Whirling dervishes dance madly in the noon day sun as the wind whips
over the mountains of Campania.
One morning, on our way to the Naples airport , I screeched at Jack to pull over. He raised an eyebrow and kept on driving. Rats, how would I really get a glimpse of the thousands of windmills that peppered the mountain ridge if he didn’t pull over? That was the first time I spied the windmills that are part of the onshore wind farms that earned Italy its 2012 standing as the world’s sixth largest producer of wind power. I have no idea how wind power works but the science guys at http://science.howstuffworks.com/environmental/green-science/wind-power.htm will absolutely explain it all.
Sentries posted on the tops of mountains
Sannino soldiers gaze down on the approaching Romans.
Tall, helmets pointed to the heavens – bodies still against the azure sky.
When I first saw them, I wasn’t thinking – “Gee, how green and save – the – planet this is.” I was thinking, “Hear the sounds of the marching feet as the Roman army emerges over the crest of the hill.” Seriously, from a distance they look like advancing ramrod straight soldiers with pointed hats. Up close they are more like super giant stick figures. Up close? H’mm did she really drive up the mountain to get closer? Yes, by gum we did! Why? Because we could! So why not. OK, if the truth be told, it was a chilly, dreary day and I was going to poke out my eyes with a pen if we didn’t get in the car and do something. Anything – as long as it didn’t cost a bundle of bucks and we didn’t have to change out of comfy clothes. Anything – never give me that option. My brain tumbles and rumbles and soon bizarre suggestions spew forth like Vesuvius. Anything meant – chasing windmills. Jack, knowing divorce was eminent if he didn’t get behind the wheel of the car, started the engine and let me navigate. Navigation was something like – “NO, NO – TURN RIGHT” – when ever I saw the top of a windmill. We were so intent on getting close to the windmills that I didn’t even shriek at the switchbacks along the way. What we didn’t do was record exactly how to get to the ridge. All I remember was from Colle Sannita take SS 212 and make a right on SP 55. I was too entranced to take notes but said into my video at least 10 times – we were on SP55!
http://www.thewindpower.net/zones_en_7_campania.php keeps a database of wind farms and their operators. You tech folks might find this interesting. I don’t know how often they update it. I swear I counted more windmills than are noted. Some may have been the third or fourth phases of a farm and not yet included.
According to http://www.ieawind.org/countries/italy.html, Installation of new wind farms in Italy continued its pace in 2011. Total online grid-connected wind capacity reached 6,878 MW at the end of the year, with an increase of 1,080 MW from 2010. As usual, the largest development took place in the southern regions, particularly in Apulia, Calabria, Campania, Sardinia, and Sicily. In 2011, 590 new wind turbines were deployed in Italy and their average capacity was 1,831 kW. The total number of online wind turbines thus became 5,446, with an overall average capacity of 1,263 kW. All plants are based on land, mostly on hill or mountain sites. The 2011 production from wind farms could provisionally be put at about 10.1 TWh, which would be about 3% of total electricity demand of the Italian system.
Electricity is expensive here so I was hoping the wind farms were producing a lot more than 3%. Well, this data is from 2011 and we know that Italy in 2012 was the 6th largest producer of wind power.
Hay fields surround the windmills.
What is interesting is that the farmers are still working the land around the windmills. As we wended our way around we passed beautiful new combines, tractors and balers . I am guessing that the income from the utility companies helps keep this area green and farmed. Windmills plus farm land sure beats the housing developments plus loss of farm land that are a blight on New Jersey.
Grey day washed away by the buzz of chasing windmills.
I learned something this grey day – chasing windmills is a guaranteed cure for boredom. Listen to the sound of the wind whistling on the ridge!
I know you are staring at me. I’m the new kid. Everyone stares and whispers about the new kid. Even though I am a glorious member of the sixth decade club, whenever I am in a new place with new people I want to scrunch down and get super friendly in the corner behind Mr. Ficus. “But Midge,” pals say. “You will talk to anyone.” Yeah, but first I have to take a deep breath, say, wherever I am God isand allis well, and then give myself an actor’s objective. Damn, getting up the courage to talk takes a lot of stressful work. Work! That always works for me in a strange new situation – work. Around strangers I have to have a job – back to the actors objective – give me the antipasti to pass around and I can chat up a storm.
Lightning bolts of panic zapped around my brain. Strangers in a new town, new country, faced with tons of new people to meet and they speak a different language. How will I meet them? How will I ward off boredom? I need a job!
