a holiday i can get behind.

I’ve long been a part of the “everything is better in Italy” camp. This may be a bit of an over-generalization, but in my experience, it usually holds true.

Today is World Nutella Day, my kind of holiday, if there ever was one. With that in mind, I thought I would put my theory to the test.

Nutella is all over Italy– in its trademarked Ferrero form, in off-brand knockoffs and as the traditional Gianduja flavoring. Most hotels offer it at breakfasts, for spreading on your requisite carbs and devouring with a cappuccino. That is where I pilfered this little beauty.

A single serving package of Nutella taken from a continental breakfast in Rome, that I brought back with me, undeclared, in my checked luggage. I decided to conduct a bit of a taste comparison between the Italian Nutella and the stuff sold in the United States, which had been sitting in my pantry long before I ever left for Italy. A lover of all things nutty or chocolate, I am not sure what kept me from breaking into it before now, but no matter. Today was the day!

To ensure the utmost accuracy in this taste test experiment, I determined that it would be best to sample the spreads straight. No bread, cookies, fruit or other tasty implement would be used to deliver it to my mouth, lest it sway the results. Besides, why would you need those things when you can use a spoon?

The Verdict? The tiny Italian package was richer, more fudge-like than its American counterpart in the plastic jar. The kind found in the US is thinner, and was rather oily. In all fairness, though, the flavors of both were nearly identical. It was the texture and how it feels in your mouth, that the difference is most apparent.

After tasting both, I analyzed the ingredients to see if I could determine where the two differ. As far as I can tell (with limited Italian), the ingredients are quite similar. The most noteworthy difference is that the Italian version uses vegetable oil while the American version uses hydrogenated palm oil (read: trans fats, and not good for you). Given this discovery and its superior texture, I have to give it to the original. The Italian Nutella not only tastes better but it is better for you.

Perhaps there is something to my theory. Maybe everything really is better in Italy?

This post is in honor of World Nutella Day, held by Bleeding Espresso and Ms. Adventures in Italy. It’s not too late to celebrate. If you’re anything like me, all you need is a spoon and a jar!

true love.

Did I tell you about the time I fell in love? No, I don’t think I ever did. His name is Da Michele. Remember when experienced that pizza that just let me down? Well, this most definitely didn’t. In fact, it’s everything pizza should be and everything that other pizza wasn’t.

If you are ever in Naples, do yourself a favor: Find this street, Via Cesare Sersale.

Yes, this is it: L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele.

See the crowd? It’s always there.

Push your way through and get yourself a number.

And then, you wait. Lean up against against a car and make yourself comfortable as incredible pizza-aroma wafts towards you. You get to stare at the empty pizza boxes, all that remains of someone else’s lunch.

After about 45 minutes, give or take, they call your number, “sessanta cinque.” Upon entering, the giant oven draws your eyes.

You sit down among a dozen other tables where people are enjoying their pizza. They don’t give you much time to peruse the menu, but when it’s this short, that’s just fine.

And once you get a table and finally order, you wait again. It’s a little crowded and a lot caotic, but hey! This is Naples, you can’t expect much else.

The marinara comes out first: Just sauce, a sprinkle of garlic slices and some dried oregano. Don’t wait for the rest of the table to get their pizzas to dive in. It would be disrespectful (you know, to the pizzas). They’re best right out of the oven.

Then, the real star–the doppia mozzarella–comes out. Double the mozzarella, double the love. Most importantly, double the deliciousness and yes, creating new words is justified in special cases. This is one of them.

Beautifully blackened crust, charred leopard spotting across the chewy crust, and a sea of milky white cheese in the middle.

The fresh cheese and bright sauce meld together into a delightfully soupy center. Work your way from crust to middle and back to the crust, using it to sop  up the perfect sauce.

All too soon, it’s gone.

You wouldn’t want to waste any of it. After all, it’s not often you fall in love with your pizza.

not so sweet.

