer in Pisa. Three hours to arrive in Volterra. I can't wait! I'll try for Wednesday.

Another change here in Firenze. In addition to closing off the Duomo area to all motorized traffic, they have closed off Via de' Tornabuoni as well. It's amazingly quiet now in this neighborhood near my hotel. At all hours, the street is filled with lots of foot traffic.

This afternoon I saw young families window shopping at Gucci and the other high fashion shops. The Gucci shop window was stunning!

Nov 19 2011 Saturday Firenze, Fisole, Trespiano

I only woke up because I set the alarm for 10 am. It's Saturday and I really need to be on my way. I organized my room, got myself ready for the day, ate the delicious fig tart I bought in Paris with cold milk from my window sill and I was out the door at 11.30.

Alessio stopped me to give me maps and train schedules he had printed out for my planned trip to Perugia on Monday. He also had a Google map of Fiesole and its cemetery.

It was a nice sunny cold day today. I wore my long black coat, purple beret and purple stripped silk scarf. This trip I wore jeans to travel in, but I only brought two skirts, one dress, leggings and 8 tops to layer as needed for cold weather.

I walked toward Piazza San Marco, carrying only my shoulder purse and a plastic bag containing the pot of Hyacinths. I had an idea. Leo had wanted to buy me something special at a jewelry shop in the area. I really have felt his spirit close by for these last two months. There have been some unfinished emotional issues here with the living.

I stopped at window if the jewelers to see if anything looked affordable. Leo and I had stopped in at this Florentine shop several times together. They knew him by name.

Oh so many lovely items. Simple but elegant and expensive. This is not a tourist shop. One has to be buzzed in for entry. Several local citizens were welcomed in by name as I looked in the windows.

I didn't see anything I could afford. I looked again. Something was here for me, I just needed to see it. Diamonds, a little voice which sounded like Leo, whispered. Pearls, I thought. No, look at those diamonds, there in the corner. And then I found Leo's gift. They were perfect. The price was right. I still had an envelope of a little money he had given me last year to cover his expenses in the US.

I couldn't decide really on two different pairs of diamond ear rings. At that point, the door opened and the jeweler with whom I was familiar, opened the door and said 'Mi dica?' ( may I help you?).

With his key, he opened the window and pulled out both pairs of earrings for me. As he put them on the counter, I knew which ones Leo would have picked. I asked the jeweler which one he liked...I was right. He choose those too.

I had already reached into my purse and pulled out a xerox copy of Leo's obituary. It was faced down in the counter. I said, I brought this for you. It's sad news.

As I was getting out the cash to pay, he asked if he could turn the paper over. I said, yes. He made a sigh as he read the heading and looked up at me and said, ' I knew him.'
I replied, 'Yes, I know. I brought this for you and the others here in the shop.'

He reached for my money and handed me back a large bill with a small smile. I said thank you, this is his last gift to me.

'Would you like it wrapped?' he asked.

'Yes, please. I'm taking it to the cemetery now.'

He carefully wrapped the box and tied it with a golden ribbon. After he handed it to me, he took my hand and said 'condoglianze' (condolences).

I made my way to Piazza San Marco and walked the circle looking for the stop for Bus 7. This area is a hub for various lines. It's also the capolinea or end of the line for Bus 7 which goes to and from Fiesole.

It was 1.00 when we arrived at Fiesole. The trip takes about 20 minutes. A little mercato was just closing down in the piazza. I asked a vendor for walking directions to cemetery.

As I made the 10 minute walk up the hill I began to suspect this was the wrong cemetery. This was not the place Leo and I had visited five years ago. Two gypsies sat on the steps with their cup for donations. I did not take their picture.

This cemetery was very old, very very small and deserted. But, just to be sure, I looked. Each tomb was numbered. I turned on my iPhone and tried to Google 'Trespiano Cemetery'. Fiesole kept showing up, incorrectly.

