There is the old cliché about travel being broadening.  If the originator of that observation had Italy in mind it is true personal girth could be at serious risk of enlargement.  The catchall phrase ‘Italian Cuisine’ does not come close to suggesting the rich variations in the mosaic of unique, regional dishes.  Italians have lived close to the earth for centuries and have developed a wonderful harmony in making the best out of what the immediate, natural environment has to offer. In our case, if it weren’t for all the walking we are doing, we would have ballooned as a result of the indulging our taste buds are getting.  Because Italian cuisine is identified as ‘close to the land’ in no way means it is monotonous, bland or lacking in creative invention. There are the endless varieties of pastas combined with an even larger variety of sauces plus the cornucopia of locally raised fruits, vegetables, meats, fowl plus the harvest from the very nearby Adriatic Sea.  And that is before we talk about the pastries, the gelatos and the obvious love Italians have for sweets of every kind. We have been drawn to the immediacy of the Italian table.  The ingredients tend to be very fresh and the preparation has the gift of bringing out the best of what freshness has to offer. On the other hand, regimentation in the promotion of ‘consistency’ to support the ‘bottom line’ can degenerate into a corporate imposed, standardized formula that is intended to not vary in a franchised chain. It is easy and delightful be get spoiled in Italy where what is placed before you is, at its best, a unique production that was carefully prepared. The food is not surprisingly like a good Italian wine – it has complexity and one senses individual flavors but yet the internal harmony is a joy.  This added aesthetic dimension elevates what could be an otherwise perfunctory experience for simply meeting basic bodily needs to a whole new level.  This is one of the joys of Italy.  At its core, it is saying to us simplicity is not a minimization out of a forced economy or a subtraction in the quality of the experience.  It...

An American Thanksgiving in Italy – A little over a week ago I took a Google-translated note to the butcher ordering a 5.5 kg whole fresh turkey to be picked up last Thursday.  Since he speaks no English and I have never seen a whole turkey in Italy yet, I had my fingers crossed hoping to pick up something that resembled a whole fresh turkey.  I was also hoping it was actually in the ballpark of my request size-wise because my oven is pretty small.  Luckily, when Larry and I arrive to pick it up, the butcher proudly brought out what looked like a really large whole turkey surprisingly without it’s head.  He immediately whacked off one wing at the last joint and looked at me and said OK?  Well it wasn’t because I use those wing tips to steady the turkey in the pan, but it was too late now, so I smiled and nodded yes while indicating “no more”!  I don’t know where the giblets went, but I never saw them.  So we picked up some more supplies and took our prize home.  It weighed in at 6.5 kg which, fortunately, still fit in my little oven.  Upon inspection it looked like it put up a fight (a few bruises and torn skin) and there were still more than a few feathers which I spent about an hour plucking with tweezers.  One thing that really struck me is that it looked real.  I mean you could see how this guy could get up and run around.  Proportionally, the legs were long and large and the breasts were, well, normal size.  I always brine my turkey (if not Kosher) but I didn’t have a vessel nor a refrigerator large enough to do that.  I remembered seeing something a while back in Cooks Illustrated about dry-brining, so I check the internet and read up on it.  Actually, I was very pleased with the results and there were no large containers of nasty water involved.  I suggest you try it on your next roast chicken if you haven’t already. As with all American meals I try to prepare here in Italy, the real trick is finding the proper ingredients.  Ina’s apple...

Cinzia’s Polenta Dinner: I have observed that upon entering an Italian home, no matter what size the room, a major part of the square footage is dedicated to a large dining table.  When you arrive at a party, there is no roaming about the room with drink and food in hand making small talk.  People are introduced, you do the right-left Italian air-kiss, and proceed to the table.  (This type of greeting is supposed to be reserved for people who you know well, but my experience is that most folks will greet you that way either immediately or wait until they have known you a few hours.)  Appetizers are put on the dinner table, everyone chooses their seat, the first bottle of wine is opened and the party is in full swing.  This may be because all dinner parties begin at 8 or 8:30 PM, so you need to get right to it.  Once you have taken the time to enjoy the antipasto, the entree appears around 9:30-ish and you won’t finish with cafe and digestives until about 11 or 11:30. A week ago we were invited to Cinzia M.’s home for a “polenta party.”  When the day came, unfortunately, Larry was still struggling with his second bout of bronchitis and made the wise decision not to go.  It was another cold wet night.  We have come to love Cinzia so that I was excited to meet her family, more of her friends and see her home.  Mariella, a lovely woman who is often with us but speaks no English, and Grace picked me up.  When visiting an Italian home, my  experience is that no matter what size the room a major portion of the square footage is dedicated to a large dining table.  Everything was as I imagined.  Her home was warm and inviting with a large beautifully set table.  Her friends were welcoming, relaxed and gregarious.  Her mother is a lovely older Cinzia and, as is often the case, lives in the flat across the hall.  However, upon entering there is a nice stairway immediately to your left that apparently goes nowhere – a great conversation starter! As Cinzia and Grace were the only English speakers at...