and thus endeth the gluttony

...well, almost. There's still tonight!

My Christmas Eve dinner was a success. I decided not to make the homemade pasta though. Or rather, I did make a batch of dough, and then I realized that my pasta machine is really terrible. I never thought it was that great anyway but I couldn't even get it to cut the flattened dough effectively--I ended up with a mass of not-quite-completely-cut strands that stuck together. I tried to hand-cut a few but it was too labor intensive. I would have had to make another batch for my guests and I knew I would be too stressed out, so I jettisoned that idea. There was more than enough food already anyway. Which included this beef tenderloin, potatoes mashed with parsnips, and these brussels sprouts. My friend brought triple-cream cheese with fig jam for an appetizer, then we had vin santo (which I carried over myself from Tuscany last May) and cantuccini. The meat turned out really well. I was concerned about overcooking it--I made a leg of lamb last Easter and it cooked faster than I expected, so it ended up being medium to medium-well. It was still good, but I was disappointed. So with the tenderloin I probably checked it with the meat thermometer about five times. All my guests were pleased. I had a lot left over so I sent some home with people and have been eating it cold too. Unfortunately I was too busy cooking to get some pictures.

After everyone left, I realized it had snowed, and I took a bunch of photos of the snow-covered limbs of the tree outside my building.. Then I just sat on my couch with the lights off staring at the Christmas tree. I was really in a state of zen joy that I can't really explain. I didn't want to stop looking at it, so I ended up sleeping on the couch!

And now it's New Year's Eve. I'm not a huge fan of going out and kind of wanted to stay home. But now I'm going to stop off at a friend's for a drink on the early side and then may hit another friend's party later if I'm up for it. It's just as well--I bought some pre-prepared foie gras that I was really excited about eating, and it was terrible. Totally inedible--it had a really pronounced metallic taste. At $35 for two slices, that shouldn't happen. I'm going to call the little wine store I bought it from and see if I can get a refund. But the wine--a bottle of Petite Syrah 2007 from Vincent Arroyo that I bought in Napa last year--was, is, excellent.

And fortunately it's been unusually warm today--50s during the day (although rainy) and only going down to the 40s tonight, so maybe I can wear a short dress without freezing.

Happy New Year!

Christmas decor

I was pretty pleased with my efforts at Christmas trimming this year, especially the wreaths, which I made myself (ahem).

"What is this thing doing on my napping spot?"

Unfortunately Christmas shopping makes me cranky and now I'm getting sick. Still, I seem to have more Christmas cheer this year than usual, a good thing since I'm having people over for dinner Christmas Eve. I have been looking longingly at recipes for pot-au-feu, which would seem to be a terrific special-occasion dish, but I know all the shopping and preparation on my own is a little too ambitious. Instead I'm thinking of some type of rib roast, plus homemade pasta. And then vin santo and cantuccini for dessert.

Wherever you are, Joyeux Noel, Buon Natale, Merry Christmas, Auguri, and Happy New Year!

Seeing France in New Orleans

Poor ignored blog! I have meant to put something up for a while if only to push that picture of the dead pig further down.

My friend and I were talking about possibly going to France with her husband's band this fall--well, that ended up getting downgraded to a weekend in New Orleans.  New Orleans is kind of like France--but with more crime and to-go cups!

The good news is that the city really is coming back, albeit largely due to the blood, sweat, and toil of the residents, who are really dedicated to their home. And rightly so. New Orleans is a true cultural treasure. There is no place like it in the United States thanks to its history--which I learned a lot about thanks to Cassady, my guide on a Confederacy of Cruises bike tour. Check them out if you go--NO is a great place to explore on two wheels.

We didn't go into the lower 9th Ward, which I understand is still in kind of bad shape, but we did go into other areas of the 9th Ward where some houses were boarded up and you could still see the spraypainted symbols from emergency teams as they searched for survivors and bodies. Still, the area seemed lively and upbeat, which was nice to see.

Cassady, our tour guide

Cassady was a rolling encyclopedia of all things New Orleans. I mentioned I had stopped to get coffee and a muffin at a cafe near the meeting point and he told me about the history of the name of the cafe and probably knew the owners too.

