A Home Cooked Meal

Making the layers of eggplant parmesan.

A storm blew in a couple of days ago.  We watched it coming up the valley.  It was dry where we stood but you could see sheets of rain falling into the sea.  In a few minutes it moved onto shore and was such a wall of water you couldn't see anything behind it.  The sea disappeared, next the town, and soon the rain was slapping against the tiles of our balcony.  Since this was supposed to keep up for a couple of days we thought it might be a good time to stay indoors and start making some home cooked meals.  With the rain, also came our first credit card bill with all those fine dinners accounted for.  We added up the monthly cost of our restaurant frenzy and it was a bad figure.   Another reason to find our way around the kitchen.

Steve and I had taken a cooking class together at one of the local restaurants when his sister was out visiting.  The restaurant was Max and the instructor's name was Pasquale.  I loved listening to him describe how to make the dishes.  That is how the class went.  He talked about what needed to be done, while one of the chefs did the cooking, and we watched and took notes.  It was something about the way he spoke English and the melody of it that I think could make anything sound good.  He could be describing boiling brussel sprouts and I would have thought "Mmm..those brussel sprouts are going to be delicious!".   The fact is though, the food tasted as good as he made it sound.  It did not include brussel sprouts.

We learned a few dishes, one being eggplant parmesan.  We tried that on our first rainy night.  It only required five ingredients; eggplant, mozzarella, parmigiana, tomato sauce, and basil.  A key was first coating the eggplant in salt and sugar to remove the bitter juices from it.  Ella and Samantha had a good time putting the layers together.  Amazingly, it turned out really well, maybe not to the Max standard but not bad.  The second rainy night was gnocchi.  Steve made the dough with potatoes, flour, salt, and an egg.  He made long rolls of it and chopped them up into bite size pieces.  The final part involved using your thumb to press down on the bite size piece and roll it across a fork, to make the notches in the pasta.  It got another thumbs up from the girls.  With a little bit of confidence we are on to fried zucchini blossoms next! 

Rolling out the dough for the gnocchi.

Our big helper

Our little helper

My gnocchi was relegated to a second bowl until I
got the fork rolling technique down.  

Gnocchi and zucchini

Stuffed zucchini blossoms

Frying the blossoms

The finished dish.  Yum!

Unrelated to our cooking, a picture of what I think is the town
cemetery up on the hill before the storm hit.

I think I've found "my house" here.  It's a little bit out of town, built into the cliffs,
looks a bit like a castle, and is covered in bougainvillea.  It has a wide open view
of the Mediterranean.

Wild Cyclamen

I usually buy a cyclamen plant around Christmas.  I love the delicate, lavender flowers and they last far past the season.  I've never seen them growing in the wild before.  In the mountains around town they are everywhere.

An Adventure

 by Jo Anne

Watching the sunset over Capri from Praiano.
You can see  the "Sirens" to the left of  the island.  This was taken by our friend Rio.

Steve caught me the other morning giving my "adventure" talk to the girls.  Whenever we head out on a trip that's going to involve a long drive on windy roads or a tiring walk, I try to pump them up a little with the idea that it's a big adventure.  Steve had smiled, and not quite out of earshot said, "And when Mommy says "big adventure" what she means is a long trip you are not going to want to go on."  He had me there.  The whole reason for the "big adventure" talk was because I thought there might be some complaints. The important part though was that although I knew they might not be thrilled with the journey, that once we got there they would be glad they came.

