Cold Pasta & Red Wine

Peppe & Novelia

"Life is too short, and I'm Italian. I'd much rather eat pasta and drink wine than be a size 0."  ~Sophia Bush

"Chris," my friend and sorella (sister), Novelia, whispered to me when we arrived in Sulmona, "after you all settle in, you'll all come to our apartment for dinner. Is that okay?"   Was that okay?  Novelia is a great cook, and for her to invite us to her apartment was an honor. 

 "Can I help you with anything?" I asked her. She shook her head.

"Bring your camera," she continued. "It is a surprise."  I had no idea what to expect, but you have to know Novelia to know that whatever the surprise was, it was going to be good.

The cold pasta and red wine table

A little after 6:00 we arrived at the apartment and found the table set up as in the photo above.  On it were a bowl of cold pasta, bottles of red wine, a plate of sausages, bread, and more.

Novelia announces that she's made cold pasta for me.

"This is to honor Chris and coldpastaandredwine," my dear friend announced.  I was so touched I almost cried.  It meant so much that she and Peppe would put on a dinner for us using the blog as a theme. Who, I thought, would have ever suspected this?  I don't want to get all maudlin about this,  but I cannot express my appreciation enough for the lovely meal.   I am always overwhelmed by the kindness of the Italian people.

Perhaps you want to know what kind of cold pasta she prepared? What kind of wine we had?  what else?  Well, allow me to tell you.

Peppe serves the red wine.

Peppe started by pouring us each a glass of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo, one of the most widely  Denominazione di origine controllata (DOC) wines exported.  (DOC labeling is quality and origin assurance for the buyer.)  Montepulciano d'Abruzzo is a soft, dry red wine made from Montepulciano grapes.  Joe Bastianich, Mario Batali's partner and a wine expert, says that Montepulciano d'Abruzzo is highly aromatic, has earthy notes, tastes of blackberries, and has an inky-purple color.  There is a rosé version of the wine (Cerasuola), and even it is a bit darker than the normal rosés.

Of all the red wines, this is my favorite. 

Best wine!

 "Do you have cold pasta at home?" Novelia asked the group after we sat down. 

"We have pasta salad," Kathy replied and told Novelia how she makes hers.

"We eat cold pasta in the summer since it's lighter," Novelia continued, and Peppe served us the pasta dish that contained ghiottole (spiral pasta), carrots, peccorino cheese, peas (I think), and tuna dressed with olive oil.  The flavors blended together perfectly.

I had not thought about it for a long time, but my mother and grandmother used to make pasta dishes using tuna quite often, especially during Lent.  They, however, used the tuna instead of meat in their red sauces.  I much preferred Novelia's use of tuna with pasta.  (Sorry, Mom & Grams!)

Cold pasta

 Let me let you in on a small secret that only the five people in the group knew: I used to eat tuna fish all the time, but when I was pregnant with Jason, I got violently sick on it, turkey, and shrimp (at separate times).  It took me a few years to be able to eat turkey again and probably more than five to eat shrimp.  Until Novelia's dinner, I had not eaten tuna fish in more than 36 years.  I tried once about 20 years ago when Mike's mother made tuna salad sandwiches, but I could not eat it.

Sausages

After we finished the pasta, we enjoyed sausages which Novelia cooks in much the same way my mother did.  She first cooks them in a frying pan that has water in it.  Once they're cooked and most of the fat is gone, she rinses them, skins them, and browns them in the same pan.  She adds no oil at all.  Because my mother cooked sausage in much the same way, that's how I do it, too.  I leave the skin on, however.

I want to note that the sausage of the Abruzzo region is nicely spiced without a heavy garlic or peppery flavor.  If you live in Youngstown, Ohio, you probably know Anzevino's Market and their sausage.  I think there's another place there (Russo's, maybe?) that makes a similar sausage, too.

Tiramisu

 We ended the night with a tiramisu which was the best I've ever had. I had eaten most of it before I remembered to take the photo. 


By the way, I just need to comment on Sophia Bush's quote about eating pasta, drinking wine, and not being a size 0.  Have you seen that woman?  Google her if you haven't.  If she's more than a size 2, then I need to see Omar the Tent Maker for my clothes from now on.

Let It Rain

Riding in the rain...

"The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain." ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It rained in Bologna today.

Actually, the rain started last night and didn't give up until about noon today.  While the sound of rain is usually comforting, the thumping of drops hitting a metal canopy a few stories below my apartment was a little unnerving.

