Often I get comments from Italians that Americans do not eat well – processed food, Big Macs, artificial cheese, no vegetables, etc., and that nobody knows how to cook over there.  On one hand, I do admit that the American supermarket aisles are far more packed with processed fake foods, and yes, I know plenty of Americans who do not cook.  However this is not always the case, and it is certainly not the case in  my hometown of Seattle!

I read this great piece on things that Texas and Italy have in common, over at Bleeding Espresso as part of Michelle’s Gita Italiana.  It got me thinking of how well I was able to live in Seattle – even if it was more expensive than here – while maintaining the Italian lifestyle I love so much.  If you dream of being an expat in Italy, but have just not arrived at that moment yet, it’s well worth it (and healthy) to explore your own city and try to find ways to bring Italy to you.  Here are some ways to do so in Seattle.

The Market Culture. Anybody who has been to Seattle has been to the Pike Place Market.  There are plenty of farmers markets all over the city, but Pike Place is an icon of Seattle and is teeming with stalls selling fresh fish (and by the way, the pacific northwest has some amazing salmon), fruits and vegetables, flowers, local wines.  The area around the market is full of small, hole-in-the-wall ethnic restaurants, cafes, an Italian Grocer, wine shops.  When I would pine for Europe while living in Seattle, this is where I would go. A café au lait and a croissant at Le Panier while watching the market wake up in the morning?  Priceless.  When I lived in the First Hill neighborhood, almost downtown, I would walk to the market and get my produce there.

The Café Culture. Another thing Europeans commonly say about America is that our coffee is no good.  That’s because they have not been to Seattle!  And no, I am not talking about Starbucks.  I’m talking about smaller local businesses such as Caffe Vita, Caffe Umbria, Vivace and many more. These folks roast their own beans, and with Italian machinery, Seattle’s baristi (at cafes such as Senso Unico) will serve up some of the best espresso on that side of the pond.  The difference between Seattle cafes and Italian bars, however, is that in Seattle you are most likely to enjoy your coffee drink seated in a big cushy armchair as you work on your laptop (almost all Seattle cafes have wi-fi).

The Foodie Culture. We Seattlites love to eat.  And we love to cook.  And we cook well.  A lot of people have gardens and are able to get their ingredients right in the backyard.  Someone is always having friends over for dinner, and there is always creative use of local ingredients (such as our seafood).  We have a wine culture too (yes, our state has its own Wine Country, and you haven’t lived until you’ve tasted one of our floral merlots).  One great thing about Seattle being a port city, is how international it is.  You can find cuisine from all over the world – France, Italy, Spain, Japan, Vietnam, Argentina, Ethiopia and the list goes on.  Being an Italian food lover, I found it very easy to recreate my favorite recipes using the ingredients available to me in Seattle.  It’s a good life!

What does your hometown have in common with your adopted country?

*This post was written for AffordableCallingCards.net. Not only can you read more posts about expat life written by myself and other bloggers, it’s a great place to look for cheap phone cards.  Yes, I know, with the internet it’s easy to keep in touch.  But we expats also like a regular phone call every now and then!

…is walking through the historic center of Lecce in the middle of the night with a friend, opening pea pods and eating the sweet little peas right out of them, raw.  My friend has been gifted with peas and fava beans from someone’s garden.  We had gone for pizza prior, but were more excited about the fresh peas than our dinner.

“These aren’t too fresh, unfortunately,” says my friend.  “What do you mean? They seem pretty fresh to me,” I say.  “Well, yes.  They are, I suppose.  But they were picked this morning so not really that fresh.”  Welcome to Puglia.  Where fresh really means fresh.

The fun resumes Saturday, late morning, as we open all the pea pods and put the peas into a bowl, to cook later (though I’d be content to eat them raw, just pop them into my mouth like candy).  Some of the pods reveal fuzzy little worms, feasting on the green flesh of the peas.  “Buon appetito,”  I say to a worm as I throw the non-edible pea away.

I am now working through the fava beans, shelling them as a jazzy tango trio tickles my ears from the speakers in the living room.  I fantasize about eating the fava beans with pecorino, but I’m afraid my friend has other plans for them.  Either way, it will be delicious.

Something I have noticed, while living around the world, is that a lot of people, despite their best intentions, don’t really know how to cook pasta – not the way I like it, anyway.

Except in Italy, of course.  And in my family.  ;)

It’s not as simple as just throwing  noodles into boiling water and “tada!”…. no, no, no.  There’s an art to it.

Follow these three steps that are often overlooked, and you’ll have dinner guests swooning over your pasta dishes in no time.

