The things I like, the things I gripe

drink up, you're in Italy. 

It's been five weeks that I've been living in Italy now- substantial enough a period to have established some opinions about my new home. It's time to pass some unabashed judgement.

Likes

1. Um, hi. I live in Italy. I get to say "ciao bella", like, fifty times a day without people thinking I'm scummy.

2. The museum-like quality of everything from grocery store facades to the women with their dresses, and their shoes, and silky hair, and flawlessly tanned skin, and accidentally perfect physiques. 

3. Public transportation. Whether bus, subway, tram, or walking, everything is quickly, easily, and cheaply accessible.

4.14 euro for a brazilian bikini wax.

5. Social standard for being diagnosed an alcoholic is much higher. Out with the misfitry.

6. Summer aperitivos. Buy one drink and get free food all night.

7.The bidet, period.

8.That everything, unequivocally closes in August because Italians are so rigid about their vacations.

9. Tall ceilings and COOKIES for breakfast are standard.

10. Huge dinners with friends are not reserved for special occasions, they're a matter of convention.

Gripes

1. Ciao, I'm in Italy. And if you want to join me for the long term, just know that it takes molto bureaucracy and molti headaches to do what I'm doing. AND, things here get done at everyone's convenience except yours. Better go have yourself another drink, because that's what everyone else is doing. 

2. The museum-like quality of everything including the women and their dresses and their flawless everything makes a girl feel like an unworthy, rotten potato.

3. Should you happen to step foot into a vehicle, prepare to be made very afraid.

4. 68 euro for a mani/pedi and 4.25 for a box of quinoa. Thats $96 & $6, respectively.

5. It's decidedly poor form to order a cappuccino (which I ADORE) after lunch. Back in with the misfitry. 

6. Summer aperitivos: one drink, ten euro. That's $14.20

7. Single-ply toilet paper and occasional hole-in-the-ground makes checking your hydration level a nearly impossible task. 

8. That everything, unequivocally closes in August because Italians are so rigid about their vacations.

9. Tiny kitchens, mosquitos, screenless windows, and zero oatmeal on supermarket shelves are standard.

10. I'm at the dinner table, but where the fuck are all my friends?

tall ceilings, screenless windows.  machete.

The amazing and wonderful bidet, my only friend in 5 weeks.

Mostrami la tua Mucca

Lets talk about cows. Lets talk about how I just drank a latte (beware: latte is Italian for milk so you will be judged a moron if you ask for one in a bar and expect to receive a coffee; better just make the switch to cappuccino). Lets talk about how the milk came straight from the teet of a cow in the backyard. I mean, no antibiotics, no pasteurization, no hormones- just free range, grass-fed goodness, freshly aspirated this very morning. Though most westerners I know have developed a societally influenced aversion to this idea, I can testify that this was far and away the most deliciously creamy, sweet, and pure liquid heaven (next to any alcoholic beverage, that is) I have ever tasted. and GUESS WHAT?  I'm still alive.

I was made privy to this cow phenomenon when Giulio nonchalantly mentioned last week that the 500 cows in the backyard had been a part of the family for five or six generations.  I was nonplussed. As a young person raised and educated in a major metropolitan area, I've seldom (read: NEVER) had the opportunity to investigate the origins of my refrigerator milk carton contents. So, I set off for a little journalism.

I learned that these cows are held to strict milking standards- negating the need for hormones that are often used to promote milk production at biologically harmful frequencies so that maniacal farmers can sell sell sell. These cows are given ample space to stomp around and indulge their curiosity, and they actually strike me as happy and silly. Their living quarters are craftily designed in a way that resembles an aqueductal poo river, essentially carrying the caca to a nearby poo dispensary that eventually converts it into reusable energy. Seriously. Said poo-train not only supports sustainability, but maximizes environmental hygiene to eliminate the need for antibiotics.  The best part is that the milk distributed from here isn't even labeled as "organic" - "untampered with" is an implicit property of quality. Once again, superiority bears no catchy slogan claiming to be so, it just speaks for itself.

Should you ever have the opportunity to stare a happy cow in the eyes, I highly recommend it. I was enchanted. 

Fettuccine with Prosciutto and Asparagus

What you need:

a few cups of asparagus, stems removed and cut into thirds

one onion chopped

one small head of garlic, minced

prosciutto, chopped

olive oil

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

fettuccine 

chile pepper

black pepper

salt

parmesan

grown in the backyard and naturally organic

What to do with it

While pasta is cooking (in salted water), heat the olive oil in a large pan and add onions and garlic. When the pasta is halfway cooked, throw the asparagus into the pot. 