I didn't take too many pictures of food, unfortunately. We did eat a lot of oysters, and our best meal was at Cochon, a contemporary Cajun place that several people recommended to us. I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that I don't care much for Creole food--it's not my favorite. Cajun, yes, but most traditional restaurants in New Orleans (Emeril's, Commander's Palace, etc) are Creole-inspired, not Cajun. But as you might expect, the town excels at French and French-inspired fare, so our second night we went to Lilette and were not disappointed.

People are so friendly down there too. Cassady said if we got lost or needed a restaurant recommendation to ask a local: "He might mug you later but he'll give you good information!" We didn't get mugged but we did meet a lot of nice folks.

A mobile barbecue smoker

It was the middle of November, but it was quite warm and sunny--in the mid to upper 70s, maybe even 80 our last day there. Of course, facing the onset of real winter weather at home, I thought about how nice it would be to enjoy mild temperatures through the colder months. On the other hand, summers there must be a challenge.

My next house? I wish.

It's all about taking it easy and enjoying life.

I'm too old and mired in the bad housing market to consider moving anywhere else at this point, but if I had a good reason to I'd definitely move to New Orleans. At least I'd like to visit it more often. Actually, I think I am just a little jealous of New Orleanians, the way I am jealous of Italian or French people. It must be nice to be born into that culture and live it every day--something I'll never be able to do no matter how much I try to emulate it.

sick day

A little summer cold has caught up with me so I decided to stay home from work today. Sometimes I think these short little illnesses are the body's wait of telling us we need to take a break and slip out of the daily grind, so I try to listen. It's nice to be able to lie around all day and nap without feeling guilty about it. Unfortunately, deadlines march on so I do need to do some work, but at least I can do it in bed.

Here are some photos from this summer:

Micheladas are all I want to drink lately.

A turbulent sky over Lake Michigan.

Writing on the balcony. Why yes, that is a manual typewriter. I prefer to use it for writing fiction in the early stages--seems less like work.

Family members from various generations at our reunion in Lake Geneva this summer.

 Reader, I ate it. This is a roast pig we had last night at a friend's house. They didn't barbecue it themselves though--they left that to an expert. 'Twas tasty. I should have taken an after photo too.

Seeing Italy in Rome

More pictures . . .

The Ponte Sant'Angelo at sunset--truly a magical hour in Rome.

Fiori (flowers) in Trastevere.

A fried artichoke at La Taverna del Ghetto 

Another street-art interpretation of the Madonna and child.

Granita all' caffe--coffee ice and cream, perfect on a hot day.

A fountain, a possibly ancient tub, and a tiny car--that's Rome.

seeing Italy in Italy

I returned from my trip almost two months ago but work has been a nonstop joyride since then, so I've been ignoring this little blog.

I fell a little out of love with Rome on this trip--not entirely, but if we are having a love affair, we are at the point where I start to see flaws and am getting a little bit annoyed on a daily basis. I might say, "Let's spend a little more time apart, shall we?" in the hopes that absence will bring the magic back a little bit.

I'm not sure why this was so--possibly it had something to do with some major work issues just before I left, which caused not a little emotional drama for me, not to mention a broken shoulder blade that was still causing me some pain (although I was given the OK by the doctor to go on the trip). Ironically it was probably the most fun and busiest vacation I've ever had there. I met up with NYC Caribbean Ragazza, aka Arlene, at the Caffe Farnese, went to a wine tasting at Vinoroma, met up with friends at their home outside the city, and hung out with a friend who was in town with Pavement.

This was very much an "outside" trip. I didn't feel like going inside museums or churches, for the most part. I had a few things I wanted to see again (some of them for research on a possible book), but mostly I just wandered. And ate.

This was an entryway on the street where I stayed in Trastevere in an apartment. (My front door was covered in graffiti, which is charming in a different way.) I got to look at it for a while as I waited about an hour and a half for the guy from the rental agency to show up. The jasmine was in bloom all over Rome and it perfumed my visit.

Rigatoni all'amatriciana at the no-frills trattoria in the piazza down the street from my place, served by a slim, supremely diffident twentysomething guy whose family owns the place.

I love taking pictures of peeling posters and patchy walls. I have a Polaroid of some peeling wood in Venice that is one of my favorite photos ever.

In general the window displays in Rome pale to those in Paris, but I liked this one, which references the dominant tones of Rome--ocher and mustard. In fact I saw a man holding up paint chips to the yellow wall in a courtyard of a church.

