Thanksgiving in Babel Tower.

Caipirinha: cachaça, lime, berries, crushed ice.

I hope everybody enjoyed a merry Thanksgiving with family and friends! It is by far my favorite celebration of the year, now that my kids are grown and I can’t play Mrs. Klaus any longer for Christmas*. Christmas is so overly commercialized that, with out young children to make it magic for (which for years I have enjoyed to the fullest!), I much prefer the celebration of Thanksgiving with family and friends; seating around a joyous table filled with all the traditional dishes mixed with delicacies that our foreign friends have contributed to the festivities over the years and have become our own family traditions. After some Brazilians joined us years ago, for example, caipirinhas are an absolute must in our home for Thanksgiving, just as much as the turkey is!

*…waiting for grandkids! Not holding my breath.

Ours have been called the UN Thanksgivings; over the years kids from all over the world have sat at our table. When they were in college, our kids would invite over whomever didn’t have a family to go to in this country. We have enjoyed the most diverse populations on any given year; Brazilians, Greeks, Germans, Indians, Austrians, Chineses, Pakistanis… Italians, you name it, they have been with us. What a fun Babel Tower our table has been, and still is!

Also this year we were joined by my son’s best friend, an Indian who for fifteen years has been close to our family, and his young wife, a most adorable Hong Kong Chinese. We can’t wait to celebrate their wedding in Thailand with them at Christmas time! These are the kind of lasting, precious relationship that were born around our table on Thanksgiving days. We are truly blessed and thankful!

A One Woman Band.

I enjoy so very much writing in my often Italianized English, a language I love but, as much as I keep trying to better myself, not my native one! It is lovely to rewind back to the carefree times I was so blessed to enjoy as a young girl in Italy and the eventful years of my own kids’s childhood. If nothing else, these recollections will eventually remind or actually narrate to my own kids episodes of when they were too young to remember them.

As I have said from the beginning, and the main reason I started every morsel matters, many of these long ago episodes are what inspires my children’s books stories. I truly like loosing myself in memory lane (amongst other things it brings me back with people I have loved and are not with us anymore, like one of my sisters); but I have recently come to the conclusion that I am probably indulging myself a bit too much? The thing is that I am a “One Woman Band“, which means that if I write, unless it is for a new story, I don’t draw and paint.

From the series Jenny & Josh, the story of Lightning and Thunder.

I don’t mean in any way to leave every morsel matters behind! What is probably going to happen is that, amongst more recollections, reflections, fun fact and recipes from my Tuscany, there will be up dates about drawings or a new story. In fact they obviously are indispensable morsels of the whole book as is the inspiration for its story. BE AWARE: when a doubt stalls me I might very well ask for your opinion about which way you prefer for a character to be drawn and such, so, please, bear with me?!

Alla prossima puntata, Alessandra

A lively brain is often misunderstood.

Credit: Vector Sketch

Like you might have gathered from my August 20th and October 22nd posts (‘He’ll be a President‘ and ‘Mesopotamia‘), there were recurrent misunderstandings between my darling little boy and his teachers. One day I was told, again, by one of his grade school teachers that the boy was fast as a bullet but interested in everything except the standard required school proceedings. I called his father at the office and unleashed my frustration about his son‘s shortcomings, and the fact that I and I only had to keep dealing with the teacher’s many grumbles! My husband understood my pain, or most probably just wanted to shut me up, and left everything at the office to rush home and have a serious talk with his first borne once and for all! Only…when he got home he found his son head to head with his mom at the kitchen table; after her kid had told her his side of the story, mom was soothingly stating something of the sort, ‘don’t fret Topino (little mouse), lively brains are most often misunderstood…’ Obviously, the teacher did not understand the intrigued ways of my kid’s tireless curiosity and the Lioness, always extremely protective, was sweetly reassuring her Cub‘s sensitivity! To this day my husband reminds me of the unbelievably maddening scene he found in the kitchen after leaving his busy day at work behind in a hurry, and of the fact that he wasn’t sure who to strangle first, his boy or his wife!

Fun Fact:

When I complained with my mother in law about her grandson‘s school shortcomings she rolled her eyes telling me that she was called by my husband’s teachers every other week all the way up to the 12th grade. Every week she would try and guess the teacher of which subject she would have the pleasure to confer with. My husband eventually proceeded to complete college in 2 and 1/2 years and went to Warthon for a master where, btw, our little bundle of apprehension was born.

Reflections:

I often say to my successful son that many of the lines on my face have little to do with age; we truly appreciated (and still do!) his out of the box personality but it certainly contributed to his parents’… seasoning. On the other hand, probably because of the lack of brute pressures in our Italian upbringing, our kids enjoyed their childhood to the fullest. They are cosmopolitan, well rounded kids who have chosen to do what they loved and did it well, not simply for a college application. Children are robbed of an already short childhood in order to get into this or that university; by the time they graduate high school they already are worn-out by the constant pressure to outdo themselves and the fact that they didn’t enjoy the carefree childhood they should have been entitled to. I was appalled when, while still living in the City, my husband too was required to participate to our toddler’s interview for next year’s nursery school! Oh, he got in, but we thankfully then moved to suburbia. I have always believed that a name school, especially nowadays, doesn’t vouch for the wit of a kid’s brain or the capability to deal with the rest of the world once that kid gets out of the school’s protective walls. And it is plainly obvious in real life!

