Tag: Pontelandolfo

Christmas Menu – Franco Perugini’s Savory Porchetta

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Food - Eating In and Out!

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Perugini Franco Macelleria – A Yummy Place to Shop

Hey Babbo Natale – Listen up La Befana – All I want for Christmas is…..

My God, my God, I kept repeating as I slowly slid more into my mouth.  Every part of my being was tingling with the sensation.  I groaned and stared at the ceiling.  Everyone in the macelleria looked at me like I was crazy, had sprouted a second head and would soon be banished to hell.  Nicla, whispered to her father the butcher,  Lei ha detto, “il mio dio.”

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Franco Perugini – Master of Porchetta

This incredible taste bud experience was literally the best one I had during the frenetic August Festa di San Donato.  San Donato had blessed me by sending me into Perugini Franco Macelleria and introducing  my taste buds to this heavenly porchetta made in Pontelandolfo (BN).   Now, as I think about Christmas dinner, I don’t lust for goose, I don’t lust for beef, I want porchetta!!!!  Oh, you’re wondering, what the heck is porchetta?

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No I Never Bought the Whole One!  I Wish I Did.

It is a boneless loin of pork that has been butterflied – cut in half so it opens like a book – filled with a herb mixture, wrapped in pork belly – skin side out and meat side seasoned- rolled like a log and tied with string.  I think Franco also seasons the outside.  It is roasted at a high heat and the outside gets crispy while the inside is tender and flavorful.  (Most of what I have tasted at festas and in bars is not.) When it is sliced you see ring inside ring of good tastes.

According to Wkipedia –

 Porchetta has been selected by the Italian Ministero delle Politiche Agricole, Alimentari e Forestali as a prodotto agroalimentare tradizionale(“traditional agricultural-alimentary product”, one of a list of traditional Italian foods held to have cultural relevance).

Now that I have tasted the porchetta made by the Perugini family, I can understand why it is honored as a cultural tradition.  Franco tells me that folks buy it from him and he vacuum packs it to take back to America.  Napolitans, who have weekend houses here, buy it to take back to Naples.  Next time I have a party in Pontelandolfo, I intend to buy one, show it to my guests and not share.

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Nicla Perugini proudly follows in her Dad’s footsteps making incredible pork products.

After discovering this family’s porchetta and sausages, I must admit we ate them often.  The porchetta was great reheated in a covered skillet with barely any water covering the bottom.  We also ate it room temperature on wonderful crusty bread.  The sausages – particularly the hot ones – could be found on our table regularly.

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Next time you are in Italy, I challenge you to try the best porchetta anywhere.  Stop by Perugini Franco Macelleria Moderna,  Via Nazionale Sud, Pontelandolfo (BN).  I wish they had a web site and shipped to to the USA.  If they did, I know what we would be having for Christmas Dinner.

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Cozy Entrance Features Produce

Next year before we head back to the states, I’m getting some vacuum packed to go – a lot of it!

Buon Natale and enjoy whatever you decide to make for Christmas dinner!

PS – send a letter to Babbo Natale – http://www.babbo-natale.it

Have You Missed Me?

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

OMG – I flew back to the USA one month ago and went AWOL! Not really, I just got off the plane, leaped into the fray and went into culture shock. Let’s turn back the clock….

Restored Stone Italian Home
Arrivederci Pontelandolfo.

Leaving Pontelandolfo is always emotional for me.  I get a little teary eyed as I put the boxes in the storage room.  Life there is  – well – just good for me.  With our suitcases stacked on the terrace, we stuck our thumbs out and hooked a ride with the Sindaco of Casalduni and two of the consigliere. They were headed to Naples for a regional meeting on the windmills. (To remind yourselves why I hate them read – http://wp.me/p3rc2m-pp.)

These bright young men, loaded with data that defines the negative impact windmills have on their town and the towns around them, were preparing for battle.  Riding with them I felt like the fly on the wall as they revisited the travesty that is the green mandate and tweaked their presentation.  At Capodichino they pulled over, yanked our overstuffed bags out of the trunk and sped off to lend their voices to the cause.

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I pulled out my Italian passport at the Alitalia desk and attempted to check in.  Six Months ago, I entered the country on an Italian passport and figured I should let them know I was leaving.  With her heavily shadowed eyes,  the counter attendant looked at me sternly  and snarled where is your visa. Visa. Shit, I wasn’t the clandestino. She wants my visa? “Perche?” USA visa. “Oh, I don’t need one,” and  I whipped out my USA passport.  “Sono cittadina!”  She got nicer and said that she appreciated the fact that I loved my history enough to have both.  Whew. PS, she let my overweight carry-on go with a warning.

