CMYK

I have been wanting to finish up writing about my time in Italy, but things have been quite busy lately. I only have a couple more things to write about, but I think I was subconsciously avoiding it because it felt like putting the final nail in a coffin. However, right now I am waiting for a screen to dry so I can print, which is about as interesting as watching dough rise. Thus, I figured now would be a good time to write about food (when isn’t?).

It was the last week and I still had food I wanted to prepare. We also wanted to have a final house dinner. Unfortunately, Joey left a day before, but we went out to eat with him before leaving. For this dinner, I made spaghetti con il diavolicchio. This recipe requires putting the garlic and peperoncini in olive oil a few days before the food is actually made. When I first read the ingredients for this dish, I was expecting a spicy tomato sauce. As it turns out, it is more of an oil-based sauce with tomatoes. I was also expecting it to be very hot. It was, but not how you might think. Rather than being a tear-jerking, fireball-inducing sauce, it was just a slow burn that gradually grew, but never became overwhelming. It was very good and I think it could be enjoyed even by those who do not particularly like spicy food. It was a great food to have with friends and a large plate of garlic bread.

Myself and a few other friends had all said since the beginning of our time in Italy that we wanted to visit Sicily. It came down to the last month and finally everything came together. Joey and I went by overnight train on Friday while the girls would be traveling by plane on Saturday. The train, though affordable, was not exactly the best experience. My cabin was absolutely boiling — probably due partially to the fact that the temperature controls were broken. To make things worse, I was on the very top bunk. Nevertheless, I endured the night and woke up to the train being loaded onto the ferry.

Once the train was secure, I went up on deck for the short journey from Villa San Giovanni to Messina. The early morning light against the silvery clouds was so different than what I had seen in Tuscany, but it was absolutely beautiful. We came back onto land and set off from Messina. As the train drove, we rolled past countless citrus orchards. As someone who has spent most of his life in the urban tundra that is Milwaukee, it was surreal to see innumerable trees laden with ripe, bright fruit in December.

After a fifteen-hour train ride, Joey and I finally arrived in Palermo. We rejoined the girls at our hostel, and after a short introduction of Palermo by the owner, we set back out to find some food. The owner of the hostel recommended Bar Touring, near the coast. At this caffè they made arancine bomba, literally “little orange-bombs” (my rough translation). In plain English, they’re fried rice balls. Arancine are made by breading and deep-frying a ball of risotto and can be prepared with a variety of fillings, such as mushrooms, ragù, spinach, sausage, and cheese. Normally they are much smaller, about the size of a clementine. However, the bomba term refers to much larger ones prepared all over Sicily. These delicious bombs are about the size of a large orange, making just one enough for a lunch. We each bought one and then sat on the edge of the sea, gazing at the nearby ships at port.

Next returned to the city and visited a few of the churches, the most notable being the Cattedrale di Palermo. The lack of marble on such a large and ornate church made it stand out to me. I also thought the sculpture of Jesus inside was quite beautiful with its bursting golden rays. By the end of the day we were all pretty tired, so we had a relaxed night. We ate at pizzeria nearby the theater. It was possibly the busiest restaurant I was in during my whole stay. Despite the commotion it was still enjoyable. There were mostly locals there, so it was nice to have the feeling that I was experiencing a true Sicilian family-style pizzeria.

The following day we decided to visit the Duomo di Monreale, up in the nearby hills. On the way there, we stopped at Pasticceria Capello to try La Torta Setteveli, a world-famous cake made with seven types of chocolate. It is nothing more than a chocolate-lover’s dream. This cake is incredibly rich and not to be missed if you are visiting Palermo.

We continued on to Monreale, and arriving a little early, spent some time looking around the city. When we finally entered the cathedral, I was absolutely dumbfounded. The entire church was beset with ornamental gold, red, and green mosaics. I knew immediately that this was far and away my favorite of all of the churches I had visited in Italy. The sheer amount of time and craftsmanship required to create such a work is simply mind-boggling.

On our final day we decided to visit a nearby beach in Mondello. Our walk to the bus stop gave us a little view of the busier, more commercial areas of Palermo. We even saw one man arguing with another from outside of a bus! Palermo was shaping up to be quite an interesting place. A short bus ride later, we found ourselves on a beach with soft sand and azure ocean. The weather was nothing short of perfect and the sun felt so good while sitting in the sand. Being there in December felt like being in a completely different world.

