The War on Root Vegetables · Jan 12, 09:15 AM by James Martin
Perhaps I’m the only one in the universe, but I look forward to winter cuisine. I don’t seem to have the aversion to root vegetables that other folks have. Nor do I find a diet rich in them monotonous.
Then again, root vegetables seem to be the current focus of a backlash against eating local foods. You know, “who’d want to be stuck inside eating turnips all day?”
Full disclosure: I had chickpea and kale soup last night. It was good, especially with a drizzle of olive oil, a winter thing, too. Now on to the story:
“If you are determined to eat locally in South Dakota or northern Germany, you’re going to be eating a lot of potatoes, parsnips, and kale in the winter, and not much else,” says Anthony Fisher, professor of agricultural and resource economics at Berkeley in the article The Locavore’s Dilemma
I wonder if Mr Fisher knows how to cook. It’s not all about parsnips. Ever had shavings of parsnip with nuggets of pancetta over pasta? Winter dish.
Italians often jack up the flavors of things with a small amount of intensely flavored pig slaughtered in December, just in time for the root vegetables. In fact, if you tell an Italian waiter you don’t eat red meat and ask him what he recommends, I’ll bet he mentions at least one dish flavored with pancetta or prosciutto. In Italy, meat used as a flavor enhancer isn’t even considered meat. In small amounts, it’s a spice.
In any case, let’s see what kinda guy Mr. Fisher is:
“I enjoy eating two navel oranges every morning,” Fisher says. “Whenever possible, I prefer oranges from California—their taste is excellent. But in the summer, when the oranges are out of season in the state, I buy oranges from the southern hemisphere. Without global trade, I wouldn’t derive the enjoyment and nutritional benefit I get from oranges for much of the year.”
Well, ok then. Now we see the problem. The Hypocrite’s Dilemma. Yes, if you’re determined to eat the same goddam thing each and every morning then you’re gonna be a cheerleader for a humongous transportation network to bring you that thing from afar you absolutely must have. But then you can’t—or a reasonable person like me won’t let you—claim monotony at being forced to eat root vegetables in winter.
The article cited above is also oddly market ignorant:
“We did a study with Columbia University and MIT with one of our cafés at Hamilton College in Clinton, New York,” said Maisie Greenawalt, vice president of Bon Appétit, a Palo Alto–based food service management company that endeavors to buy at least 20 percent of its food from local producers.
The café served 1,500 students. The experiment was to feed them local foods.
“While it was clear that it was possible to feed them 100 percent from local producers, it also became clear that we would strip the entire region of local food if we did that,” Greenawalt says. “In other words, nobody else from the area would be able to buy locally if the café became the priority for suppliers.
Wow. Let’s get this straight. We have local producers of food who are perfectly able to supply 1500 people with adequate nutrition. Now, the moment the demand increases, the supply stays the same? Whatever happens to market economic theory when it screws with your argument? What about that supply and demand thing we all learned in school (at least if you “caught sense” in the 60s and 70s as I did—I have no idea of what kids learn these days of “supply side economics”)? Doesn’t the price go up when demand exceeds supply to encourage more folks to enter the market? Don’t they flock to plant ‘nips?
Final confession. I’m not a locavore, although when I’m in Italy I’m probably closer than anyone in the US has ever been. Besides the lunatic fringe I mean. I’ve eaten meals with my Italian neighbors composed of things from the area around our little village. Polenta and the wild boar that loves to chow down on the corn they make into polenta, for example. I’ve had sausage from a neighbor’s pig simmered in the local and highly touted cranberry beans of our area.
Was it good? Why yes, those dishes were so darn good I’ll likely never forget them. The foods preserved for winter and a bounty of root vegetables are nothing for the Ivory Tower Wizards of Spin to sneeze at. I won’t let them.
——
Endnotes: Twittered from Bologna just today by @cookitaly: Beautiful winter produce in Bologna market today: cardoons, red ribbon radicchio, Puntarelle, artichokes both round and pointy, citrus…
Lordy, what a monotonous diet those Bolognese must suffer in the winter! Turnip your noses at that!
Filed in: Food Living in Italy
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Bread · Jan 7, 06:55 PM by James Martin
We’ve been back in California for a week now. I’ve done some things I didn’t do for the last three months we were in Italy. For one, I barbecued hamburgers on the grill. Turkey for Martha, beef for me. Sure, I could have done this in Italy. But, it isn’t done so I didn’t. It’s an American thing. So I fired up the grill on our California back porch.
Martha bought the buns. Some buns! I tried cutting through them. They collapsed. Gently I drew the serrated knife, sawing as if I were performing surgery on somebody I wanted to live, plumping the buns to keep them “inflated” as I slowly drew the knife through.
I had already noticed that the buns had no substance; they were almost lighter than air. I thought if I didn’t have a good grip on them, they’d end up plastered to the ceiling.
