briciole

sei cose a caso

six random things
Peter of Detectives Beyond Borders tagged me with the "six random things about yourself" meme in this post. I hereby comply with the meme's request.

Randomness does not really apply to this selection process, because I don't have a jar full of things about myself from which, with eyes covered, I can pick six items at random. Still, I tried to let chance (il caso) guide my choice (scelta), at least to some extent: I picked six things from my hyper-chaotic desk to tell you something about myself through them.

1. As a child, I wanted to learn to bind books (rilegare libri). There was a bindery next to my parents' house and for me it was a magic place. I never went inside and could not see much from the outside, so I didn't know what binding books was actually about, but I loved the idea. Many years later, when I was at Mills College studying Computer Science, I took Book Arts classes and my dream came true.
   
2. I am a compulsive collector of things that I find when I walk on the beach (spiaggia): pieces of wood, fragments of shells, pebbles. I think these objects tell stories. The piece of wood in the photo was an amazing find.
3. I write with a fountain pen (penna stilografica). I started using fountain pens when I was in second grade or so. As a consequence, my white apron had ink stains, of which I was very proud, because they proved that I was hard at work with my pen.
4. I like Baci Perugina. I was born and grew up in Perugia, where these chocolates were created. My deep love for chocolate started very early.
   
5. In college (in Milan) I studied English and German (language and literature). I wrote my thesis (which students must do in Italy to graduate) on a novel by Edith Wharton and still enjoy her works. Suggested (short) reading: Roman Fever.
6. I am a great admirer of violinist Joshua Bell. The first time I listened to him in concert, some years ago, it was an amazing and unforgettable experience. I have had many such experiences ever since. A few years ago, I sent him an email inviting him to taste some of my home made ice cream. The only time in my life I have tried to make contact with a celebrity, I received no answer. My admiration for him was not affected, nor was my enjoyment of ice cream making.
   

After revealing six things about myself, I am required to pass along the meme to six bloggers and here they are, in alphabetical order: Almost Turkish Recipes, An Italian in the US, Babbling Blueberry, Baking History, Champaign Taste and Taste with the Eyes.

Hear me pronounce the words on the sei cose a caso audio file [mp3] or go to the sei cose a caso audio page for more listening options.

dalla finestra della cucina

from the kitchen window
[scorrete avanti per la versione in italiano]

The inspiration for this post is provided to me by Elga of Semi di Papavero (poppy seeds) Italian blogger and fellow Daring Baker, who a little while ago asked us to show what we see from our kitchen window.

Kitchen in Italian is cucina. The word comes from the late Latin cocina, a variant of coquina, from the verb coquere, to cook. From the same verb comes the Italian cuocere, to cook in the sense of applying heat to foods to prepare them for eating, as in cuocere la pasta. To describe the act of cooking in general, we use the verb cucinare, as in io cucino molto (I cook a lot).

Since we split our time between two places, I have two kitchens, a small one and a nice-sized one. The latter has two windows, both over the sink. The photo on the left shows how they look from the outside. The little green bushes on the right are part of my herb garden, which I started last year and of which I am very proud.

Looking through those windows is not very comfortable for a short person like me, because of the presence of the sink (lavello). The view will be better when we change the old windows, which are also hard to open. The following images were therefore taken behind the glass. First a look at my herb garden, with its parsley jungle.

Then a look at the Pacific Ocean, which, on this particular occasion, was living up to its name. It is not always as calm as it appears here.

Some days, like last Sunday, you can hear the ocean so you know it is there, but you can hardly see it, because of the fog. I actually spend more time at the stove (ai fornelli) than at the sink. There I have a white wall in front of me, which is definitely not worth photographing.

Hear me pronounce the words on the dalla finestra della cucina audio file [mp3] or go to the dalla finestra della cucina audio page for more listening options.

L'ispirazione per questo post mi è stata data da Elga di Semi di Papavero, una Daring Baker come me, che qualche tempo fa ha chiesto di mostrare quello che vediamo dalla finestra della cucina. Dal momento che dividiamo il nostro tempo tra due residenze, ho due cucine, una piccola e una più grande. Quest'ultima ha due finestre, entrambe sopra il lavello. La foto in alto a sinistra mostra le finestre viste da fuori. I cespugli in basso a destra fanno parte del mio giardinetto di erbe aromatiche che ho piantato l'anno scorso e del quale sono molto fiera.

Guardare fuori attraverso quelle finestre non risulta molto comodo per una persona non molto alta come me, per via del lavello. Il panorama migliorerà quando cambieremo le finestre, che tra l'altro non si aprono bene. Le foto le ho scattata dietro il vetro. Prima di tutto uno sguardo al giardinetto e alla giungla di prezzemolo. Poi uno sguardo all''Oceano Pacifico che per in questa occasione ha fatto onore al suo nome, ma non è sempre calmo come lo si vede qui.

