I have this thing where I romanticize the “different tastes” from other countries when I travel. Whether it be “eggs” in every Dutch dish I ate when I first visited in the 90’s.

Or the “acqua con gas” I drank in Rome from a company called Claudius. It was my go-to bottled water. Likely because I imagined it was drawn from the ancient wells of “I, C-C-Claudius”.

My first night in Vienna this summer of 2019, I ate at a Greek restaurant. The meal was fabulous. Beef tasted like real beef. Tomatoes: real (you get the picture).

The water was labeled “prickelnd“.

Though I’d never seen the word before, I could divine the water was sparkling.

Onomatopoetic.

I had this view that the water was naturally extracted from some bubbling spring in the Vienna Woods NOT that it was a bloody Coca Cola product. I mean, where’s the romance in that? I bet those bubbles aren’t even natural.

Bastards.

And corn and zucchini and Kirby cukes and tomatoes and melon and blueberries.

Ahhhh – summer fruits!!

To be clear – the Pope and the Date Lady were only together in my day. Not literally.

I spent an October Wednesday morning at the Papal Audience with Papa Francesco. And a couple thousand other souls. It’s a Happening. It took a long bus ride and about 30 minutes – maybe more – to get through security and into the public pens.

And then, you’re in.

It’s very exciting. Everyone is buzzing. It is a cacophony of tongues. Nuns, priests of course. Families. Large groups of Catholic school teens with their banners. Coveys of seniors following the ubiquitous guys with flags on sticks: tours of tourists who I suspect don’t know that the tickets are gratuito!

The veterans know to sit anywhere around the periphery next to the barriers. Picture thousands of people squeezed around the edges, and hundreds of empty chairs in the center.

You look up at the Jumbotrons, and see his white garb. A Popemobile eye’s view as he climbs aboard. The buzzing gets louder. People craning their necks as they see on the screen that Il Papa is moving.

And then. Then. Arriva! Arriva! He’s here! We all rush to our spots, elbowing the aggressive few, backpacks in our faces, banners in front of our lenses. To Get The Shot.

SNAP SNAP SNAP

At that point, major denouement time. Mind you – he hasn’t even started talking yet. It’s not a mass. Francis welcomes us in Italian. The message is repeated in many languages: French, German, Spanish, English (which oddly covered everywhere from the Dominican Republic to Japan), several others.

The day’s Homily played off the scripture on divorce and “let no man tear asunder…” it was more about integrity of love and commitment – than you damn well better stay married.

First delivered by the Pope – then summarized by the foreign speakers.

At the end – (as forecast and promised) he blesses the crowd. Plus, all of the religious objects we carried. My bag was bulging with wooden crosses, medals and one stunning rosary. Gifts for the folks back home.

THE DATE LADY

The Date Lady

She’s a recurring figure in my stories of Rome. For seventeen years, I have been buying big, succulent Medjool dates from the stand where she works at the Campo dei Fiori. She’s got just a few teeth. And, she’s friendly enough. Date, date, signora.

I held my breath this year that she would still be there. She was. What a delight. Until this one moment:

The Date Lady Turns

Some hapless tourist fails to see the sign on her mushrooms that boldly states DO NOT TOUCH. And she turns!

Date Lady goes full-on funghi fierce.

What a moment.

What a day!

I am smitten with the idea of the life of the person or people behind that window across the rear courtyard here in Roma.

It caught my attention because of the candle. Plus, everything else I could see in the space below was inanimate. This promised a story.

The table was simply, but elegantly, set. It didn’t have the quotidian feel of just another dinner.

I first saw a youngish woman setting something down – maybe she had just finished setting the table. Then a man – her partner, roommate, friend? (Probably not just friend – the candlelight after all) – sat a pan down with something sizzling. Maybe it was veal scallopini – but more likely chicken breasts (unlike Jimmy Stewart – I had no binoculars plus hey!! I wasn’t spying or anything).

I had just finished washing my day’s undergarment- and hanging it out to dry on the little clothesline outside my kitchen window – in time to catch them eating their meal together. He seemed rapt with attention, pouring her sake – and I imagined her elusive. Like maybe they were just courting.