Peeling street art.

I went to an extremely enjoyable wine tasting at Vinoroma, which you can read more about here. Unfortunately my scent-identifying abilities have degraded once again--wine just smells like wine once again. I really have to concentrate and think about it to say what the wine smells and tastes like, when I just want to get to the drinking.

More to come!

Venice in Chicago

I have often been intrigued by this Venetian-style palazzo on north Lake Shore Drive, one of a very few old mansions left on LSD. While googling for more information, I discovered that it is for sale. For just $4.4 million (marked down from $5.8 million in 2008), you could own this gem, built in 1895 by the architecturally and historically prestigious firm of Holabird & Roche.

Real estate blogs talk about the rooftop deck, but I love that romantic balcony. Of course LSD isn't exactly the Grand Canal and you'll be treated to the sounds of traffic rather than crooning gondoliere, but I love the folly of the place.

current food obsession

Castelvetrano olives--bright green and tender, the taste the very essence of olive-yness. Even better with some olive oil drizzled over them to notch up the flavor.

In other news, I have scored a room at an agriturismo (with half board, so I don't have to worry about being the only single woman eating dinner in a restaurant) in the Maremma, an area of Tuscany I have always wanted to visit. It's known more for its  natural beauty than for art and churches. So looking forward to wandering around the Maremma Park.

Sweet new Italian ride!

No, I did not buy an Alfa Romeo. But a vintage ladies' Chiorda off Craigslist is almost as good!

I have been riding around in scarf and sunglasses, liberally dispensing "Ciao"'s to passersby.

got a ticket for an aeroplane

I'm going back to Italy for the first time in five years! That is really too long to go without re-experiencing the peninsula, but that's what buying a condo will do to your budget. I'm planning on staying in Rome for about half the time to reacquaint myself with the other city that is the love of my life and see some old friends (and hopefully meet up with some expats whose blogs I read regularly), and then stay at an agriturismo somewhere, probably in Tuscany, for the rest of the time. I'm thinking about somewhere near the water, which I didn't get to as often as I would have liked on past trips. I'd love to do a return to the Cinque Terre, since the weather was so disappointingly chilly, rainy, and overcast when I went--but I think that might be impractical and frankly kinda boring. I'd also love to go to some of the less-visited cities and regions in the south, like Matera and Puglia, but this trip is definitely for revisiting old places.

The photo is a Polaroid from some gardens in Rome. During the last few months of my stay in 2002, I decided to trade the digital camera for more old-school photography to try to see details and landscapes in a different way.

the old neighborhood

Here's a view of Via Buonarroti (as in Michelangelo), the street I lived on in Rome, courtesy of Google Earth. My building was the pinky-beige one on the left, by the green car. It was small and a bit institutional-looking--the landlord rented it out furnished exclusively to expats--but more than serviceable. My room looked over a walled-in little courtyard that the bakery next door used as storage. I would occasionally be woken up by the sound of bags of flour being flung into a pile--WHUMP! WHUMP!

That greenery in the distance is Piazza Vittorio Emanuele (not to be confused with the "wedding cake" monument of the same name). Although it's surrounded by gracious 19th-century covered colonnades, when I lived there the piazza was run-down and slightly seedy. Certain days it hosted a food market, which evolved to cater to the immigrants who settled in the area as well as native Romans; it was moved to a nearby location while the piazza was renovated and cleaned up. My friends tell me it's a nicer area now--I'll have to check it out when I go back in May.

contemporary Italian art

I managed to get to the exhibit "Italics: Italian Art between Tradition and Revolution 1968–2008" at the Museum of Contemporary Art before it closed yesterday.
This was one of my favorite pieces, Mario Ceroli’s Le bandiere di tutto il mondo (Flags of the Whole World). It's made of long zinc containers filled with different colored substances--bright red, pink, green dust; charcoal; glass, etc. I didn't see the title or read about it while I was looking at it--I just enjoyed its sheer existence, like a child's paint palette magnified 1,000 percent. There were several signs warning viewers not to touch but I did spy some finger impressions on one end.




Other works that caught my attention included a series of Polaroids by Carlo Mollino and little brightly colored, oddly cheerful doodles by Vanessa Beecroft that were like a combination of animation cels and Daily Candy-like, fashiony sketches--but featuring elongated women throwing up or involved in other vaguely disturbing actions. There was also a black-lit room criss-crossed in white thread that made me feel like I was in Tron.