I decided it was best to ask someone local. I walked back down the hill and stepped into a shop and tried with my best effort Italian.

I'm finding it very easy to understand. It's the speaking which is difficult. A poor accent and the wrong phrasing, makes people's brows furrow as they try to understand me. This nice commessa understood exactly what had happened. I was indeed at the wrong place. She explained I should take the bus back down to Piazza San Marco and look for the bus to Trespiano. She didn't know the bus number, but thought it was at the same bus stop. I thanked her!

Across the piazza I could see Bus 7, sitting and I hurried to it. His engines were off, taking a pause here at the end of the line. He told me 25 was the bus for Trespiano. While riding back, a bus inspector boarded the bus and asked to check tickets. This was the first time for me. Luckily I had my double stamped ticket right inside my coat pocket. Each ticket is good for 70 minutes. I worried for a moment, because I had only guessed I was within the time limit. He smiled and returned my ticket. Note to self: check the time before I reuse another ticket !

I road the bus back to Firenze and the commessa was right. Bus 7 and Bus 25 shared the same stop. After a short wait, I was in transit again. I discovered this Bus 25 goes through Piazza del Libertà and up the hill past the gardens with the huge glass green house, Girardino dell'Orticultura. I need to return here.

When we arrived in Trespiano I recognized it as the place Leo and I had visited his parent's graves. I stopped in at the flower shop and bought fresh Sweet Williams for Leo's mother.

 

I crossed the busy street and walked down a lane bordered by cypress trees.

At the cemetery office I stopped for a map and directions to both Leo and his mother. The woman there was impatient with my Italian and my lack of information about Leo's mother's date of birth. She kept asking me, was she born before or after the turn of the century. My American mind was thinking, please just look in both drawers.

My Italian mind was busy adding and subtracting with a pen on the map. If Leo was born in 1945, and his mother even if she had been a little old, she would have been born after 1900. Ok! I answered, it's after 1900. Success! I left the office with two small address cards and one aerial map, which showed only the vaguest idea of locations. This cemetery is huge, with a little shuttle bus. I set out on foot to find Leo first. I knew where to find his mother.

I walked and walked for over an hour. Tomb numbers are not unique, but repeated in different sections. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and I was getting tired as I walked up and down stairs and round and round aisles. It was then that I saw the tractors and workers in a new area being constructed. I walked below their fenced area, across grass, not soggy, thank goodness. From the grass I spotted Leo's name on a bank of new marble crypts. I was off the official path so I got a foothold in the dirt incline and climbed up.

I tried not to feel anger. I was undeterred. Just accept it. There is no flower holder. All the others have flower holders and or lights and a picture. But here I am with flowers. There was certainly no place to leave the Hyacinths. Leo always loved my can-do attitude. I found a solution. The Sweet Williams were the perfect flower. With their firm stems, I pulled them apart and one by one I stuck them into the top crack of his marble name plate. They looked wonderful! I took a picture. That crack was my friend. I dropped in something special I had brought with me. No one can see it. It's another one of our secrets.

I opened my earrings and put them on. I had a little talk with Leo and then kissed him goodbye. I'll be back in the future, again and again with flowers.

It was 4.00 and the sun was starting to set. His mother's tomb is located at the very top of the cemetery, surrounded by two angels. I quickly made my way up the hill and then up several flights of ancient stairs. The Hyacinths fit nicely on the ledge. I took some pictures of the two angels on her family crypt.

As I left the cemetery, I passed four people and priest just entering what I think was a small chapel for a service. A hearse was parked outside. One can feel the cultural differences here.

I walked back to the hotel from Piazza San Marco, stopping in at La Feltrinelli bookstore and then their music store. I bought audio books, soft bound books and DVDs from my shopping list. Everything was 15% off on sale.