Our time in Sicily was incredibly enjoyable for me, and was a wonderful change of pace from the end-of-the-year academic crunch. Besides just a change of pace, Sicily struck me as being very different compared to Northern Italy. Two things in particular stood out to me.

Firstly, I noticed that many of the buildings had obviously sustained significant damage at one point in time. There were even ruins of buildings left standing in places. A little research online suggested that these conditions were caused by the Allied invasion of Sicily during WWII. Whether or not this is true I am unsure, but it seems plausible. However, it made me wonder why the buildings had gone so long without being repaired or rebuilt. One website I came across suggested that money for reconstruction had been squandered away by government corruption. Despite all of this, the questions of why became increasingly irrelevant to me as the conditions simply became part of Sicily’s charm. I have always been a fan of old, reused buildings and urban ruins, and Palermo is definitely a treasure trove for that.

Secondly, the way in which people related to one another was a marked difference from my familiar “norms.” It was not unusual to see to guys walking down the street arm-in-arm, or see two friends kiss each other on the cheeks (something that could get you chased out of town in certain parts of the US… or shot). Also, while on the bus to Mondello a young boy (I believe he said he was 5) sat next to two older gentlemen, who were bus drivers. They all began chatting casually, and when the men stood up to leave the boy gave them a hug. All the while, the mother standing nearby acted as though this was perfectly normal, something I don’t believe you’d see in the US. I understand that in a general sense it all boils down to cultural differences, but it was refreshing for me. You could tell in the way that people talked and behaved that they truly cared for each other, even a stranger they just met.

Sicily is very different from Northern Italy, and appears even more so when compared with the US. Some people might not like it — they might talk about the ugly, damaged buildings or whisper about the presence of the Mafia. For me however, Sicily is a place that, despite whatever imperfections, still retains an irresistible charm.

Our time together was quickly drawing to a close. Finals week was creeping up slowly and the final Arcadia-planned trip was that weekend, the 21st of November. Joey, Hunter and I had been tossing around the idea of making a day trip to Assisi. We had all heard great things about the city from various people. We made a last-minute decision to go that Friday and we caught a train heading to Umbria.

We stepped off the train at the Assisi station, but we still had a ways to go. From the station to the city center was about a three kilometer walk. Don’t feel sorry for us, though — the views on the hike up were nothing short of stunning. In retrospect, I enjoyed the walk up and down as much as being in the city itself. We wound our way around the twisted city streets and arrived shortly after at the Basilica di San Francesco.

Francis is quite a legendary figure in Italy. He is obviously known for founding a new religious order and greatly influencing Christian perspectives on nature, but there are a great number of legends surrounding his life and work, perhaps most notably his reception of the stigmata. When one sees the Basilica dedicated to him, there is no doubt that Francesco was a highly respected and venerated man.

The lower level of the church was built first, and the space was constructed in such a way that it feels almost underground. That is not to say that it feels eerie or uncomfortable. The chapel, with it’s low ceilings and frescoed walls lit by candlelight, feels quiet, intimate, and peaceful. The upper basilica seems as though it were created to contrast the lower. Its high ceilings, tall, sweeping arches, and multiple levels of frescoes give the basilica a grand, spacious feel that forces one’s eyes to gaze upwards. The upper basilica is significant not only from a historical perspective, but also an artistic one. Many of the frescoes present were created by Cimabue and his workshop. Additionally, the lower frescoes are attributed to Giotto, although some historians dispute this. All debates aside, it is a truly impressive and beautiful church.

The following day, I went with some of the Arcadia students to Arezzo and Cortona. It was sad to see that not everyone came, but at the same time this made the visits a little more relaxed, which was a nice change of pace. The first place we visited in Arezzo was another church by the same name as the one in Assisi. However, this basilica dedicated to Francesco was much humbler in character. The outer facade and inner areas were much simpler and less ornate. Yet this was a refreshing change from the heavily-ornamented churches seen often elsewhere. Although quite different, this basilica was just as beautiful in its own right.

After some time in Arezzo, we drove on to Cortona. We started at the Santuario di Santa Margherita, a church set at the highest point of the hill, and then descended into the city. Our walk took us along the tops of walls that were built ages ago by the Etruscans. Cortona is a quiet, rustic town. The streets were lined with house after house made of a patchwork of intermingled stone, red brick, and stucco. It’s a strange place in that I cannot point to any certain thing that makes it so beautiful, but it just is. Finally I reached an outlook and was able to see the valley below, cast in a haze and illuminated by the setting sun. I have since returned to the US, but I cannot help but feel that I have left a part of me behind in Cortona.