After I got up, I went to Bar Santo Stefano for my morning cappuccino and just sat and watched as people walked or rode by without letting the rain stop them.  It took me a few minutes, but I suddenly realized that people were riding bikes and motorcycles without a thought to the wet stuff hitting them.

Riding in the rain, II

 One of the reasons I love Bologna is the fact that there are so many miles of porticoes here. That allowed me to sit outside at the bar and watch. It was relaxing and allowed me to people watch. 

When it rains at home, I usually stay inside unless I have to go out.  Today I decided to break that tradition and walk around town once I finished my cappuccino.

Riding in the rain, III

Sorry this is short today. I think the photos are more interesting than what I have to  say about rain.

Tomorrow, I'll tell you about a real cold pasta and red wine experience....

Guinea Pigs, Part II

At lunch in Verona (Jerry, Barb, Nancy, Moi, Kathy, Ed)

"As with any journey, who you travel with (sic) can be more important than your destination."  ~ Unknown

When last I left them, the members of Group #2 were in Rome preparing for a big day at the Vatican, Vatican Museums, and Sistine Chapel.  As much as I love the Vatican, I hate crowds and didn't want to go through it again.  (Selfish?  Maybe. Maybe not. I also needed to get back to Bologna for Immersion in Italian.)  Happily, they all survived my dragging them around Italy for two weeks, and they head to the States tomorrow.

You should meet them, though, so without further ado...

Nancy Clemente

Nancy and I in Sulmona

Nancy and I survived St. Nicholas Elementary School and Cardinal Mooney High School. I remember being allowed to ride my bike to her house a few times when we were still at St. Nick's, and that was something because she lived in Struthers, and I lived in Boardman.  While that sounds far, we lived only 1.5 miles apart. Still, it was a big deal in those days and with the mother that I had.

Currently, Nancy is a librarian at Clarion University in Oil City, PA. Her dad is of Italian descent, and I have one very strong memory of him.  He answered the phone when I called Nancy one evening.

"Hello," he said.

"Is Nancy there?" I innocently asked.

"Yes," he replied and hung up the phone.  I was quite shocked.

Mr. C's thought was that the caller should greet the answerer before asking for the person he/she wants.  To this day, I always greet the person who answers the phone and ask how he/she is doing.  (Nan, don't forget to tell you dad I remember that.)

(By the way, Nancy is the reason I titled yesterday's post about getting a song out of my head... She sang one song last week {not mentioning it as I don't want it back in the brain}, and I could not get it out of my head for days. Bad, Nancy! Bad!! I finally listened to my iPod while I was sleeping, and it got rid of the stupid thing.  I had to do it last night with that Tisket song...)


Kathy Guenther

Kathy in Sulmona

Kathy hails from London, Ohio, home of none other than Mike Cutler.  She attended London High School and graduated after Mike's brother and before Mike.  Her fifth grade teacher was Mrs. Mills and not Mrs. Cutler (mother of said Mike).

Kathy and I connected via Facebook, and she took my first memoir class at UNLV.  We hit it off, and we meet for coffee when we can. She is a retired Las Vegas (and Tampa) real life CSI, and she was even a technical adviser for the show.  Currently, she volunteers with Clark Country Schools and Spread the Word Nevada by helping children learn to read.

Ed Guenther

Ed at the Colosseum

(First, apologies to Ed for this photo. I have a better one, but I can't find it.  I cropped this one because I'm going to use the entire thing in another post.)

Ed is also a retired real-life CSI.  He worked crime scenes in Ohio and Florida and moved to fingerprints in Las Vegas.  I only got to know Ed this year, and I think we hit it off pretty quickly.  Like me, he hates crowds and pushing and shoving. I wanted him to give me one of his lit mini cigars so I could move people out of the way (a burn on the butt is a lot of incentive, you know), but he didn't.  Only kidding (about asking for the cigar). He has a great sense of humor, and he can come up with one liners easily. (For that matter, so can Kathy.)

Barb & Jerry Reszkowski

Barb & Jerry in Sulmona

Barb and Jerry are friends of Nancy and live near her in Oil City, PA.  Barb is a retired librarian, and Jerry retired from IT work. They're both pretty quiet, but Jerry can come up with one-liners often, too.  I think he could probably fix anything. When we couldn't get the key to the Rome apartment to open the door on Saturday afternoon, we gave it to him, and with one turn, we were in.