My head is now filled with fantasies about the corporate bakery these buns came from. I’m imagining a board meeting. There are scientists in white lab coats and the corporate schmucks in thousand dollar suits. They are discussing how the cellular wall of the bread has been miraculously thinned out so that more air can be contained inside. We’re not talking the usual scientific measure of “half an RCH”. Nope, thinner. Much thinner. Impossibly thin. The suits like that. The shareholders will like that. “We’re happy to report that we can get 2 million buns from a pound of flour with our advanced technology” will be repeated at the shareholder meeting and there will be lots of clapping.
I miss real bread for all. I miss Italy. There are no suits controlling the bread in Italy. Well, maybe some bread is controlled by suits. But in the little villages there’s bread. Real bread. Real bakeries.
(Yes, I know I can go to Whole foods and get a loaf of flavorful real bread for $5! I do! But I can also get real bread in Italy, pane al forno, for a tiny fraction of the price. I can buy it by weight. As much as I want. “Gimme half of that piece” I can say, although in Italian. Why does American bread cost so much when someone has the big idea of actually putting wheat in it? Why do we need corporations to stuff more air in our bread? It’s one of the great mysteries of our time.)
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Mechanical Presepi - Presepe Artistico di Pallerone · Dec 23, 09:48 AM by James Martin
The village of Pallerone is where we shop on most days. We could walk there if we wanted to squeeze ourselves between the guardrails and the road, a slice of safety about 20 cm wide, but declined due to, well, imposing girth I suppose.
We looked for an overland route, but to no avail.
In any case, Pallerone has a fascinating Nativity Scene, Crib, or what they call in Italy a Presepe Artistico located right in the heart of town, which is to say the small stretch of houses along the main street. The peasants within the presepe scene go about doing their business like good peasants, day and night hacking away at trees, sewing, fishing, and generally banging at things with hammers or sledges. In a corner, away from all the hacking, hammering and swatting, Jesus lays calmly in a manger and as the sun descends the angels fly in to dangle overhead. When they’re done dangling, a star with a flaming tail bravely moves across the sky to settle over little Jesus. All this occurs with a mechanical precision that is both fascinating (engineering-wise) and campy.
Which is to say I liked it a lot.
Along with the presepe comes a little museum which shows how the figures are built and animated. That’s the clickable pic over there to the right. Also on display is the original motor that controlled the 1937 version of the presepe that was built for the “Salone delle Feste” and shown at the Castello Malaspina in Massa. From a newspaper article on display in the museum I learned that:
the current structure was inaugurated on 22nd of December, 1968, in the presence of the Bishop of Apuania and of the leading local authorities. In just 12 days it was visited by over 15,000 people and a special train from Genoa was even hired for the occasion.
Now 15,000 people represents 15 times the local population. So, in other words, it was a big hit.
The presepe is on display in an artificial grotto on the side of the church. You can visit it year around. It condenses a day into 7 1/2 minutes. An even more condensed version of the presepe day is shown in our little video below: 3 minutes and 11 seconds worth. Enjoy and…Merry Christmas.
Filed in: Living in Italy The Lunigiana
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Snow in the Lunigiana! · Dec 18, 07:39 AM by James Martin
After making sausage, mortadella, and salame toscana, we sat down to eat what seemed like the rest of the pig prepared by Armando’s mother: chiodo (pork sausage cooked on a terra cotta testa heated in the kitchen fire), spaghetti al sugo di maiale, maiale in umido, salad, cheese, desert, and coffee. Then, the snow came down.
This is the view out my back window. Who would believe it is a color picture?
Armando’s pig is no more. Enrico’s garden is no more.
Filed in: The Lunigiana Living in Italy
Christmas in Rural Tuscany · Dec 9, 07:11 AM by James Martin
Yesterday, December 8th, the feast of the Immaculate Conception day, we went in search of Christmas fairs near us in the Lunigiana. We ended up going to Fivizzano, then taking the scenic back roads to Carrara, lured by the intriguing propaganda the tourist bureau put out. Yes, they told us we’d witness a more or less “Felliniesque” carnival of Christmas in Carrara.
Fivizzano was a pretty darn laid back affair. A palazzo on the main square had been set aside for artisan crafts; there were three floors of some pretty nice stuff. The hostel was also loaded with Christmasy things to buy.
They also had an ice sculpting contest. This evidently didn’t go over too well. There were two sculptures and I’d say only one of them had survived—unless the other one was meant to destroy itself when heat was applied. It was 68 degrees F when we left for Carrara.
We noticed a new sign at one of the bars which advised us to order an Italian flavored hot chocolate in an edible cup. What a concept. The “cup” was a sort of ice cream cone with a wide, flat bottom. The orange cinnamon hot chocolate, Italian pudding-thick, steamed inside it. By the time you were done scooping it out, the cup was a soggy mess. Re-engineering was definitely advisable.
Then we headed off to Carrara. The roads were empty. Carrara was pretty full. See the video. Felliniesque? Hmmmm. You decide.
