Jack was turning 70 – that meant I had to throw a humongous bash. The problem is I had thrown Jackstock when he turned 60 and folks are still gazing numbly out from tents in our back yard. How could I top three nights of music and mayhem? Hmm, what’s a girl to do when she is in Italy and without the resources of her home team? 1. Make sure her BFF, Janet, is in Italy in time for the party. 2. Sit in the piazza, stare up the the hills and come up with a gimmick. While staring at the grape vines that range up and down the mountain it hit me – take over a winery – it would be a blast from the past.
My first call was to Tony at our favorite winery, Terra Di Briganti. (Remember the story I did a few months back – http://wp.me/p3rc2m-ji) Tony was a tiger and roared out ideas – starting with come on over and let’s pick out the wine.
Tony De Cicco is passionate about eating and drinking local!
Tony, his dad and his brother were pouring us a glass of Pidirosso. Then a glass of Aglianico. How about a Falanghina. Wait did you taste? We tasted and knew that we would have a cocktail hour with a lovely sparkling – well it doesn’t matter just know it is all good.
Then came the menu. Tony works with a chef – Gennaro – who by day is a policman! But Gennaro is a foodie who relishes the dishes of historic Casalduni. This is what we ate: Quenelle di baccalà, Risotto al’aglianico e salsiccia profumato al rosmarino, controfiletto di pelatella casertana al Martummè con papacelle al’agro, Zuccotto con ricotta di pecora e ciccolato! Notice that the Italian sings with the dialect of Casalduni.
Let’s just go to the video and you can see Jack’s 70th birthday at Terra di Briganti! Click on the link and be sure to sing “tante auguri a jack!”
Everyday it seems there is a mysterious bag, basket or pile of zucchini (zucchine in Italian) by my door. These things must multiply like….. Wait – you already heard this! Remember recipe 1!
Thank you subscriber Karen T. for reminding me about the vegetarian lasagna of my earlier life. Le zucchine, grilled, becomes the best lasagna noodle. I don’t have a griddle – only a big frying pan. First step slice the zucchine long ways – of course I ignore all the safety cutting rules I learned in 4-H and to make the thin slice pull that knife right towards my chest – don’t do that.
Tossed some of our heavenly local EVOO in the frying pan and after what felt like I had been standing on my feet for hours – enough were done.
Since the oil was still hot I sliced up due melanzane – egg plant – and did those too. Note that I did them after I did the zucchine. Jack lumps eggplant with tofu as the two things that give him the food creeps. God forbid una melanzana touch the zucchine!
For filling I dumped 500 grams of ricotta in a bowl, tossed in a egg, a bunch of grated parmesan, splash of pepper, fresh basil and oregano. Stirred it up and called it art.
Stupidly, I had oiled my baking dish, then looked at the zucchine which had been essentially slathered in oil, grabbed a paper towel and wiped out the dish. Next, I laid down a layer of zucchine and with panache glopped and spread the ricotta mixture.
My burnt fingers reminded me that I had just roasted red peppers and had an ah ha moment.
I added a layer of red pepper for color. OK, time for a layer of mozzarella – shit we don’t have any. Some days you win and some days you just have fun.
Creative a pinch of this and dash of that cooks use what they have. I had great local cheese – cows milk integrated with hot peppers.
Remembering that it melted well on a panino, I grated it up. Tossed it on top of the red peppers and then added a second layer of zucchine slices.
Followed that with the requisite ricotta mixture and thought – I need another red layer to artistically balance the red peppers. Hey, we bought super Spanish salame at the salumeria – I don’t think it was from Spain but they call it Spanish. The salame is crusted in black pepper. OK, so this isn’t a vegetarian dish – but you don’t have to use salame.
A layer of that, more ricotta, grated cheese and then – shit – I don’t have enough zucchine for a complete top layer. How could that be, I have bushels of zucchine? Oh, yeah, I got tired of standing by the frying pan.
