Food in Florence Italy!

Reta, Abby & Sarah enjoying light refreshment at the cafe at the Uffizi!

Freshly back from Italy with my two little sisters Reta & Abby- terrorizing waiters from Florence to Volterra. I suspect we were a wee bit gauche showing up at restaurants at the Ungodly early hour of 7 PM and giggling while ordering, but the waiters soon warmed to our charms and large tips. We also appreciated their food and service in an undeniable if linguistically stilted manner.

The food offerings were a bit disappointing to us- compared to my trip to Rome a few years back. Where were the artichokes during their harvest season? Where was the artichoke and olive pizza? It also seemed to be a much more pasta based diet in Florence- a real non-starter for a celiac. We sated our artichoke lust at the small grocery across the street with hotel picnics of cheese, salmon mousse, wine and marinated artichokes.

We soon hit our stride. The three of us, plus an honorary sister, new Sarah, who insinuated her way on to the taxi from the airport and into our forays for food, made for a foursome hell bent on culinary pleasure. We struck out to find the out of the way restaurants to deliver what we demanded.

The Osteria di Porcellini, not too far from the Porcellini Bronze (little boar), was our first attempt. The risotto with salmon and broccoli was decent but nothing a half rate Italian restaurant in the states wouldn't offer. What it did offer was Rafael sitting next to us and explaining the Italian leather trade. It was worth the price of admission. We checked out his shop the next day where his cousin summoned him from the factory floor with the promise of 4 American women. Our honorary sister, New Sarah, came close to purchasing but evaded the siren call of Italian shearling.

The next night we made a reservation at Il Santo Bevitore, across the Arno on the more funky side of town. It is a beautiful restaurant, but dimly lit. New Sarah sealed our fate as gauche Americans by stealing the candle from the nearby table to be able to read the menu. Our wonderful waiter, Camariere 2, castigated her but returned with a replacement candle. The meal was good and the service impeccable. Camariere laughed and helped us through the menu. We found a hopping little bar with live music on the walk home but we had already polished off a bottle of wine and an after dinner Limoncello. We stayed for a few songs and stumbled to the hotel.

The next day we were off to see sights without the others on the tour. We shopped and we went to the Opera del Duomo- a museum of original tidbits removed from the cathedral due to their delicate state. Once again Abby was in need of sustenance- and no one is happy unless Abby is happy. Reta turned around to point to some purple doors- "How about there?" It was a fortuitous choice and one of our best meals. Mangiofoco looks like a small hole in the wall but it is deceiving. There are many levels of tables and very fresh food cooked on the premises. There were ricotta and spinach tagliatelle, truffle honey drizzled on fresh pecorino and white fish in a delicate tomato sauce. The owner Max was our waiter and made the lunch an event. He even consented to a photo.

On New Sarah's final night we went to a much revered establishment- Buca Mario. The service was to die for, but we had just come off a wonderful lunch at Mangiofoco, it was noisy and the place felt a little overpriced. It reminded me a bit of those Boston restaurants that slide by on reputation and presentation. Good, but not great.

New Sarah returned to the US and the three graces continued on to Volterra- a cult destination for American teens due to it being the setting for the most recent Twilight series- New Moon. Nevertheless we found a light repast around 1 in what looked liked a cheesy dinner. Faux lacquer chairs and nearly non-existent atmosphere. We amused ourselves watching a young couple and their small child who was nearly a duplicate of my sister Reta's youngest daughter. The food was amazingly competent and satisfying for what basically amounted to an Italian diner. I had a delicious seafood risotto loaded with mussels. Then a class trip of Italian preteens descended for their lunch. We were reduced to tears watching them fight about food and who had to sit with the girls. Teens are the same the world over.