Quick leap to Rome. I had forgotten what an incredible mall Leonardo Da Vinci Airport was. It I hadn’t had to show my passport I would have thought I was at the Short Hills Mall or on Rodeo Drive. Gucci, Dolce and Gabana, Burberry, Mont Blanc…

Women with mid-western twangs sat behind me at the gate.  Here is what I listened to —

Sicily – whadda ya think?

It was Ok but there wasn’t anything you know, cute.   The shops didn’t have anything I would want. All they have are fish stores and bakeries. There wasn’t any place cute like you know Bed, Bath and Beyond… Would you come back?

Why?  We came once. How about that beach  – you know with the club? What a drop off.  Did you go in?

Yeah but in my bikini – I had to wear ugly swim shoes. Beach has rocks.  Didn’t know it was rocky and …

NO I DID NOT BLATHER AT THEM OR STAB MYSELF WITH A PEN.  I did think  – Open your bloody eyes bitches! I didn’t even turn around to see how old they were.   Well, yeah I did – Shit my age…

We love Alitalia for its Premium Economy. Cost less than First Class,  the seats are comido and it is a great bargain using air miles.

Landed at JFK on a Thursday night and hit the tarmac running.  The next morning I was meeting with the caterer and facilities manager for the the Hillsborough Jr. High 50th Reunion – scheduled for a week later.

Price point culture shock set in almost instantly.  I ordered a cappuccino and the barista said $4.75 – what the f**k – I have been paying .90 in the land of the cappuccino.

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Enough.  I’m back.  The blog is back.  You’re back.  Life is good.  Ci vediamo!

I Didn’t… Musings On Returning to the USA

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

Thursday morning – yikes that’s domani – we will be in Naples starting the first leg of our journey home.  For the past few days my chest has been caving further and further into my core.  Each day the depression and sadness pushes on my heart chakra.  We have been in Pontelandolfo for six months integrating further and further into village life.  Today we are closing up the house and deciding what we leave behind to languish until we  return.  Suddenly,  all the things I didn’t do starting hitting me in the face.  The list I made – what list you ask?  The list that seemed so important in New Jersey.  The list that made me feel like I wasn’t some pensioner with nothing to contribute to the world. 

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The list that made me feel vital to myself.  I didn’t complete the list –

I didn’t take the autobus from Piazza Roma to Naples – just for the hell of it.  Folks say it is two hours of curvy mountain roads and worse it leaves at 7:15 AM.  The return bus leaves at 2:00 PM so what could you really do in Naples in 5 hours?  I don’t know because I didn’t take the bus.

I didn’t finish my family tree.  Armed with the latest version of Family Tree Maker and printed reports to share with family and strangers here, I added about  6 things total.  My grandmother’s side goes back to the 1600s – thanks to Antimo Albini.  ( Read that story at – http://wp.me/p3rc2m-9P)  But what of my grandfather’s side?  It was his search that I started 20 years ago and the line only goes back to 1820.  It is bis-nonno, Salvatore Guerrera’s extended family that I spend time with here.  Are there others for me to meet?  I don’t know because I didn’t contact Antimo this year to help me finish the fakakata tree.

I didn’t write a sexy romance novel based on “Divorcing Daddy”, my graduate school thesis screenplay.  Since I couldn’t figure out how to sell a screenplay and have read Nora Roberts entire canon as well as all of Janet Evanovich, I figured I could take my romantic comedy and turn it into a comedic novel.  I even started – came up with the concept and through line – and spent a day musing over the ins and out of novel writing.  I don’t know if I would be successful because I didn’t spend a second day on the project.

I didn’t seriously continue studying Italian.  Oh, I can get us fed, put gas in the car and chat with folks who speak Italian – not dialect – very slowly.  But we had car problems and I didn’t have a clue what the mechanic was saying.  I still don’t completely understand the medical system because my vocabulary ain’t there.  And, frankly, I sound like what I am – a middle aged plus American who isn’t studying everyday to improve.  I don’t know if I can get better because I didn’t hit the books daily or even watch Italian television.

Cazzo – you are probably bored with my rant.  Jack – who I hate when he is right — keeps reminding me that we are in Italy and I don’t have to accomplish shit.  Just live il dolce far niente – the sweet life of doing nothing.  My ever-loving crazy family and friends here, in London, Ecuador and in USA have reminded  me what I have indeed accomplished and suggest I buck the heck up.  Alexandra Rose, my worldly London based niece asked, “Do you realize how unique you are – how many people do you personally know who leave their home towns and live outside of America?”