That’s it. I walked away from the window. Watched 007 (Sean Connery) in Italian. Then went to bed.

In the early morning hours, I peeked to see what I could see. I saw shutters. In the awake time of the day, a laptop and papers on the table.

Though it struck me that I had invaded their privacy by looking, I also considered that they could be staring at my window. And seeing my Hanky Panky® on the clothesline.

Just one day in Rome – and I managed to pack in two helpings of gelati, cacio e pepe, countful glasses of vino – and a new word.

Grandini. But that comes later.

My flight from JFK to FCO was, as they say, uneventful. It started a little disappointing but quickly sequed into an unexpected treat. I booked Finnair – hadn’t paid that much attention because I did it months ago and on Expedia. One thing I could never figure out how to do was pick my seat. Until the last day when they wanted to charge me about $150 to choose. Which pretty much negates getting a great deal now doesn’t it!?

I ended up in a middle seat in the third row from the back. I reacted with a groan. The flight attendant heard me and pointed out that the entire row in front of me was open. I quickly moved to the aisle seat. And three hours later when it was time to sleep – I stretched out over four seats and entered into the Land of Nod. Made a big difference for this traveler who doesn’t take altering substances to sleep on overnight flight.

We landed 90 minutes early and within an hour I was settling into my Casa Piccola. The woman who rented to me – the lovely Clotilde who has been renting me a place to lie my head for years here in Rome – described her other place as a “small house” on Via Urbana. First, she meant small apartment. Secondly, it is about the size of a medium-sized Manhattan apartment. It is lovely – with the miniature clothes line out the kitchen window, pots and pans stored in the living room, and the sounds and cooking smells of people living all around me.

Oh – and two flights of f’ing treacherous unevenly-spaced stairs.

Via Urbana is in Monti — known as Suburra in Ancient Rome. It was the red-light district – and home to both the lower class workers, and Julius Caesar. Never really spent that much time here. Lots to explore. It’s a pretty happening strada. Where I got my first helping of cacio e pepe. And gelato at a place that trumpeted some gorgeous macarons (follow nyproducer on Instagram for some of this). And hours later some celestial gelato next to a charming little piazza. I had “avocado, lime and vino bianco” and “apple, almonds and cinnamon”. Uh-maze-ing. think I shall return and try pumpkins with its seeds and cranberry. And call it Thanksgiving in Rome.

Grandini is the Italian word for hail. Not as in “Hail, Caesar” but as in holy shit who knew it was going to storm tonight!?! While finishing my second glass of Primitivo and my little bowl of cheese and salami, a dramatic boom of thunder cracked the night. And the downpour began. First pelting rain. Then grandini. I, of course, had no choice but to order another glass of vino and switched to misto verdure. A dish of caponata, dried tomatoes perfectly softened in olive oil and some treatment of zucchini I am going to have to figure out before I leave.

I made it home, had the veg with my eggs the next morning. And must simply meet who was playing Volare at 4 this morning.

My first 24 hours in Roma.

It is my tradition to share my list of foods from the Fair: what I ate and at the very least: my favorite “new” Fair Food. From the Great Minnesota Get-Together.

Without further ado:

Favorite: The First Kiss®. The most delicious, juicy, and unforgettable APPLE. Yes – a fruit.

Then – what else?

  • Frozen key lime pie on a stick
  • Pronto Pup
  • Smoked ice cream with bourbon cherries
  • Sausage medley
  • Wood-grilled elote (Mexican corn on the cob)
  • Mojito beergarita
  • Flight of dark beer
  • Apple!!!
  • Blueberry rhubarb cobbler with corn meal polenta and yogurt
  • Minneapple pie with vanilla ice cream
  • Minnepumpkin pie with cinnamon ice cream
  • Walleye Cakes
  • Turducken sausage on a bun

Fair Husband and I at the Fair

The annual event of pigs, crop art and food-on-a-stick calls me once again.  It was a remarkable day of endless walking, sights and sounds as only a fair delivers (particularly redolent as experienced from the Sky Ride overhead), and two highlights in particular (food to come in a moment).