Salt your water. This is very important.  Before you put the pasta into the water, add salt.  Preferably sea salt if you can get your hands on it.  Otherwise use regular salt.  No matter how interesting your sauce or your presentation is, the pasta dish will be pretty bland if you didn’t salt the water first.  Believe me.  It makes a world of difference!

Don’t over-drain.  I’ve seen many people pour the cooked pasta into a colander to drain it, only to shake the colander as much as they can to get every tiny bit of water out.  Really, this is not necessary.  It’s best not to shake at all.  If the pasta remains moist, sauce spreads more easily and the overall effect is delicious.  If you over-drain, the pasta will clump together.  And for heaven’s sake, don’t rinse! The bit of starch that stays on the pasta helps sauces stick.

The whole “al dente” thing. This is actually pretty important.  There is nothing worse than pasta that is too soft.  Overcooking ruins the pasta’s gluten structure and releases too much starch into the water.  Not even the best sauce can make up for this.  On the other hand, pasta cooked perfectly “al dente” holds on to sauce in a really nice way.  My first piece of advice in this regard is to ignore the “cooking time” in the instructions listed on the package of pasta.  Instead, be attentive to your pasta, tasting it every few minutes.  You’ll know when it’s time to drain your pasta when it’s slightly firm (but you can still chew it).  You’ll want to drain the pasta at this point, keeping in mind that pasta keeps cooking for a minute after it has been drained (and also for this reason, you don’t want to over-drain).

Do you have any tips for cooking pasta successfully? If you live in Italy, what seems to be the norm in your region?

This post was written on behalf of AffordableCallingCards.net.

**And by the way…**

Are you an expat with a blog in Italy?  Did you blog while living in Italy in 2009?  If so, check out our Italy expat blog contest, Blogging from the Boot: the Best of 2009!

If Italy is known for anything, it’s known for its timeless culinary traditions. Every country has its own food culture and delicacies, and Italy’s is among the most famous. Really, it may not be correct to use the term “Italian cuisine”, when you consider that each region has its own history, recipes and ingredients. However, there is a food “culture” that does prevail throughout Italy.

I’ve had the pleasure of eating regular lunches with R’s family. It started with a weekly Sunday lunch, and now that I am using his office space for its Wi-Fi as I wait for internet in my new home, I’m eating with them almost every day.

Lunch, at least with this group, consists of a few courses and is the biggest meal of the day. At about 1pm or so, we head from his office to his family’s house, where there’s a warm fire going and the table is set.

We almost always start with pasta. I say almost, because the other day we actually had bean soup (served over pieces of toasted bread with extra virgin olive oil poured all over.) Each day, there is a different shape of pasta – one day we might have penne with pesto, the next day we might have spaghetti with a tomato-based sauce.

The first time I ate with them, I said “yes” to a second serving of pasta because I didn’t realize there would be another course. But, here in Italy, the pasta dish is usually a “primo”, first course. I still say “yes” to more pasta every now and then.

The “secondo”, second course, is usually some sort of meat dish and a side of vegetables. Yesterday we had his mother’s gorgeous meatballs with a fine tomato sauce. (I have yet to see Italians eat meatballs along with their pasta like in the United States. Meatballs here are nice and big and delicate, and are a course of their own.)

Just when I think I’m finished, the table is cleared and it’s time for a “dolce”, a sweet. This can be anything, cookies, a small slice of cake (though not too sweet or rich like American cake), or perhaps just a bite of chocolate. We always follow the “dolce” with fresh fruit, whatever’s in season. Right now that would be apples, pears and Clementine oranges. The fresh fruit is followed by coffee, which here is a shot of espresso. Apparently you always follow this order: first the sweet, then the fruit, then the coffee. I never knew that.

We relax for a little while after eating, and I take my seat next to the fireplace and enjoy the warmth.

This may sound like quite a lot of lunch, but the food is so fresh and clean here and the portions are small compared to American portions.  However, with the various courses, it’s still a lot more than what I’m used to eating for lunch, so I’ve omitted dinner in an effort to maintain my weight loss, and in the evening I just have a couple of slices of cheese, some salad, and a glass of wine.

*This post was written for AffordableCallingCards.net, the expat community site where you can also buy calling cards to Italy (got that, relatives?  I’m waiting to hear from you!)  You can click here to read more posts about expat life written by myself and other bloggers.

While my days are filled with excitement and anticipation for many things, they are also touched by grief.  Someone I have looked up to and respected for at least the past 15 years has passed away.  He was Sean Goff, the brother-in-law of my long time best friend and the husband of an amazing woman who I long ago adopted as a sister.