New set of drawings for Elvis & Me.

I went back to the drawing table after a bit of a break and have jumped back into the Elvis and Elton’s stories. I will share with you some of the latest drawings for ‘Elvis, Me and the summer week-ends with our pet humans.‘ I hope you enjoy them as much as I did drawing them! It feels great to be back to create a world that is so alive and thriving in my imagination!

Obviously all of the above needs painting and more; it all will be very cheerful and feel real once I am done with it!

Will keep you posted.

The little pyromaniac.

All these very serious problems with wild fires have brought back to mind a little wild child, my brother. What? You will ask. What can possibly be the connection?

After four girls, my baby brother, the fifth kid, was (and is to this day) the prince of the bunch; an adorable child with mischievous eyes and a particularly adventurous nature. Like my own little rascal a couple of decades later, my brother was attracted to danger, to the point that after several bumps on his head due to rough encounters with hard edges, cement shower floors, stone steps and the like, the pediatrician urged my mother to make him wear a helmet at all times.

One of my little brother’s main attractions was FIRE! For some inexplicable reasons, it seamed to spring from nowhere wherever the little boy happened to be… I remember about the corner of a rug in the living room, when he was less than two, that all of a sudden caught fire…my mom recently told me that she can’t recall that time; it is known that our brain chooses to forget some of the importunate episodes of our lives…

What we all remember is the time when on a month of November we were in the country side; the days where short, the weather cold and a warm fire was cracking in the dining room’s fire place. How idyllic, right?! Except…near the fire place a sorghum broom had been forgotten: my brother, still a toddler, grabbed it by the wooden handle, put the sorghum side into the fire and when it had lit, started chasing the youngest of his four elder sisters around the dining table. At her screams the next one up run to help her only my brother was now chasing the both of them. The next sister run to their rescue…my brother was now chasing the three of them. Then it was my turn… And it all happened in seconds. To make a long story short, when my mom arrived to check what the whole ruckus was about, the scene in front of her must have been scarily hilarious: her four girls were chased around the dining table with a burning broom by their little brother, a toddler…

And what about the time when during a summer in the country side an elderly aunt of my mother was visiting for tea; the two of them where chatting when the elderly lady told my mom, “There is a fire in those bushes behind you.” Not to be disrespectful, but mom’s aunt was pretty old and my mom thought she was seeing things… Mom proceeded to offer her another cookie, but her aunt insisted and mom felt compelled to turn around to make her happy. Sure enough, my brother, probably around 4 at that time, was near a burning bush and proudly declared, “I made a fire!

The broom’s episode aside, to this day it is a real mystery how my baby brother was able to apply fire to bushes or carpets, apparently from nothing. Our mom was running a pretty tight ship and, although rules were looser than they are today, with five active children roaming around things like matches were certainly not available to us or left unguarded. In addition to providing a helmet for him, my mom should have tied a fire extinguisher to my little brother’s belt!

Caldarroste. Roasted chestnuts.

Castagne, chestnuts: another one of fall’s delicious gifts! Here is one of nonna‘s (grandmother’s) mouthwatering recipe to enjoy them to the fullest in the simplest of ways.

Ingredients:

2 pounds of chestnuts

What to do:

Make a small cut on the skin of the chestnuts then place them on their special perforated pan. Originally caldarroste were cooked on an open fire, but a gas or electric hob will do as well.

After about 20 minutes, when the chestnuts’ skin is browned, remove them from the heat. Serve hot, peel and enjoy!

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To peal the hot chestnuts easily and add more zest cook them over coarse salt.

What to do:

For 2 pounds of fruits spread about 1 pound of coarse salt evenly on a regular pan and lay the chestnuts on top of it.

Cook for about 30 minutes until slightly burned for a greater flavor, turning the fruits to cook on all sides.

Wrap the hot chestnuts in a kitchen towel and let cool down a bit, then serve.

Caldarroste are great with red wine or grappa!

Sue, look at these!

Have you ever felt a certain discomfort taking your constantly bruised child to the pediatrician? My little boy was always into some venture of his own making and, having a tendency of bruising easily, often looked like a Dalmatian.

Let alone the time I left him male bonding with his dad while preceding them back home with his younger sisters from a vacation on the mountains, when he fell from a branch of a dead tree that broke under his bouncing weight… The little rascal was keen to get physically into trouble and his little body was a constant reminder of his exploits.

At 18 months, while still living in the city, my toddler managed to swallow a largish button I had set aside on a high shelf; to this day I have NO idea of how he was able to get to it! I run him to the emergency room where they made sure the button had gone through him the right way and told me I would eventually find it at the exit end…While I was collecting the results my little fellow busied himself opening every door around us and chatting the nurses. I was reassuringly told, “To next time, Mrs. B!” At two, as soon as we moved from the city to the suburbs my guy broke his front baby teeth coming down from a slide face first. Then there was the time when while running on a little friend’s backyard he fell bumping his head on a stone step requiring several stitches, from a plastic surgeon, no less. Not to speak of his brilliant idea, around four, of jumping into the low end of a pool head first, hitting the bottom of the pool and braking several front teeth-yet again!- two days before leaving to Italy for the summer. Around 12 while riding a horse with his dad (am I repeating myself?), he had a difference of opinion with his equally dunderhead mount about from which side to pass a large, thorny bush…when I went to pick him up after the ride, I didn’t have to ask who had won!