Thinking quickly, I eyed the eggplant, if I put some in the middle and cut Jack’s slice from the edge would he know that his precious zucchine might have egg plant kooties? I just won’t mention it and use tons of grated cheese on top to disguise the critters.
Everyday it seems there is a mysterious bag, basket or pile of zucchini by my door. These things must multiply like rabbits. Last year, it seemed like I was chomping down on zucchini blossoms daily. Bundles of fully formed zucchini didn’t appear because we were all to busy frying up the flowers – remember this post: Fried Squash Blossoms
This year, I didn’t get invited to imbibe as much in my favorite fried flower. Now I know why. People let the blossoms grow into long green meaty vegetables. But what is a woman to do with them? I can’t say no thank you – half the time I don’t know where they come from and the other half – well it would just be rude. I remember making tons of zucchini bread in Flagtown but we’re in Italy – so it is time to start finding out what the elders do.
Zia Paulina taught me how do make a simple zucchini topping for pasta. Actually, she tortured me with a little knife by insisting that I cut paper thin zucchini slices without using a cutting board, mandoline slicer or food processor. None of my slices were thin enough – come carta – like paper! When I finally got the thinness just right she was pleased. Then I watched her dump some olive oil in a frying pan, sauté the zucchini slices and toss them with pasta and a healthy dose of parmigiana. Prima piatta was finished.
I decided to see if anyone else tossed zucchini with pasta – a quick web search found lots of recipes. Being an independent type, I ignored all the advice and just followed my instinct – the pinch of this, a handful and there you go style of cooking. The first step was to create the paper thin slices that really worked in Zia Paulina’s dish.
Note – I slice towards my thumb! How dumb but it works.
My smart ass husband watched me get closer and closer to lopping off a finger and he decided to show me how to get those paper thin slices. First he took out the potato peeler and peeled the skin off one cucumber. Then he cut it in half and started making short thin slices with the peeler.
Master chef makes quick work of the zucchini – but where is the cute green? Oh, next to the cutting board.
Jack’s system would absolutely work. But I wanted the zucchini – which I know had absolutely no yucky chemical crap on them – to have that cute green trim. White zucchini against white pasta couldn’t look very appealing. So I finished up the rest using the potato peeler on unpeeled zucchini.
Cripes, they didn’t teach me this in 4-H. What a cool use of a peeler.
The actual cooking of the dish was much simpler. I sliced up some onions and a red pepper. Why the red pepper? Because I had it and I liked the color – back to white pasta and white onions and white zucchini – you get the idea. The olive oil that we have here is literally from the trees in our yard and pressed locally. It is heaven on the tongue all by itself. It really helps to use good olive oil for dishes like these. While the water for the pasta was getting up to boil, I quickly sautéed the onions and peppers.
What a beautiful red color! They do not sell green bell peppers here – because red means ripe!
Salt, pepper, a touch of garlic powder – I noticed that none of my Italian relatives cook with onions and garlic in the same dish. Loving garlic anyway I can get it, I tossed in the garlic powder. When I added the zucchini, I happened to look out the window at the basil growing madly and thought – why not. The basil added at the end gave the dish more color and a little zing. Here is the final product – I added grated cheese to the dishes before I tossed them. Buon appetito!
When my nonna told stories about life in Pontelandolfo she often mentioned the fountains. There is a massive one in the main piazza but there are others scattered among the hills. Some of these fountains date back to Roman times. These fountains were a hub for gossip, doing laundry, getting a quick drink on a hot day and gathering water to drink, cook with and wash in. For generations, mountain spring water has run through ancient pipes and spurted out into jugs that were carried home.
The fountains still exist – but there is a new kid in town! This year when we drove into the center of Pontelandolfo we noticed this big stainless steel box – Acquaself – and a bunch of people hanging around with plastic bottles. Holy smokes – they are getting water! It costs only €.05 a liter for spring water – sparkling or plain. Oh no, I thought, yet another rural ritual blown out of the water.