I stopped in Piazza della Republica where the season's freshly pressed olive oil was being sold direct from the farmers. I tasted my way through the show, sampling cheese and oil on small cubes of Tuscan bread. So yummy. I bought 5 tins of olive oil to take home plus a small round of fresh cheese, which I will store on my window ledge. I'll eat it this week.

I went back to the hotel and left everything in my room and starving, went to my favorite restaurant for ravioli. It was 7pm.

By 8 I was in for the night but then I realized my violet beret was not on my head. I had thought it was in my purse, but after dumping its contents, it was not there. I retraced my steps to the music shop, which is now closed until Monday at 9.30 and I will be in Perugia all day. Peccato! My beret is gone.

I returned back to the hotel, telling myself, this is what happens when I'm dead tired with jet lag.

I went straight to bed with a new book, by Michele Giuttari, former head of the Florentine police. (A Death in Calabria)

It wasn't hard to fall asleep at 9.15. I slept for eleven hours.

Nov 18 2011 Friday Firenze

I arrived today from Lax-Paris-Firenze, earlier than usual. The flight left LA about 3.30 pm on Thursday and arrived here in Firenze about the same time on Friday. My one bag weighed in at 21.8 k which gave me a nice margin of safety from the 23 k limit. Not too bad, considering I have eight 1/2 pound boxes of See's candy with me, plus California almonds and a golf magazine for Primo, puzzles, Hershey's chocolate chips, goodies from Williams-Sonoma kitchen shop for Marta, Rosa and their mother Martina, comics for Matteo, a car magazine for Mario, a white orchid for Marta, and beauty supplies I ordered from Florida for Mario's sister. I also brought Alessio and Asumi corn taco shells, longhorn cheese and a cooler grocery bag from Trader Joe's.

I had weighed the bag with my traveling scale before leaving home. It seemed ok, but I added my new Rick Steve's 2012 Travel Guide (the only guide covering Volterra) and my indispensable Italian books verb conjugations and dictionary to the outside pocket, just in case, for easy removal.

As usual, I didn't eat the dinner on the flight over but this time I slept right through the breakfast as well. I had eaten toast and an omelet before leaving home.

I had no trouble this time passing through security at Paris. I had 40 minutes to spare at the boarding gate for Firenze. I bought my favorite Dior lip gloss (23€) and some huge foil wrapped chocolate coins showing the Eiffel tower (1.90€). At the snack bar I decided to not get the delicious rice pudding with raspberry sauce which I had in May. Instead I bought some yummy strawberry yogurt (packed in a cute glass jar) and a dried fig tart. I filled my water bottle at the drinking fountain, saving 3.5€. I like to be frugal on some items so I can feel guilt free to splurge on the special things.

I ate the yogurt along with the standard but delicious AirFrance in-flight snack of butter-cheese-ham sandwich. The fig tart will be Saturday morning's breakfast.

I slept hard during the remainder of the 1.5 hour flight from Paris-Firenze.

I arrived teary eyed in Firenze. Even though for the last two years Alessandro was too sick to greet me at the gate, we always had the phone.

The restroom at the baggage claim is a popular place. To our amazement the woman's side was 'closed for repair.'  After a one second hesitation I followed another woman right into the unoccupied men's side. Ten minutes later, while I waited for my bag, I noticed a line of bewildered men waiting outside their own restroom which was still filled with women.

During disembarkment I noticed a new two storey terminal under construction. I'm sure the two stall restroom situation will be remedied.  (I read later this new terminal should be completed in 2012.)

In the interest of saving a little for future splurges, I took the ATAF Navetta Aeroporto (Airport Shuttle) for 4.5 € (saving about 20€ on taxi fare). I only had one bag and a small carry-on, plus I needed the exercise. The bus arrived at 3.45, left for the train station at 4 pm and arrived there about 20 minutes later.