Before we got to Pontelandolfo, I asked our very own School Board Member (consigliere), Rosella Mancini about volunteering as “madre lingue” in the elementary school.
The bus travels up the mountain collecting kids. Parents PAY if they want the bus to stop.
Starting in “scuola materna” – pre school – English is taught in the public schools. At the lower levels, it is the classroom teachers responsibility. I thought this act of kindness/selfishness would give me something exciting to do and I’d meet a bunch of great kids. They were truly great kids – they stand when ever a teacher enters the room and say Buon Giorno. NO ONE is staring at their phone!
Here’s a quick overview of the educational system – don’t worry I’ll toss in some pictures.
Not the prettiest of buildings. Very 1950’s utilitarian.I wandered and found this on a back alley door. Yes, I reported it.Happier note – they get music and art in every grade. This is a piano keyboard class. Besides English they were studying French too.
All children must stay in school until they are 16 -“Scuola del obligo”. Gossip from the teachers is that school directors don’t accept kids failing. If a teacher fails a child, it is the teacher who is the failure. Whoa – where does that put the responsibility? How many kids just “pass”? I gotta say I taught a good number of college students that graduated from high school and couldn’t write a sentence. Guess some practices are world wide.
TA TA da dum – standardized tests are given by the Italian government during a students third level of la scuola media (students ages 11 to 14). Tests – another global initiative.
The primary school was condemned and now those students have a wing in la scuola media.
Those attending una scuola dell’infanzia/materna, ages 3 to 5, and una scuola primaria/elementare, ages 6-10 get to wear un grembiulino. The smocks are adorable.
Clean, cute and practical. Ours were blue.
The “primaria/elementare” and “media” scuole classes I visited had classes of about 15 students – I am told that is the norm.
i went to the end of year show – music, poetry, history – performed on a very small stage that had incredible art around the proscenium. That great art was covered by pictures the teachers made of fruits and vegetables – REALLY.
NOOOOO! Art Alert! Art Alert!Staples. They used staples.
Not all things are simply fabulous in Italy – the show was to start at 6:30 – it didn’t. Parents started lining up to go in at 6:00. The teachers didn’t open the bloody doors until almost 7:00 and people pushed in to get the limited seats. They need me to produce their end of year shows.
This performance was also the send off for the students going on to una scuola superiore – 5 year high school. These 14 year olds must pick a career so that they can pick what secondary school to go to. Cripes, at 14 I wanted to be something different every day – doctor, lawyer, nun, actor, cabaret star…. (Good link to understand the system – http://www.rome-explorer.com/rome-guide/italian_secondary_school.html)
Secondary School for Public Administration! Do we have one of those? I think not.Secondary School located in Pontelandolfo – Art and Design of Gold Jewelry! Sadly, since there is not easy public transportation and enrollment is low the school will be closing.
OK, back to me teaching. To arrange the volunteer commitment, Rossella and I met with the director of the district. I took one look at the head of the schools and could barely remember my memorized bio in Italian. Thank the stars for Rossella who did the commercial for me. My mind went blank. I was stifling huge guffaws – because this woman who deals with tween age boys all day had a blouse on that was cut so low her girls must have been freezing. Geeese Louise – dress for the job.
Worse than not being able to speak was not being able to listen – though Jack says I am a chronic non-listener. I thought she said, “ how do you like Casalduni?” I said something like, yes, I like Casalduni (neighboring village). What she had said was, ” would I mind teaching there too! ” Not being totally fluent got me into tight binds often. Somehow we managed to ignore that request and just focus on the children in my home town.
Day one approached. I had looked through all of English text books for the entire spectrum of grades – from ages 5 – 14. Gulp, they should know more English grammar than I was ever taught. The sweat was dripping off my brow as I created lesson plans for every grade – did I say every grade. Yes, I taught in every single classroom in the co-mingled primary and middle school. A little voice said – “teach what you know.” Kids and creative dramatics are perfect together. Whew, I should have thought of that sooner. Not bragging here – but since the classrooms are very traditionally taught and I ain’t traditional – the kids loved my classes. I started every class with one of the many name games I can pull out of that theatre trunk in my head. Of course to introduce myself, I did something silly and wondered about the gasps on my last name – Guerrera – until I heard all of their last names and heard a bunch of them say – Guerrera. Yikes, more branches on the mulberry tree to explore.