Filed in: Italy Festivals Living in Italy
Pilgrimage to Bobbio: Snails and a Christmas Fair · Dec 6, 01:27 PM by James Martin
I had wanted to go to Bobbio for a long time. Bobbio is the start of the Via degli Abati, the Abbot’s Way pilgrimage trail, an alternative way through the Appenines for pilgrims on their way to Rome .
The La Via degli Abati connects to the Via Francigena in Pontremoli and was considered an alternate route to the Cisa Pass across the Apennines…It used by the monks of the Abbey of St. Columbanus of Bobbio to visit the Pope. The Abbey was founded in the year 614 by the Abbot and Irish Saint Colombano. ~ The Abbots Way
So, Bobbio seemed quite the town to visit, what with all its history as a religious center in the middle ages. Besides, who celebrates Christmas and the eating of snails at the same time? Perhaps it was even worth a two and a half hour drive on a chilly December day to find out what kind of people the Bobbiese were.
Anyway, a long trek to a minor festival seems nuts, but remember, there were snails on the other end of the drive.
Yes, the picture shows you exactly how the Bobbio snails served us at a restaurant in Bobbio looked. Pictures seldom lie. I even have the recipe for Lumache alla Bobbiese. Well, not the real recipe with amounts of the ingredients and such. You have to feel the cooking, not enslave yourself to a recipe. But here’s the list:
You need some snails, of course, and then there’s the supporting cast, which consists of carrot, celery, leeks, onions, tomato paste, olive oil, butter and salt. I assume you cook this quite a long time before dumping it artistically upon some polenta and serving it to tourists for a great deal of money.
But the Bobbio Christmas fair didn’t just consist of vats of snails. I know, snails are festive enough, but there were booths of woodworking, miniatures, Christmas ornaments, art, and even tables with cheeses and salami and…
Yes, they had salame di lumaca, snail salame. Imagine. But you can’t, because the snails inside the salame were but tasty placeholders, like the black pepercorns in American salame. The base of the salame was pork, like normal salame. The snails pepper the salame, more or less. Yes, they even pepper the pate or galantina as the Italians say. The more or less green bits you see in the picture represent the slimy things that destroy your garden but are just made for pate seasoning. They make you feel good, don’t they? It’s like you’re recovering the salad they’ve stolen by eating them. Revenge.
But that’s not all. Not by a long shot. There were lots of dried porcini. Many different “grades” of porcini. Some just tops. Those were the costly buggers. Some with bottoms. They cost less. The cheapest were shriveled up bits of mushroom that seemed more like attic insulation than mushrooms.
We didn’t buy those.
No, we bought an etto of the porcini priced just a bit more than the sickly looking bits, that’s .22 pounds or nearly a quarter of a pound. They filled a pretty big bag. It cost €8.
And they had truffles, too. Little black ones. They didn’t cost much. You could get 4 dinky ones for €5. Any time you can impress someone for a mere €5 is a bonus I figure. I’m thinking I could nickname myself “Tiger” and start luring hot babes into my SUV by grating a trail of truffle bits along the pilgrimage trail and they’d be lured to the sensual scent mixed with the noxious fumes of my Overly Large Vehicle That Inexplicably Mangles Fire Hydrants.
It’s worth a shot except I don’t have an SUV. We have a Citroën, which seems like something you’d squeeze over a fish. I’m pretty sure you can’t get hot babes with a Citroën.
But you can get to Bobbio.
Filed in: Italy Festivals Living in Italy
On a Clear Day: Terenzano · Dec 5, 08:51 AM by James Martin
Ok, so you’ve had a winter’s day and it’s been all gray like old flannel underwear and you’ve huddled near the stove and shivered nearly to death and then the next day emerges all bright and bristly and the landscape is, in its upper extremities, doused with a fresh coat of snow so what do you do?
Well, I head to Spino Fiorito for lunch. I make Martha drive me so that I can jump from the car just about any time I want and whip out my camera and snap a few. That’s Terenzano over there to the right, with support from the Alpi Apuane. Click her to see her in her full glory. You know you want to.
Nice, no? Here’s a big picture of the joint in summer and a map. Go there. The people might be friendly. I dunno, I’m so darn jealous of their view.
Filed in: The Lunigiana Living in Italy
After the Tuscan Storm · Dec 1, 09:11 AM by James Martin
Well, today, the first of December, was a doozy. Rain, thunder, lightening, then hail in the morning, then clearing. When we headed for the car to do some shopping and get some lunch it began to rain once again. By the time we headed home from Sarzana it had completely cleared and the world of the Appenines was glistening with a fresh layer of new snow upon which little cat paws of fog skittered merrily. Click the picture to expand it.
I had to dump the groceries on the table and walk out to where the dump used to be (before we got our fancy-schmancy Tuscan recycling bins) in order to get this picture, just so you know.
Filed in: Living in Italy The Lunigiana