I started the 20 minute walk to the hotel pulling my bag. Fifty pounds starts to feel heavy after a while. I noticed a food fare at the piazza in front of Santa Maria Novella. The city I see is working hard to upgrade the image and clientele here. The church Santa Maria Novella is so beautiful, but in the past its adjoining piazza was run-down. Now the piazza is newly repaved. With the police station nearby hopefully the unsavory element has moved elsewhere.

This little food fare and its white tents was a welcoming sight. I felt like Pinocchio, being drawn into the excitement of the carnival.

I saw salamis, cheeses, porchetta (which I love!), truffle products, jarred condiments, flat breads and fluffy breads, crepes with Nutella and cookies from Sicily. I could have stopped right there and bought one of everything. The proprietor of the Sardagnian stand told me this was the fourth and last day. They will be open until 10pm tonight.

I enjoyed the sights but decided to continue on and arrived at the hotel within ten minutes. From experience here I know one needs to be flexible and not pass something by, hoping to go back.

As usual, Alessio ran down the stairs to greet me with a huge bear hug. He noticed 'only one bag?' smiling, I told him I'll be going back to the US with two heavy ones.

Asumi was out, so Alessio and I took care of signing me in with my passport, which of course is required by law here. We talked at length about Alessandro. Alessio will research the cemetery hours for me tonight. I'll be taking the 7 bus from Piazza San Marco up to Fiesole Saturday morning. He thinks I can then walk to the cemetery.

I found gift cookies and chocolates in my room with a sweet welcome note signed with hearts from Alessio and Asumi. The cookies will be a nice snack with milk when I wake up at 3am.

Within minutes I had changed to fresh clothes and then I was out the door, with my hotel night key in hand. Shops will be open until 7.30 or 8.00.

First priority stop was the shoe shop Cresti Mephisto on Via Pietrapiana 73r. It's right near Piazza S. Ambrogio. Last November I bought the most comfortable French leather boots there. My boots were in the window! Unfortunately my size 8.5 was not available. The commessa even called their other shops for me. I'm speaking Italian and being understood. Hurray!

Next I stopped at the Billa grocery store which used to be named Standa. I bought Mukki milk (.88), 3 clementine tangerines (.57), half pound of fresh dates from Tunisia (.99). The price of milk has gone up a little from .75. For less than 3€ I'm set for breakfast tomorrow. The dates will last me all week. The milk will stay cold on my outside window sill tonight.

As I walked past Brunelleschi's Cupola I noticed the museum bookstore was open. This shop has the best historical books and novels, in all languages. On my shopping list is the English translation of: The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio. I bought the one copy on display.

I window shopped down Via del Corso toward Piazza della Repubblica.

My next planned stop was Edison Libreria (Bookstore). I have a shopping list of books too. As I passed through the piazza and stopped for a moment at the carousel. I have so many picture of this carousel but it always draws me in.

As I turned toward Edison, I noticed a tiny florist shop right at the corner. I've passed this place so many times but it's just the place I need to stop at tonight.

I noticed small pots of Hyacinths bulbs, just getting ready to bloom. I'm speaking Italian with a little more confidence. I asked the commessa if it was allowed to leave flowers such as these at a tomba (grave). She said certainly, it would be fine and this little pot would be ok untended. I asked about the color. Oops, these are pink, not pink for a man! We picked purple, which is the official Florentine color. She showed me the color of the pot signifies the flower color. I asked for a small green ribbon, which she attached to a little wire and then secured it in the dirt. She asked if this was for my friend, my love? I told her yes, and I had missed his funeral two months ago. She was touched by emotion and reflected for a moment. Sometimes words are not necessary to show understanding and compassion.

7.30 and I was beginning to feel tired. Edison bookstore was my last stop. I looked everywhere for Fabbio Volo's newest book. I finally asked and was lead to a 4 foot tall stack of red books on the floor near the entrance. The commessa corrected my Italian. I love it when people do this. "Il libro di nuovo" not "il libro nuovo." I need to make a note to look up the phrasing.

