The Wolf of Gubbio

Oh no no no, the pointy-eared canine looking over the back seat is not that particular wolf in question but in reality is what will be staring at me from the rearview mirror for much of today. I'm not at the pc as I'm taking advantage of blogger's scheduled-to-publish feature which is the most useful option yet. I find it easier to write on several subjects at one go, and with this new tool of having posts self-publish on a specific day and time, updating is suddenly, what's the word here, liberating? Chalk up another one for freedom to do other things. Like.. like... taking pictures of your dog in the car.

Speaking of freedom, today's date marks the liberation of Italy from Nazi occupation and fascist rule, making it a major holiday for the whole country. This means vacation time, and we're off for some hiking, dining and wolf tavern experiences, and naturally, sagra/festa events in Umbria and Abruzzo, squeezing in time for Molise if there's a chance. Until I get back, here's an intro to that wolf who feasted on lupini in the previous post.

A Wolf Stantant
Courtesy of
Free Heraldry Clipart

“The Wolf of Gubbio was a wolf that, according to the Fioretti di San Francesco, terrorized the city of Gubbio until it was tamed by St. Francis of Assisi. . .

[continue reading at Wikipedia]

Lupini

nce upon a time in a place called Gubbio, there lived a BIG black wolf. A monstrous, vile and despicable creature who terrorized not only the eugubini citizens, but also the villagers in the surrounding countryside. Hated by all, nothing, and no one, had ever succeeded in ridding the populace of this menacing beast; he was feared to the point of hopelessness. To make matters worse, the wolf liked to flaunt his power by lunching amongst the locals at the Taverna del Lupo, or Wolf's Tavern if you will. Tucking into his usual meal of chops and a side dish of asparagus and lupini, it went on in this way, or so the story goes, until one day St. Francis told Mr. Wolf that he was living in the wrong fairytale, and that a lass in a hooded red cape was seeking work elsewhere - a reality show for storybook characters, perhaps?

Okay, so I got carried away and ad-libbed the part right after St. Francis - tune in Friday for the rest of the story. Still, I truly did learn of the yellow legume after seeing it mentioned in Er lupo de Gubbio [the Wolf of Gubbio], a dialect tale on the web page of Taverna del Lupo. The taverna is a fine Umbrian restaurant noted for exquisite truffle specialties and is listed in both Fodor and Frommer guides. Anyway, ever on the lookout for additions to supplement happy hour, I was surprised to discover that these are Lupin beans, a common snack food of the Mediterranean. Shopping the deli/gastronomia section spells trouble for me. Marinated fresh anchovies, cured olives, cheese... You'd think that would be plenty enough, but nooo, I had to try those lupini as well. Heck, the bad-ass wolf liked 'em.

All this talk for a bunch of beans? Well, just hold on because there's more. Reminding me of the much beloved fava due to its outer "skin", I smell a possible foodie trend here. Although there is no rule against eating them skin on, talented tongues (and non) should have no problem removing the exterior covering after making an incision with the teeth. As a purely lingual display of dexterity, I dare say that it's easier to accomplish than knotting cherry stems in your mouth.

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Desperately seeking Sicily — in Monza (Milano)

For those who may not have grown up to the gyrating tunes of Madge - aka Madonna - the desperate urgency of the title of this post won't matter. Well, that is unless you boarded the wrong flight to Europe or in this case, are crazy for arancini. Where do I begin? How about all of last week, when the weather was unrelentlessly cold, wet and gray with the exception of one fine morning when Maddie and I practically rocketed out of the house for a brisk walk before the clouds rolled back in. They rolled in alright, the very next day, dark and forbidding, and in the middle of Maddie's disgusted grunts, I caught sight of a youtube clip proclaiming the best sicilian arancini to be found in the city of Monza. The best rice ball fritters so close to Lecco? Race car fans should be well aware of this town, famous for Formula One and the Italian Grand Prix. We're all too glad that we live less than an hour from there, so decided to check it out on the weekend.

La Concordia is a one-stop shop to get your sicilian food fix, and I say that in an almost junkie sort of fervor because that's how badly I wanted Sicily's famous rice ball fritters. We picked up an assortment of things for lunch: two types of arancini, a prosciutto and mozzarella calzone, a slice of spinach and mozzarella pizza pie, a dessert with no name, one bottle of Nero d'Avola wine and the bestest, scrumptious, most delicious melt-in-your-mouth caponata that I have EVER had in my entire life. Eggplant, onions, capers, olives, tomato, seasonings and a scant amount of celery glistening in a silky cloak of olive oil. It was heavier than what I've tasted before, an attribute from the amount of olive oil I'm sure, but if that's the reason for provoking such gustatory rapture and bliss, then please, Oh Mighty Caponata, let me be your slave!