Together, Sean and Sofia opened a beautiful restaurant in West Seattle, Cafe Revò.  Inspired by my friends’ ancestral town in northern Italy, the food bears the mark of a talented chef (that would be Sean) who loves the beautiful ingredients that the Pacific NW has to offer.

One of the cute things about Cafe Revò is that at the end of your meal, you get a lovely little card.  On one side is the trademark babe on a Vespa that you can see painted on the side of the restaurant, while on the other side is a proverb in both Italian and English.

Last night as I was getting ready for bed and worrying about everything in life, I moved my purse and picked up some clothes to put away.   Out of the corner of my eye I noticed something that had fallen out of my purse.  I ignored it at first but had a nagging feeling I should see what it was.

There, on the floor, was a little card from Cafe Revò with the Vespa babe smiling up at me.  I thought of Sean and picked up the card to see what the proverb was.  It said, “God gives us chestnuts, but he doesn’t crack them for us.”

I smiled and decided that perhaps it was Sean’s way of giving me a little message of his own.  That I have all of these gifts but it’s my job to use them.  And if I use them, great things will happen.   I closed my eyes and remembered the last time I saw him, in the beautiful restaurant that he and Sofia created, and smiled.

Rest in peace, Sean.  I know you will live on through your beautiful children and Cafe Revò.

I’ve been in Seattle a while now… busy…. trying to tie up some loose ends, spending time with people I know (so many of whom I still haven’t seen), dancing tango, drumming up students, translating and trying to get new work for that.  I’m also starting to experience some “culture shock” – amazing that it took me a good three or four months before I noticed any of it.

It’s not a complaint, just an observation, though I do have strong opinions.  One cultural difference I’ve noticed lately is the food culture.  In the U.S., this is definitely a culture of large portion sizes and snacking.  There really is an obesity epidemic (of course this can be tied to a lot of causes and I’m no expert, so can’t get into it here).  I don’t remember really seeing much obesity in Argentina, apart from a few rare occasions.  I’m not exactly the picture of self-restraint when it comes to eating (oh do I love to eat), but when out in public, I’ve noticed that the average person eats probably three times more than I do (and I eat plenty), and most of the time it’s food for which I could not begin to identify the ingredients.

It took me a while to notice that, because my circle of friends here is a rather international mix of Tango dancers and foodies, who relish in choosing good ingredients, cooking with love, and surrounding themselves with friends with whom they can share their creations.  That, and Seattle is a goldmine of beautiful ingredients for cooking.  It’s a great place for picking up healthy habits and being creative with food.

But recently I was on a cross-country trip because of my uncle’s wedding (which I’ll write about later, it was a wonderful trip to Rhode Island), and on the airplane as well as in the connecting airport I noticed some eating habits that surprised me.  Is it really necessary to down a cheeseburger (and fries) at 6 in the morning?  Do we really have to gorge on all the artificial snacks on the flight and then have a big lunch at the connecting airport, only to gorge on more snacks on the connecting flight?  At the connecting airport I saw random people at my gate and other gates, loading themselves with piles and piles of faux food and telling each other “we’d better eat all of this so we’re not hungry when we land”.  The thing is, these people were waiting for flights lasting not more than two hours.  Couldn’t they wait and eat real food at their destination when they actually *were* hungry?

People can do whatever they want and I won’t judge, but this just isn’t healthy for the human body and can cause medical problems further down the line.

The other thing I’ve noticed here is that it’s really hard to get together with people.  Me included.  When I’m in Argentina or Italy I’m much easier to get a hold of.  And so is everyone around me.  It’s very much a culture where people make plans with little notice, from “Hey, do you want to have coffee tomorrow?” to “I’m having an asado tonight, wanna come?”. – These are people with lives, jobs, families, worries.  Yet they somehow make time to see each other.

In the States, people say things to each other like “Sure, I’d love to get together. I’m available in three months.”  – This really happens!  People are so “busy”.  And I’ll admit, it’s hard not to fall into the pattern.  I almost get that way too when I’m here.  I try really hard not to, though.

The people I know from Tango seem to be an exception – they’re all pretty spontaneous and passionate about life (it’s true!) and I see them frequently because it’s not too hard to bring these folks together – particularly when beautiful tango music is guaranteed to at least be playing in the background.

I have a hard time in general making plans too far in advance (especially three months).  Due to the ever-changing nature of my work and also due to my dancing, the best way to see me is to ask me what I’m doing in the next few days to a week.  If I make plans too far in advance I end up canceling them because something always comes up.  And I’ll admit that I’m just terrible lately – there are friends who have been trying to track me down to get together, and I’m just all over the place.  I’m not perfect at all in this regard.  But there really is a cultural difference when it comes to making plans.