I love the way Edison displays their books. Some are shelved but most are stacked. I bought two books: 'Le prime cose del mattino' by Fabio Volo and 'Le Perfezioni provviosorie' by Gianrico Carofliglio. I just finished reading another book by Carofiglio. His attorney/legal system oriented books are much more difficult to read than Fabio Volo. I enjoy both authors. I try to stay away from reading American books which have been translated. I'm interested in cultural aspects of these books as well as improving my Italian.

With my purchases in hand, I walked down Via Porta Rossa toward the hotel and my favorite neighborhood restaurant, Trattoria Le Antiche Carrozze.

Having already seen me dragging my suitcase by three hours ago, I was greeted for the second time today by the two waiters who I have known by sight for the last three years. A nice surprise! Free WIFI at the restaurant. I checked email and Facebook. I wonder if I can get a connection from the street?

I enjoyed Penne all'arrabiata and lots of water. I could only eat half of the pasta serving. The nice waiter could see how tired I was and brought me the conto (bill) right away. 12.50€ included pasta, 2.00 cover charge, and 2.50 for water. I poured the extra water into my empty water bottle before leaving.

I walked a few steps down the medieval Borgo S. Apostoli to Hotel Cestelli and let myself in with the night key. It was 8.15.

Without organizing my suitcase, I got ready for bed, opened my window and pulled the inside shutters closed. It was 9.00 and in moments I was sound asleep in my favorite Room 6.

24 Dec 2011 Christmas Eve

I have been reading an Italian book, written for pre-teen girls. It's named "Buon Natale, Valentina." Today was a extra special day, which is nice, since it's Christmas Eve.

Since I first started studying Italian many years ago, I have purchased books in Italy to bring home to California. My first books were from the children's section. I found a series about a girl named Valentina. I choose this series, primarily because I did not want to read American/British children's books which had been translated.

The author of the Valentina series is an Italian, Angelo Petrosino. In my quest to learn the Italian language, I have found that one needs to also study culture, families, traditions and history. This information can be found in children's books.

The first Valentina books (2001) follow 10 year old Valentina, her family, school friends and her dreams, questions and thoughts about her world. I now have over 20 Valentina books. Each trip I make to Italy, I buy a few from Edison Libreria in Firenze. It's my special indulgence.

Until 6 months ago, I was unable to read these books with ease. The first books took me months to get through, with a pen and dictionary always by my side. My books are marked with notes about grammar, customs and everyday phrases I want to remember.

The books are numerically numbered.  Two weeks ago, I jumped from number 4 to number 11 "Buon Natale, Valentina" (Merry Christmas, Valentina!). I have been reading it each day during my 30 minute van pool drive to work.

Yesterday, I finished this fabulous little book. It may appear to be written for children, but it is definitely more ... Yesterday I knew I had to write a thank you note to Angelo Petrosino. I pulled together my best Italian and sent an email, expressing my appreciation for everything I find in his books: grammar lessons, life lessons and an insight into the mind of a modern young Italian child.

I received an early Christmas present this morning. I found an email from Angelo Petrosino in my Inbox. WOW! A kind, thoughtful man whom I would love to meet. I didn't tell him that of course, but I would. He understood exactly what I said or meant to say. He's been an elementary school teacher for 40 years and understands children. He has been known as the Story Telling Teacher. He told me he learned the art of story telling from his grandfather. This skill, he used to create his Valentina books.

If you love the Italian language, you will love the Valentina series. Each book is a treasure.

"E siccome quel personaggio dice le cose che anche io penso, vuol dire che nelle pagine di un libro sta parlando anche per me. Di conseguenza sono io che, alla fine, dialogo con le mie lettrici e i miei lettori."

Translation: 

"And since that character says the things I think, means that the pages of the book speak for me. Therefore I am, ultimately, in a dialogue with my writings and my readers."