Years ago, Jack joined Mario Mancini and went up into the mountains to one of five or six ancient fountains. Mario, a foodie and mountain gatherer, knew where to take his bottles to get the best tasting water. They drove miles away from the village center and what did they find – other men filing bottles. Jack was flabbergasted when one of the men turned to him and said in English – where are you from – “New Jersey” – “Me too – Livingston”! That is the magic that happens around the fountain.
The Pontelandolfo main fountain has been a meeting place, photo op and life blood of the community. In the summer kids fill water balloons from the constantly flowing spring water. When that happens I run in the other direction – cross fire can be pretty wet. Can Acauself – a stainless steel box – really replace all that? Interesting question. I’ve gone for our water – I mean .05 for a litter of sparkling water – and chatted with folks who were filling their bottles. Maybe the conversation will continue at the box but I can’t see anyone doing their laundry. The talented Annalaura Iacovella will explain how Acquaself works – so those of you who speak Italian can test your skills – those of you who don’t can read the titles. Happy mineral water to you.
A few nights ago the family phone tree clicked into high gear. We got a call telling us there would be a evening of theater at this incredible winery – Terra di Briganti in near by Casalduni. How could we not go. We love theater and we love all of the organic wines that we have tasted from Terra di Briganti. To get a feel for the space check out their website – http://www.terradibriganti.it/
Tony De Cicco is passionate about eating and drinking local!
Terra di Briganti
Società Agricola s.a.s.
Contrada Tacceto. 6 Casalduni (BN)
We met the vinyard’s owner, Tony De Cicco, last year and were blown away by his passion for the land, the heritage of the area and sharing the pure goodness that grows in Casalduni. Terra di Briganti deserves its own blog post, but I will save that for another day and talk about theatre as a marketing tool.
Chairs were set up on a hill above the rows and rows of grape vines and thousands of olive trees. It was a beautiful night and the audience was packed with folks of all ages. I’m always amazed at how little tykes are brought to dinner, events, festas – everything that an adult would do in the evening the kids do. Baby sitters need not apply – kids are introduced to all manners of culture at a young age.
The moment the four actors entered they captured and kept everyone’s attention. What really was amazing for me was that I actually understood them! The “spettacolo” was in Italian and the local dialect but the actors articulation was so incredible that I was able to not only capture the essence of the work but understood the dialogue! It truly was said “trippingly on the tongue.”
But what was the play about – you ask. Olive oil! Who knew that you could work an entire piece about the beauty, taste and uses of olive oil! I’m wondering if the local agriculture and tourism council underwrote a piece of the program. The play could absolutely be used to help sell local artiginal oils. It opened with a wee bit of the history of olive oil and moved into a tasting – one actor in a jacket being the “tastee”. A personal aside – how come I feel like I know the actor in the jacket? Anybody else recognize him or did I just bump into one night in a Manhattan bar? I never got his name.
Who is the guy in the Jacket? Is that my former student Jonathan in the cap? Was I just lonely for people I knew?
Through comedy and music the company stressed that local oils taste best because they are made with the olives of one area. We learned that many oils that are marked “Made in Italy” are simply pressed here and shipped to places like the USA. The olives used are a big mystery and could come from Spain, Greece, Turkey….. You want oil that is grown and pressed in Italy. That means – when you can go to the source – buy your oil or order directly from the source. If you can’t buy from a vendor you trust.
We were all howling at the varied uses of olive oil. It only take three (3) drops in blessed water to cure the mal’ochio – evil eye.
The local strega will cure you of anything.
Other uses of the precious oil? H’mm any of these guys could have given me the massage they were lampooning. Open that stuck lock – olive oil. Fix the crud in your hair – olive oil. The music really opened up my heart and hunger to pane con olio d’olive. The singer lovingly – I mean I was wanting some loving – sang a ballad to olive oil on bread. Be still my heart.
This actor was able to make bread sexy.