Barb took copious notes while we were touring (500 extra points...The group understands this joke.), and I'm going to get her recipes for different dishes.  Barb learned a few Italian words and used them throughout the trip.

As a side note, Barb and Jerry are of Polish descent, and Barb speaks Polish. Two times during our days in Rome she heard people speaking Polish and struck up a conversation with them. How cool is that?

Nancy, Ed, Barb, Jerry, & Kathy in Verona

Ciao, miei amici.  Thank you for allowing me to show you Italy.

Buon viaggio. Ci vediamo in America. 

I Finally Got One Song Out of My Head and...

View from the top of the Red Bus

"Riding the bus and it’s hot and bumpy and crowded and too noisy and more than anything in the world you want to get off and the only reason in the world you don’t get off is it’s still fifty blocks from where you’re going?"  ~ Marsha Norman

I half-lied to the people in my two groups by telling them I like taking buses and trains.  I love riding trains. I'm okay with some buses. I hate hop-on hop-off buses most of the time...especially if they are the ever-present City Sightseeing bus aka "The Red Bus."  I guess that's not true, either. I actually like HOHO buses when they run efficiently and we can use them to take us to the important parts of the city we're visiting.  We were on one HOHO in Verona just last Sunday, and it was on-time (something not many of them are) and had pleasant employees (something *most* of them do NOT have).

 Rome, however, was a nightmare with both groups.  You may remember my fiasco with the HOHO bus one day when the driver was slow and then backed into another bus. That's the least of the problems, though.

There are six HOHO operators in Rome, and they all do basically the same route (dictated by the city government) and charge the same prices for 24-, 48-, and 72-hour tickets. They all also have people shoving pamphlets in your face wherever you walk in the tourist areas, and they all supposedly have a bus hitting each stop about every 15-25 minutes. HA.



We caught the bus early this morning because I wanted to get to the Colosseum early for everyone to have time to enjoy it, the Forum, and the Palantine Hill area.  We got to the bus stop in time to catch the first bus and were lucky enough to get right on it.

"This is great," I announced. "I can't believe there wasn't a line."  Listen.  Someone smack me in the head the next time I say something stupid like that. As I said last week, as soon as I mention how smoothly something is going, all hell breaks loose.

Line for Red Bus yesterday

 The ride to the Colosseum was okay.  Rome was cloudy when we got on, so sitting on top was pleasant and a little cool.  We got to the Colosseum, picked up the pre-paid tickets, and walked right in.  It was great.  After 30 minutes, though, I decided to leave since I had to get back to the apartment, take a shower, pack, and get ready to leave Rome.  Nancy, who has had trouble with her foot, decided to come back with me.  Kathy, Ed, Barb, and Jerry stayed to explore everything else.

It started sprinkling, so we hurried along. Nancy and I got to the bus stop just as a bus was pulling away.  There was one couple in front of us, and the sales guy told us another bus would be by in about five minutes.  The woman in front of us started singing, "Sole, sole. Sole. Sole. Sole." (pronounced sew-lay) to the tune of "A Tisket, a Tasket."  The rain came down a little harder, men selling umbrellas and ponchos kept approaching us, and she continued to sing. I'm not sure which got on my nerves more.

A yellow bus, two green (one lime and one green-green) buses, a pink bus, and a blue bus all came by.  People tried to cut in front of us, and Mrs. Spain's Got Talent continued to sing and hum that infernal song.

"I wish I had a taser," I said to Nancy.

"To keep people behind us?" she asked me.

"No. To stop that woman from singing that song."  She laughed. I didn't.

A red bus finally showed up about 10 minutes after it was supposed to be there.  About 15 people got off, and no one got on.  The sales guy and the "guide" on the bus were talking.  He backed away, and the bus door closed.

"No one can ride this bus," he announced.  "The microphone is broken, and it will be at the next stop for at least 15 minutes while they fix it. "

"We don't care about the microphone," I said to him.  "I need to get back."

"Madam," he smiled at me. "You have to wait for the next bus.  Only five minutes."

I probably don't need to tell you that the five minutes stretched to 15 or so, and when *that* red bus finally showed up, it let a bunch of people off and no one on.

"NOW WHAT?"  I was pretty agitated because the line was growing, people were trying to cut in front of us, and that woman would not stop singing that song.

Mr. City Sightseeing Sales Guy

"No one can get on this bus, either, Madam," he said.  "The sound system is broken, and it will take an hour to repair."

I was pretty much in his face at that point.  "Look," I said, "when are we going to see a bus that will let us get on?"