The weather over the weekend was actually warm and sunny, ideal conditions for taking lunch outside on the terrace. Today, however, is another thing altogether, and is forecasted as such for the rest of the week. So, if your day is as damp and dreary as mine is right now, I hope these photos will cheer up your spirits with a wishful sigh, and a little taste, of Sicily.

So much better warmed in the oven rather than nuked in the microwave. Cone-shaped arancino filled with prosciutto and mozzarella to the left. Round-shaped arancino filled with a traditional meat ragu on the right. Click on the image for a much better look.

I haven't met a caponata that I didn't like, but La Concordia's version beats each and every one of them to date. A perfect blend of sweet, tangy, and salty with a texture to cry for. I'd put money down that this is the best caponata in Monza. Click for the full image.

The dessert that has no name! It must've been an off day for the guy who helped us as it was on the very tip of his tongue but went no further than that. A soft-textured cake sandwiched between puff pastry layers, held together with a layer of lemon cream on the top and what tasted like apricot jam on the bottom. Okay, but nothing stellar. I'll go with cannoli any day.

Gastronomia/Rosticceria "La Concordia"
via Sempione, 8
20052 Monza (MI)

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Six-word Memoir

When it comes to all about Me!Me! memes or tags of that sort, I'm the last person to count on because the questions read like rehash and are so...uninspiring? Well, when I saw an open tag at Larissa's blog to sum up my life in a Six-word Memoir, it was too easy of a challenge to pass up. Six words? Done deal.

I was so wrong.

“...but i'll just throw it out there warts and all.

It took me all day to nail it down just right, ultimately revealing itself in a "light bulb" moment while photographing a naked hen for my Warty Chicken recipe. I wanted to give the illusion of warts - yes WARTS! - and out of the blue I remembered something charmingly nonchalant that David Duchovny had written on his blog a couple years ago while making the film House of D. That's a partial quote of it up there. I guess it sorta stuck, even after all this time. [Full entry here.]

I count myself lucky for having parents that cared, but in essence luck has nothing to do with it at all. Through thick and thin, you give it your best shot and hope for the rest. How the story unfolds greatly depends on the will of the main character, the protagonist, you yourself. Taking a cue from Duchovny, I sum up my memoir in these 6 words, with a no-fuss recipe for Warty Lemon Chicken to boot.

Believe in yourself, warts and all.

Ingredients: Roasting chicken, ½ lemon, salted capers, sea salt, ground pepper, olive oil

Instructions: This is like roasting any herbed chicken except that capers (not rinsed) are slid between the skin and breast part. The cavity of the chicken is lightly seasoned with sea salt before inserting the lemon half. A drizzle of olive oil, a few twists of the pepper mill and that's it. Roast according to preference, be it deep baking dish or à la Ron Popeil's rotisserie in set it and forget it. Does anyone have that appliance? My brother swears by it.

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Apples & Thyme: Stone Soup

I should start out by saying that memories of time spent in the kitchen with my mother or grandmother come as vague recollections. It's not that these moments were lacking, it's only because having such large broods to care for, these women saw fit to keep us OUT of the kitchen until it was time to ring the dinner bell. It was to our benefit (easier to prepare meals without someone whining, "I'm staaarving!") and the only way to maintain their sanity. This "banned from the kitchen" measure should have excluded me from Apples & Thyme, but as this month's host (Marla of Bella Baita View) assured me, the theme could be applied to whomever it was that influenced our cooking style. With this in mind, I thought it a succinct way to introduce the person who was my “Martha Stewart” when I was trying to remember how many cups to a pint. She has been a welcome mentor to hundreds of novice cooks, and a lifesaver to busy moms. Her name? Betty Crocker.

“it's a good thing. . .

Everyone knows she's not for real and that she has reinvented herself more times than Madonna but who's going to deny a double-layer Super Moist German Chocolate Cake? Or the tantalizing aroma of fresh-baked goodness with her Blueberry Muffin Mix? Bisquick earned a coveted spot in the fridge (humidity and bugs invaded opened boxes in our pantry), but eventually it would become her cookbooks that fueled my early attempts in the kitchen, books that I happily lugged home from the public library. Remember when checking out anything from the library meant scribbling the info on that little slip of paper? This was way before the electronic card system came along. And remember the dewey decimal system!?! Perhaps my initial "quick-n-easy" opinion towards creating meals was born out of patiently searching the index cards, locating the copy, then carefully and neatly filling out the blasted piece of paper. At a time when my budding interest focused on simple meals that would appeal, Betty, in her infinite wisdom, had more than one solution to the problem.