Raptor Show: a little bit of environmental awareness, falconry and, yes, even patriotism.  An hour at the DNR (Department of Natural Resources) building watching up close, owls, hawks, falcons and the grand finale: the American Bald Eagle (nice way to stir up the emotions and get the crowd to donate to the predator bird demonstration).  Which I gladly did.  It was wonderful.

Miracle 0f Birth Center: as it sounds.  A building dedicated to the actual births of farm animals: from rabbits to pigs to cows, goats, and other ruminants.  Pretty much every year, by the time my fair buddy Steve (see above: Paul Bunyan) arrive at the pavilion, we have missed the LIVE births, left to just watch the videotape version of the ‘miracle of birth.’  I thought there would be a repeat of that this year, when I spotted 30-minute old piglets (‘oh, you just missed it!).  Until we saw the crowds gathering five deep around the cow pen.

We watched a calf born.  Cow in labor (and eating while doing it, btw) – baby dropped to the hay.  While little children and families and young couples and urban folks, too – all gathered around to watch this Miracle of Birth.  It was — don’t use this word lightly — awesome.

After that, we wandered to take in the rest of the fair and check off some items from the “new foods” list.

So — drum roll please: here is what we ate on the opening day of the Minnesota State Fair (not necessarily in order – the carbs killed some brain cells along the way, methinks).

FOODS I ATE AT THE FAIR

  • Slow-Roasted Pork Mole Tamale
  • Ear of roasted corn
  • Bowl O’ Dough
  • Chicago mix of popcorn: kettle, cheese, caramel
  • Pronto Pup ®
  • Honey Vanilla Bean Swirl Ice Cream
  • Beer
  • Vanilla Milkshake
  • Land o’ Lakes Cheese sample
  • Brown Ale and Onion-Gouda Tipsy Pie
  • Walleye Cakes
  • Duck Bacon Wontons

My goodness, I must be slipping — is that really ALL we ate at the fair?  There could be some updates to come, once the carbohydrate hangover passes.

 

Now this is a rare experience. I shall travel in the height of summer heat: to two nations I’ve not visited: Hungary (Budapest) and Austria (Vienna – and its Woods). 

Even rarer, I have no clue what I will be eating. Other than paprika, coffee, and a Sacher Torte. 

Let us go on this journey of culinary discovery together, shall we?

Now, I guess I should pack. 

You would have expected the Romans to spend their Buona Pasqua at home, eating chocolate and Easter bread, and roasting lamb for dinner. After attending morning mass at one of the 900+ churches in la bella città. 

Well –

Certainly that is a bit of a cliche, but I did think I would find few establishments open – and rather empty streets.  Not so.  It was a stunning sunny day – in the 70’s – and thousands of people, Italians – not just tourists – were out and about. In the historic center anyway. 

But I thought this scene on a small side street of the Monti neighborhood was rather touching.  A family held their Easter dinner outside on a wooden table – here just a few members of their group were wrapping up their meal. 

Carina. Sweet. 

So, I set out for a lake adventure on this sunny Spring day in Italy – getting an “open ticket” on the ferry, allowing me to stop in one of six towns on Lake Como, including Bellagio. 

I realize once I am on the boat that wherever I start – I would have about a two-hour wait until the next ferry departure because it was lunchtime. That’s okay – I am going to need something to eat anyway. 

I make my first visit at Lenno – walk along the waterfront. See a few tourist places – and head up the hill to find the center (il centro) of the tiny little town. And a restaurant not for tourists – which, of course, I don’t regard myself as — but a place to eat for the townsfolk. 

I stop at a post office and buy some stamps (francobolli) for my postcards (cartoline). I ask the dude behind the counter – in Italian (of course: hey, I’m no stinkin’ tourist!!!) (which is ridiculous because I am. But I digress). 

Where can I find a restaurant, I inquire. Oh, we have hundreds of restaurants, tanti (many). 10 kilometri. 

I know enough to know I am not walking 10 kilometers to find a non-tourist restaurant. Pizza would be fine. At this point. Tic toc – lunchtime is almost over. My ferry departure is closer. AND I needed a toilette!

I return to the restaurant I’d  rejected. Order a nice salad and a glass of vino bianco and ask the waitress. Scusi. Dov’è il centro?  Oh madame, she answers: here! This is il centro!!

Ha! Serves me right. 