I love truffles! No, I’m not talking about the kind that come in boxes, wrapped in little pieces of foil — I mean the rare, delicious fungi that is found by specially trained sows and dogs. These aromatic tubers grow, among other places in Europe, in the northern and central parts of Italy, and as such have become a part of the local cuisine. One of the first things I ate after arriving in Italy was Pecorino cheese with truffles, which they served at the Castello Verrazzano winery when we visited. I have been in love ever since. Truffles are powerful in that way. People tend to react quite strongly, either loving or hating them. I have never heard of anyone who thought truffles were “just okay.”

When I saw that Fred’s cookbook had a recipe with truffles, I knew I had to try it. The recipe called for fresh black truffles (tartufi neri) and after asking my Italian professor was directed to a shop that sold them. I knew that they were expensive, but I didn’t know to what degree. After entering the store I discovered that black truffles were €1.00 per gram and white truffles were €3.80 per gram. Think about that for a moment. That’s up to €3,800 per kilogram (2.2 pounds)! With a recipe that called for fifty grams, it was simply too expensive! I decided to compromise and buy some thinly sliced black truffles in oil instead, which were significantly less expensive.

When I returned home I decided to make a half recipe, just in case something went wrong — no sense wasting good truffles. I immediately began preparing the Spaghetti al Tartufo Nero. The recipe is quite simple, calling only for spaghetti, truffles, olive oil, and anchovy paste. The dish was ready in no time at all and I began eating. It was delicious, as expected! I was a bit apprehensive about the anchovy paste, but because it was such a small amount it gave just a little flavor without overpowering.

Shortly after, I decided to use the rest of the truffles I had bought and remembered stumbling across some recipes at the website for 4 Leoni. It seemed a bit strange, because it essentially instructed one to make plain risotto and then add a truffle sauce, prepared on the side. I was used to risotto recipes calling for something to be cooked along with the rice. However, when it all came together none of that mattered. The cream and Parmigiano made the risotto rich and creamy while complementing the truffles perfectly.

If you would like to try the risotto I made, you can find the recipe here. They do not give the quantities to make the risotto, but a six-serving recipe in Fred’s book called for 1 liter of vegetable stock and 450 grams of good rice (Vialone or Arborio work well). I would also suggest having a little extra stock on the side in case the rice takes more liquid to cook (making risotto is not an exact science). For those trying truffles for the first time, it may seem like eating a form of money. But if you love it, it won’t matter and you will gladly eat that currency — delicious, delicious currency.

No journey in Italy would be complete without visiting Rome, and so in November I did so, along with all the Arcadia Students. We got up early in the morning and boarded a bus, and after quite a drive found ourselves entering through one of the old city walls. We stopped briefly at the hotel and then quickly made our way to the Vatican. When you stand in front of it, you know even without entering that this is quite a lavish building.

From there, we went to the Vatican museum. Within a few minutes of entering I found myself in a courtyard with original neoclassical sculptures such as Perseus with the Head of Medusa by Canova — sculptures that I had learned about in an art history class and never dreamt I would see in person. It was also nice to see that the collection included religious art beyond the classical sphere. I remember specifically a painting of the crucifixion painted in what I would describe as an art deco style (I’m not sure if that’s entirely correct). It was a novel, powerful way to depict a scene that I have seen in artwork hundreds of times before. The museum also included works by several notable artists, such as Dalí. However, the art on the walls was not the only kind to be found. The building itself was a work of art, with countless frescoes and mosaic floors with immaculately complex patterns and images.

Finally, I reached the high point, the Sistine Chapel. One cannot help but be struck by a sense of wonder when standing within that chapel. The amount of time it must have taken and the attention to detail are incomprehensible. However, I once again felt as though the place had been robbed of some of its beauty as I did during my stay in Venice. The constrained space, constant movement of people, and shouts of “no foto!” became very distracting at times. And yet how can a problem such as this be solved? Everyone should be allowed a chance to see such a beautiful place, so you cannot limit the entrance, and trying to pace visitors’ entrance into the museum would create extremely long queues. It seems that with increasing international travel, this sort of thing will simply become inherent to the experience.