Stone Soup is one of my more memorable experiments when I was allowed to be "guest chef" on the weekends. I really did drop a stone into the soup pot (actually a piece of coral rock from the beach) and didn't mind saying so either. Nowadays, I am less inclined to be so mischievous but appreciate shortcuts like this Betty Crocker recipe for Meatball Stone Soup. It's a slow cooker method but that hasn't stopped me from tossing everything together in a kettle, bringing all to a high simmer and cooking until the vegetables are tender. It's as good as it gets when making haste in the kitchen, and goes up a notch from serving soup in a can.

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Little shoe cookies of San Ilario

A long time ago in the city of Parma, a shoemaker, seeing Sant’Ilario traveling barefoot through the snow, took pity on him and gave the saint a pair of shoes. The next day, in the very same place where he had placed those shoes, were a pair made of gold.

The classic shape of S. Ilario's shoes are
more like laced boots, or what's called
polacchini. The ones for the festa are
usually simpler shapes, glazed in icing
& candy sprinkles or chocolate-dipped

And so continues the legend of Parma's patron saint on his designated day (the 13th) of January each year. I had wanted to attend the festival or at least to bake these for my niece but managed to do neither. It was her name day, her onomastico. What is this? In Italy, the onomastico comes recognized for all who take the name of a saint, and believe me, this equals to just about everybody! In instances where a saint's name is male (or vice versa) and there is no alternative of the opposite sex, said saint takes precedence for all who bear a likeness to the name, as in my niece's case.

I'm a little late for this but here we go anyway. So many celebrations, so little time; that's my excuse. Couple that with my wish to spend more time gardening and...alright I'll just zip it up or “Tappa la ciabatta!” (Shut your slipper!) as I like to say to Maddie when she's barking too much. Shoes? Slippers? Yeah that makes sense.

Little shoe cookies of St. Ilario

This is a very firm, crisp sugar cookie that holds up well to dunking in a glass of milk. I think the dough would also make an excellent bottom crust for florentine cookies like these (scroll down) that I had written about earlier.

3½ cups all-purpose flour
1 1/3 cup granulated sugar
5 oz. butter, softened to room temperature
2 whole large eggs
2 large egg yolks (reserve the whites for another use)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
grated zest of one lemon or orange

sugar icing or melted chocolate for decorating
candy sprinkles (opt.)

Combine the flour and sugar in a large bowl and make a well in the center. Add the remaining ingredients and mix until it begins to hold together. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead gently for a few minutes until well combined. Divide into two portions, wrap in plastic and allow to rest in the refrigerator overnight. When ready to roll the cookies, first preheat oven to 375°F. Roll dough to almost 1/4 inch thick, cut into shoe shapes (I fashioned my own out of cardboard), place on parchment-lined pans and bake until golden brown around the edges, about 10-12 minutes depending on your oven. Cool completely before decorating with sugar icing or dipping into melted chocolate. Yields approximately 6 pairs of shoes.

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How does your garden grow?

Now I knew I might need to give an explanation as to why there's a photo of golden lab puppies, and the reason, plain and simple, is that I've watched these darling little "beasts" grow like weeds since they were born almost 2 months ago. As soon as they were able to get about freely on their own, our neighbor's yard has been a yelping playground of mock fights, biting, chasing and general roughhousing of rambunctious puppy energy. The Mads and I pass them each day on our walks, and it dawned on me that I'd better take a photo before the rascals are off to new homes in the next week or so.

Being that April is National Garden Month, I also wanted to get a post in before it was half over. My how time flies when mind, body and soul are geared toward making things grow! The garden has been a gradual project in the works, so it was with much anticipation and renewed energy that we were able to add all of the fruit trees from our 'wish list' to the garden slope in the back, and also to clear an adequate space to plan for a raised vegetable bed. Can you imagine me "growing" with pride? My father played such an important role in my appreciation of this hobby, so it comes as no surprise that many of the vegetables seeds which interest me are those that he grew when I was a kid. Tomatoes, broccoli, beans, corn, squash, eggplant, spring onions, lettuce, carrots! I have at least one if not several varieties of all those mentioned — some already up as seedlings, others waiting their turn to be tucked into soil, and still more biding their time in the phase of germination.