Lunch was perfect, by the way. 

It comes to the table – steam, redolent of garlic, warmly wafting from the plate. 

A mosaic of buckwheat pasta, melted cheese and green vegetables.  Where to start?  With a bite of potato? Or some kind of perfectly cooked green vegetable: the leaf of a romanesco cauliflower, a slice of – I don’t know – perhaps fennel. Subtle little greens – maybe broccoli – maybe spring vegetables. 

And that pasta! Humor me as I wax poetic over this pasto di pasta. A thick, not wide, noodle – with that hearty bite of buckwheat, delicately covered with sauce. 

It may triumph over Cacio e Pepe.

Maybe.  I haven’t spent any real time in Roma, yet. 

My very first pizzocchere. Accent on the second syllable: pea-ZOCK-uhree. 

Oh – did I mention dessert: la meringa con fragole?
Soft and crunchy. Meringue. With strawberry sauce and a kinda squishy, gelato-like layer. 

Burp!

Janet Eats, indeed. Better head out for una passeggiata up and down those steep and narrow hilly streets called contrada.

Italy awaits and I am venturing out of la bella città di Roma for the Lake District. A little village described as “if you want to do nothing, go there.”

Oh boy!

I am very excited to try this dish called pizzocchere – though it kinda sounds pizza-like – it is not. It is buckwheat pasta with melted cheese, potatoes and greens.

Yum!

I will be sure to report in.  More foods to explore, paths to walk, people to meet. More anon! 

 

 

Minnesota State Fair 2016

Every year, my trek to the Great Minnesota Get-Together is both the same.  And, absolutely different than years past.  But, always, consistently, fun and memorable.

Steve & I at the Fair

I always go to Day One of the Fair in Saint Paul with my “fair husband” Steve. We are particularly compatible as a fair couple because we like the same things, yes, but are also open to the choices of the other person. Plus, we share the food.

iron range meat

Iron Range Meat & Potatoes

So without further ado (because I know you are dying to find out) here is what we ate at the Fair:

  • Iron Range Meat & Potatoes
  • Pronto Pup®
  • Honey Sunflower Ice Cream, Honey Lemonade, Honey Lemon Sorbet (can you tell I am a big fan of the honey wing of the Horticulture Building)
  • waffle fries
  • birch beer
  • vanilla milkshake (only 2 spoonfuls; too creamy. Me, I like icey shakes)
  • blue cheese & corn fritz
  • candied bacon donut sliders
  • cup of coffee, flight of dark beer, Clown Shoes chocolate porter, lots of water
  • roasted corn
  • cinnamon banana dark chocolate Jonny Pop.

For more pictures and narrative, I invite you to check me out on Instagram @nyproducer

 

 

Quickie post to say that I am in serious training for the Great Minnesota Get-Together.  Yes, you can count on coming back here in just a little over 24 hours – to get the full list of what I and my “fair-husband” will have eaten, shared, and delighted over.

Time was (just look back at lists past) – that I could barely get all the items consumed on one page.  Now, really — who has the stomach to eat that much.  Ha!

In training means: not too much eating beforehand.  Taking good care of myself.  Making room.  And studying the list of the new foods.

This is at the top of my list:  Candied Bacon Donut Slider!  It IS a donut hole – so don’t go judgin’.  I’ll report back!candied_bacon_slider_lb

AIN’T LIFE GRAND!!!

 

Oh – late addition: how did I miss this one?

Candied Bacon BLT (sensing a theme here!)  I’ll let the fair description take it from here:candied_bacon_blt_lb

Crispy, thick candied bacon, rancher’s slaw and green tomato spread on a sweet egg bun.

YUMMY!

My favorite new veggie du stagione (that’s season in Italian, of course) is winter squash.  We’re talking much more than pumpkin.

I guess, like many others – I have a love affair with pumpkin through the fall season.  Yes, I know it is popular to trash pumpkin because it has become so darn ubiquitous (you know it’s a problem when Starbucks makes a latte out of it).

But, as a squash: pumpkin and its much more succulent cousins: delicata, Hubbard, kabocha, Blue Hubbard, butternut — it is a ubiquitous cold weather treat.