Foodies and non-foodies were all laughing, engaged and engrossed in the variety of ways to eat bread and olive oil – my favorite was with tomatoes. Again – how could four actors and a playwright turn olive oil into both an educational and entertaining evening?! I want to meet the playwright!
The talented quartet was from Solot Compagnia Stabile di Benevento. It is a theater school and agency. I wonder if these men are also on the faculty. it would be great for the students if they were.
As we left the playing area to have some wine we passed Tony’s display of products. Terra di Briganti has expanded their offerings to include their own olive oil – but you guessed that right? We can’t wait to try some. We left happy and with 6 bottles of Tony’s fabulous sulfite free organic Falanghina. If you are ever in the area or want to buy his products wholesale just visit his web-site.
Fava beans are sprouting in everyone’s gardens! Yea, these protein filled little fellows make a yummy dinner. Last year, when the fava beans kept gracing my doorway, it was the first time that I had ever seen a fresh one. Well, maybe I did when nonna was alive and had the garden the size of a campo di calcio (soccer field) – but I don’t remember.
Pods are really green giants!
Seriously, this is a question that merits exploration. How many bags of fava beans are there in Pontelandolfo? When people pop in after pranza for caffè they usually bring something to share – like what ever is growing in the garden or was baked that morning. Now me, I like the “what was baked” this morning – no fuss, no muss, just yummy delight. My neighbor, Zia Vittoria, has an incredible garden. It is chock full of every vegetable you could possibly imagine – including fava beans.
Bursting with protein the pods just wait to be picked, gifted and gifted again.
Yet, as other women pop in to visit Zia Vittoria, so do giant bags of fava beans. H’mm when women visited these women they too brought fava beans. One day it hit me. What if there was really only a finite number of bags of fava beans and in any given span of two days the same 15 bags got re-gifted from house to house.
The bags stop here! Well, when a bag appears on my door step I don’t re-gift it. I say “guess whose coming to dinner.” Last year Mr. Fava came often. The top picture is of my first bag of this season. I pulled out the colander, a knife and a bag for the compost pile. The sky was blue and I cheerily began popping beans out of the pod.
Eat local and touch your food first.
So there I am shelling beans and wondering how I was going to cook them when my nipote (Italian for any kid in your family that you are related to and older than) popped by, reached into the bag, ripped open the pod and tossed the beans in his mouth. RAW! Who knew! I was forced to try it – I mean I’ll taste just about anything. The bean was sweetly good and obviously picked this morning. I discovered that the day they are picked they are deleeeeesh as a salad – tossed with tuna or just a few slices of onion or whatever you can imagine. That is also an abundantly easy lunch or dinner.
If you can find the “zipper” these are pretty easy to open. Or stick the tip of the knife in the top and give it a slice. Then pop the beans into a bucket – just like a carnival.
I kept at the de-podding for a while. My brain taking journeys back to the early seventies when with my long hair braided, I shelled beans, baked bread, grew sprouts and didn’t inhale. It seems to me that it used to be fun. This ain’t fun but it is worthwhile.
How many more are there? And why do so many giant beans yield one little bean dish?
One of the things I remembered while I was mindlessly popping beans, was an article in the New York Times that I read last year. A snotty assed food writer had gone to Rome. ordered fava beans in a restaurant and was appalled that they weren’t peeled! I had no idea what the hell Miss little anal retentive was talking about. In all the homes I’ve visited for pranza, all the fava bean stew, soup, frittata I’ve eaten, no one peeled off the outer shell. I was taught to par- boil the beans before creating the dish. Apparently, after this par-boiling part you can take off the outer shell. Hell lady, I just spent an hour popping pods and now you want me to spend two hours popping par-boiled beans?
It looks like a nursery of wee ones nestled on a flannel bed.