Lately, we've put a hold on the "big adventures" and taken some time to settle in here.  I'd say we definitely know the restaurants well at this point.  Everyone has their favorite dish.  It amazes me that Ella's is mussels.  She can turn a plate of them into empty shells in mere minutes.  Her little sister has recently decided she likes them too.  My new discovery is fried zucchini blossoms.  They take the blossom of the zucchini plant, stuff it with ricotta cheese among other things, coat it in a light tempura batter and fry it.  Our promise to each other is that we will start eating at the apartment more or we may soon be destitute.  So far, my home cooked meals have included only bruschetta, but I do have that down.  Ella and Samantha are trying their hardest to make some new friends here.  Lately they have been playing a bit with some of the kids down at the center of town along the water.  There is stretch of flat pavement and there are bikes and scooters to share.  They have let Ella and Samantha in on their fun.  I signed them up for a ceramics class recently.  Our neighbor below, Fernando, had told me his wife had a ceramics shop in town and sometimes gives classes to kids.  They are counting the days.  For me, I've found a running loop that winds up into the cliff and then back down through the town's main road.  It ends with a long set of stairs.  It is by far the prettiest running path I've ever taken.  I just need to be careful not to get so caught up in the scenery that I'm taken out by a SITA bus.  Samantha has started speaking Italian complete with hand gestures.  It is not real Italian, but to someone who does not speak the language it might sound like it.  She can really make us laugh…and occasionally make us pull our hair out.  The girls have befriended the town dog, Willy.  He is like the Benji of Positano and looking at him I'd say he is the best fed stray dog I've even seen.  It's fitting that in Positano even the stray dogs eat well.

I recently realized that Steve had given me the "big adventure" talk in order to get me to agree to this trip.  While in theory, I had been all for a family sabbatical at some point, I always expected it would be in the summer months with a new job lined up neatly on the other side of it.  It was a huge hurdle for me to consider taking the girls out of school and trying to "home school" them over here.  Asking to take such a large leave from my part-time job was a big hurdle as well.  Like the girls, I was brought along on this journey, and now I'm so glad I came.

Fried Zucchini Blossom

Ella and one more plate of mussels!

Samantha giving them a try.

Meeting some of the kids in town.

View from the "running loop".

Ella listening to one of the Sal Khan math videos on the web.  Steve thinks I'm obsessed with Sal Khan.  Maybe I am!

The town dog "Willy"

Hanging at the Wine Bar at Lago d'Orta 

We found a cozy wine bar just off the Piazza in Orta San Giulio

Steve 

We took a trip up to the Italian lake region up in the north to attend a friend's wedding and to get a taste of northern Italy.  We stayed in the beautiful little village of San Giulio, on the shore of Lago d'Orta.  While exploring the town, we discovered a cozy little wine bar that boasted a huge inventory of Italian wines, many from local producers.  We paid our first visit to this quaint little establishment after a long afternoon of hiking through the hills surrounding the village.  Our server laid out a generous portion of salami, cheeses, olives, and other snacks on a large wooden board, along with some red wine that was among the best we've had during our stay in Italy.  While we were enjoying this perfect ending to our long day, a couple came into the bar and sat down across from us.  There was nothing that really stood out about this couple, but I did notice that the woman's hair had been clipped very short - to the point where it was only slightly longer than the butch hair style you see so many young boys don in the summer months.  I was well into enjoying the wine and food at the time, and I remember little else about the pair.  

The next day, I heard Samantha make some remark to Ella regarding how funny she thought this woman looked.  Ella chastised her for laughing, and told her that the woman had "hair disease", that she had a friend in school who suffered from this ailment and that it was not nice to laugh at people with hair disease.  I chuckled to myself, because I remembered the woman from the bar and clearly her appearance was not the result of a medical condition but rather a hair style she had opted for.  Later that day, after a rainy tour of the island of San Giulio, we found ourselves at the same wine bar.  A small fire was going in the fireplace, and before long we were set up with a feast similar to the day before.  As our wine glasses neared empty, another couple ducked into the bar to grab a drink and take shelter from the weather.  They were an older couple, and the woman wore her gray hair in a short, well kept style.  Samantha spotted her, and before the woman had even taken her seat Samantha pointed and yelled, "Mommy, she has hair disease!"  We reigned her in a fast as we could, and the woman barely reacted other than to glance our way.  Once the situation was under control, Jo Anne and I could barely control our snickering - which would only make matters worse if Samantha caught us.  In the end, our laughter went largely undetected, and we ended up chatting with the couple before we departed.  (They spoke English quite well.)  Fortunately for us, it appears that hair disease doesn't affect one's sense of humor.  (I should know - I'm pretty sure I have it.)