It was good to see some Italian art other than the ancient and Renaissance-era stuff that the country is known for, although I can't say I came away with any sort of enhanced knowledge about the scene or the country, but perhaps that's because I already know a fair bit about it. I also took my standard approach when viewing art at museums: I just look at what draws my attention and ignore what doesn't. I don't believe you have to look at every single piece of art in a museum, or even that you should. It makes art into homework. Art is not always meant to be understood--it is meant to be experienced. And if the experience of a particular work doesn't mean anything to you--that's OK.

more tales from the past: a visit to Sermoneta

The courtyard of the medieval castle in Sermoneta, Italia

Here's another entry from the home page I kept while living in Rome in 2001-2002. I used to do little trips around Lazio with my friends Roberto and Rachel once in a while--this was one such excursion.

12/3/2001
This past weekend I went to the tiny hillside village of Sermoneta, not too far south of Rome, with Roberto and Rachel for Rachel’s birthday. It was good timing for me because I’d been wanting to get away for awhile. Surprisingly my guidebook says very little about the town, but Roberto says it is quite popular with Romans for day trips.

When we got in we were starving, so we went to the first trattoria we saw, called the Black Rose. It was good food but we were there for about 45 minutes before our first courses came! I had some really great tortellone filled with porcini mushrooms and truffles, and lamb for a secondo. Rachel had tortellone filled with vegetables and ricotta, but I liked mine better.

We walked about for a bit afterward. There aren’t too many people in Sermoneta, and we couldn’t even find an ATM! It’s very hilly so we did a lot of walking up and down. For dinner we went to Il Mulino, which advertised as its specialty ‘pollo Lucrezia Borgia,’ aka chicken a la Lucrezia Borgia. Roberto asked what it was but they said it was a secret. (Lucrezia was poisoned—yikes!) [Note: I got my facts wrong here--she was rumored to poison other people.] He did order it but I’m not sure we ever figured out what the sauce was—maybe egg and something else. I was still kind of stuffed from lunch and so had homemade fettucine with ragu, and a salad. For dessert I had crepes filled with ice cream with fruit on top. Mm. The proprietor was a sweet old guy and he gave us some amaro on the house. There wasn’t much to do afterward except walk around again and look at the stars. It was really quiet! You couldn’t even hear the highway too well, surprising since it’s not exactly in the middle of nowhere, like towns in Tuscany. It was nice to listen to owls hooting and bats clicking. Except in my room I kept hearing this weird tapping noise, which I became convinced was a ghost. Well, I thought it was probably my bed or the heater, but I couldn’t quite locate the source. It woke me up around 4 or 5 and I couldn’t get back to bed. Aside from being a little freaked out by the sound, I was bothered by the fact that it wasn’t on regular beats, so I was always waiting for another tap. I thought, if this gets worse I’m going to knock on Rachel and Roberto’s door, because they had an extra bed in their room! Instead I just dug around and found some earplugs. I did still hear some even louder sounds a few times but I was determined to ignore the ghost, and so managed to fall asleep until Rachel woke me up at 10 for breakfast. I was surprised she beat me up—R and R are always saying they sleep til 12 on weekends. But she had actually woken up at 8!

We ran up to the castle for the hourly tour. It was actually pretty impressive and well preserved. The Caetani family used to own it, and after they died out in the 1980s a private foundation they started ran it. I guess at some point it was also owned by the Borgias, and Lucrezia Borgia lived there (hence the chicken). There was a hole where they used to pour actual boiling oil on invaders, a covered passageway by which the soldiers walked from one lookout point to the other if they were under attack, some pretty frescoes in the private rooms by a pupil of Pinturicchio’s, etc etc.

When we left we decided to take a detour to the neighboring (and much larger) town of Norma. This was not very interesting; indeed it was a bit decrepit and grim, looking like it had just survived the war. So we headed over to Antica Norba, the ruins of the Roman settlement. This was actually quite nice. There are really only foundations and the like left, stones scattered all about, but there were some great views to the west, all the way out to the sea. Plus there were sheep, who every time I got withing 20 feet of them skittered away en masse, cowbells (or is that sheep bells) clanging, and hanggliders up there! That looked wonderful, like flying. One guy came quite near to us, so that we could hear him whistling.