I caved and decided to try it. After boiling the beans and dumping them in the ever faithful colander, I burnt my fingers trying to pop them out of their little shells. What? Wait till they cool? What a thought! Ten minutes is the maximum of waiting time I give anything. I popped a few and tasted them. Damn, it did make a taste difference. They tasted sweeter and less meaty than they do with the shells on. I looked at the bowl of about a pazillion beans and I looked at Jack. He gave me the “are you crazy” look – no one here takes the shells off. When in Rome……
Without skinning the par-boiled beans, I made a simple recipe. First I sautéd a couple of large onions in local olive oil, toss in cubes of pancetta and let that all get caramelized and crispy. I always buy un etto of cubed pancetta – 100 grams – so that is probably what I used. H’mm, from all the veggie tops and pieces I had languishing around, I made vegetable broth yesterday. I tossed some broth in the pan, added the beans, a dollop of red wine – this is Italy – and let it simmer. That and crusty bread made a perfect “cena.”
Hemingway had Soppy Joe’s Bar in Key West. F. Scott Fitzgerald had the Ritz Bar in Paris. Dylan Thomas had the White Horse Inn in Manhattan’s West Village, I have Bar Elimar in Pontelandolfo, Italy.
Some folks work at Staryucks. I prefer the joint that makes the 90 cent real cappuccino.
Hey, reality check – I know I am not in the same league as those major writing players but I am willing to learn from them. The first lesson – find a home away from home that will jump start your creative juices. Or in my case, provide me with a tribe. Some folks can work alone – I need the constant buzz of other folks around me. They don’t even have to talk to me – just be there.
Sure I could sit at my desk, stare out the window at incredible mountains and maybe even pretend to write while I wallow in self pity and loneliness. Or I could walk down the mountain to Bar Elimar – today I drove- have an incredible cappuccino, whip out my Macbook Air or iPad mini, stare at cool stuff and write about the people places and things I see. A win win.
The first thing I see is the cool art Marilina has drawn on my cappuccino foam. Yes, that is blood orange juice.
Some days, when my 6th decade body is dragging, I swear I steal an infusion of energy from the bar’s owners, Marilina Mazzamauro and Elio Di Muraglia. This duo works from dawn until 4:30 the next morning. Granted they do take shifts and it is a wee bit slower life in the winter but come warm nights the place is jumping. ( Did you figure out that Bar Elimar is the cute combining of the couple’s names?)
Most mornings, Marilina makes me that double, taking care to paint a flower, treble clef or fluid design in chocolate on the top of the steaming milky foam. That art as part of my daily life is all I need to get inspired to slap my fingers on the keys.
The treble clef is my favorite. Music in the morning!Marilina Mazzamauro, the artiste of cappuccino. Notice her writer’s T-shirt! I just did!
Bar Elimar is about four years old and a fixture of piazza life. Located on Piazza Roma in Pontelandolfo (BN) it is often filled with pensioners shouting and slapping down cards in frenetic games. Hey – didn’t I write about them? Yikes, I do steal stories from the bar.
Outside on warm days, the comfortable whicker couches, umbrellas and tables attract all from tweens to adults.
What I like about the place, besides the morning coffee art, is that everyone feels welcome and the place is spotless. I always feel secure enough to leave my MacBook Air on the table inside and go to the bathroom – ain’t no one going to steal my stuff with Marilina behind the counter. Some days, my new friend Rocco – he’s about 8 years old – will plop next to me and pummel me with questions. He also likes playing with my iPad – h’mm maybe that’s the attraction. It is that feeling of inclusion – being part of the community that really resonates with me.
An afternoon visit by my nephew Nick Losardo – the $.80 prosecco was mine.
Bar Elimar has music often during the summer. Marilina, how can you work until 4 a m and open at 7:30? Children and adults – including this crazy American – sit around, order a drink or thee under the moon and sway to the music. My question is after they pay the bands, rent the tables, rent the stage and hire the waitstaff do they make any money. Some times I think that the good life of the village,is more important to the village merchants than the bottom line. Could that be true?