   

Attempting to cure a case of "hair disease" at the wine bar in Orta San Giulio

A sample of the bar's selection.  We didn't try all of these, but wanted to.  

(Hey, they don't call us Gustavino for nothing.)

The "Limoncello Lifestyle" with Rico

San Giulio and Lago d'Orta

The island of San Giulio lit up at night.

I was looking forward to the train ride from Naples to Milan. We were going up to Northern Italy to a wedding in the lake region in a little town called San Giulio along Lake Orta.  The lake region falls in the foothills of the Italian Alps.  Because of mist and clouds we didn't see a snowy peak until this afternoon and we leave tomorrow, but it took my breath away when we did.  I imagined on the train trip to these snowy peaks that I'd be looking out of the window, watching the Italian country side roll by, and day dreaming. I love train travel.  It didn't exactly work out that way but it was still enjoyable.  There were lost pen caps to find and crayons that kept falling under the table. Samantha is in that cute but sometimes frustrating stage where she asks me how to spell every word she is writing.  Our conversations go like this, "Mom, how do you spell path?"  I say VERY slowly "P   A   T   H  ".  A few seconds later I hear, "OK, I got the P.  Now, what comes next?"  Sigh.  We also had strange seating assignments.  We had two seats facing each other on one side of the aisle and two seats on the other side with no one in the seats across from them.  The girls were sitting in those and we were just about to move across from them, when an older couple made their way down the aisle and scooted into those empty seats. They looked to be in their eighties and the woman had these piercing bright blue eyes.  Steve leaned over and said "Well this should keep them in line.".  More than once we had asked the girls to keep it down. Now they were perfectly quiet with wide eyed stares at their new traveling companions.  They were looking at them the way kids look at someone before they reach that age where they realize that holding your gaze that long is impolite.  We tried asking the couple if they would like to switch seats.  It took a bit to communicate that but we did and we were starting to move when in a strange twist the man suggested "boys on one side and girls on the other".  This left Steve to ride with him on one side and me, the girls and his wife on the other.  We couldn't really talk with each other but she seemed like a very nice woman.  We did a lot of nodding and smiling.  She gave little candies to the girls.  There was only one problem.  Lately, when Samantha smells something that doesn't agree with her she says "It smells like cheese.".  There was something in her bag that "smelled like cheese".  I was a little relieved when Steve suggested going to the dining car for lunch.  We later found out that eating in the Euro train dining car is kind of like eating the food out of the mini bar in your hotel, a very expensive option. 

When we arrived in San Giulio, I felt like we had traveled not only to a different country but to a different season.  The weather was about 15 degrees cooler.  It was cool, crisp, the leaves were starting to change and it felt like we had landed into the fall I had been missing on the east coast.  I read an article where San Giolio was described as "the gem of the Italian lake towns".  There is much to love here.  I love walking down the cobblestone streets and looking up at the windows with their wooden shutters and geraniums pouring down from window boxes.  Many of the homes have these gigantic wooden front doors that look like something out of medieval times.  There are the lanterns, lit by electricity these days but looking the same as the old version that used oil to light them.  I look down an inviting alley way and it makes me want to explore every nook of this little town.  There is an island in the middle of the lake where a basilica from the 12th century stands and a monastery that was built in 1800s.  We took the boat across in the pouring rain today and explored a bit.