That night we vowed to eat at a tony looking little restaurant around the corner from our hotel. It was called Ristorante Enoteca Del Duca. We stupidly tried to go to dinner at 7- as the staff was sitting down to theirs. We were sent away- how humiliating! We showed up again at 7:45 and we were seated right next to the wine cellar. We were deep enough into the countryside that the waiter could not speak English. My sisters put me in charge of ordering wine. I am still trying to get the distinction between red and rose in Italian- it caused me to send a bottle back. Humiliation number two! We finally dived into the wine and started enjoying ourselves. My first course was ricotta souffle- light and lovely. Abby had spinach & ricotta gnocchi with truffles and a rich cream sauce. Reta had a light salad with pecorino shavings. We all tried Abby's gnocchi- they were just about the best thing I ever tasted- until my main course arrived. Reta had pasta with a pesto sauce. Abby opted for a light plate of grilled vegetables - a wise choice after her rich gnocchi. I had THE most amazing bowl of lentil soup I will ever have in my life! It was pureed and lightly rimmed with olive oil. Browned, extruded mashed potatoes formed a flower design around a raw egg yolk in the middle. Shaved white truffles covered the top. I pierced the egg yolk which ran over the top of the thick soup adding a rich creamy texture. The truffles were earthy and delicious. I wonder if anyone else has ever rhapsodized about lentil soup? We all agreed that while this was the priciest meal we had in Italy, it was worth every cent.

Killer Dog

I chose to park in a slightly different place that morning, thus changing my walk into work routine ever so slightly. Some construction has filled up the small side street where my business is located so I was a little distracted by the internal cursing in my head. "Why don't they ever think about the businesses they are disrupting? Would it kill them to not park all three major pieces of heavy equipment right in front of my entrance? If all 4 city workers choose to eat lunch on my stoop again complete with folding chairs and coolers spread out I am going to have to say something."

I barely noticed the small tug at the end of the leash tethering my precious little pooch Henry, but I did notice the shark like snap and cloud of feathers around him. Crunch, crunch. He was rolling the still peeping body of a sparrow around in his mouth trying to get a little traction to swallow the mouthful of bird. I don't know what I was thinking but I wrestled the bird from his mouth and left it on the sidewalk. Did I really think it would make it after such a mauling?

I know it is the way of the world... not so much eat or be eaten, but eat AND be eaten. There is many an animal in the woods who would make a quick snack of Henry or even me. But to be present at the dispatching is a little troubling. Was it cruel? No, it was swift and sure. It was also all instinct on his part. Food presented itself and he partook. I ,too, am a meat eater and understand that it means one less sentient creature in order to stoke my body. It is just one of those thoughts that rolls around and around in my head, not making sense.

And then I had chicken for dinner.

Perfection

I made this spoonbread for dinner last night. It was "tres magnifique!" Without having tasted it I can tell you that.... because it is the right amount of crunchy brown on top. My mother taught me, in cooking, that brown near to burnt is very desirable. It is especially desirable in:
chicken skin
turkey skin
mac & cheese
bread crusts
anything with cheese on top
creme brulee
etc.
etc.

I know many people were raised to to think that pale tops with flaccid skins were desirable in baked foods. I disagree- the exotic, crunchy, Mediterranean-complected casserole/dessert/baked good is where its at.

Cooking With Gas

I am a terrible eater. Big revelation-Huh?

It isn't that I don't like food. I like good food, and despite my lack of the sense of smell I am pretty good at distinguishing tasty food from not so tasty food. Except for that one experience where I actually ate something rancid and had no clue...... LYC can tell ya'll about that.

My problem is that eating is one more chore in my day to get out of the way. I am driven by what my mother taught me is nutritional and what is available.

My boyfriend is well aware of this problem. He was disgusted with my refrigerator when we started dating. There was cheese, tuna fish, chicken sausages, and.... well, that is about it. The food was easy and kept my finely tuned, Ferrari of a human body going. He now fills the freezer with good vegetables and soups to keep me fed during his annual stay in Florida.

So... after my Mexican party I found some things that needed to be used up. (I also HATE the idea of food being wasted or thrown out) So what do you do with a 16 oz. container of sour cream? My solution to any surfeit is to make muffins. They are the great absorber of leftovers. Old rice? Refried beans? Jelly? Polenta? Sour Cream? Throw it in!

But to my dismay, it was a container of no-fat sour cream. Not just low-fat, it was no-fat. I tried a dollop of it. Blech. But I thought that putting it in with other ingredients would mask the chalky flavor. No dice. I don't know which one of my esteemed guests was responsible for this blaspheme of a food product, but I will track them down. Probably my health conscious brother and his skinny as a rail wife.

So what does this have to do with being a terrible eater you may ask? Well- I choked down all 12 of those muffins this week- those anemic, chalky muffins slathered with butter in an attempt to mask their flavor. They tasted like crap, but it was easier than pouring a bowl of cereal.