In 2007 my mug graced my brand new Italian Passport. The process to become a Cittadina Italiana took me about three years and numerous trips to the Philadelphia Consulate. It took my sister less than one year and two trips to the Newark Consulate. It took my niece (her picture is above) about 6 months. It will take my cousin about three years plus. WHAT???? Let us start at the beginning. The questions most people ask me are these: Why would you do it? What is the benefit of having dual citizenship? Is the process difficult? How much did it cost you?
Why would I do it?
Why wouldn’t I do it is more like it. In the early 1990’s I started actively researching the Guerrera Family Tree. Piece by piece, I was collecting data, adding branches and getting more and more involved with the lives of people I had never met. To get a better handle on the research, I knew that I had to go to Pontelandolfo and visit the archives of the commune. Zia Caterina, Jack and I made that journey in 1995 – another blog will tell you that whole story. We not only added numerous branches to the tree but discovered my father and Zia Caterina’s first cousins! When Zia Caterina and I had gone to Italy in the 70’s their uncles were still living – we missed an incredible opportunity then. After meeting my extended Italian family, I became even more obsessed with all things Italian. Particularly, all things related to this small village in Campania, Pontelandolfo. While we were there I bought a few copies of my grandmother’s and grandfather’s birth certificates and certificate of marriage. That was an incredibly smart thing to do since folks have told me it is difficult to retrieve those documents via mailed requests – unless you use a service like http://myitalianfamily.com.
Nonno and Nonna
A quick search on line revealed that I was indeed eligible for citizenship – an act which would bring me even closer to my roots. There was no “aha” moment or benefits lightbulb that exploded in my brain – just the deep seated need to be closer to my “i parenti,” the DNA that makes me who I am.
What is the benefit?
How American of us to want to know what the hell we get out of the deal. Like feeling closer to ones heritage isn’t enough! Well, let me think what do I get out of it? If Jack and I really do retire to Italy we are already part of the Italian community. During the Bush Jr. years, My sister and I did talk about moving quickly forward so that if the draft was reinstated and we didn’t particularly agree with the why behind the war we could get her kids out. Now, that might have been our 1960’s sensibilities kicking in, because Italy had mandatory service until January 1, 2005. The other benefit is being able to work anywhere in the European Union – a benefit that my niece is actively using. Further, I can stay in Italy or any of the Schengen Treaty countries for as long as I like – no ninety days for me! ( Of course we are only staying 90 days this trip because Jack hasn’t applied for spousal citizenship yet.) The USA State Department explains all this. http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/cis/cis_4361.html OK, I am bored with the what is the benefit idea – the benefit is IT MAKES ME HAPPY.
What is the process?
Ah, this is tricky! In the over ten years since my family has gone through this process it has changed based on who we spoke to in which consulate and new regulations. Here is the basic tenet – if one of your parents was an Italian citizen at the time of your birth – no matter where you are born – than you by blood are an Italian citizen. Yikes, my dad was born in Manville, NJ – does that disqualify me? No! My grandparents had not become American citizens until after my dad’s birth. That automatically made him an Italian citizen living abroad. Did my father know that? No! When I explored the process I explained it to him and he couldn’t believe it. He had served as a Navy pilot during WWII, had been Mayor of our home town – how could he also be an Italian citizen? Guess what – lots of you probably are eligible – here is what is currently on The Italian Embassy Website.
CITIZENSHIP BY DESCENT / DESCENT (” jure sanguinis “) And ‘the son of an Italian citizen parents (father or mother) Italian citizens. Citizenship is transmitted from parents to children regardless of generation, with the condition that none of their ancestors ever renounced the nationality.
Go to the web site to read all of the rules and regulations.
The first step is to discover when the elder of your Italian American family became a citizen. We were lucky, my Zia Caterina saved everything. Including her dad’s certificate of citizenship.
We still have the original!
Since my dad didn’t know he was an Italian citizen, he didn’t renounce it. When he found out, he was thrilled and admitted he never would have renounced it. OK, I had the blood line covered. Now what – this is the story of what I went through. Next will be my sister’s story, then my niece and finally my cousin.