Winter squash is a highlight in an otherwise bleak, vegetable-devoid season. It’s hard to bypass in the grocery store, orbs currently piled high in its seasonality. It’s naturally sweet, a trait that I love, but also warm and comforting to be sure.  For the same reasons, I love soup in winter. Sometimes, it’s the only remedy for the Minnesota’s fifteen-below-zero cold that has inevitably settled into my core.

Thus, one would think that squash soup would be a favorite of mine–but that’s far from the truth. Most squash soups emphasize the sweetness of the vegetable, adding apples or pears or even honey. For my tastes, even these restrained additions put an already sweet vegetable into the cloying realm.

Determined to incorporate squash into my Christmas Eve meal, I settled on butternut squash soup. Italians know how to do squash, enhancing its inherent sweetness by balancing it with savory components, and that is where I took inspiration.

Squash soup–usually in the form of bisque—are silky and smooth but at times make me feel like I am eating baby food. In light of this, I decided to add extra flavor and texture by topping the soup with freshly fried sage leaves and fried shallot slices. As it was the primi course, I was trying to keep this soup light. However, if I was making this for a standalone meal, I would have made a crouton to top it. A thick slice of ciabatta topped with finely chopped sage and grated cheese, broiled to melt, would be a great addition to make this soup entrée worthy.

I like a nice hit of spice in this; a bite of freshly ground black pepper and nutmeg are a welcome foil to the sugary squash. Topping it with a bit of freshly grated pecorino romano, precious cargo I trucked back from Volpetti in Testaccio, rounds out the peppery flavor.

Always the contradiction, I really love this squash soup. It’s barely sweet in the best way. The photos aren’t the best—I was, after all, putting together a 5 course meal for 14 people—but don’t let that deter you.

Butternut Squash Soup with Crispy Sage and Shallots

The “recipe” is very loose because it is really hard to go wrong.

2 medium butternut squashes

2 white onions

4 cloves of garlic

Nutmeg and black pepper

6 cups chicken broth, or more if necessary

Fresh sage and thyme

For serving:

Shallots (about two medium per person), sage (a few leaves per person), olive oil and pecorino romano

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cut the squashes in half and rub them with olive oil and bake until tender. Meanwhile, chop the onions and garlic and sauté until translucent. To taste, add some nutmeg and freshly ground black pepper, a few chopped sage leaves and a couple sprigs of thyme to this mixture. When squash is soft, scoop out the flesh and allow it to cool. Combine the cooled squash and garlic/onion mixture and then blend in batches with chicken broth as needed. Return to stove to heat through. Adjust salt (some broths will be quite salty), consistency and seasoning as necessary.

Just before serving, fry whole sage leaves and thick shallot slices in olive oil. Sprinkle them on the soup and finish with a grating of pecorino romano.

eating in the neighborhood, part IV.

If you’re vacationing in Italy, chances are you are doing your fair share of gelato eating. Whether it is a humid 90 degrees in August or a damp and gray 45, it is always a good time for this incredible frozen treat. When I was in Italy, I made a point of eating as much gelato as possible. It is because of this that I feel like I can admit this to the world: Not all gelato is good. In fact, there is a lot of downright bad gelato to be found, especially in Rome, where neon mounds of ice cream beckon to tourists. If the mente flavor is the color of toothpaste, you needn’t taste it to know that it’s a dud. Real gelato is flavored and colored entirely naturally. The mandorla is a silky frozen version of an almond, a world away from imitation almond extract. The pistacchio will be a dusty tan color, hinting at the nut’s green center and not a bottle of food coloring.

This is exactly what is called artiginale–meaning it is handcrafted in a traditional manner–and this is exactly what is so hard to find around the main attractions. And don’t be fooled by just any gelateria professing that it is artiginale, because it usually isn’t (see above). If you happen to be meandering through the historic center and have a hankering for a taste of the real deal (or perhaps you need something to wash down the filetti di baccala?), there is only one place to go as far as I am concerned: Gelateria al Teatro.

