We made gnocchi!

Welcome to Kim & Annie's kitchen. Tonight, we made homemade gnocchi from scratch - with NO electrical appliances. Since we've been eating gnocchi like it's our job (since, well, it kinda is our job right now), we decided to go straight to the source. How is this stuff made? We've heard it's really complicated and time consuming. Can we do it? Yes, we can! And we did.

Here are the ingredients needed for gnocchi:

1) potatoes
2) flour
3) lots of time
4) wine and champagne
5) cheese
6) the movie Elf

Okay, okay, maybe you just need numbers 1-3 for the gnocchi. The process is much more fun though if you add numbers 4-6. We may have gone a bit overboard in our first gnocchi production. We made waaay too much and will be eating gnocchi for awhile. Something tells me that it won't go to waste.

If you're interested in seeing how we made our gnocchi, here are the pictures from our fun Friday evening.

Playing house, playing guitar, and lots of new pictures!

If you click on the picture above, you can view a close-up that lets you see the olive groves past the yellow leaves, and the cathedral in Santa Maria degli Angeli down below.  Gorgeous!

Here I sit, eating leftover homemade tomato soup, while Kim practices guitar by the window in the kitchen.  It's a pretty, domestic little picture.  We had an early morning, getting up at 6 to go to the Friday morning market in Bastia Umbra.  There were Tons of clothes there, but we focused on the food and came home with some good, fresh vegetables and cheese.  

Nap time has come and gone, and I think we're going to try to make gnocchi this afternoon.  (Y'all know how I love gnocchi.)  It's probably best to start with plain, potato gnocchi, though I can't help but be tempted to add cheese, basil, etc.  We'll see.

Since we're [gloriously] without jobs and all, we've been spending a lot of time exploring lately.  We went to Perugia on Monday and walked around.  (Pictures HERE.)  And here's a little taste:

 

Tuesday was Assisi, Wednesday was Santa Maria degli Angeli, and Thursday (yesterday) we trekked up to Rocca Maggiore, the castle at the top of Assisi.  Amazing views!  You can check out the many beautiful pictures and captions HERE, though here's a nice one from up top:

And for those of you itching to see what Kim looks like with a guitar on her lap, look no further.  You can see her wide range of chord knowledge HERE.  Good work, Kim!

Before we left Genova

We did some walking around in Genova last week, trying to find the good parts.  There were some pretty sights to see, including the Brignole (pronounced bree-nyo-lay) station, to the right.  My roommates, Francesca and Simona, graciously held two, separate dinner parties to share some delicious Genovese dishes.  The food was fantastic, and their company even better.

The first dinner (pictures HERE) was for Francesca, Simona, a friend of Francesca's, her toddler son, Kim, and me.  But later in the evening, our bartender friend across the street sent some of his buddies over.  Soon the apartment was full of twenty-something Italians, all enjoying the wine and hashish they'd brought along with them.  Italians stay up late!  I was so tired from the wine and big meal that I was barely able to stay awake on the couch.  One of them spoke excellent English, and we practiced our Italian as well.  Good humor and friendliness translate easily.  It's always fun learning new slang and local words.  (Sidebar: my new nickname is Gnoccha.  It's like female gnocchi, and sort of means cutie.  Some more, er, colorful, yet positive descriptors are also related to potato words.  "Why potatoes?" asked Kim.  Francesca didn't hesitate, "Because they're good!"  Perfetto.)  But back to our dinner party.  It was really fun to be around so many people our age in a social setting, in this different culture.  Spirits were up, but I was still exhausted, and the night ran late.  So I took a few pictures here and there, all the guests eventually left, and Kim and I hit the sack.  Whew!

The second dinner was just last Friday, and much tamer, though the four of us did put a dent in a bottle of amaretto, Kim's new favorite before/after dinner apertif.  Francesca made focaccia formaggio (among other amazing dishes), and we spent most of the evening joking, laughing, and taking terrible pictures (shown HERE).