Certi giorni, come domenica scorsa, l'oceano si sente ma non si vede, a causa della nebbia, un fenomeno particolare della costa californiana. La foto in basso a destra mostra la stessa veduta di prima, ma con la nebbbia. Certamente passo più tempo ai fornelli che al lavello. Lì ho davanti a me una parete bianca che decisamente non vale la pena fotografare.

cheesecake su bastoncino

cheesecake pops
The literal translation into Italian of cheesecake would be torta di formaggio. I decided to leave the original word in the title, because it indicates a specific dessert and I have seen it used by Italian food bloggers. Su bastoncino means on a stick. A gelato su bastoncino (or gelato su stecco, where stecco also means stick) is a Popsicle made with ice cream. If made with ice, it would be a ghiacciolo (literally, icicle). As it usually happens, this month's Daring Bakers' challenge was an adventure, compliments of hosts Deborah of Taste and Tell and Elle of Feeding My Enthusiasms.

I am not sure why I always manage to get into trouble when executing the challenge, but it happened once again. Recipes that generate a big output are a problem for me, because there is only two of us in the family, and it is not always easy to share the product of my efforts with many people. The additional challenge this month was that I don't like cheesecake made with cream cheese, because I don't like cream cheese. I remember when cream cheese became available in Italy: Philadelphia was the brand name and the same name became a generic term to refer to the product. My dislike for cream cheese dates back to my first encounter with it, a long time ago.

However, knowing that I would not be tasting the result of my efforts did not prevent me from devoting my energy into making it a success. Maybe that's the problem: I want to make it work and end up in trouble. Thanks to a note by the hosts, I was able to comfortably half the dose. Making the New York style (don't ask me what it means¹) cheesecake was easy. I baked it for close to an hour, and it came out pretty nice. So far, so good. 

When I asked my husband to please go to the hardware store and get me some lollipop sticks he thought I was joking. I wasn't. The recipe clearly states to use those, instead of Popsicle sticks, because the cheesecake pops are small. And what made me think they would have such a thing at the hardware store? He countered. They do have a lot of kitchen items, so they may have bastoncini per lecca-lecca (lollipop, literally lick-lick) He was not convinced. I told him I took full responsibility for sending him on such an esoteric errand and he left. He came back with a package of lollipop sticks complete with individual plastic wrappers and twist ties. I felt one step closer to success. I didn't realize the real challenge was still ahead.

Shaping the pops was messy, to put it mildly. It didn't help that the smell of cheesecake, after a short while, was overwhelming for my olfactory cells. I completed this step, but my creativity was not at its best. The fact that, in general, I am not good at working on the details of food presentation certainly did not help. One positive thing was that I made 18 pops and there were exactly 18 sticks in the package my husband had got me, so I did not have any leftover cheesecake. Melting the chocolate and covering the pops was not difficult. I worked with a small quantity of dark chocolate at a time, did not use any shortening, and kept the additional messiness reasonably under control. The keyword here is 'reasonably': if you have a picture of a spotless stove and kitchen counter in your mind, hit Delete.

It was with understandable trepidation that I offered the chilled and chocolate-covered (ricoperti di cioccolato) cheesecake pops to my husband and a friend of ours as dessert. Was I prepared to witness the structural disaster? Good thing I did not try to offer the cheesecake pops at a party! Fortunately, both tasters had a plate at hand: it was needed to gather the falling pieces of the pop after the first fateful bite. My husband did not like his morsel. Our friend, though not enthusiastic about it, offered me a way out by suggesting some berry sauce to offset the cheesiness (here I am using cheesiness in its literal meaning).

I washed and hulled two cups of fresh fragole (strawberries), then pureed them in the food processor with a tablespoon of fine sugar and one of orange juice to make a pleasantly smelling sauce that I offered to our friend so he could try it over one of the remaining pops. At this point, I decided that the sticks could be dispensed with and each pop was demoted to regular piece of cheesecake on a plate. The salsa di fragole (strawberry sauce) was much appreciated and I have to say that the combination of colors (cheesecake yellow, strawberries red and chocolate brown) was rather eye-pleasing (sorry, no picture).

As usual, the challenge was a good learning experience, for which I am thankful to Deborah and Elle. The recipe we all followed, taken from "Sticky, Chewy, Messy, Gooey" by Jill O’Connor, is available here. Make sure you use the Daring Bakers blogroll to guide you to look at the fabulous creations that were baked, shaped, dipped and decorated around the world by my fellow Daring Bakers scattered around the world.

¹ Special thanks to Susan, The Well-Seasoned Cook, for kindly writing a comment explaining the New York style appellation.

Hear me pronounce the words on the cheesecake su bastoncino audio file [mp3] or go to the cheesecake su bastoncino audio page for more listening options.

posata

Every now and then I look at the searches people were doing when they arrived on a page of my blog and I feel kind of bad when I realize that they could not have found what they were looking for. This post was inspired by the unknown visitor who landed here while searching for the pronunciation of the word cucchiaio.