Well I sputtered you, Marie and Jan, George and, and…  She had me. I bucked up.

I may not have taken the bus to Naples but did explore other parts of Italy that I hadn’t seen before.

I may not have finished the family tree but I did discover and became friends with a cousin and his wife that I hadn’t known.  I hadn’t met them before this year and truly enjoy hanging out with both Dominico and Suzi.

I may not have finished the novel but I did finish two plays – Mamma Mia La Befana and Flagtown Fem-Militia.  During September I committed myself to sending scripts to over thirty theaters and competitions.  One LA theater actually asked for the full version of Flagtown Fem-Militia after reading a ten page sample.  Please send a prayer to the theatre goddess.  (Anyone know any theaters in towns with a high concentration of Italians that would love a play based on La Befana?)

I didn’t, I coulda’, I shoulda’ – hell time to toss those words in the trash and just remember that I’ll return to my Italian home next year.  Today I made the rounds in Pontelandolfo hugging the folks that I love.  Joyfully, tomorrow I will  start hugging the family and friends that I love dearly in New Jersey.

Ci Vediamo a Presto!

Festa dell’ Accoglienza – Celebrate School!

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

The sun was shining and I was walking down the hill to my writer’s room – Bar Elimar. Suddenly a little blue Fiat stopped along side of me. My favorite lawyer, Rossella Mancini, rolled down her window and asked, ” Are you going to the Festa dell’ Accoglienza?” Even though, I hadn’t the foggiest idea what accoglienza meant, I hopped in the car. Hey, a festa is a festa. Rossella explained it was a program to welcome the opening of the school year and sadly she had to get to the courts in Benevento and couldn’t attend the show. Loving the Iacovella kids, I was happy to join her mom, Carmella, in the audience.

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What a Great Opening!

Google translating accoglienza I discovered it meant ” welcome – acceptance.”  What a great theme to start the school year – let us welcome the new students and accept each other!  Our local Scuola Di Infanzia Materna, Scuola di Elementary and Scuola di Media hosted the program in the village’s open air covered market. I  walked down the steep street to the market – note I never talk about walking up the hill.  The interior of the market was filled with smiling little faces dressed in their colorful grembiule – school smocks.

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Ariele Valazolo was excited!

The pink and blue grembiule of the pre-scool kids were swishing with excitement as the little tykes searched the faces of the standing audience for mamma, pappa, nonno and nonna.

A tiny little lad – about 5 years old walked to the front of the space with great aplomb and put the microphone to his mouth.  What an amazing host. Poised, he looked at the audience, smiled, welcomed all – Salutiamo tutti – and then introduced the first song.  I wanted to cheer for him! Oh wow I did!  The bopping and hopping 2.5 to 4 year olds singing their song were terrific.  Little mouths moved to the music. The three and four year olds knew every word the teeny tiny folks got every other. It was wonderful. Next up was a 4 or 5  year old girl who absolutely perfectly introduced a wickedly wild song and dance done with cheerleader style shakers by the oldest of the youngest students. I loved it. The kids were like pink and blue bolts of lighting moving and grooving to the song.

Then my mind snapped –  I could no longer ignore the constant blah, blah blah buzz around me.  I started to get frustrated and angry. Stata zitti – I wanted to scream at the young moms who insisted on gossiping during the entire song. OK, so your kid isn’t singing now does that give you permission to be a talkative asshole. Then I hear Jack’s soothing voice twirling around in my brain. It is a different culture. You don’t come from this culture. Take a breath.

Right, I’m an East Coast woman who built two performing arts high schools and would have gently wended my way through the audience and kindly pulled a talkative mom’s hair out.

Next up were the first year elementary school kids – 6 year olds . They recited an incredibly long story! Memorizing is an integral part of the curriculum. I was impressed.  The show continued with more freaking moms chatting up a bloody storm. Some one brought a baby in a pram and a gaggle of giggling moms had to ooo, ahh and chatter while the 2nd graders were reciting. That is when I couldn’t control my anger and started with my school administrator mean stare and the ugly sounding shushhh.

The show continued with each grade taking a turn at song, reciting and reading. Of course my favorites were the portions done by the kids in my extended family and the wee ones that I know.

Dear children – Keep on singing, memorizing and facing audiences. Please ignore the rude folks who are talking while you are performing. It is a life lesson in facing a tough audience. No matter what you do in life — some days there will be a tough audience.

Auguri to all the performers!