Where Does Your Food Come From?

Forewarning to all chicken lovers out there- there will be chicken killing in the next few paragraphs.

Our friend the organic farmer had some old layers to get rid of. They had outlived their productive life and it was time to become chicken stock. The boyfriend is an old farm boy and does not shirk from the realities of our food cycle, so he retrieved the hens and brought them back to dispense of them.

I have not moved over to the vegetarian side so I understand that an animal must die in order for me to eat meat. I have not stepped up to the plate when it comes to the actual killing. I conveniently had to work that day.

The boyfriend knows that I love chicken livers (don't ask) and he thoughtfully saved them for me. But I have to admit when they don't come packaged in a plastic tub they are one step closer to where they actually come from- a dead animal. I sucked it up and fried them up for breakfast, and they were good.

He also saved a couple of "eggs from the chute" as he puts it. They are like yolky ping pong balls- perfectly spherical. I fried them up too. It took a bit of poking to break the outer portion which I assume would have become the shell. They were also good.

It is a funny feeling being so close to the food chain instead of buying your food in Styrofoam packages. It was vaguely uncomfortable yet I also felt somehow more honest. I felt grateful to the animals for sustaining me.

Moon Festival

The boyfriend and I were invited to the Moon Festival at a Chinese restaurant. This involves showing up at the restaurant at 10 PM as all the regular customers are clearing out. Tables are pushed together to form banquet tables. Huge platters of food are brought out along with several cases of beer. We were the only Caucasians in attendance , which is a pretty good indicator that we wouldn't be receiving teriyaki steak on a stick.

My boyfriend is very friendly with the owners and provides them with free legal, business and editing services and he, in turn, is invited to eat their fabulous food. To be invited is a big honor. I have also attended their Chinese New Year meal which is a very festive meal with the owners doling out envelopes of money to their employees and much drinking of beer. It is their big Holiday akin to our Christmas. I was mortified one year that some invited Caucasian guests of the bartender kept yelling out "Shake and Bake" to indicate their pleasure with the food and company. I couldn't help feeling responsible for their bad behavior because we shared a skin color.

But back to the Moon Festival..... I think it might be a Harvest Festival because it is the right time of year and the theme seems to be lots of food and overeating. There was barely room enough for your dinner plate on the table because there were so many platters of food- soup, lobster, fish, frog, turtle, chicken, squab, shrimp, conch and more.

I consider this an opportunity to travel without ever leaving my country. I was invited to a distinctive celebration in a culture very different than my own. So I put my preconceptions aside and eat like a native. The Chinese, after cooking an animal, tend to just chop it up, bones and all. They eat it by popping a piece into their mouth, rolling it around to extract the meat, fat and skin and then delicately remove the bones from their mouth with chopsticks or their fingers.

There is no denying where this food came from. The fish looks exactly like a fish. It is propped up on the platter with its tail gracefully curved behind, its mouth open and eyes staring straight forward. The whole chicken is sliced up and the forward part of the head is tucked into the breast, mouth open and tongue curled up. The crab is all pieces and shells that you have to dig around in and suck clean to find tidbits of meat.

As strange as it is, it is undeniably delicious. The lobster is spicy. The crab is delicate and moist. I suck on the legs and think it is the most crabby tasting dish I have ever had. The conch is very chewy with a delicate flavor. One of my favorite dishes is what they call sticky rice. Rice is processed, extruded and sliced into thick, chewy medallions which are stir fried with mushrooms. I think I had thirds on that!

The young woman sitting next to me, who is a waitress asked me if I liked the food. I answered affirmatively. She said many people consider it strange that the Chinese leave the bones in..... so they are aware of what people think of their food. But I know as a cook that much of the flavor of meat comes from the bone and the skin. And I can't help remembering that Julia Child herself said that the three great cuisines of the world are French, Italian and Chinese.

The Chinese are not big on sweets but the Moon Festival always ends with Moon Cake. It is a small sweet cake that is filled with egg yolks. When it is cut the yolks look like Full Moons. I cannot eat it as I am sure that it has flour in it which I shouldn't eat (and God knows how much I ate in the other unnamed dishes). But I brought a piece home so that I could photograph it- as shown above.