Cook for two minutes, then add prosciutto and cook for two more minutes. Turn off heat. 

Add balsamic vinegar, red pepper, black pepper, and 1/2 cup pasta water to the pan. Drain the aldente pasta/asparagus and add to pan. Sprinkle with a generous dose of fresh parmesan and enjoy!

ha finito!

Country Playin'

and this, this is how we play.

music by Soggy Bottom Boys

when life hands you a gun...

... make lemonade.

(you've only got one shot)

Homemade Passport Photos

The countryside is great for all things homemade, up to and including passport photos.

neutral face, white background, no shadows

Rigatoni with Olives & Anchovies

Per the request of a friend, I present you (Giulio's) rigatoni with black olives and anchovies. This is my favorite Italian dish to date.

What you need to serve two VERY greedy people

one onion or a few shallots; chopped

a few cloves of garlic; whole, minced, or a combination of the two

fresh tomatoes (see below); chopped, or one can.

10-15 black olives; pitted OR pre-sliced (prettier but not as delicious)

8 anchovies; rinsed and sliced in half

1/4 cup cream or 1/2 cup whole milk 

olive oil; enough to bathe in

salt, pepper, and parmesan to taste

pasta; preferably rigatoni or penne

What to Do

While the salted water is boiling, cook the onions and garlic on medium heat for a few minutes. Add the pasta to the water. Add the anchovies and swim them around in the hot oil for a few minutes, then add tomatoes. Continue stirring for a few more minutes then add olives and 1/2 cup of pasta water. Continuing with your tenacious stirring, add milk one minute before the pasta is drained (al dente, people). Add pasta to pan and cook for an additional minute. Add salt and pepper to taste, then garnish with parmesan. 

keep the heat on medium

add this many tomatoes from the garden

or a can if you don't have enough, cheater

de-pit and chop yourself for better flavor

cook for several minutes before adding milk

immediately after draining, add pasta

season with salt and pepper and parmesan

Country Livin'

I grew up in a suburban area of California known as Scripps Ranch. Scripps, as we Scrippies call it for short, has an audaciously misleading maxim written in pretentious and cursive script under the town's welcome sign- Country Living. Ok. Lets get real for a minute. Everyone who inhabits these parts should know perfectly well that the only thing country about it are the "bird cages" situated within the complexes of the local business parks, where peacocks have supposedly been stored by rebel farmers for decades. And the reality is, that said cages are much better known for being the secret locale for awkward, pimply, bored, upper-middle class teenagers to smoke pot without their parents' belligerent disapproval. 

I believe that the things/places/people truly adherent to their respective mission statements need not literally spell out their mottos in bolded, cursive, or neon letters. I will never buy a vehicle from "Honest Joes Used Cars" just the same as I will never consider a person self-described as "smart" any intelligent. While Scripps Ranch may have originally been designated a getaway for a minority of city dwellers, it is now a mass of concrete, cookie-cutter slabs of stucco, crafted one on top of the other to form a relaxing escape for more than 32,000 people. This country lifestyle also boasts enormous chain grocery stores, nail salons, gas stations, fast food joints, and in general, the same conveniences of a city, but under the misrepresentation of a private country retreat.

The juxtaposition to my current residence was made particularly stark today as I went foraging in the backyard/Italian countryside for my lunch. This is real country living- identified not by the sign claiming to be so, but by the inescapable smell of cow dung, the itch in my eyes, and the fact that like, maybe ten people live within five miles of here. Oh yes, and the FLIES! The flies that fly slower than the Italian Postal Service- definitely indolent enough to catch in one's hand, providing a country boy the proud yet false impression that he is in fact agile. 

So, this is what I spent my afternoon doing while Giulio was inside studying the legality of abortions. I guess he's one step closer to becoming a doctor and I'm one step closer to riding a bull and lassoing in the  sunset. 

ain't no country living in this metropolis

must lose lbs. to enter garden

welcome to the ivy league, peacocks

empty basket full of hope and promise

backyard foliage

discovery numero uno- an unripened pear & mini alligator

peach fuzz unlike my rabid mustache

apricot acting like an ass

conventional crowd predictably ostracizing the weird ugly

the savaged one is always most compelling

zucchini feigning apricot

expansion

imminent preeminent walnut

romaine

(assaulted by nature in exchange for this photo)

mini eggplant makes me want to explode with babies

digression

almost ready for the ball

plum, the only one

randomly placed & most insanely massive non GMO zucchini EVER

tipping the scale

magnolias on the way in

the end. now show me your fruit basket.