Ultimately, I think these lovely ladies are the only things we'll miss about Genova.  We're SO happy to be in Assisi, and there are many more pictures to come from this phenomenal city.

Assisi - Day One

Today marks our first full day living in Assisi.  We both have colds, so we're not as energetic as we'd like, but it's gorgeous here.  Kim's cold was hitting her hard this morning, so I went out for a walk on my own (pretending he's beside me..... Eponine!)  Ahem.  Anyway, we're not too far from San Matteo, which is on the northeast side of Assisi.  But instead of walking down into the center of the city, I veered further north outside of the city walls and found a little, paved trail.  Very steep.  Why not?

Well the paved trail soon became a gravel trail, then a dirt trail.  There were a lot of dogs on the way up in big, wide cages.  The one closest to me was surprisingly calm when I approached - she looked a lot like my Dad's old hunting dog, Lady.  The trail got steeper and steeper, and a man passed by me walking two more hunting (looking) dogs.  A few minutes later, he came up from behind with two more dogs.  I followed them up, and he stopped at a wooded park with picnic tables, all on a steep hill, situated next to an old tower.  I walked to the top of the park and took a rest at one of the tables.  

Thinking I couldn't possibly climb any more, I saw a little, old woman (70's probably) making her way down the mountain trail, now back to gravel road size.  She was wearing workout clothes and carrying a walking stick.  Well if this woman can get up there, then so can I!  So a kept going.  And going.  And hurting.  And panting.  As the end of each uphill stretch revealed another long, steep haul ahead, I finally stopped and turned around.  Making my way down this trail safely hurt almost as much as on the way up!  

Hopefully today's lunch will turn my legs from jelly back into muscle so I can venture out this afternoon with Kim.  Pictures from this morning are here: 

http://picasaweb.google.com/annieoctober15/HelloAssisi#

The butcher shop.

Tonight, I unwantingly found myself in a butcher shop. I will not be visiting the butcher again. My stomach is still churning.

Allow me to ruin your dinner by settting the scene. In Italy, food is bought daily. You go to the cheese store for cheese, the bread store for bread, etc. Guess where you go for meat? Yep, the butcher store. Since everyone tends to go at the same time, you grab a number when you walk in the door and wait for your turn. This provides ample time for you to peruse the goods. Ignorantly, I think I'm prepared to enter the butcher store. I've been around the meat section at the supermarket before, right? I can handle this. We go in and lucky for me, the line was rather long. There are many kinds of meat lying around - unwrapped and out in the open. No problem, I've seen similar things before. Then, there is an animal that is staring at me. It is fully intact with eyeballs and all, just no skin. "Ummm...what is that?" I ask. "Oh, those are cats," the person I'm with answers. "Here in Italy, we eat cats." Now, I'm not very fond of cats and would usually think this was funny, but in this situation - not so funny. Of course, he was teasing me and upon closer inspection I could see their little ears and even a little fur left. Rabbits. Ewww.

I had already noticed, but was trying to avoid looking, at the man in the corner. Since I have to avoid looking down at the rabbits, I have to look up and there he is in clear view. The butcher. In front of him is a large animal hanging from a hook, by what I'm guessing used to be his legs. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STORE! The man is wearing a blood-stained apron and has a sharp knife. He will cut for a second on the animal and then literally hang on the meat to rip it off. When it's off he throws it to another man who is slicing and chopping and putting it out to sell. That's right, straight from the animal to your table people. I mean, I know this is how you get meat, but is it necessary to put it out there for everyone to see?

To make matters even more disgusting, everyone is doing everything with bare hands. This means touching meat, touching money, putting things in bags, handing things to customers - bare hands! Ewww again.