Midge’s Story:
I hop over to the Italian Consulate in Philadelphia and ask for a list of the requirements for citizenship. At that time it listed things like : Birth and Death Certificates of my Grandfather, Naturalization Certificate of my Grandfather, Marriage Certificate to my Grandmother, Birth Certificate of my Grandmother,Birth Certificate of my Father, Marriage Certificate of My Parents, Birth Certificate of Midge, Marriage License and Certificate of Midge, Birth Certificate of Midge’s Husband. Easy – no brainer! When I had the time, I drove from city to city in New Jersey and New York and bought the required documents. Full of myself for accomplishing this, I waltzed into the Philadelphia Consulate without an appointment. They took me into a secret room and I waited. After about a half an hour of staring at the art, a lovely woman pulled me into an office and looked at my fat folder. She smiled an said I was on the right track but needed an apostile for each document. An apostile? Wasn’t that one of the men who travelled with Jesus? Turns out an apostile is a certificate from a state that guarantees that the documents that I just bought from a variety of towns were valid. OK, so on the way home I stop in Trenton and go to the apostile office. They explain that they can’t put an apolstile on any of the documents that I just dropped a couple of hundred dollars on because I didn’t buy them from the NJ Office of Vital Statistics. But, I stammered, the oficies of vital statistics in each town were happy to take my money. A week or so later, I go back to Trenton and buy all of the same documents. Since there were so many I had to have them processed. That took a few weeks – when I got them guess what they looked like? The same bloody pieces of paper but they originated from the NJ Office of Vital Statistics! Off to pay for the apostiles. I don’t remember what all this cost me but I think about $25 a piece of paper times two. If you order documents online there are additional fees. This is from the NJ Office of Vital Statistics:
How do I obtain a record with an Apostille Seal?You must purchase a copy of your vital record from the Office of Vital Statistics and Registry and indicate on your application that it is needed for Apostille Seal. You will receive a certified copy, which contains the original signature of the State Registrar or Assistant State Registrar. You must forward this certificate to theDepartment of Treasuryrequesting an Apostille Seal.
Since my parents were married in New York City, it took a full day to gather the documents from NYC Boro Hall and then walk a few blocks to the State of New York Office to request the apostille. During each step of the process, I purchased additional copies of every document so that my sister would have a set. When I had a completed set, I made an appointment at the Philadelphia Consulate and carried the box in. I did make a copy of my entire packet, just so that I knew what I submitted. About one and a half years later I got a letter from Pontelandolfo saying that I was a citizen. Wheeeeeeeeooooooooooo.
Sister Susan:
Susan had copies of all of the documents. When she got around to doing this, residents of Somerset County New Jersey were told to use the Consulate in Newark. We read the website and made an appointment for her – it was about four months out. We also read the new regulations – she needed a translation of every document – including the apostiles. You were only allowed to use an Italian translater from the consulate’s approved list. That cost her about $50 a document. This was all done via e-mail. We scanned the documents and sent them off. Scanned translations came back. This was great we thought – because now my cousin Maryellen can use the same translations. Susan took her two children to the appointment. We figured we would process everyone at the same time. WRONG. Susan had to be certified first. She was missing something – I can’t remember what – but I do remember pleading and begging with the consulate employee because whatever it was I knew was on file from me in Pontelandolfo. Susan made a second appointment and returned with whatever had been left on the dining room table. During the second visit, she is given a document that she is told her daughter can use to prove lineage and easily apply for citizenship. We go for dinner and a drink or three. Just a few months later Susan gets her letter of recognition.
Niece Alex:
Alex lives and goes to university in London. I suggested she use the London Consulate. She took her handy document from Newark and back up documents and headed to that office. They told her she needed to supply the same complete package that her mother had submitted and that the little certificate from Newark was nothing. UGGGGG. All of this is now done electronically, Alex asked if they couldn’t just get the same documents sent back to them? No. Another appointment please. Oh yeah, now we have to make the packet and get it to London! She brings the packet and is nervous about completion. She would like to stay and work in Europe and the EU Passport would be very helpful. Months go by and she hears nothing. She visits and e-mails the London Consulate and they say all things were e-mailed to Pontelandolfo. We asked our cousin to visit the Pontelandolfo office of Vital Statistics and check on Alex’s status. Instantly, her paperwork was done and her certification sent off.
Formal Letter
Cousin Maryellen:
Takes all of the same documents – but adds her dad’s information – translated and in a cute folder to her appointment at the Newark Consulate. There, she doesn’t get past the triage dude. You see, my grandfather’s birth certificate from Italy says Francesco Guerrera but his citizenship papers say Frank Guerrera – how do we know it is the same person? This name change – a common occurrence – happened with her father’s documents and our grandmothers. They told her nothing could be processed until she got the documents certified as belonging to the same person. I was with her and argued up a storm, explaining that two of us had already used the exact same documents and gotten citizenship. Further, all of the documents were already on file in Pontelandolfo. He shrugged. We left and Maryellen hasn’t moved the process forward. So lessons learned. Double check everything. Read all new regulations. If you can, have a local relative in Italy lobby for you! What did it cost me? Do we count the trip to Italy to buy the birth and marriage certificates? I’d say if you include travel and all the mistakes I made it cost me about $1,000. It cost my sister about the same because it was $50 a document for translation plus the cost of the original documents and apostile.