Those are the two main things I’ve been thinking about lately.  I could get into other differences I’ve noticed, but I’ll save that for another time.  Right now I have a translation and would like to write about my trip to Rhode Island in my next post.  Also, Tango Magic (Seattle’s tango festival) is coming up!!

I’ve been obsessed with making my own pasta by hand for a few years now.  I generally make egg pasta, cutting nice irregular tagliatelle, and I also like making ravioli (and tossing with butter and sage. Mmmm.)   Recently I’ve decided to take the leap with pici, which are hand-rolled and come from Siena.  (For you English speakers, that’s pronouned PEE-chee).

After a trial and error, I grumbled for help on twitter and was directed by @divinacucina to her recipe, which I used on Saturday with a group of girlfriends, as two of them had “won” a Tuscan cooking session at a small woman’s practica I had organized, and again last night with another group.  I needed a little more water than the recipe called for, but it worked out nicely and I definitely recommend her recipe.  I added a bit of olive oil as well, out of pure desire.

Pici *sound* complicated to make, because you roll each noodle by hand, but really it’s a very fun, social activity.  Nice to do in groups, but it’s so easy you can do it alone.  Champagne, chit-chat and music usually go well with the process.

So on Saturday, we chatted and sipped champagne, each of us coming up with her own MO for rolling the perfect pici as the music of Mina played in the background.

I made a special sauce that my aunt and I invented together in Buenos Aires on New Year’s Eve.  I’d share the recipe here but I’d like to get permission from the co-inventor (and really it was more her creation than mine, though I have since branched off and have my own version).  What I can tell you is that the end result, between the pici and the sauce, was fantastic – the pici were perfectly delicate.   With a glass of bonarda that was black as night, even better.  A peach kuchen dessert (made by one spectacular lady) and small glasses of grappa were followed by tango – as usual.   How much better can a Saturday get?

*Thanks to Elizabeth for the photos and the dessert!

I didn’t write a “What’s Cooking Wednesday” so I thought I’d post a recipe today instead, hence the funny title.

It’s hot.  I haven’t had a chance to get much food shopping down.  But I seem to have tomatoes around a lot lately.  And bread.

I’ve seen so many different versions of panzanella, a salad with the main ingredients of tomatoes and stale bread.  I’ll post my own version here, it’s something I started making after watching my grandfather eat it for lunch so many times.  I’m sure that my own does not emulate his.  This is the perfect summer lunch for the hot, heavy days we have coming up.

4 or 5 roma tomatoes (tomates peritas)

a half or whole onion, depending on your personal taste

stale bread (you can also toast it if it’s not stale)

olive oil

balsamic vinegar

salt

black pepper

Slice the tomatoes and onions.  Tear the stale bread into small pieces. Mix everything together in a bowl with the olive oil and balsamic vinegar (I tend to do 3 parts oil to 1 part vinegar).  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Mix really well so that the bread can soak up the juices from the tomatoes as well as the oil and vinegar.

Enjoy!

The other day I had it in my head to make a rice salad with all kinds of goodies – artichokes, tomatoes, olives… but then through Michelle at bleeding espresso, I found a blog called Spaghetti al Pomodoro, a blog written by a girl who is getting ready to move to Florence.  I started from the beginning and read all the posts she’d written, about her time in Florence, and her desire to go back.  She’ll be living there in a few days.  A few times she mentioned how she liked “the hearty simplicity” of pasta and tomatoes, and so her favorite thing to eat in Italy was spaghetti al pomodoro.

I suddenly started to crave spaghetti al pomodoro and thought, “why don’t I make that instead?”  Off to the market I went, where I bought a some roma tomatoes (tomates peritas, they are called here) and some garlic.  I didn’t want to make this complicated.  I would have gotten fresh pasta from one of the many pasta shops, but instead at the store I opted for a package of spaghetti (made of semolina of course) by a brand called Matterazza.  There is something so satisfying about dried pasta sometimes.

And so I began my delicious lunch, which I ate up on the terrace.  With a glass of white wine.  I was so pleased with it that I made it again for my boyfriend last night.  He loved it.  So simple, so hearty and whole.

As for the sauce, I made it up off the top of my head when I was living in Switzerland and working as an au pair several years ago.  It has since improved.  I never had a recipe to go by, I just did it based on what I’d seen as I’d passed through my grandmother’s kitchen as a child.  Of course I’m probably way off of my observations because nothing compares to her sauce.  But anyway.

So, the sauce (salsa di pomodoro):

1 kilo of roma (perita) tomatoes

3 cloves of garlic

a handful of dried oregano

a tablespoon of olive oil and a couple more because 1 is never enough

salt

sugar (to cut the acidity out of the tomatoes)

Normally you are supposed to peel and seed the tomatoes, but I never do.  That’s my confession.  I just don’t care.  I’ve done it a few times before and I like my way better – sorry .