It's at this point in my butcher shop visit, that my stomach and I agree we can take no more. I feel it starting. It's the "I'm about to get sick" feeling. I tell the people I'm with that I will be outside. The fresh air and a few deep breaths and I manage to hold it in. Several hours later, and my stomach has not settled completely. I'm thankful that there are many pasta combinations that do not require meat. I don't know if I can go back into one of these here butcher shops. I'm very thankful for Annie. She graciously volunteered to buy all of our meat while we're in Assisi. Right, Annie? Right? ;) Per favore?

Time for a Catholic shout-out

Tonight my darling roommate Francesca made a spinach-asparagus bake thingie for dinner.  Looks delicious.  Before she left the house, she wanted to make sure we knew it was for everyone, so she put a little sign on it:

It basically says, "Take this and eat it.  It's not my body, though!"

Hah!

My small victory over the five-year-old.

For the past month I've been working with, or rather for, a five-year-old little girl. She is the most spoiled rotten brat I've ever met. I mean rotten to the core. She treats the housekeepers terribly (like her mother) and gets away with everything - she even hits them and calls them witches. There is no discipline in this house. I understand that it's not her fault but that doesn't mean I can tolerate it. I've done very well at keeping my mouth shut. Well, for the most part anyway. There were a couple of times I said something ;) Basically, I play with her everyday for four hours. We color, we read books, we watch movies, etc.

The first week I was here, she spoke no English to me although it was obvious she understood me (she has a lesson in English everyday at kindergarten). The first week I tried not to let her lack of manners bother me. Just the first week. After that, I decided that if I was going to teach her English, I would teach her manners while I was at it. For awhile I was pretty sure she hated me. Fine by me. She can hate me, but she's gonna be nice about it. I wouldn't give her things until she said please. She would hit me and I would tell her I would not play with her until she apologized. One day, we had a MAJOR stand off. She wanted to do something other than what we were doing and I said we have to clean up our mess first. Of course, she didn't like this and went into a huge tantrum. Fine. Surprisingly, I can be patient in some circumstances or maybe I'm being stubborn. I mean, I want my way too. Either way, I tell her we're not doing anything until it's all cleaned up. I know she's used to people cleaning up after her, but I refuse. We sit. I wait. I sing. We wait. I tell her it sure would be fun to go outside. We wait. After a few minutes, she starts cleaning up her mess. I win. We go outside.

Here we are a few weeks later. The scene I described is a pretty common one and somedays I really want to hit her. I haven't yet. I have had a lot of wine though. She's now speaking English to me most of the time. Sometimes, she speaks Italian and I've learned a lot of Italian from her. Yesterday, I still think the girl hates me. As is usual here, it's raining and I think it would be a perfect day to watch a movie. We're sitting on the bed and the next thing I know her little head is on my lap, then she grabs my arm and wraps it around her. Crap. She's attached. I completely wasn't expecting it.

The victory happened today though. We were in the kitchen. She says, in English, "Can you give me the water, please?" It wasn't until after I gave her the water that what she said registered. I literally almost fell over. Her mother even looked at her. "Please?" her mom said. "All on her own? Brava." In my head I'm thinking, "see how easy that was?" I must say, it felt good. Okay, maybe I feel like I won again.

So, I know I shouldn't feel bad about leaving these kids, but I do. It's not that I'm going to miss them, cause trust me; I'm not. It's that I feel bad that someone else is leaving them. It's just not fair to them. They're both obviously attached to me and here I am leaving. There are people in and out of the house all the time. The mother said she'd tell them what she always tells them, that I've gone on vacation. Can you imagine? Talk about having emotional problems later in life. These kids are doomed.

Well, hopefully I'll be remembered as "that mean American who made me say please."

How I'm failing Italy

I'm about to head into school to teach a couple of classes.  It's raining.  Again.  I had most of the day free, and Kim and I planned to go see some Genoa sights.  But it rained all friggin day.  It's tough to get motivated and excited when you're constantly being spit upon from above.