“Hello” – The English Teacher

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

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Last year I volunteered to be lingua madre instructor in the public schools. It was a great way to fill my day, meet cute kids and insure that little voices would say “hello” when ever they passed me in the piazza or during passeggiata.  You can read about the schools and that experience by flashing back to this earlier post  http://wp.me/p3rc2m-8Y.

What I really wanted to do during this year’s time in Pontelandolfo was organize a summer theater camp – free – in English for kids. Every student here has to pass an English proficiency exam and theater is a great way to get a grip on speaking. Unfortunately, I wrote my proposal to the town in a timely manner but was remiss in getting it translated in a timely manner. Che fa! Now its translated but we’ll save the proposal for next year.  That brilliant idea thwarted by il dolce far niente, I needed a something else to keep my brain and body occupied.

Idea numero due! In July I printed up fliers that said, ” lingua madre Midge is offering free English conversation classes.” I figured maybe four people would want to hang out in a salon like atmosphere and practice speaking English. WRONG!

The first people to reach out to me was a group of four middle school girls. We talked about refreshing skills before they went back to school. Four turned into six including one adult!  What I find interesting was that their text book had them reading and writing at a really advanced level – I mean I don’t know these grammar rules. But no one can speak!  Worse, some didn’t remember the simple concepts. The schools are between a rock and a hard place – everyone has to take English but there is no money to put native English speaking teachers in the schools. Imagine if every elementary school teacher in the USA suddenly had to teach Chinese. The same type of instruction would happen – videos, worksheets and books. I had a great time with them but will admit that after a few weeks only one girl and the adult kept coming. Something about homework in the summer…

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Talk about learning on the job – Marilina from my favorite morning writing room – Bar Elimar – wanted to learn enough English to talk to tourists. Hell, I didn’t know what half of the words on the bar menu meant and thought where do I begin?  I know, I’ll play the ugly American, DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH and provide her with a variety of responses. Then I thought of every question I’ve ever had about the stuff she sells. To make it fun for media loving me, I created a power point and made sure to include pictures of her behind the bar. So the up side is I’ve had to learn all the phrases in Italian in order to insure she understood them in English. Festival season happened and she was too busy to keep coming.  But I still have the power point!

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I Cuochi Antonio e Nicola.

Then, two great young men studying to be chefs at the vocational cooking high school knocked on my door. Help, we got internships in a restaurant in England – we need to speak English!  How do we meet people?  What if no one in the kitchen speaks Italian?  Whew – who knew there were so many cooking verbs to translate.  We toured my kitchen pointing and laughing as they identified every cooking tool I had.  Now, I have cooking study guides up the wazoo.

The two adult conversation classes were the most fun. One class had two butchers, a plumber and OK I don’t remember. They didn’t speak English at all so it was really ESL. Oops, Festa season and that class ended.

The other class had an attorney, pharmacist, shop keeper and florist. They do speak English and just needed an outlet to practice. It made me not feel so stupid when they admitted they knew vocabulary but were afraid to speak.  That is exactly how I feel about Italian!  We are still reading and discussing short stories and newspaper articles. Festa season didn’t impact them. Sigh – perfect.

Guess what also happened?  Strangers not in the classes are now giggling and saying “Good Morning” when they see me sitting and writing at the bar!  What a wonderful gift.

Taking Nonna’s Mulberry Tree on the Road

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Travel Comments

Midge cutesy

Headshot Waiting to be Hung in Your Lobby!

You knew it had to happen!  How could the actress in me just sit at a computer and write the tales of an Italian village?  When would I explode and start shouting the tales from the hilltops – or better yet as a one women show wherever anyone will have me. (And pay me of course!  This living on a fixed income stuff ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.)   The kick in my lazy butt to work on a show came from the Westlake Italian American Club.  Marie M, one of  the faithful Nonna’s Mulberry Tree subscribers reached out to me and asked if I would do a presentation at Westlake.  She knew of my theater background and thought that I would be a funny, entertaining and informative presenter.  I mean, of course she is right.  Gulp – I have a gig this January – now I need a show!

I quickly e-mailed back and said the title of my show was:

Il Dolce Fa Niente – The Sweetness of Doing Nothing

The BS  – oops – PR blurb I wrote was:

How does a type A personality manage to assimilate into the life of a small Italian mountain village? By taking a gulp and repeating daily, “it is OK to do nothing”.  It is expected that one naps every afternoon.  The evening meandering passeggiata through the piazza is for meeting and greeting not power-walking. I’ll share the stories of how a “Jersey Girl” manages to live in Pontelandolfo, explore her roots and ultimately learn, “Il Dolce Fa Niente”.