My second order from Baker Creek Heirloom arrived in record time, sent out 2 days after I had placed the order and arriving 2½ weeks later, this time (fortunately!) spared by italian customs. This seed company is the greatest, signing orders with a personal thank you and again, adding a couple of freebies - sorrel and mizuna - into the package. At this point there's no need to say what I got; better to get these into the ground so that I can show you what I grew. Happy gardening!

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Ciambellone di Rigomagno

It happens to the best of us.
Sometimes wearing the necessary badge of "recipe police", that is — making adjustments to questionable amounts, ingredients, and/or instructions — defeats the whole purpose of putting it on in the first place. I was so involved in accurately reducing the quantities for this test recipe that I neglected to thoroughly read the "how-to" and ended up with this very BIG 15x13-inch ciambellone instead of a little ciambellino x 3. To give you an idea of what I was dealing with, my oven is just shy of 3 feet across, so I'm glad that I didn't follow the original recipe which called for over 2 pounds of flour!

A baked good in the shape of Homer's favorite snack, this 8-inch (20cm) country-style cake from Rigomagno (Tuscany) was celebrated two weekends ago at the Sagra del Ciambellino. Unfortunately, the distance made it impractical for us to attend but reading about the ciambellino's dual dunking qualities convinced me that I needed to give the recipe a try. According to the site it says - "It's common knowledge that there are two schools of thought: those who prefer it dunked in vin santo and those who prefer it in cappuccino."

Vin santo? Cappuccino? Italy has the upper hand when it comes to the art of dunking — can you spell bis-cott-i? Either way, it all sounded good to me so here's a little something special if you're pining for a sweet taste of Toscana.

Ciambellino/Ciambellone

I've adapted this recipe using both the classic version and grandma's secret recipe (italian links below) because if there is anything that holds true for old-fashioned home baking, it's the fact that every person has their own way of doing things. You can mix the dough by hand in a large bowl or in a stand mixer but I opted to make this nonna-style, working everything on a smooth surface. The yield is for 3-4 small, or, if you prefer, 1 gargantuan.

4 cups all-purpose flour (type "00")
4 teaspoons baking powder
1½ cups granulated sugar
4 large eggs, slightly beaten
4 oz. butter, melted
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup light rum or strega liqueur
grated zest from 1/2 lemon
grated zest from 1/2 orange
1 tablespoon anise seeds
2 teaspoons vanilla

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Sift together the flour and baking powder; mix in the sugar. Pour out into a large mound on a clean surface and make a well in the center. Add the remaining ingredients and gradually incorporate the flour to produce a soft dough, kneading lightly and adding extra flour if necessary until the dough is no longer sticky/tacky. You want a dough that when shaped into a ball, does not spread out too much or too quickly.

Divide into 3 or 4 equal portions, shape into a ball, and with oiled hands, form a hole in the center, gently stretching to expand into a donut shape. Place on baking sheets lined with parchment and bake for 20-25 minutes at 425°(220C) until just turning a pale golden color. Lower heat to 375°(190C) and continue to bake for another 10 minutes or until golden brown.

Ciambellino facts
Commonly found on family tables in the Valdichiana, ciambellino is usually served at the end of a meal by breaking off a chunk to accompany vin santo, or, enjoyed at breakfast dunked into coffee and milk. As a token symbol of Christ's crown of thorns, its origins are tied to Holy Week while the use of eggs signify the new spring season.
The secret recipe (italian grandmas at work) | The classic recipe

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Tag q & a

Merrie Monarch Festival 2008

Tagged by Sally of Casalba News, this brief tell-all saves the day. I don't usually do memes or tags but a weekend dedicated to watching the Merrie Monarch Festival online has left me with Hawaii on the brain. If any curious island onlookers have come here by way of that huge mention on live television on Friday night, a warm ALOHA from me! Hawaii no ka `oi!

What I was doing 10 years ago:
Making a fresh start on Kauai. (And then 5 years later a brand new start in Italy).

Five things on my to-do list today:
Bake the legendary "little shoe" cookies of San Ilario and...
Ciambellino di Rigomagno (for upcoming recipe posts)
Sow more seeds, especially the shiso seeds sent me by Robert from Shizuoka Gourmet
Read up on the recaps of the Merrie Monarch Festival. It was awesome to watch it online!
Take Maddie for her daily walk

Snacks I enjoy:
Kettle brand potato chips, Frito-Lay's Maui Style potato chips, japanese rice crackers (arare), peanut M&Ms, goldfish crackers

Things I would do if I was a Billionaire:
Wish that I wasn't. I'd settle for less. That is too much power for one person to be wielding. It puts you in a position where the world looks at you in a big way. And it places you in a class where it would become even more difficult in discerning who your real friends are.

