Flavors of happiness
I had promised you I would dedicate a post to the culinary experience of my Italian holiday, I think now is as good a time as any.
Of course you do not need to wait for me to hear the praise of Italian cuisine, many better writers than me have already celebrated it. I am afraid I will only be able to give you the point of view of an hungry and longing Italian immigrant.
You might now be visualizing those flocks of dusty Italian kids roaming Brooklyn streets at the turn of the twentieth century. Well, nothing would be farther from the real image that you would see if you would be here now since I am a very much polished up knowledge migrant who's hungry only because she has been on diet in the last nine months and longing because the Netherlands has one of the worst (if not the absolute worst) food culture in Europe.
Here is a faithful recounting of the events.
Before leaving home I had made for myself a list of food that needed to be eaten during my stay in Italy. The list contained the following items
Consuming such quantity of food in three days when for nine months you have only been eating pickle and carrots started to seem to me quite a challenge.
I had to have a plan!
The first step was to move "Krumiri" (generally available all over Italy) to the time spent in Tuscany.
"Pasticceria mignon assortita" was going to be eaten in Rome, where they make it to an acceptable standard. I still remained to with a long list though.
"Taralli sugna e pepe" could be transported (but could not stay fresh for more than a couple of days) so I could buy them in Napoli and eat them while working my way back to the Netherlands.
For the rest there was no alternative, it had to be consumed in Napoli.
Before leaving Rome to go to Napoli I pre-warned my parents (who were already in Napoli) to have mozzarella ready upon our arrival on Monday.
"Pizza", "zeppole" and "panzarotti" have to be eaten in a restaurant but they could be consumed in the same meal, this was planned for Tuesday evening.
Graffa had to be eaten for breakfast at a bar, and this was also planned for Tuesday on my way to the hairdresser, first thing in the morning.
I only had to plan in "spaghetti alle vongole" and "soffritto", but these had to be home made by my father, so I engaged him with "spaghetti" for Wednesday lunch and "soffritto" for Wednesday dinner.
Thursday lunch would be celebrated with another generous portion of mozzarella.
It all seemed to fit, it could work!
Once on Italian soil I put my plan into practice with military precision and great dedication, enjoying each of the steps more then the previous.
Knowing that it might take months or even years before I would prove all the favorite flavors of my youth in one single week, made my experience even greater.
You can guess that now I am back to the sad reality of pickle and carrots which is more tolerable here than it would be in Italy
Of course you do not need to wait for me to hear the praise of Italian cuisine, many better writers than me have already celebrated it. I am afraid I will only be able to give you the point of view of an hungry and longing Italian immigrant.
You might now be visualizing those flocks of dusty Italian kids roaming Brooklyn streets at the turn of the twentieth century. Well, nothing would be farther from the real image that you would see if you would be here now since I am a very much polished up knowledge migrant who's hungry only because she has been on diet in the last nine months and longing because the Netherlands has one of the worst (if not the absolute worst) food culture in Europe.
Here is a faithful recounting of the events.
Before leaving home I had made for myself a list of food that needed to be eaten during my stay in Italy. The list contained the following items
- Spaghetti alle vongole
- Mozzarella
- Taralli sugna e pepe
- Pizza margherita con funghi
- Zeppole
- Panzarotti
- Soffritto
- Graffa fritta
- Pasticceria mignon assortita
- Biscotti Krumiri
Consuming such quantity of food in three days when for nine months you have only been eating pickle and carrots started to seem to me quite a challenge.
I had to have a plan!
The first step was to move "Krumiri" (generally available all over Italy) to the time spent in Tuscany.
"Pasticceria mignon assortita" was going to be eaten in Rome, where they make it to an acceptable standard. I still remained to with a long list though.
"Taralli sugna e pepe" could be transported (but could not stay fresh for more than a couple of days) so I could buy them in Napoli and eat them while working my way back to the Netherlands.
For the rest there was no alternative, it had to be consumed in Napoli.
Before leaving Rome to go to Napoli I pre-warned my parents (who were already in Napoli) to have mozzarella ready upon our arrival on Monday.
"Pizza", "zeppole" and "panzarotti" have to be eaten in a restaurant but they could be consumed in the same meal, this was planned for Tuesday evening.
Graffa had to be eaten for breakfast at a bar, and this was also planned for Tuesday on my way to the hairdresser, first thing in the morning.
I only had to plan in "spaghetti alle vongole" and "soffritto", but these had to be home made by my father, so I engaged him with "spaghetti" for Wednesday lunch and "soffritto" for Wednesday dinner.
Thursday lunch would be celebrated with another generous portion of mozzarella.
It all seemed to fit, it could work!
Once on Italian soil I put my plan into practice with military precision and great dedication, enjoying each of the steps more then the previous.
Knowing that it might take months or even years before I would prove all the favorite flavors of my youth in one single week, made my experience even greater.
You can guess that now I am back to the sad reality of pickle and carrots which is more tolerable here than it would be in Italy
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