"Madam, I will call."  He did, and he said to us, "Another bus will be here in five minutes."

"Will it be working?" Nancy asked him.

His reply was not positive.  "I hope."

The singer was still singing that song that was, by now, really prickling my nerves.  "Stop singing that f-ing song," I hissed under my breath. "STOP."  She didn't.

In that supposed five minutes (more like 20) two yellow, five green (three lime and two green-green) buses, one pink bus, and two blue buses all stopped.  The sales guy called his office and started yelling at them.  He walked over to us ad showed me his cell phone.

"There are two buses on the way," he explained as he showed us the GPS tracking them on his phone. "They'll be here in two-to-three minutes."

All I can tell you is this:  When that bus did arrive about 10 minutes later, we had been in line 55 minutes.  People in line behind us (There were about 40-to-50.) tried to sneak on the back way. Mr. Sales Guy stopped them and let 12 of us in the front on.  Nancy and I had to sit on top on seats that were wet because of the rain.  We tried to dry them off a bit.

"I hate sitting in wet pants," I said to Nancy, "but at least the singer isn't around her. If this bus hadn't shown up, you might have had to bail me out of a Roman jail."  She laughed. I was serious.

Nancy & I happy to be on the bus even though we have wet hair and wet pants.

Luckily for us, the rain stopped before we got on the bus, so we could at least ride without having an outdoor shower.  The ride around the city back to the Termini stop took almost an hour, so we spent two hours waiting for and riding that stupid bus. I didn't even listen to the commentary, although I've heard it so many times I'm sure I could do most of it in my sleep.  :-)

All told, I spent almost three hours waiting for and riding red buses today.  My train trip from Rome to Bologna took all of one hour and fifty-eight minutes. It was dry, quiet, and quick, and they gave us complimentary drinks and snacks.

And there was no one singing "Sole, sole.  Sole. Sole. Sole."

Trains, Part I

A regional train

 “I like trains. I like their rhythm, and I like the freedom of being suspended between two places...”
~ Anna Funder

 I love traveling by train.  I like being able to sit in a coach and have someone else take care of the driving.  I do get a little carsick (especially on the regional trains), but I've learned how to lessen it by where I sit and where I look while the thing is moving.

Jerry, Barb, Ed, Nancy, & Kathy waiting for the train

Over the last week, we've traveled to Florence, Venice, Modena, Verona, Ravenna, Pescara, Sulmona, and Rome by train. The longest journeys were from Bologna to Pescara (three hours by fast train) and Sulmona to Rome (three hours by regional train). The fast trains can go over 200 km per hour, and they have fewer stops than the regional trains. One's fast train reservation includes a coach and seat assignment, and there is one car that has food and beverage. On the longer distances, there are stewards/stewardesses who bring a snack cart through the train.

Platforms

I always travel second class because, quite frankly, I can't see too much of a difference between first, business, and second class.  The coaches are all clean, and the seats are about the same.  The two other classes may get a newspaper, drink, and snack included, but it's not enough to make me want to pay the very high extra fee to get those few things.  If I can get business silence for the same price as second class, I do that.  For example, tomorrow I am going back to Bologna, and I'm in the silent car.  Basically, that means that no one talks, uses phones, or plays music or makes any noise.

Waiting

Travel of any kind, even the kind when you aren't doing anything, is tiring.  We left Sulmona yesterday at 10:25 and arrived at Roma Termini around 2:00. We had all slept a little on the train, but we were all very tired when we arrived.  While the heat had something to do with it, I think a lot of the exhaust was just due to the stress of travel.  

Train travel is very affordable in Europe.  The various train systems (Each country has its own.) release the fast train schedules/tickets three-to-four months in advance, and the earlier one books a ticket, the better the price.  As an example, I booked my May 15 ticket for travel from Milan to Rome in February. It cost me 49 euro. The day I arrived, I checked the price on the ticket machine, and the same class ticket I had was 200 euro. My Rome-to-Bologna ticket tomorrow cost 19 euro when I bought it months ago. Today, it's selling for 56 euro.

 Sadly, I leave my second group tomorrow and return to Bologna by train.  I'll introduce you to them in the next few days.  Until then, ciao....

Rant Time

Red roofs of Pettorano

 “Maybe your country is only a place you make up in your own mind. Something you dream about and sing about. "    ~ Hugo Hamilton



 I cannot help but get very homesick each time I go to Pettorano sul Gizio, birthplace of my grandparents. I have never lived there, but I dream about it always, and I feel a deep connection whenever I walk the streets. I also get very heartsick.
 