Yikes, these Apple products are cool. I had no idea how to make a video blog of myself talking about Pontelandolfo. Then I remembered, I had a Mac Air Book – or is that a MacBook Air – and I guessed there would be a way that was so easy a kid could do it. So I called over a 5 year old Italian kid – who couldn’t read the English directions but pointed the screen of the lap top at me and said “Parli”. So I did. Let me know what you think of the Video Blog idea. As an aging theater professional, it is easy to talk and talk and talk….
Yeah, it is officially summer in Pontelandolfo! Yesterday, June 13th, was the festa for San Antonio di Padova – the annual kick off of the summer season. This saint merits a two pronged celebration – check out the poster – “Programma Religiouso” and Programma Civile”. Over two days, San Antonio was given three masses, a procession with a band and his statue was carried through out the town! The not so religious program was a great cover band set up in the piazza that played the canon of Italian rock and traditional folk frenzy music.
Jack and I made it to town in time to see the procession come down a hill from the church. The brass band led the way, followed by the little children in white robes and a group of men carrying the massive stature. There were even more folks processing than I had seen for Corpus Domini. We decided to sit at a bar and watch the actiity.
The three bar’s in the piazza had set up outside service bars, food stations and extra tables. Think the Jersey Shore! Our favorite, Bar Elimar, sported wicker couches and coffee tables. Two of the bars had set up “kebab” stations – we would call them gyro stations. Big hunks of mystery meat on a gyro skewer turning slowly and oozing a great scent.
My favorite place to sit, stare and sip.
We plopped on the comfy couches at Bar Elimar, ordered a vino bianco and a prosecco, and quietly watched the procession wend its way out of the square. When our drinks arrived, we were pleasantly surprised to also get great little plates of olives, mini mini sandwiches and little fried puff pastries. After two drinks each and the whopping 5 Euro bill ($6.60), we carefully walked up the hill towards the medieval tower. We were headed for Il Castello, a great seafood and pizza restaurant.
The band wasn’t starting for another hour and the owners of Il Castello, Salvatore and Lidia, always treat us like family. We knew that munching on Salvatore’s wood oven pizza and chatting up a storm in both Italian and English with Lidia would be a great way to pass the time. We ate our pizza, drank our wine and then felt the drums begin to fill the square. It was time to carefully pick our way over the cobblestones down the steep hill to the piazza. How do young women wear heels on cobblestones? I am tripping my way down in flats. Ooops – #$%#%%.
Since it was a bit chilly – the wind was whipping over the mountain – there weren’t as many people out for the nine o’clock “spettacolo” as I’ve seen at past musical events. Those of us who did brave the chill, with grappa and caffè in hand, danced in place, swayed and sang along. Ba ba boom – and then the fireworks kicked in. Jack and I quickly went to the promenade that overlooks a valley and watched the show. Something really bothered me – no one said “Ahhhhh” or “Ohhhhh”. I tried to get the crowd to ooo and ahh but Jack put his hand on my mouth. I guess I was embarrassing him.
When we lived in Asbury Park and were the insane proprietors of Caffè e Dolce, the money losing bistro from hell, Memorial Day kicked off the summer season. In the good old days, there would be a concert on the beach and thousands of kids would squish together on the sand and hopefully buy stuff from all of us starving beach front vendors. The day after the Memorial Day event the beach was full of trash. The boardwalk was full of trash. The streets were full of trash. You will never guess what I didn’t see walking into town today – TRASH! Last night, there was a concert, dancing in the streets, fireworks and folks sitting all around the piazza. I found one soda can under a tree and a couple of paper towels. H’mmm che cosa???
I must tell you, until yesterday, I was freezing my proverbial ass off (OK, I wish it would freeze off) but you get the idea. May was incredibly cold. I had a visiting nephew pack a pair of sweat pants for me and bring them to not so sunny in May Italy. Today – the day after we celebrated San Antonio, I walked down the hill to Bar Elimar for my morning cappuccino and it was hot. Not a little warm, not maybe a great day, but honest to heaven summer hot – and it was only 8:30 AM! That San Antonio is an incredibly powerful guy!