Following the Vatican Museum, a few friends and I went to the Trevi Fountain. The beautiful sculptures seem to break free from the rock and water to take form. The way the figures seem to be in constant motion parallels the water that is constantly running over them. While we were there we also made our way down to the bottom and each threw a coin over our shoulder and made a wish.

After walking back to the hotel and taking in the city along the way, I was certainly hungry. For dinner that night, we went to a typical pizzeria in the area — the sort of place families and friends would go to have dinner. Once again, the food was delicious, although it wasn’t quite as good as the pizza I had in Sorrento (I’m unsure if I’ll ever find one as good). Some like it hot, and I definitely do, which is why I ordered a pizza with a spicy salame.

The following morning, my friends and I decided to go out on our own so we could see things at our own pace. We took a quick ride on the metro and then went to the Colosseum. The scale of the thing is immense, not just for its own time, but also in ours. I can only imagine how loud the roar of the crowd must have been when it was in use. In some sense it was eerie to stand in such a silent place where countless men must have met their end. Nevertheless it was interesting to learn about the different uses of the structure over time. During one period, they would flood the arena and use it for naval exercises.

We visited the nearby Palatine Hill as well. This hill is believed to be where one of the first imperial palaces was, and according to Roman Mythology, where Romulus and Remus were found by a wolf. Standing next to the massive structures and peering out over huge courtyards, you get a feel for how grandiose these rulers wanted their palace to be. The courtyards and gardens are beautiful today, but they must have been much more so when they were in use. From there we walked to the Roman Forum. This area was central to the ancient Roman civilization. As I passed through I saw remains of countless temples and basilicas, as well as other more common structures. The forum must have been an incredibly busy place during its time.

We continued on and saw many more landmarks, such as the Spanish Steps. However, as the day came to a close it seemed like no matter how many places we had visited within Rome, there was always more to see. It is a truly immense and fascinating city, and it takes more than two days to see everything. Although it was crowded in parts, there were still some interesting people to be found here and there. Near the Roman Forum, there were a couple of well-dressed gents, each with his own style. Also, near the Pantheon there was what I can only describe as a bright-red gypsy lady (although I’m not sure she was a gypsy). Rome is a one of a kind city, and no matter where you go there is always something new to discover and interesting people to meet.

In late October (yes, I know I’m behind…) I had the privilege of my family becoming part of my experience in Italy. My parents, grandparents, aunt & uncle, and little brother all came to visit me in Florence. I met them on the steps of the Duomo and shortly thereafter we went to 4 Leoni, where all the Arcadia students had eaten our first night in Florence (more about this restaurant in coming posts). Some of my family ordered the pasta with pears that I had previously, while others tried different items, but everyone enjoyed their meal. I had pasta with an eggplant pesto, which was delicious — I tried creating something similar at home, but it did not turn out well. Perhaps I will figure it out and then share with you!

The following day, we spent time at many of the major sights in Florence, including the Accademia Gallery and the Uffizi. It was surreal to stand underneath Michelangelo’s David. Replicas simply cannot capture the details and poise that are so apparent in the original. The Uffizi was quite overwhelming as well — although it’s filled with remarkable paintings, I was perhaps more impressed with the countless sculptures that lined the halls. I have always thought that white marble is one of the most beautiful artistic media, but I do now more than ever. That evening we went out for dinner at Trattoria da Tito, which served some tasty dishes typical to Tuscany. I had a fresh pasta with rabbit ragù, which was wonderful and reminded me of a similar meal I had eaten in Siena.

The following day, my parents, little brother and I headed off to Venice for a long weekend. The Alta Velocità train made quick work out of what would otherwise have been a very long journey. We stepped out of the station and into what seemed like a sea of people, but quickly found our bearings and boarded a ferry for our hotel. After getting settled, we went back out into the city to find somewhere to eat. I had written down a restaurant suggested by Fred Plotkin, Vino Vino. Although I had the address as well as a map, we simply could not find it — we walked back and forth, searching for where it might be on Calle del Cafetier. Finally we gave up and decided to find somewhere else to eat. We walked in a different direction and suddenly found ourselves on a continuation of Calle del Cafetier, with Vino Vino just a few steps ahead! The food they served certainly did not disappoint. I had salmon with a red bell pepper sauce and it was delizioso! The sauce was pink and creamy with a little zing from the peppers, but it still allowed the flavorful salmon to shine through. After dinner we walked around for a while and visited Piazza San Marco, which was very beautiful at night. Before heading to bed, we stopped at a cafè by our hotel and had some warm drinks.