Pretty general blurb – I can pretty well talk about anything.  Now, here is where I need your help.  What would an audience really like to hear about?  Take the short poll to help me pick out topics.  Or better yet – leave a comment about what posts resonated with you, made you laugh, cry or curse.  Tell me what you’d like to know!

Grazie Tante!

I See My Father

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Finding My Family - Genealogy, Practical Matters - Living Abroad
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Dominico Manna has my father’s eyes.

The other morning I was startled when my father’s eyes peered into mine.  He hadn’t made an appearance since my sighting of him in Belize.  That day he arrived in a big old Chrysler – driving right up the beach – got out of the car and looked up at me sitting on the balcony staring at the sea.

Dad's head shot for a State Senate Run.

He did that John Wayne gun shot with your pointer finger thing and told me to stop being a wimp and to get on the f’n plane.

Did I mention that he had been dead for three years?

Cripes, I thought, what had I done to have him stare me down in a public place – Bar Elimar in Pontelandolfo?  I gulped and pulled my eyes away to see if the image stayed.  It stayed. The face was smiling – it wasn’t my father’s face. But the eyes – they were his eyes.  My woo woo moment had kinda’ sorta’ passed. My cousin Dominico peered down at me.  Rats, those are my father’s eyes.  I just met Dominico Manna a week or so ago, but when my dad’s eyes looked back at me I felt like I’ve known this newly found cousin my whole life.  Dominico is my father’s second cousin just like my Guerrera cousins back in the USA – that makes him my third cousin or second cousin twice removes or…. Well it doesn’t really matter.  He has my father’s eyes.

Part of my fantasy living in Pontelandolfo for 6 months – besides writing a best selling memoir – HA – was uncovering more cousins.  Our family tree is full of all of the names that mark homes all over Pontelandolfo – Guerrera, Rinaldi, Fusco, Perugini, Mancini etc. etc. etc.  When I look at the family tree, I start thinking that I have at least one blood cell of every single person that I pass on the streets.

Every time I actually find someone with a clear direct link to my nonna and nonno, I get smacked in the face again with how much we are all alike.  What was that Haley Mills TV show about the cousins who looked so much alike they could pass for one another?  My USA family – starting with my incredibly talented sister and niece and branching out to second and third cousins – is full or actors, dancers, writers, photographers, artists and those who love the arts.

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Hand Crafted by my cousin Carmella in Pontelandolfo!

Imagine my joy to discover that generations of our blood line here have danced in the towns international touring folklorico dance company, are incredible photographers, writers, visual artists etc.  Others, like me, are arts administrator types and help organize the towns events. Damn that artistic DNA!

I always remember my grandmother, Uncle Sal and Aunt Cat working their Flagtown land. Grandma taught me how to kill and pluck a chicken for dinner. Many here farm their land to produce incredibly tasting meats and vegetables. Gifts of home made cheeses and meats have graced my door.

We have family all over the world – the ones I know about are in
Argentina, Montreal, England, Spain and I can’t remember.  Jack and I will have to definitely take a trip to Argentina.

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Our family members, when the village could no longer support them, took the risk and re-established themselves beyond the borders of Italy. Even though we had never met, live miles apart and in some cases don’t even know that parts of our blood line intersect we are the same. Hell I know this sounds like woo woo but maybe there is something about this DNA stuff.

Every market day, if I stay in one place I am sure to see more of my family. Sometimes I haven’t a clue what they are saying to me but it doesn’t matter. Other times they clearly share what is bothering them, who is driving them crazy or why today is an absolutely fabulous day. The connection that comes from sharing secrets makes me feel like I have been here my whole life. In reality I discovered this family of Pontelondolfesi a scant 18 years ago. 18 years of returning to the village of my grandparents has forged incredible bonds.

I have finally decided that this is where I want to live – it may be 6 months a year or full time. It was seeing my father’s eyes that put me over the decision making edge. Daddy visiting me through Dominico and telling me once again not to be chicken shit – life is too short.

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When we get back to NJ the house will go on the market. Anyone want a farm house with a bocce court and mulberry trees?

 

 

Zucchine Sono Arrivate! Ricetta 2

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Food - Eating In and Out!
The zucchine elf - Zia Vittoria!
The zucchine elf – Zia Vittoria!

 

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.

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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.

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My burnt fingers reminded me that  I had just roasted red peppers and had an ah ha moment.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Rats, can see the eggplant – but will Jack?

Applause! Buon appetito, Jack. (Wink, Wink)

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