Out of the frying pan into my stomach. Skip the plate!
This is the beginning of the most exciting part of my living in Italy. Learning how to cook not like an Italian American but like a Pontelandolfese. Today, I am sitting next to the gorgeous, multi-lingual, brilliant Annarita Mancini and she is going to unearth the secret of the incredible ravioli con zucca. We decided that this is not a cook book blog but a “watch your nonna” and “listen to your nonna” blog. Everything is a pinch of this and a handful of that. So just leap into the conversation and add your nonna’s touches too. Sit back, think foodie thoughts and follow along.
Annarita really did shoot me dirty looks!
For you lovers of language we will post the first recipe but not a recipe in Italian ably written by Annarita and then in English poorly written by me.
Look in the back of the cupboard – every italian American has one of these tucked away!
Facilissimo preparare i ravioli! Un uovo per 100 grammi di farina…io e mamma abbiamo dovuto usare 9 uova!!! (That means she fed a ton of people and added more flour too.) ok…unire le uova, la farina e un pò di olio, mescolare fino a rendere l’impasto omogeneo. (“The flour is asking you for more eggs” says Carmela – “that is how you know how much.” How funky granola woo-woo is this! I love it! It is more about look, touch – or as Carmela says “your relationship with the food) Sorry for interrupting – what kind of look are you shooting me – I said I was sorry.
Boil baby boil. I’m hungry.
Creare delle sfoglie usando la macchinetta per la pasta. Le lasciamo riposare cospargendole con un pò di farina…nel frattempo prepariamo la zucca per il ripieno dei ravioli…cuocere la zucca con olio,aglio e sale, quando é cotta unire le noci tritate, lo speck a pezzetti e una manciata di formaggio grattuggiato. Con l’aiuto del “miracoloso” attrezzo per preparare i ravioli il gioco é fatto. Mettiamo una prima sfoglia di pasta sull’attrezzo,poi aggiungiamo un pó di ripieno negli appositi spazi,copriamo con una seconda sfoglia, passiamo il matterello sulle sfoglie e i ravioli sono pronti. Passiamo alla cottura…cuocere i ravioli in acqua bollente per meno di 5 minuti. (Come dice mamma:” il tempo che salgono!”)
See she is doing it again – she just knows when it is done! OK, OK – back to Annarita – Per condirli abbiamo usato gli stessi ingredienti del ripieno: zucca, noci, speck e formaggio…basta farli saltare in padella per 2 minuti e il risultato sará delizioso!!!!
According to Annarita making ravioli is easy! She forgot to tell you that Zia Giuseppina first had to go to the chicken coop and get the eggs. OK, now that we have eggs and flour here we go. They use one egg for about 100 grammi of flour – that is about 4 ounces. You have to go by touch here. Not too liquid and not to dry. If it needs more flour – add some. So for twelve people they used nine eggs and about two pounds of flour – Did we really eat all those ravioli???
Blend the eggs and flour together until you have a nice smooth ball of dough. Then break it into handfull sizes, flatten it and send it through the pasta machine. After you made the sheets of dough, set them on the counter on a little flour and let them rest.
Meanwhile, you got some strong dude to cut into the fresh pumpkin and peel it – go find a cute guy at the local caffé. Slice the pumpkin into tiny thin slices. Put some great olive oil in a frying pan with garlic and let that start to cook. Add the pumpkin and saute all together. Add salt to taste. (Anyone have another word besides “add”?) When the pumpkin is cooked add thinly sliced walnuts, grated parmesan and speck.(Unlike other prosciutti, speck is deboned before curing and made in northern Italy.)
Anybody sell Tupperware? I want one of these.
Place a sheet of pasta on the – I could not believe this- TUPPERWARE ravioli form. Poke the dough into the form and put about a spoon full of filling in each cavity. Cover with a second sheet of pasta and pass a rolling pin over it. The ravioli form has ridges that will cut the pieces into the perfect shape. Flip the form over and – shazaam – you have ravioli. Now, you all know how to toss ravioli into boiling salted water and cook it until it floats to the top.
What you didn’t know was the segreto – secret – use the same filling for the “condimento” – non sauce. They fried up extra pumpkin, garlic and speck. Then tossed in the nuts and some grated parmesan – which is made from local cheese and the cooked ravioli and served it up with fresh parsley – add extra parmesan to taste. There you have it – “to die for” ravioli.
Nonna's Mulberry Tree 