Steve's friend's wedding, our reason for this trip, was an elegant and heartfelt event.   It was held at the "Villa Crespi", an Italian Villa whose design was inspired by "a wealthy man's travels in the Middle East".  The toast that the bride's father made brought tears to my eyes.  At one point the girls were playing with a new friend on the green hillside of the Villa, in their wedding finery, and someone commented that it looked like a scene out of an 18th century painting.  All that was missing were the parasols.  

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We took the train south this morning with all of us seated together.  There were games of tic tac toe, the Disney Princess version of "Go Fish", and even some quiet moments spent watching the grape vines pass by the window on this sunny day.

Villa Crespi

The wedding tent. 

Contemplating something...possibly the fact that the kids were mad at me for taking them on such a long hike!

I love the doors!

Walking through San Giulio

If you look closely you can barely see the Alps in the background.

The return trip

View of the island from our room

Piazza Motta

Montepertuso

by Jo Anne (still waiting on a "he said" post) :)

Last week we took the bus up the cliff to the little town of Montepertuso.  You can walk to the town from Positano.  There are steps just a few minutes from our apartment that will lead you from stairway to stairway and eventually to the town.  There are approximately 1500 steps.  We took the bus.  It's a beautiful, small town set high on the mountain.  It's very quiet compared to Positano and looks like what I would imagine a small town in Italy to be.  There is a town plaza and when we arrived there were a few elderly gentlemen sitting out at a table talking and having something to eat.  We saw two girls on horseback ride by along the road.  There was not an English speaking tourist in sight.  Sometimes, in the town center of Positano, there are so many tourists from the US, Australia, New Zealand, and the UK I find myself straining to hear some Italian.  I love the sound of it even though I still have not gotten through the first chapter of "Italian for Dummies".    We were there to go see the "Natural Arch" or as it is called here "Il Buco".  After a bit of miming and attempting to speak Italian, we were pointed to the steps that lead to the arch.  More steps!!!   There were some protests from the kids but we started up and in only about 20 minutes of climbing we could see it.   There were some clouds that day and when I first saw them through the arch it looked as though if you stepped through it you would be in them.  I think all of us were awestruck for a moment.  I even got a, "You were right Mom, it was worth it" from Ella who had been dragged along a bit on this little adventure.  After going through the arch, there was a sweeping view of Positano below.  I had one hand on Samantha the whole time as the drops down were dramatic.  We took some photos, watched the clouds roll in and out, and eventually decided to make our way back down.

Walking the steps back from the arch, you could see terraced crops to the left and right.  At one point, we went past a farm where someone was out working and they spotted the girls.  I read somewhere before we left that kids in Italy are treated like royalty.  There is lot of truth in that statement.  Everywhere we go, the girls get so much kind attention.  This was no different.  Antonello, as we came to know him, wanted to know if the girls wanted to come in and see some baby chicks.  They were just a few weeks old.  After some confusion (I thought he was telling me the girls were little, not "little chicks") we followed him in.  He showed us the chickens and roosters and then asked if we wanted a to see the rest.  There were tomatoes, grape vines, olive trees, zucchini, eggplant, broccoli cauliflower, lettuce, and finally pumpkins hanging on huge vines down this rock wall.  He had tied baskets under some of them to keep their weight from pulling them off the vine.  Pulling from my limited reserve of Italian phrases, I motioned to the beautiful view of the Arch and the town below and said "La Dolce Vita"  (the sweet life).  To which he replied "Eh" and shrugged his shoulders, possibly proving that farming is a tough business even with this backdrop.  Or that life is life no matter where you are.  There will be peaks and valleys.  Although, I can't help thinking that the valleys would be a lot cushier surrounded by this climate and natural beauty.