Tucked into a corner off of Via dei Coronari at Via S. Simone 70, it can be a little hard to find. However, it’s near Piazza Navona and certainly worth seeking out. They execute traditional gelato flavors perfectly, and the bounty of flavors changes with the seasons. If you feel like cioccolato, there are always at least three flavors to choose from–milk chocolate, dark chocolate, chocolate and orange, chocolate and wine, and more. Should there be something lighter on your mind, how about some quince sorbetto? Or some plum granite? If you’re a traditionalist, they make a fine stracciatela or cafe or crema.

With the bounty of fantastic flavors to choose from, it can be difficult to decide. My recommendation? Get at least due gusti (two flavors) and make one of them the tiramisu. You won’t be sorry!

make a meal of it.

Yes, I could.

The Italian antipasti—literally, before the meal—is an assembly of simple dishes that comes before the main courses meant to whet the appetite. There is often an impressive array of dishes available for antipasti in restaurants in Italy, and everything from grilled vegetables to marinated seafood is fair game. Perhaps most famously, it also stars cheeses and cured meats. Antipasti plates are supposed to prepare diners for the forthcoming food, but I have to exercise restraint to save room for the rest of the meal.

For our Christmas Eve meal, the antipasti spread offered bruschetta with cannellini beans, roasted red peppers, a variety of olives, Calabrese hot salame, Toscano salame and San Daniele prosciutto. The highlight for me, however, were the cheeses—creamy fontina, two different types of cows milk cheese studded with back truffles, a pecorino, among others. The perfect complement to these cheeses was this fig balsamic jam.

It is a recipe I made up myself on the fly, but I like how it turned out. The sweetness balances the sharp nuttiness of aged pecorinos especially well. The flavor is surprisingly complex and rests right on the line between sweet and savory. It made a fine addition to our antipasti, but I am imagining it as an addition to a panini with proscuitto. I am have been eating the leftovers for lunch with cheese and crackers. Simply delicious.

Fig-Balsamic Jam
These amounts are rough, as all figs are different. Play around with this. I imagine that herbs such as rosemary would be a nice addition.

8 oz dried Turkish figs, chopped
5 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
Water, as needed
3/4 c balsamic vinegar
1 tsp salt
1 ½ tsp freshly cracked black pepper
Combine figs and shallots in a sauce pan over medium heat and add enough water to fully hydrate the figs. They should begin to breakdown slightly before adding the rest of the ingredients. Stir continuously, adding more balsamic if it needs more moisture. Adjust seasoning to taste. I like a hint of black pepper spiciness in the background.

christmas eve.

So, I am unsure how it happened, but I was put in charge of the Christmas Eve feast. Actually, I know how it happened. It went something like this:

Me: What are we doing for Christmas Eve?

Mom: Well, we’re having your dad and everyone at our house for dinner. We were thinking about doing Italian food.

Me: That sounds great!

Mom: Would you like to be in charge? Things are going to be really busy and I just don’t have time to deal with it this year.

And I was cornered. I couldn’t say no, and so I have been prepping days in advance. It’s a lot of work, but I am pretty excited about the menu.

Antipasti

A selection of cured meats and cheeses, bruschetta, balsamic fig compote, and cannellini beans in olive oil.

Primi

Butternut squash soup with fried sage and shallots.

Secondi

Braised lamb with roasted potatoes, and red chard with currants and pine nuts.

Insalata

Fennel and orange salad.

Dolci

Tiramisu.

If things turn out, you can bet there will be recipes on here in the future. I am back from Italy, but I still have things to say, so this blog will become a collection of ramblings on cooking, eating, Italy, and life back in the United States. I was traveling for the 9 days prior to coming home, so I have a lot to post about, but with the holidays here and my (STILL) broken computer, posting has been difficult. Hopefully any one still reading will check back here in a while. Just give me a few days. I’ve got some good stuff coming!

