One of my earliest memories from previous travels in Italy involves the sound of church bells. There is timelessness in those sounds. That perception is enhanced when what reaches the ear is colored by reverberating off old stone surfaces. In communities of any size, there are a number of bell towers each with their unique metallic occupants, each with their own unique metallic voice. In short order, we learned to recognize the Ascolani bells that are speaking to us. Although mostly welcome, under some circumstances, bells have potential to be less appreciated. Retirement is synonymous with getting older with all those assorted issues. However, in compensation, retirement also finally grants a pardon from being under the perpetual sentence of an alarm clock. When exercising the well-earned prerogative of rolling back over for a little more sleep, another form of sonic intrusion is not necessarily welcome. The sound of bells, particularly serious bells, may be like relations with some people. There are those acquaintances that are best appreciated at a certain degree of distance. So it was by happenstance that our apartment in the historic center of Ascoli is situated where we can recognize the distinct metallic voices coming to us from a sufficient distance to be appreciated but not so close as to alter our enthusiasm for them. Here the churches are older than in the U.S. and harken back to a time when the bell of the church was a pivot around which the community functioned. Bells signaled the milestones in the passing day. In simpler times, the bell, like the church itself, brought order to life. The early morning call to first Mass told you when to be up. At midday, the bell on the church announced it was time for Pranza and the extended rest break from the early afternoon heat in the fields. The evening bell announced it was time to stop for the day. In Ascoli, an accommodation appears to have been reached catering to those of us with insufficient religious fervor. Although a first Mass of the day may be celebrated much earlier, we are not usually aware of bells much before eight in the morning. In addition to the church bells, the...

Buona Pasqua! Happy Easter! (See photos under Portfolio) Today is Monday, Pasquetta (little Easter), or Lunedi dell’ Angelo, and a holiday in Italy.  Easter is just behind Christmas as the Italian holiday that is the most food-oriented.  There are many Pasqua foods and I will try and introduce you to a few. That also means that today’s Italian lesson is delayed for three days, giving me a chance to catch up on some blogging. You might be wondering how the Italian is coming along after four months of lessons?  I will begin by saying we are still enjoying our lessons because we are so fond of our friend/teacher. He feels two hours a week with each of us is not much time but if we increase our lesson time I fear we’d be able to do nothing else. I can only speak for myself here.  I have not put this much time into any one thing since our kitchen remodel but my study habits are undisciplined and “the little grey cells” are old and not very cooperative.  There is so much data going into my head that my brain aches, but there is little coming out yet. I am hoping that at some point physics prevails and my brain will run out of space and the Italian will have no choice but to escape through my mouth.  (Nose, ears? Please no lower!)   I can now translate about 30% of what I try to read and understand about 20% of what people say if they speak to me like I’m a small child. (Larry is far ahead of me, no surprise.) Why I am hesitant to speak Italian, except after two or more glasses of Italian wine, I do not know. Intellectually I understand that practice is the key, and our friends are more than kind and helpful. It seems one day I feel I know many words but when I want to speak I panic and cannot remember them. Our teacher, Serafino, said to relax and keep reminding ourselves, “they are not French, they are not French.” Oh well, we have nothing if not time and some very patient friends, who speak much better English now than when...

Sergio’s Homemade Tagliatelle (See photos under Portfolio) On Palm Sunday our friends Sergio & Laura invited us over for his famous homemade tagliatelle. Serafino, Larry and I arrived at their door about 11:00 AM to be greeted by Sergio returning from a half-marathon run. The man is nothing if not driven. The house was filled with the aroma of a long-simmering sauce of tomatoes, two meats and sausages that Laura had started hours earlier (and has promised to share her recipe). We would be a party of eight as their daughter, Alice, was home and Sassi and Gianni would join us. Sasy brought what I would call a pineapple-upsidedown cake just like my mother and grandmother use to make (a definte warm-fuzzy feeling came over me). Gianni, a man of the earth, brought a variety of funghi (mushrooms) that he personally foraged from the woods and then had been gently sauted until tender. I totally flaked on the homemade front and brought a chunk of parmesan cheese (half of the kilo Gianni had brought to our American Breakfast), a cold bottle of proseco and a Columba di Pasqua cake (Easter Dove) from Caffe Guido. This is a traditional cake made in a pan shaped like a dove. Ours was studded with chocolate chips and had a non-traditional chocolate frosting – although there are many different recipes. Laura opened up a pasta table that I am sure has seen generations of pasta making. I had a front-row seat as Sergio dumped 1 Kilo (1 bag) of “0” grind farina on the table, made a well in the center, and cracked 8 fresh eggs into the well. He then added a pinch of salt and a couple teaspoons of olive oil.  Just like on the television shows, with his hands he began to incorporate flour from the inner wall of the well with the eggs and (this is important) did not break through the outer wall of flour until enough was mixed with the eggs to keep them from bolting.   Once he had incorporated “enough” of the flour to make a dough, he brushed the excess aside and began kneading the dough, and kneading, and kneading, and kneading, adding flour as...

An American Breakfast (See photos under Portfolio) One Saturday evening a group of us were having aperitivo when someone mentioned breakfast which lead to eggs, which then lead to someone asking me if Americans ate eggs every morning for breakfast? (As mentioned before, Italians usually only have caffe and toast or a pastry for breakfast.) Someone mentioned we should get together for breakfast sometime, and that was my que. So on 30 March we invited about 12 friends for An American Breakfast at our house. By party day we ended up with 8 friends: Cinzia, Gina, Lucia, Mariella, Laura, Alice, Serafino and Gianni. My party-giving style has now relaxed to look more like it did at home in San Diego, thanks to Laura who said she wanted to help make the recipes. Everyone was assigned an ingredient to bring and those interested helped in the kitchen. I pre-cooked the bacon, sausage and home fried potatoes and made a fruit salad. Cinzia brought 24 just-collected eggs and others brought tomatoes, cheese, juice and prosecco. Our new friend, Jo, made Rice Krispy Treats for dessert – how American is that – but at the last minute was unable to attend to enjoy them. Only Jo, when not able to find marshmallows, would make her own and then melt them into the recipe. They were awesome. Lucia brought some beautiful pastries.  Together we made lemon-ricotta pancakes with fresh strawberries and scrambled eggs with herbs and parmesan cheese. Knowing this would take a while I had made up plates to tide folks over of green apples and celery with peanut butter (common in the U.S. but rare here) and Ina’s herb dip with veggies and toasts and put them on on the two tables. Even though I pointed out the snacks when everyone arrived, no one touched them until we sat down to eat because that’s the way they do it here. Duh, I forgot. Unfortunately Sasy was out of town but her husband, Gianni, was tasked to map out a walk around town for us post-breakfast. People here never cease to fascinate me. Gianni took us on a tour of the many entrance doors in Ascoli with ancient Latin sayings etched in the...