The following day, we ate a quick breakfast at the same cafè and then went to Piazza San Marco to see it once more in the daylight. It seemed as though the tower in the square was leaning, but we quickly noticed that this was not an uncommon sight in Venice. It was amazing to see the intricacy of the artisans’ work on the Basilica di San Marco’s elaborate facade. We then walked over to the Ponte di Rialto, another major Venetian landmark. Although the Ponte Vecchio in Florence may also have shops on it, the Rialto bridge has a much greater allure and more powerful presence. It is a beautiful example of Renaissance Architecture with it’s elegant arches, and it still uses the wooden supports it was originally built with. We continued exploring and seeing major interests points here and there, but mostly just taking in the city as a whole.

Later in the day, we reached a point where we weren’t sure what to do. We decided to split up, so my mom and brother went their way while my dad and I went to the Biennale, a giant biennial art international art show featured in Venice. We only had time to visit the Arsenal, but that turned out to be more than enough. There was warehouse after warehouse with installation pieces and handmade works of art ranging from ink and paper drawings to absurd, abstract collages made from found objects. It was highly engaging, almost to the point of being visually overstimulated.

After leaving the Biennial, we rejoined my mom and brother at Piazza San Marco and walked to a restaurant we had spotted earlier that day. Our waiter was a a gray-haired yet energetic gentleman who made some helpful suggestions and brought us a wonderful meal. Afterwards, we strolled just down the street to a nearby gelateria. My little brother had been asking for gelato all day as we saw countless gelato shops. I had to keep telling him to wait because the shops we saw were not good. How did I know? For a dead giveaway, always look at the pistachio (which is a standard flavor at almost any gelateria). If it is a bright yellow-green, this means that it has probably been made with food coloring and perhaps artificial flavoring. Artisanal, natural pistachio will be almost brown in color, with a light tinge of green — nothing extreme. The gelato at this location was a nice treat, despite the cool weather.

The following day I returned to Florence, while my family continued to Rome where they rejoined my grandparents, aunt, and uncle. As we left Venice, I thought of its unmistakeable beauty, yet it felt as though it was a different city than the one described to me. Later on, I overheard someone describe a common criticism of those living near Venice, and it seemed to put my feelings into words. I was told many citizens feel as though it is no longer actually Venice because it has become overrun by tourists and the true Venetians have moved out of the center. Even after the end of tourist season, I still sensed this. The streets already felt crowded by foreigners (such as myself), and I can only imagine what it must be like during the summer. I think this shows just how much the beauty of a place is intertwined with the people that live there — take them away, and the city becomes something else entirely.

My family returned to Florence in the middle of the week, and although I was unable to be with them during the daytime, I was still with them for dinners (the best part!). Their first night back, I showed them how I make red sauce and we ate it with pasta. The following night, I went all-out and made them a full Italian meal. We started with antipasti such as crostini, prosciutto, salame, and some Grana Padano cheese. For the primi, I cooked Penne con Ricotta e Noci, followed by Modenese Veal for the secondo with sauteed zucchini as a contorno. Finally, when they thought they could eat no more, I served pesche cotogne with wine as a dolce. And, of course, this was all served with some wonderful Tuscan wines.

On their last full day in Italy, my family and I went to Sant’Agata Bolognese to visit the Lamborghini factory. This was a treat for all of us, especially Paul and I. It was absolutely incredible to stand mere inches away from cars that are worth possibly more than I will ever earn in my lifetime. Lamborghini clearly had an innovative style and spirit at conception, and although they struggled during the ’90s, it is obvious that they still have it today. One of my favorite cars in the gallery was the Silhouette, which I had little knowledge of prior to visiting. Apparently only 54 are in existence, which is a shame because they are quite beautiful. We also got a tour through the factory, but unfortunately pictures were prohibited. Nevertheless, it was quite an experience to see the level of detail and care that goes into producing each car. The color combinations and options are individualized and nearly endless. Outside the factory were several unique models, including some racing versions. The weather as we left was less than inviting, but while waiting for the bus we were treated to a pleasant soundtrack as post-production cars were tested. It is a sound I can only describe as heaven’s choir.

The following day, I saw my family off to the airport as they returned to the US. I was sad to see them go, but glad that they, as well as my extended family, had been able to share in and become part of my experience abroad. It is certainly an adventure that I will never forget and I hope it has been the same for them.