Happy Holidays, everyone!

eating in the neighborhood, part III.

One of the best ways to eat well and inexpensively is by getting your food for takeaway (da asporto) or by eating at the bar instead of sitting down. This is done primarily in caffes and pizza shops, but other establishments occasionally offer this as well. Such is the case with the next place in this series of posts on where to eat cheaply in Rome.

In case you haven’t had your fill of pizza, I recommend trying baccala, or salt cod, which is very popular in Rome. If you’re leaving the Forno, keep  walking straight across the Campo, past the theater on the left and down Via dei Giubbonari. You’ll see a small piazza open up to your left, and there is a little restaurant with a sign that says “FILETTI DI BACCALA.” You can sit down inside, but I always cut straight to the back of the restaurant and get it to go.

I love to watch the women prepare the fillets as I wait. After soaking the baccala to remove the excessive salt, they are carefully battered and fried in a giant vat of oil. Fresh out of the oil, they are wrapped in a piece of thick paper so you can hold them safely. Crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, they are expertly done and never overly greasy. They have a certain lightness about them, in fact, compared to some fried foods.

When you get it to go, it is 50 cents cheaper than when eaten in the restaurant (4.50 EU as opposed to 5 EU). For many, it would be worth the cost to sit, but for a student cutting all possible corners, this is a very affordable option. It might not be the cheapest in Rome, but it’s convenient. It might not even be the absoulte best in Rome. I wouldn’t know because it’s so good that I don’t have a need to seek out anything better!

I tried to get photos for this post, but it was closed every time I stopped by. If any one knows what the hours are for this place, let me know.

eating in the neighborhood, part II.

After visiting my favorite coffee place, you might find yourself needing a bite to eat. Cross Corso Vittorio Emmanuele to head to the Campo dei Fiori. After scoping out the market, zone in on the corner labeled “FORNO.” You’re in for a treat.

When you open the door, a blast of warm, yeasty air will hit you. This is where all the magic happens: they bake all their goods in house. Outside, you can watch them pull the pizzas out of the oven from the window to the right of the main door.

But, first things first, you really must try the pizza bianca.

Pizza bianca is different from other pizzas in Italy and forms the base of the other types of Roman pizza al taglio, or pizza by the slice. A relatively straightforward food, one will find no cheese, no tomatoes, and no toppings other than its glistening olive oil coat. It only takes one bite, crackling through its crisp golden crust, teeth sinking into the softer interior, to understand why this pizza is often eaten relatively unadorned. It needs no other accompaniment. Downright addictive, it is hard to find a better snack in Rome. However, when the food is this simple, the execution is crucial, as there is nothing to mask poor technique. Pizza bianca can range from an utterly transcendent experience to merely edible, and choosing the bakery where it’s purchased is important. In my opinion, this is it.

However, don’t let that stop you from loading up on other varieties of pizza as well. Their offerings change all the time, from mozzarella and cherry tomatoes, speck and smoked provolone to zucchini blossoms and anchovies. Alternatively, head across the alley to their other storefront for a sandwich made from a hunk of pizza bianca split through the center. They have delightful, rather delicate fillings, from strozzaprieti, arugula and walnut to seasonal flavors like proscuitto and fig. While everything is delicious, my standard is always a hot piece of pizza bianca coming out of the oven–and at about 1 eu for a generous slice, it’s a very good deal.

Their pine nut cookies and other desserts are also delicious, and well worth trying. I’ve never been disappointed, and if you make friends with the workers, they’ll sometimes throw in a few other treats to taste for free.

Everything except the sandwiches is purchased by the kilo, so you can get as much or as little as you want. I recommend trying several things and heading out to eat by the Bruno statue.

eating in the neighborhood, part I.