With that said, and on a lighter note, aside from taking care of family and friends, I would want to be a sort of "angel in disguise" a thousand times over, especially after having read this heartwarming article on NPR: A Victim Treats His Mugger Right. Now that is chicken soup for the soul.

Three of my bad habits:
Rubbing the skin under my eyes
Not calling my family often enough
Slouching at the computer desk

Five places I have lived:
Hawaii (the Big Island) , Oahu, Kauai, California, Italy

Five jobs I have had:
Lei greeter at Honolulu International Airport
Ice cream cake decorator for TCBY
Baker/pastry chef
Ms. Aloha reservationist at Plantation Gardens restaurant
Hostess at Keoki's Paradise in Poipu (we wore the cutest hula girl outfits!)

Who to tag?
I dunno...how about you!

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To gnome, or not to gnome

THAT is the question. Because of a witty comment regarding the liberated gnomes in France, I'm wondering if that could be the reason why I haven't come across the mention of these keepers-of-the-yard on various gardening blogs that cross my path. Is it because they're considered too tacky? Too creepy? Or are they placed in camouflage to dupe diehard gnome liberationists? Believe it or not, Italy has their own wacko faction of nano liberators - MALAG (Movimento Autonomo per la Liberazione delle Anime da Giardino), which from the looks of the site, is still staking out locations of the poor imprisoned souls.

How original. It's not that one will ever call our place home. Ever. I do love this gnome and crystal ball solar light but the Man of the House is against the idea. The dachshund would probably pee on it with glee! We do get a kick out of this commerical though, as gnomes would (naturally) be the first to speak up regarding unpleasant odors in the yard.

Puzza, puzza, puzza, puzza, che puzza!
Stink, stink, stink, stink, what a stink!

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Free the Frogs!

I am sitting here with a glass of Ribet Red shiraz, floored by two things that I've just read. The first was a rather alarming post in italian about a time-honored tradition that is held each year in Fermignano. The second was a nasty comment left on my youtube video of this very controversial frog race we had attended last year. Supposedly, you could say that the character above appropriately symbolizes the quest for freedom from the Palio della Rana which occurred this past Sunday.

I suspected as much that this would happen.

And it seems that not too long ago the MotH, Jackie, Antonello, Maddie and myself were squeezing through the crowds in order to get a better look during 2007's amphibian race. I'm so glad that we didn't plan on attending this again. What a riot! Backpack-toting folks from the Animal Liberation Association were present to peacefully protest this well-known event, that is, if you can call any protest peaceful when you're trying to rescue a fleeing frog. The score? Frogs (1) Organizers of the event (0) as the popular attraction has now taken on a sullied reputation. Where's Shrek when you need him? Dammit! This is MY swamp and my froggeys. Get yer own pond dwellers someplace else! You don't need to understand italian to get the gist of what went down on that day, and you can bet your lily pad that if the palio is held the following year, them liberationists will certainly be at the ready to jump into action.

Me? I think I'll just play it safe from now on and stick with my bottle of Arrogant Frog wine. It's ideal with red meats, wild game, paté, cheese and chocolate...no frogs.

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Lingue rosse or Stringhe rosse, anyone?

That's red tongues or red strings in english so take your pick, because these skinny eel-like things have stumped me big time on the information highway. It's not like they were just discovered yesterday in some obscure ocean channel, so does ANYONE know anything about this specimen? Family? Genus? Species? I had them at a restaurant in Cinque Terre years ago as part of a fried seafood platter; tasty morsels as I've ever bitten into but the teeny bones demand careful bites to grind them down completely — or else go p-tuh! ...and discreetly spit it all out.

These were cheap at 5 euros/kilo, but no one showed much interest in them, especially when there were bigger fish to fry, ehrr, buy. I wonder how many of these could fit into a sardine can? (One? Two? Just a thought really...) Not in the least bit daunted, we asked how to prepare the red tongues, and a heavyset female clerk willingly obliged...

"You make a cut just behind the head almost to the bottom then you pull it slowly away from the body to extract the interior. Then you cut them in sections and fry them. They're good (she pats her tummy), just look at me!"

How I would've liked to turn this unusual find into something unexpected and spontaneous, but 1.) The clerk didn't invite us to hers for supper and 2.) Since it's April Fools' day (in Italy, Pesce d'Aprile) there'll be plenty enough fish jokes going around.

Previous fish posts:
Rana pescatrice (monkfish)
Cefalo (gray mullet)
Ricciola (Amberjack)
Dentex
It started with a fish...

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