Interviews with the author:  http://www.angelopetrosino.com/intervista/index.html

WebSite: Angelo Petrosino

12 Nov 2011 Cooking Class at the Italian Cultural Institute

Michele is such a wonderful Italian teacher. He's changed the format for the cooking classes. Now we bring in our own recipes to cook and then eat. We're allowed a $20 cooking allowance per class.

For the class two weeks ago, I brought this cake, which I made at home. The Italian teachers sent word down to the kitchen that they would LOVE to have a piece of this cake. Word travels fast, when good food is involved. I went home with an empty dish! I was so happy to have received the taste approval from everyone. I try so hard to recreate Italian food here.

~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*
Italian Hazel Nut Cake with Orange Glaze

Cake:

4 eggs
½ C granulated sugar
1 C hazel nuts, toasted, peeled and chopped (See note for toasting hazel nuts)
(may substitute almonds for hazel nuts)
½ C flour
1 t baking powder
2 T orange zest
1 T fresh orange juice
1 t vanilla


Frosting:

2 C powdered sugar
2 ½ T fresh orange juice
½ t almond extract
½ C chopped or slivered almonds, toasted until golden

Preheat oven to 350 F

Butter a 10 inch spring form pan and dust with flour.

Beat egg whites with the orange juice and vanilla until stiff peaks form. Set aside.

In a large bowl, beat together egg yolks and sugar until almost foamy. Add hazel nuts, flour, baking powder and orange zest. Gently fold in the egg whites.

Pour batter into pan and bake for 35-40 minutes or until an inserted toothpick comes out clean.

Remove cake from oven and let cool for 10 minutes. Turn onto a wire rack.

Make frosting: Combine ingredients and frost top of cake. Frosting should drizzle down sides of cake. Top with toasted slivered almonds

How to toast Hazel nuts

Preheat oven to 350 F
Place nuts on a cookie sheet and bake 10-15 minutes or until skins are blistered.
Remove from oven and immediately wrap the nuts in a wet kitchen towel.
Let steam for 1 minute.
Roll the nuts in the towel to remove loose skins.
Don’t worry if not all skins come off.


For the second cooking today, I prepared this yummy dish, copied from the Academia-Barilla website. Michele likes to "approve" recipes before we bring them in. He told me he didn't like olives and didn't want me to cook with olives. I asked him to trust me, he would love this pasta...and he did. He was impressed that it was authentically easy and delicious.


~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*
Pasta with Olives and goat cheese

Ingredients
Serves 4

1 lb mezze penne (400 g)
7 oz goat cheese
1 oz extra virgin olive oil
3 oz Italian black olives (similar to California black olives)
salt

Preparation time:
5 minutes preparation + 10 minutes cooking

Pit the olives and chop finely.

Put the goat cheese in a bowl and, using a fork, pour in the oil, mixing continuously until creamy. Then stir in the chopped olives.

In the meantime, cook the pasta in a large pot of boiling, salted water. Check the box for the cooking time. When done cooking, drain the pasta and toss with the sauce.
Serve immediately

(http://www.academiabarilla.com)

September 17, 2011 Angels come for Leo

This week, Leo has been given stronger and stronger pain medicine, as the morphine has not given him pain relief. He has been sleeping almost all the time, but sometimes waking up in great pain. One day I felt him calling my name for a few moments.

A nurse comes daily to attend to Leo, being very gentle with him, I am told by his friend Andrea. I now know that Andrea and Leo were childhood friends, who had not seen each other since their respective marriages. When Leo became ill, Andrea was at Leo's home weekly and then daily to help him. When I was able to travel to Italy Andrea brought Leo to me.

On September 3, Andrea, had texted me a message from Leo. "Don't call or send Leo text messages, because his wife controls everything now."  I am to contact Andrea only. I understand Leo's son could not bear to see Leo in this condition and has not visited often.

Andrea has been sending me daily updates since then.