Posata is the generic name that refers to any one of the eating utensils. Posate (cutlery, flatware) is the plural. The basics:

• coltello (knife)
• cucchiaio (spoon)
• forchetta (fork)

Posate with a specifier is also used to describe serving implements, like in posate da insalata (salad servers). This does not cover the whole table, but I think it is enough for today. I would like to use the rest of the space for an update on my canederli/knödel adventure. As mentioned in my recent post on this dish, I had plans to make it again, and I did. This time, I used a different kind of bread, namely pane alle noci (walnut bread) from my beloved companion "Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone" by Deborah Madison. This is a really good, hearty bread made with mostly whole wheat flour (farina integrale)¹.

The other day, I found myself with a piece of pane alle noci that was of a perfect size for my recipe for canederli, so I got down to work. What I made differently from the previous recipe, besides using a different bread, was that I added twice as much parmigiano (1/4 cup) and also half a teaspoon of thyme leaves to the shallots (together with the rosemary). The walnut bread had a harder crust (crosta) than the bread I used before, so I let the bread pieces rest for over two hours together with the egg and milk mixture before proceeding with the recipe. At lunch time, I had a couple of hungry young men waiting for their meal, so I decided to skip taking photos of the cooked dish. The image on the side shows the canederli before I cooked them in vegetable broth. There were no leftovers, but I got to taste a bite so I can tell you that the walnuts created a nice textural contrast, and the extra parmigiano worked well. 

I will conclude by connecting part 1 and part 2 of this post. I read that the guest is not supposed to cut canederli with the coltello (knife): doing so would imply that they are hard, and would be interpreted as a criticism of the cook. A soft knödel, on the other hand, will fall apart during cooking, so the cook's challenge is to achieve a happy medium.

Considering that coltello, cucchiaio e forchetta form a trio, instead of showing a photo of my nondescript posate, here is a trillium, whose name refers to its having three of everything: petals, sepals and leaves. Trilliums are blooming everywhere around here. Their snow-white petals offer an elegant contrast to the dark green of their broad leaves. The lucky path wanderer can stumble upon, and admire, a quadrillium.

¹ My departures from the original recipe are: olive oil instead of walnut oil and one cup of chopped walnuts instead of 1.5 cups.

Hear me pronounce the words on the posata audio file [mp3] or go to the posata audio page for more listening options.

timo

thyme or thymus
In Italian we use the same word to refer to thyme, the beloved herb, and to thymus, the lymphoid organ located behind the sternum. I will devote the rest of the post to timo, the herb.

The genus Thymus, family Labiatae, contains many species. I planted two of them in my little herb garden: Lemon Thyme (photo on the left), and German (Winter) Thyme (photo on the right). I also have some Silver Thyme in a big pot in front of the house: its leaves have a silver rim. I love thyme and I use its tiny fragrant leaves often. They are precious little things, with an enormous power to impart flavor. I don't recall my mother ever using thyme in her cooking, so this herb is a relatively new discovery for me.

For this post, I decided to invent something. Last Wednesday evening, I was by myself for dinner, a rather unusual occurrence. Besides foglie di timo (thyme leaves), I wanted to eat a beautiful porro (leek) leftover from a recent purchase at the farmers' market, and here is what I did. I washed the leek, white and light green part, following Lucy's method, then sliced it. In the meantime, I warmed up a small frying pan generously sprayed with olive oil. I added the leek slices and the leaves of two sprigs of thyme, then cooked, over medium-low heat, until the leek was soft to my liking, stirring every now and then to avoid sticking. I added some vegetable broth to keep the leek moist¹.

When the leek was ready, I adjusted the salt and sprinkled a few leaves of maggiorana (marjoram), an herb I like a lot as well, which is conveniently planted next to my lemon thyme. While the leek was cooking, I poached an egg, following the instructions on this page (option: No poacher). Poached egg is uovo in camicia (shirt). A few seconds before the egg was ready, I spooned the leek in a bowl, then gently placed the poached egg over the prepared pale green bed and finished off the dish with a tablespoon of freshly-grated parmigiano. I took a quick photo and then enjoyed my creation, especially the bites that got some of the yolk mixed with the leek. I definitely will make this again. Note that I did not use any salt (besides that in the water for poaching the egg), but you can certainly do it, adding it to the leek when it is cooked.

¹ Addendum: I have since made the dish a couple more times and measured a quarter cup of added liquid, 2 tablespoons broth, 1 tablespoon water and 1 tablespoon white wine.

This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, a food blogging event started over two years ago by Kalyn of Kalyn's Kitchen and hosted this week by Susan, The Well-Seasoned Cook, and a very kind cook, too. Susan has announced that she will give away a copy of Aliza Green’s "Field Guide to Herbs and Spices" to one of the participants. Thanks Susan! Here is the roundup of WHB #129.

Hear me pronounce the words on the timo audio file [mp3] or go to the timo audio page for more listening options.