Because of the craptastic mood this place puts me in, when I come home I watch English television on itunes, read English books, and listen to English music.  To get the full Italian experience, I should really be watching Italian TV, walking around Italian neighborhoods, and spending my free time studying the Italian language.  Instead of whining about the stupid weather and bus system.

So tonight, after class, I buckle down with studying.  There are many things to do in preparation for the move to Assisi this weekend, but that doesn't mean I can't start now.  

Ciao,

Annie

Shout out to Kurt Hall!!

Venice was gorgeous.  Just look at this!   But now.... Flashback time..... 

Picture it.  New Concord, Ohio, 2000.  Kurt and I are working on a project, late night, in-depth, pain-in-the-ass type of work.  We come to a stopping point for the evening and decide we need a drink.  Everything is closed in New Concord, which is a dry village anyway.  So we drive to Cambridge on a mission.  This was before Cambridge had any bars for the college kids, so we pulled Kurt's car into the one open place that we knew would have drinks: the Best Western Bar & Lounge.  This place had it all.  Middle-aged waitress with attitude, $5 cheese platter, and even cheaper main courses.  But above all, they had a fully stocked bar.  I'm not proud of what I'm about to type, but at that time in my life, my drink of choice was the buttery nipple.  It's a super-sweet shot of half butterscotch schnapps, half bailey's irish cream.  Today, I might be able to stand it over ice cream, but back in 2000 I thought it was tops.

So there we were, kickin' it sweet style at the Best Western Lounge.  We both drank enough to warrant an external DD, so we buzzed Ben & Kari's house.  Both were asleep.  Kari answered the phone, then brilliantly told Ben it was for him.  Lucky for us, Ben is easily amused and soon arrived at the BW to drive us safely back to campus.  Good friends and trashy liquor - always a pleasure.

So let's flash forward 8 years...... Kim and I found ourselves in Venice with full stomachs, miserable feet, aching backs, and sagging eyelids.  We thought we'd be able to stay up for the 3am train, but the beauty of the city convinced us to stay another day.  We just had to find a room.  Easy, right?

Well, the hostels were on the other side of the island.  Water taxis were 60 euro a pop.  After begging at 10 different hotels in the beautiful island paradise of Venice, we found one, single, tiny room at - you guessed it - the Best Western Hotel.  In Venice!  The room was big enough for one twin bed and some walking space on the floor.  The window faced a lovely, grey/brown stone wall.  The bar was open.  So eight years after what I thought might be my only night spent in the Best Western Lounge, Kim and I shared a nightcap at the Venice Best Western Hotel Bar to lull ourselves into a night of awkward sleeping arrangements.  And were it not for those silly college memories, I may have been too embarrassed to even write about such a generic hotel selection on this here blog of ours.  But Kurt, this one's for you.

p.s. - this time I had amaretto.  

Annie & Gnocchi

So, I'm starting to notice a theme with Annie. The theme? It's called gnocchi. Every ristorante we go to HAS to have gnocchi or Annie will not enter. In Venice this weekend, we were looking for a place for lunch. I noticed one place where the pizza looked great. Annie says, "I'm just gonna look at the menu over there." I tell her the first place looks fine. "But the other one has gnocchi con quattro formaggi," she whines. The same day, we're looking for a place for dinner. Once again, we're reviewing menus, the place has gnocchi; it's a winner. The next day - still in Venice, we're lost and really needing to sit down. We decide it's time for lunch. We find a cute little place along a canal. This place has three types of gnocchi. Annie has never smiled bigger. "Gnocchi again?" I ask her. "DO YOU KNOW ME AT ALL?" she yells. Seriously - she yelled at me! "This is my third gnocchi meal in a row, not counting breakfast." She was definitely proud of this fact. I swear, if they'd have had gnocchi for breakfast it would've been four meals in a row. The girl is mad for gnocchi and I can't blame her. The gnocchi here melts in your mouth. It's like cotton candy. Just look how content she is in this picture, post gnocchi.