When we came to an orchard of plums, he picked some off a tree and handed them to the girls and to us.  They are plum fiends so they were gone in an instant.  When we got to the persimmon orchard, it was different, a couple bites and this unfamiliar fruit was handed back to me.  I was left trying to juggle two partially eaten persimmons, my own, and a backpack when he came to his wine cellar.  It turns out he makes his own wine and it is quite good!  He gave us each a glass and said with a smile "This wine won't make your head hurt, it makes you strong".  We found out he sells his produce to the restaurant Max, a coincidence since of all the restaurants in Positano it is kind of "our spot".  We had just taken a cooking class there the day before and are planning to go there on our anniversary.  No wonder the food tastes so fresh, it only has to make it's way down 1500 steps from the farm to the restaurant!  While we were sampling his wine, his mom stopped by.   Wearing a pretty patterned dress, with her hair pulled back, and a warm smile she looked exactly like what I would expect an Italian grandmother to look like.  She fawned over the girls.  Then she took from her bag an empty wine bottle, gave it to Antonello, and he gave her a new one.  He said he doesn't sell his wine but just gives it to friends and family.  I wanted to tell him how nice he was to invite us in for this tour.  I fell back on some Spanish and said "muy simpatico" (very kind), which I think he understood since he smiled.  He said goodbye to "the royals" and we were off.

The town of Montepertuso

Positano from "Il Buco"

La Nostra Casa....and a few other things. - Jo Anne

The apartment we live in is about 1200 square feet with three bedrooms and one bathroom.  Alessandro, the nephew of the woman we are renting from, grew up here with his nine siblings!  His mother must be an amazing woman.  It is built back into the cliff as many homes are in town.  On one side is another apartment and on the other side the mountain.  The rock wall of the cliff is the backdrop of our kitchen table.  You can also see the cliff along the hallway and in this little alcove that contains a small pool of water with two large goldfish, now named "Cupcake" and "Lavinia", and a nativity scene.  

Aside from a tiny window near the entrance, the living room is the only place open to the outside.  It has two large doors that open out onto a balcony.  From the balcony, you can see some of the town and the sea in the distance.  It's beautiful at night to look at the lights on the the hill across from us. We are on a road that winds along the Amalfi coast, so we do see some traffic. There are tour buses, motorcycles, cars, and pedestrians that all seem to find a way to share the space.  

We have a TV, but it might as well be another piece of furniture in the living room.  The first time I turned it on and surfed a few channels there was a collective "Oh, noooo!!!" from the girls as they realized it would all be in Italian.  I feel very out of touch with the news and at one point last week was not even sure what day of the week it was.  The sure sign of a good vacation. 

There are 354 steps down to the town center and beach.  More importantly, there are 354 steps back up to our home from the town center.  Some afternoons it feels like that number is larger.  Ella has started lobbying to take the local bus that runs in a big circle around the town but I tell her it's our only form of exercise.  Since we eat large, creamy globs of gelato daily maybe we should hang onto that.  She remains unconvinced. 

Just a two minute walk from our place there is an amazing produce stand.  Every morning the truck is out there delivering fresh goods.  We buy bags of cherry tomatoes and if we don't use them for bruschetta or caprese salad, I can pop them into my mouth right off the vine without anything on them, as if they were grapes.  They are so sweet!  There is also the daily fresh baked bread delivery at the neighboring market.  My words can't do it justice but I can understand now how the Romans were able to use free loaves of bread to appease the masses.

It has been warm so we've been taking the girls to the beach many afternoons.  We usually go to the smaller beach around the bend of the coast called Fornillo beach.  At the end if the day, they will give you a ride back to the town center by boat but you can always walk the stone path that follows the curve of the mountain.  The beach is mostly small pebbles and very little sand.  Instead of sand castles we've made a myriad of stone towers.  There are also fish to see and once Steve and Ella spotted an octopus hiding under a rock not too far from shore.  We made our first local friend here, Giovanni.  He works at the beach in the summer and tours with his band during the winter months.  He's a bass player that used to play guitar and says, "No one ever starts out as a bass player." I guess there are some common themes that cut across countries and cultures.  He has lived in this area all his life as have almost all the locals we've met.  It's not suprising.  If you were born in these towns, why would you ever want to leave?