Then we were starving, so we just managed to squeak in to a restaurant for lunch. I had some great prosciutto, salami, cheese, olives, and bruschetta for an appetizer, then some good veal. Dessert was torta al limone. Quite good. There were a few families having Sunday brunch there, including one that was an 80th birthday party for nonna, who at some points looked like she was going to plop face-first into her plate. Then it was a long drive home, and R and R were kind enough to drive me all the way home, even though I said they should just drop me off at the metro stop. Those guys are the best. We were all tired, and then they had to go right to Roberto’s mom’s house for another birthday fest for Rachel! Yes, being feted is tough.

Good Living in the Napa Valley

Even Italy can get pretty cold in January, so instead I went to California's Napa Valley to celebrate my mmph-mmphth birthday. It had vineyards, cypress trees, and even a faux Tuscan castle. And, oh yes, amazing food. I think I ate my body weight. We ate out every lunch and dinner, and I have to say my digestive system handled it a lot better than I thought it would--perhaps because the food is so fresh and local.

Grits with egg, whipped goat cheese and "bacon" at Ubuntu. I just wish this hadn't come last because it was so delicious and we were kind of full at that point.


Spiced sirloin steak with trumpet mushrooms and quinoa with carrots at Ad Hoc. What does it mean when one restaurant stands out among a group of amazing restaurants? Something good.



Lunch at Bottega courtesy of my aunt and uncle. After a tough morning of wine tasting, we were momentarily dismayed by the sight of my uncle toting a bottle of Champagne and two bottles of wine--but we quickly recovered and did ourselves proud.

In an attempt to work off some of the food, we took a quick walk in the Bothe-Napa Valley State Forest. I guess in California green = winter.





There were also mud baths, massages, and a dip in an Olympic-sized pool heated by geysers. When can I go back?

Here's one of the few photos from Rome I have access to (most are locked up in an ancient laptop with a cracked screen--getting them off there has been on my to-do list for a while). This is taken from the Piazza del Campidoglio, possibly the most architecturally pleasing piazza in the world. That's the horrible Vittorio Emannuele monument on the far left (it's just behind the piazza), the extremely ancient church of Santa Maria in Aracoeli in the middle, and Palazzo Nuovo on the right. (You can also see the back of one of the statues of the Dioscuri.)

Palazzo Nuovo is one of three buildings around the square that house the Capitoline Museums, which is worth a visit if you are at all interested in ancient sculpture. They own well-known pieces like the Dying Gaul (if you duck you can see his cheesy mustache) and the Colossus of Constantine. However, I was most charmed by a room full of anonymous busts of men and women. Detached from any sort of pressure to appreciate historical and aesthetic significance, the life of a young woman with a gravity-defying hairdo seems much less remote.

new year's day

I was pretty happy with my New Year's Day brunch get-together. I gave a nod to Italian and French cuisine by making a prosciutto and goat cheese strata, Sicilian orange and fennel salad, and crepes (chocolate or lemon and sugar). The strata is assembled ahead of time, and crepes are easy. Knowing I'd have little time to cook much else thanks to work, I bought some frozen potato pancakes at Trader Joe's, which are actually really good (and so much easier than ricing and squeezing tons of potatoes!), and croissants. For drinks we had mimosas with both Champagne (well, sparkling wine) and prosecco. A friend brought some Hoppin' John so we even had black-eyed peas for good luck and prosperity. Another friend bought an absolutely amazing coffee cake filled with sweet cheese, which I am slowly, very slowly, nibbling away at. It was a good group of friends both old and new, although as always when hostessing I was sorry I didn't get to talk to people at length.

In further imitation of Italo-French culture, I am now attempting to eat like a little European bird to offset the holiday binging as well as the creeping on of poundage thanks to my desk job. My assistant in this endeavor is an iPhone app called Lose It! I'm soon off to to the Napa Valley for a weekend of wine and food, so the next couple weeks really have to be lean.

My phrase for 2010 is "faith"--not in the religious sense, but rather to have faith in myself, in other people, and that things will work out somehow (and if not entirely to my liking, to have faith that I can accept them).

waspy

An abandoned wasps' nest in a tree. Or maybe they're just sleeping 'til summer.