Easy as hell to prepare: half it (or, if really large: section it) and pop it in the oven to roast.  Lots of techniques on the sectioning part — because attacking any of these tough-skinned vegetables can be perilous.  Guy on the farmers market told me, hold it in your hands – at about waist height – and take it down to the ground/floor.  It cracks into cookable pieces.  I have found best to wrap it in a towel — the splunk can send seeds and stringy goo all over your kitchen.

My brilliant friend Victoria Granof, food style and cook extraordinaire, follows the advice of some television cook whose name I forget, who says put the whole squash in the over for 15 minutes at some degrees — probably 400-ish.  It doesn’t cook, but becomes super easy to cut.

What can you do:

eat it roasted as is, puree it and make recipes requiring pumpkin:

Pumpkin Pie Oatmeal: 1/2 c. pumpkin puree, 3/4 c almond milk, 1/c oatmeal, cinnamon/pumpkin pie spice/dash salt/vanilla. I use a couple drops of the real-deal stevia and 2 t. brown sugar.  Cook for 10 minutes at 375 degrees, top with 1 T sliced almonds & 1 t. brown sugar – and cook another 10 minutes.  One serving.  And for those who are counting 7 WeightWatchers® points.

Squash soup.  Veggie boullion cube, 2 cups water, shallots & onions, some roasted kabocha (2 cups maybe?), a 1/2 c unsweetened applesauce – cook it up a bit – and have at it with a cook’s best friend: the immersion blender.  Zero WW® points.

And, the list goes on – use your imagination.

Oh by the way, the beautiful lady with the delicata is Signora Maria, straight from Bagnacavallo near Bologna — created by Italian artist Anna Tazzari – a beautiful woman in every way – and extraordinarily talented.

S Maria and Squash

 

 

This little apple faces extinction in Bagnacavallo – the small Italian town not far from Bologna. It is called a Florina. It tastes like the essence of appleness: crisp when bitten, juicy but not slurpy, the perfect combination of sweet/tart. Like an apple, only better. 

I met Florina while visiting the home of Anna Tazzari – the creator of Signora Maria. Her husband Massimo explained to me that you could not buy this apple in a store – you could only pick it off a tree or buy it at a farm stand. 

Sad, this little Florina – I hope she makes it in the world of Honeycrisps. 

October, 2015: my annual voyage to Italy.

I visited my cugini in Bologna. I really love to spend time with cugina (Italo-Americano) Paul, his beautiful Italian wife Laura, and one of their daughters: the adorable Michelle. The other daughter, Alessandra, is in California right now – attending high school in the Bay Area.

Bologna is, as I mentioned in a prior post, in the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy. Pretty much when you think of Italian food, you are really thinking of food from this region: prosciutto, lasagna, tortellini, ragu, etc.

Food in Italy — as in many countries, even the USA — is regional. On this trip, I discovered many foods that, for the most part, haven’t “travelled” to American tables. Like:

Tigella – you can read about these little discs of breadliness in my post – Tigella Paradiso

Garganelli – a quill-shaped egg pasta served in brodo or with ragu. Maybe I have seen this pasta shape before, but I don’t remember. It is the pasta being held in the left hand of my new “friend” from Bagnocavallo:  Signora Maria.

You can read all about my adventures with Sig. Maria on my sister blog, rulingwoman.com. In short, I learned to make this pasta and fully intend to do so when I return to America. 

Giuggiole (JEW-joh-lay) is this fruit that grows on trees around Bologna.  

It looks like a nut. When you bite into it, it has a crunch and taste like an apple, with a pit.  Beautiful. I’d like a sweater in the colors of the giuggiole.  And, finally

Passatelli in brodo. Very VERY regional. My cugini and I went to a restaurant on my last night in Bologna. When the waitress spieled off the dishes for the night, she mentioned Passatelli. My cugina, Laura, was delighted when she heard that, and immediately ordered it. “What is it,” I entreated.  It is a “pasta” made out of Parmesan, breadcrumbs, eggs, lemon and nutmeg that is pushed through a press with holes (extruded almost like spaetzle though not quite). Passare –  passed through. Dropped into a rich, steaming-hot broth. The waitress ladled this brothy, cheesy, doughy bit of wonderfulness into our bowls. Yep, I slurped it right up, I’m sure of it! Luckily, I didn’t have my phone with me, so nothing could stop me from diving right into this sensuous repast. 