Above the altar in San Rocco, Pettorano

Each time we the very quiet streets of Pettorano, we see very few people. You may remember that my cousin, Rosa, walked me around town a few years ago and pointed to house-after-house telling me that they were, "abbandonata (abandoned)."  The young people leave because there really are no jobs there. It's sad to see such a beautiful place fading. I know that statement may make some residents and natives angry, but it is the truth.  I have visited a number of small towns in Abruzzo over the past five years, and the only one I have seen that has nothing to draw people to her is Pettorano.

In Pacentro two weeks ago, we had a wonderful meal and walked the town. People were out enjoying the day, sitting in bars, shopping in little stores that sell items made by locals.  In Santo Stefano two days later, we experienced the same thing as well as a demonstration of tombolo (a local art) and cheese, wine, and salami tastings in two of the three stores there that sell local products.  There are fewer residents in both of those towns, and one of them—Santo Stefano—is in an area quite remote from Sulmona. Neither one is any prettier than Pettorano; I actually think Pettorano is more beautiful. 

However, while both of the other two had tourists walking around and enjoying what the two towns have to offer, Pettorano had nothing but a tabbachi, a bar, and two restaurants, neither of which ever answered my emails about bringing my groups there for lunch or dinner.  I'm also upset that I have yet to see a sign announcing the Festa of Santa Margherita, patron saint of Pettorano, and it's in July.  Let's advertise the festival and get people to come.
 

 I'll be honest. It angers me to see this. I want to bring people to Pettorano to share not only the history but also the culture of this wonderful place. Why, I wonder, do the locals and the town administration not see that they can make it shine? Are they afraid that tourists will make the town lose its culture? Its charm? Its peace and quiet?  I didn't see any problems  in any of the towns i've visited over the past five years.

Fountain near the castle in Pettorano

I love Pettorano.  I dream about her every night.  I just wish I could do more.

Food, Part Seven Courses...

"The trouble with eating Italian food is that five or six days later you're hungry again."  ~ George Miller

Food is an important part of the Italian family.  Jokes abound about how mamma and nonna cook and cook and throw the guilt trip on anyone who, stuffed to the gills, refuses to eat anything more.  Jokes or not, it's true.

"I'm gonna be hurt if you don't eat another piece of my cake," my good friend, Novelia, said to me after we had finished a seven-course (You read that right.... SEVEN COURSES) lunch. The gargantuan lunch followed an equally large meal the night before. 

Rather than go into that meal, let me tell you about the dinner first.....

 Italian meals start with antipasto, and Novelia's sister prepared a wonderful one for us.  We had a few kinds of cheeses and olives, fried zucchini, bread topped with cream of zolle (garlic shoots), bread with tuna and cheese, eggs, and i'm sure something else I have forgotten.

 Once the appetizers were done, we had a pureed vegetable soup topped with peccorino cheese. I cannot really do justice to the soup, but I'll try. While the base was probably potato, it was delicate enough to allow the other flavors to shine through. It was absolutely delicious

 Following the soup, Vittoria served us farfalle topped with a sauce made of zucchini and asparagus. Unlike Americans, Italians do not drown their pasta in sauce preferring to coat the pasta enough to enhance the pasta.  Topped with peccorino, the farfalle was fantastic.

I should point out that peccorino is the cheese of choice in the Abruzzo (and Lazio) regions of Italy.  Parmigiana, while widely used, is more of a northern cheese.

After the pasta,  Vittoria served us meatballs in a mushroom sauce, stuffed pepperoni (peppers, not the stuff we put on pizza), and veal.

I should also point out that we had two kinds of wine—rose and Montepulciano di Abruzzo, a red— and water from Pettorano.

Are you feeling a little full yet?  There's more!  Vittoria made a delicious cake and topped it with  strawberries she grew in her garden,. Fresh cherries and strawberries capped off our evening.  (I had one cherry.  Anything more would have made me burst.)

 (Just as a side note, I assume you know Italians don't eat like this every single day. While meals are family affairs, the daily versions have fewer courses (and calories). They are, however, always just as good.)

The food was so good and Vittoria, Carlo, Novelia, and Peppe were more than warm and wonderful. I was thrilled to share life with a real Italian family with my groups because that's what Italy is about. 

I'm looking forward to being hungry again in the middle of next week.  :-)