Since I started back to my writers room, all the projects that I played with while in New Jersey have been percolating in my brain and my keyboard. The work may not make me a star but writing for a few hours at Bar Elimar sure makes me feel like one.
The title grab your dirty little minds? Sorry Charlies this is a story about – well not what you think.
Traveling is always a tiresome adventure. Though I am never sure why sitting in a plane for 7 hours; then racing through terminals for a connecting flight; then sitting on the tarmac longer than the next 45 minute leg of the journey; then waiting because the baggage didn’t show up; then cramming in a small car with luggage piled on top of me should be tiring. But hey it is.
So what is the first thing I do to decompress? Here’s a hint, I learned this from my father. Those who know me, know that the first place to go to decompress and get rejuvenated is the local watering hole. Even better is to go to the local watering hole with a local.
Our ace translator, information maven and all around great pal, Annarita Mancini, accompanied us to Bar Mixed Fantasy. Giuseppe, “Peppe”, Natale and his wife Antonella Lombardi are the owners of this local hot spot. Open from morning till – well morning, Bar Mixed Fantasy is one of the bars that locals use as a home away from home. Pontelandolfo has three bars and it seems like folks rotate between them but also have their favorite. Annarita tells us that young adults meet at Bar Mixed Fantasy before going out to dinner and discos. They often say they are just meeting for one drink but end up staying for a couple of hours. Why? Peppe and Antonella have great personalities and the thirty-somethings feel like they are hanging out with a neighbor – oh, they are. Another youngun told me, ” Peppe acts like one our friends and treats us like family.”
We ordered our beverages of choice – no caffè for this crew – and sat in the bar’s back room. (When I was but a wee thing, I remember sitting in the back room of Farley’s Tavern in Flagtown. Now back rooms are as extinct as dinosaurs.)
Back Rooms are where deals are made and secrets are shared.
Bar Mixed Fantasy has a large covered outdoor space, a tiny two table bar area and good sized back room. Customers sidle up to the bar and order. You can stand and slug back your coffee or take it to a table. Peppe and his crew will also carry your stuff to a table for you. Remember, there is no tipping here. We’ve left 50 centesimi on the bar only to have someone race it back to our table. I gotta say that is a hard lesson to learn. We often start to tip and have a relative slap our hands and toss our money back at us.
H’mmm an Italian beverage in an Italian bar. Heaven! Peppe logged his wi-fi magic code into my iPad, we kicked back, checked e-mail and forgot about nasty TSA dudes, lost luggage and well just about everything. Papà was right – head to Farley’s Tavern – I mean the local watering hole.
The back room even helps us village newbies learn more about our heritage.
This local joint is not just the requisite caffè/bar. Karaoke nights bring in crowds to the comfortable back room – which also serves as a rosticceria/spaghetteria. Antonella takes reservations for lunches “fatto in casa.” Spaghetteria e cucina con piatti tipici locali. Think having lunch at your sister’s – if your sister was a great cook. Alina Natale, Antonella’s daughter, when she is not dancing helps out. Alina dances with the local folklorico company and studies classical dance. This trip a visit Antonella’s spaghetteria is on my hot to do list.
Become their friend on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/giuseppepaparazzo/
Suddenly shouts fill the air. Shit why are folks screaming? Oh yeah, a bunch of guys are sitting around outside playing cards. Playing cards is a very vocal sport.
After kicking around a ball – calcio is in their blood- little kids showed up for gelato. Francesco Natale, the mini Peppe, was one of them. This cute fellow has a huge smile and incredible larger than life personality. He can often be found playing calcio with the other village kids or sitting at a table playing scopa. Bar Mixed Fantasy appeals to patrons of all ages.
Last summer my extended family spent more than a few afternoons on the Bar Mixed Fantasy patio – only chatting of course.
What did I have? Campari Soda! Senza ghiaccio – neat. Ah, I feel my blood flowing already.
Nonna's Mulberry Tree 