In the midst of a vacation filled with (albeit delicious) street and restaurant meals, it is a delight here in Italia to have a good ol’ home-cooked dinner. 

Dinner with the the cugini in Bologna. With typical Emilia-Romagna foods. 

At the bottom – un “panino” of prosciutto and mortadella on a handmade tigella. The tigella (seen in the basket) is yeasty dough placed in a tigelliera — a cooking vessel with two plates of six circles each.  You heat like a grill.  Put a circle of dough in each circle – and press together. Cook, then flip.  Then toss into a basket. Kind of pita meets crumpet. 

Split then fill. Funny, isn’t it, how every ethnic group has some kind of filled bread food. Pita. Taco. Dumpling. 

On the table: carciofi, prosciutto cotto, squacquerone, funghi rustici, salumi culatello, rucola. 

Squisito!

 

 
Before I regale you with my list of food I ate at the great Minnesota Get-Together — I just have to talk about this piglet I met  at the Swine Barn. They do not make a cute alert LARGE enough for this little three-day-old creature. I recommend you make a copy of this and every time you get sad or blue or angry or just plain bummed: look at this creature. I defy you not to smile. 

 So here’s what I ate — sometimes sharing with my State Fair “husband.”

Honey sunflower ice cream, honey tasting, corn on the cob, “Blue Cheese Corn Fritz” (corn fritters with blue cheese, corn kernels served with dipping sauce), half of a succulent sweet peach, Pronto Pup, Walleye-stuffed mushrooms, German Nic Nacs (double crunch peanuts), couple sips of beer – including maple bacon beer, draft root beer, shared turkey sandwich, tasting of cheese cubes, and a bite of a “rollover” (apple turnover). 

I read my list to a Minnesota friend and he said it sounded like a lot. To my State Fair “husband” it seemed like a hell of a lot less than years past–by a third from our peak. 

 

2015/08/img_1152.jpg

I just love the farmers market during Summer.  This is not my fave season, although if you have friends with a beach house — as it turns out I do —  life is certainly greatly improved.  But, goodness, the market is lush with fruits and vegetables for the most healthful cooking.  And, living.

Of course, we are in the middle of peach season – yummy.  Eaten in the hand, or sliced into whole grain cereal and a dash of nutmeg, or macerated in cognac with a scrape of vanilla bean.  And, that’s if you aren’t going to cook cobblers, pies, crumbles.

Summer Wonders

Summer Wonders

This weekend, at the Union Square greenmarket in Manhattan, I happened upon the cutest little tomatoes.  Larger than cherries, smaller than standard.  With a deep orange/red color and topped with a dash of burgundy.  Wonderful.  I cut them up and added them to my sautéed fairytale eggplants, with some roast chicken.  And a crumble of James Brown blue cheese from the Cato Corner farm.

I would show you that dish, but gee, it seems to have disappeared.  But, here are some of my market goodies sitting on my NYC kitchen windowsill.

 

This is the time of the year when I cook up some of my grandmother’s garden vegetable dishes: with fresh green beans or zucchini. When I was growing up, you could not get me to eat them.  Now, they are not only redolent and evocative of my youth, they are simply delicious!

Grandma’s Green Beans

2 Tomatoes (Beefsteak are fine, no sense overpaying for heirlooms at this time of the year)

3 handfuls of Green beans (look for those flat Roma beans – but any type or color will work)

2 or 3 smallish Potatoes (I like the little Yukon Golds — starting to see the first picks of the season)

3-4 T. Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Cut up the tomatoes, put them in a saucepan first — they create most of the liquid you will need for this dish.  Cut up the potatoes into biggish chunks then toss in the green beans. I remove the ends – cook’s choice.  Drizzle on the olive oil, pour in (maybe) a couple of tablespoons of water, salt and pepper.  Put on the lid and cook at a low, slow simmer.  20-30 minutes or so.  This is no al dente affair.  More like a vegetable stew.  I let the potatoes determine the length of the cook.  If you pick a potato that can stand up to the cook, you should be fine.

Buon appetito!