Finding a good restaurant in a tourist-filled city like Rome can be like navigating a field of landmines, not to mention expensive. Over priced, mediocre food abounds—and if they have pictures of the food outside the restaurant, keep looking. I am increasingly wary of signs advertising a “Menu Turistico,” no matter how good of a deal they are, and restaurants that have waiters loitering outside, beckoning to foreigners walking by, won’t have a single local in them beyond the employees and are usually overpriced. Luckily, if you know where to go, all of that is completely avoidable. I like to think that I have discovered some of the best places to eat inexpensively during my stay here.

This is part one of a series of posts dedicated to my version of a budget-friendly culinary tour of Rome’s centro storico! I will start with one of my most frequented establishments, Sant’Eustachio. You can find it in Piazza Sant’Eustachio, between the Pantheon and Piazza Navona.

When you first arrive in Rome, you must stop by Sant’Eustachio for the best espresso in Italy (and though I may not be an expert, I do not seem to be the only one to have this opinion as the place is plastered with international raves). If it’s before noon, I recommend a gran cappuccino or an espresso, both of which are impossibly creamy. The crema on their espresso is about a centimeter thick, and that’s no exaggeration.

If you’re in search of an afternoon treat, try a caffe co panna (espresso with whipped cream) or a moretto (espresso, frothed milk and cocoa). They are open late, too, so you can stop by for a caffe corretto—literally, a corrected coffee. In this case, it is corrected by a splash of alcohol of your choice. Grappa or sambuca are traditional but Sant’Eustachio also has Jameson, Bailey’s, amongst other options. One word of note, if you want yours without sugar, you have to ask when you bring your receipt to the bar (“senza zucchero”), however, I recommend drinking it like the Italians! A teaspoon of sugar never hurt anyone, right?

Every time I visit, I leave contemplating how it is possible that their espresso is so smooth, so creamy, so sweet, so good. It could be the fact that they wood-fire roast the coffee beans, which you can watch if you head behind the bar. But I think it has more to do with the technique, apparently a highly guarded secret. The espresso machines have a metal surround so that customers can’t see the baristas at work. What goes on behind there, I will never know. All I know is that I like it.

nearing the end.

The quarter is done. Can I just go home for Christmas and then come back? No? As excited as I am to be home, to see friends and family and celebrate the holidays, I can’t bear the thought of never coming back. I know I will come back to Rome, but it will probably be years, and that makes me sad.

But really, I am relieved to be in the home stretch. I have one final paper due on Monday for which I am researching the effects of agribusiness and corporate control on world hunger. My professor says I am making this paper much more difficult than it needs to be, seeing as this is our first real introduction to world food policy. However, I am not one to shy away from a challenge, especially when it is what interests me. And thus, while many of my fellow classmates have turned their papers in early and washed their hands of it, I am still writing. It is a heavy topic. Big Ag ruins everything.

In the meantime, in preparation of our departure and in the interest of saving money, my roommates and I have been trying to use up the strange combination of ingredients that are left in the house– bags onions and garlic, limited vegetables, some spices, a ton of black bananas, rice and pasta galore. The other night, we planned to cook dinner together in hopes that our ingredients would be able to come together into a complete meal. I would say we were successful.

Please excuse the poor photograph (speaking of, family, friends, anyone planning on buying me something for either my birthday or Christmas? There’s only one thing I am asking for. Maybe we can start a fund.) But, clockwise from 11, there is chicken saltimbocca (traditionally made with veal, but my roommate had chicken breasts), roasted garlic risotto (with about 4 heads of garlic) and an escarole salad (look familiar?). Given that each of us felt as though we had no groceries and nothing to make for dinner, the final product was like striking gold.

Simple, delicious, greater than the sum of its parts. A perfect example of what you can come up with when you have a little ingenuity and some patience. Just as importantly, I am happy to know we’ve eaten the food so that it doesn’t get thrown away when we leave. Afterall, Americans waste 40% of their food while there are 1 billion hungry people in the world. It certainly puts things into perspective.