On Wednesday night, September 14, I had a dream. Leo and I were in a crowd of people, going through a dim tunnel. We were being jostled about. Leo stopped and said, "You can't go any further with me. You need to make an excuse to go back. Tell them you need to find a bathroom." I woke up. I understood the message.

Friday night, September 16 in California at 9:15 which is 6:15 am Saturday morning in Italy, I posted on FaceBook this thought:

"Dear ones. I believe the angels are approaching our sweet Leo."

I fell into a deep sleep at 9:30, unusual for me on a Friday night. I was dreaming when I suddenly woke up. It was 11:10. I grabbed for my cellphone and there was a text message from Andrea:

"Alle 7 Leo e' stato portato via dagli angeli
"Leo was taken away by the angels at 7 am."

I spent the night on FaceBook, writing to each student.

Funeral arrangements apparently had already been made.

I continued to inform our friends, using FaceBook to post, as I received information.

At 5:30 am I fell into an exhausted sleep.

In the morning I found this picture in my email. Rosa had gone to our church in Cremona and lit a candle for Leo, right in front of my favorite saint, Santa Rita.  So sweet, she sent me the proper prayer too. I love my Italian family so much for their constant support, thoughtfulness and love.

Questa è una preghiera per i defunti.

L'eterno riposo dona a loro o Signore, risplenda ad essi la luce perpetua, riposino in pace amen.



September 7, 2011 Leo's clothes

Two years ago, I packed Leo’s suits, ties, shirts and casual clothes in containers with moth balls. The idea was to make sure insects would not feast and the clothes would be ready for his return.

It is clear now, that Leo will not be returning. I spoke to him about what to do with his belongings here. He told me, they belong to us, so anything I decide will be ok. He asked me not to give away his favorite off-white jacket nor his treasured metal detector.

A few weeks ago, I donated a dozen pairs of his shoes to a Japanese Tsunami charity. I held back his slippers and four pairs of his most worn (and loved) shoes.

This weekend, I decided it was time to let his clothing go. I spoke with a friend who mentioned the LDS charity van was in Newport Beach this week. For the first time since I packed, I went through the clothes, pulling out items I just cannot part with: his white terry robe, which he loved wearing after a long hot shower. T-shirts purchased during our American adventures. I remember he never felt comfortable wearing those shirts, unless they were ironed. Yes, I ironed them. It was a matter of “bella figura” meaning it was impossible for him to dress in wrinkled or just out of the dryer clothes.

I kept some of his favorite ties. The alligator belt, stamped “Made in Italy” I adopted as my own. On a hook in my closet, his casual tan weekend jacket still hangs, just where he left it in May 2009. I shake the dust off of it every so often. I’ve starting sleeping with the pajama top he used in the evenings when he was ready to relax. Perhaps it’s my imagination, but I can still smell him on it, even though it’s been laundered. His slippers are still in the closet.

It would have broken my heart to sell his things at a garage sale. Instead, I’ve decided to donate to charity.

Italians have an innate distrust of charities so I’m trying to do what Leo would like.

I received a call from a friend early in the week. She knew of a man, whose x-wife, in anger, had cut up all of his clothes. My friend thought Leo and this man were about the same height and weight. Yesterday morning, before leaving for work, I loaded my car with various bags and tubs of clothes.

When I arrived at 5:30 to drop off Leo’s clothes, I suddenly became overwhelmed. The instant I had unloaded the car, I tearfully headed home. Only 15 minutes had passed, when I called my friend and asked her to pull out Leo’s hiking boots. I can’t bear to give them away. He had so many wonderful adventures in those shoes.

Last night my phone rang. There was a man on the line…the man without clothes. He called to say thank you. He said the clothes were heaven-sent. The clothes fit him. But the style, I asked? Are they your style? Yes, he answered. I told him Leo would be glad then. I didn’t mention “bella figura” last night, but today I can smile and think, Leo would be pleased. The style was right.

Getty Museum, 2009