So, dice the tomatoes the way the are.  Peel and mince the garlic and place it in a saucepan with a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil.  Cook the garlic a bit for a few minutes, I use medium heat.  Add the tomatoes and a good tablespoon of salt as well as a tablespoon of sugar.  Stir.

Cover the saucepan if you’d like and let the tomatoes cook in their own water.  Stir occasionally, mash the tomatoes a bit as they get more tender.  Add the dried oregano and mix it in.  Add salt if you think it’s needed.  Eventually it will all cook down.

Add more olive oil towards the end (particularly as the water will evaporate).  Once you have the sauce at exactly the point you like it (it should be chunky but most definitely a sauce), turn down the heat to simmer (or off) and start the water for the pasta.  (Put salt in the pasta water before you boil it!)

Once the spaghetti are at the way you like them (yes, spaghetti is plural for those of you who are confused), drain them.  Add the spaghetti to the sauce and mix it all together.

I find that I didn’t even need any cheese to go with this, but you are welcome to use some, of course.

*Friends in Buenos Aires – don’t worry, this is not complicated or hard in the Argentine spring/summer heat.  This sauce will take 20 minutes or so to cook down.  You can leave the kitchen and read a book with a cold glass of water and run in a few times to stir if you want.  I won’t tell anyone.

Enjoy!

*UPDATE – if you live up north where it’s fall turning into winter (meaning, tomatoes aren’t in season), you may use canned whole tomatoes.

Maybe it’s my partially Tuscan blood, but I love sitting here, working while the doors to the patio are wide open.  The way it’s set up, it feels like outside is in here with me.  I love inviting the outside in.  The patio floor is terracotta, and there are some flowers along the wall.  It makes me feel like I’m back in Florence at a friend’s house in the Oltrarno.  The warmth makes it all the more real.

There is also a a rooftop terrace belonging to this apartment, with terracotta flooring and beautiful little tiles strategically placed around.  I take my lunches up there.  I like to drink my coffee up there in the mornings.  Snack on things like artichokes and olives (or helado) in the afternoon.  I’ve just put a rosemary plant there, which futher adds to the whole look of it and brings me even closer to Tuscany and Umbria, my two favorite regions.  Soon (the next day or so), I will get sage, basil, thyme, parsley and oregano plants to put next to the rosemary.  My large terrace shall soon be an herb garden.

But the rosemary, oh the rosemary.  Just the look of it brings back so many memories, not just of Italy but also Seattle – a long time ago I had saved a sprig of rosemary that was started from my great-grandmother’s plant.  I think I got it from my uncle after a family day of eating and playing games on the island (that would be Vashon Island – I always refer to it as the island, for future reference).  When my father died, I took that sprig of rosemary, by then quite dry, and placed it in his coffin.  He loved to cook, and he loved to cook with herbs.

Rosemary also makes me think of the sumptuous dinners I have had at my aunt & uncle’s house on Beacon Hill as well as one lunch in Cortona.  They have a business renting villas and apartments in Tuscany, and even when they are in Seattle, one can say that Etruria most certainly dominates the surroundings in their kitchen, in the way they have decorated and in their garden and cooking.  When I taste rosemary, the taste of green, peppery, almost spicey olive oil comes to mind, as does the sound of family laughter in two countries, two languages, combined with that familiar clink of wine glasses.

Yesterday I christened my rosemary plant by snipping off a piece and making rosemary fettunta (bruschetta).  I grilled some bread, rubbed salt and rosemary on it, and then drizzled extra-virgin olive oil on it – but not just any oil.  My aunt Nina sent me some gorgeous, unadulterated olive oil from olives harvested and pressed in Tuscany.  Lucky me! There is nothing like it.

Do I sound “elitist”?  You know, I don’t have a lot of money and I don’t own a villa in the Tuscan hills (instead I’m sharing an apartment that could use a fresh coat of paint), but the way I choose to live my life every day makes me feel rich inside (and particularly so when I manage to get someone to send me my favorite olive oil!).  My recipes and tastes may seem sophisticated but really, if you do your research, the most popular Tuscan dishes are based on a history of poverty.  I use the most simple, basic things, and yes they are available  here.  Garlic, bread, herbs (fresh or dried), wine, olive oil.  It’s all based on simple things that one creatively puts together.  To me, enjoying cooking and eating means appreciating each individual ingredient as a whole food.  Such as rosemary.

I may not be rich but  my rosemary makes me feel like a queen.