You will understand my discomfort when once, at the pediatrician office, the doctor called, “Sue, look at these!”, for his nurse to witness my daredevil’s several bruises?! Thank goodness the pediatrician and Sue had known me for a couple of years by then, and didn’t call the police on me for child abuse, yet. The reality is that the abused one was I, the poor mother, always on alert, concerned and suspicious of my darling boy next move!

Frittelle di mele. Apple fritters.

The month of October spoils us with so many of Nature’s best harvests! Amongst other things, it is apple picking time. If, like me, you have been collecting a bunch of these fruits form their trees, here is my personal extra light and simple short cut recipe for delicious frittelle di mele, apple fritters.

Ingredients for 4 people:

4 apples, usually Renette, but any other variety can be used

3.5 ounces of rice flour (much lighter and more digestible than wheat flour)

3.5 ounces of brown sugar

confectioner sugar

extra light olive oil or sunflower oil for frying

What to do:

Wash the apples. With a corer remove the core and cut them horizontally into slices of about 2/5 of an inch thick.

Mix the rice flower evenly with the brown sugar and dip the apple slices into the mix making sure both sides are covered with a layer of it.

In a frying pan heat the oil at 375 degrees Fahrenheit and deep fry the apples, turning them around, until both sides become golden.

Place the frittelle on a kitchen paper to absorb the oil in excess and sprinkle with abundant confectioner’s sugar. Serve while still hot. What a treat!

Can I pretend Andrew is my cousin?

I grew up in a large extended family which includes several cousins; each of us five siblings had one or more cousins of the same age. Some of my most fond memories are the ones of the afternoons in grade school when after classes our moms would take us all to our nonna‘s on the hills of Florence for hours of outdoors playing and some of the most incredible homemade merende (afternoon snacks). Those truly were unforgettable days!

Also our children have enjoyed their numerous cousins during their summer and winter vacations in Italy and Switzerland, but at home in the States things have been quite different for them. In the U.S. it has always been just the three of them. All things have their positive and negative aspects; my children greatly missed having their cousins to play with regularly, especially knowing that they had several around their age in Europe. Once my first born, while in the third grade, asked me, “Can I pretend Andrew is my cousin?” Of course he could, but I understood his sense of loss.

With the Swiss cousins
With the British cousins.
A happy gang of Italian cousins at nonna‘s (one is missing from this youthful table and the Parisian cousin had not been born yet.)

On the other hand, the fact that our children didn’t grow up each around cousins of the same age resulted in a closeness between them that my siblings and I, perhaps because we could always rely on other kids to play with, didn’t need to create between us. Their relationship has always been deeply special; they have always been there for each other, learning daily from life and each other at the same time in a way that I have never witnessed in any other set of siblings, here or abroad. My friends have expressed utter disbelief when told that my now adult kids would explore the West Coast from Seattle to California for a couple of weeks on a trip together; by choice just the three of them!

Oddly enough we probably might have to thank the much suffered absence of an extended family around us for the fact that our children are each other’s best friends and ours is an especially tight knit family.

Typical Tuscan castagnaccio.

Ottobre e’ tempo di castagne (October is chestnuts’ time).

Here is a typical ancient recipe originated in the Tuscan country side; like most, as simple as it is delicious! Leave it to the Tuscan people to maximize enjoyment from the humblest of ingredients joined together in the simplest, fastest and most no-fuss way!

Ingredients for a 12.5 inches diameter baking tin:

1 pound chestnut flour*

3.5 ounces pine nuts

3.5 ounces walnut kernels

1/3 cup raisins

23 ounces water

1 fresh rosemary sprig

extra virgin olive oil

1 tsp salt

What to do:

Soak the raisins for about 10 minutes to rehydrate them.

Mince the walnut kernels and leaf the rosemary.

In a large bowl sieve the chestnut flour adding the water little at a time while blending with a hand whisk. When the mix is smooth add the minced walnuts and whole pine nuts, keeping aside a small quantity to scatter on the top of the castagnaccio before you put it into the oven.

After about 10 minutes squeeze and dry the raisins and, leaving a few aside, add them to the mixture, blending well and adding the salt.

Brush with olive oil a shallow** round baking tin and pour the mix into it leveling with a wooden spatula. Scatter evenly on top the saved aside pine nuts, walnuts and raisins.

Top with fresh rosemary needles, drops of olive oil and cook in the oven preheat at 380 degrees Fahrenheit for about 35 minutes, until the surface will show cracks and the raisins will look golden.

Take out of the oven and let cool dow. Serve and enjoy your Tuscan castagnaccio!

*The chestnut flour should be of top quality and very fine to better release its sweetness; in fact, there is no sugar amongst the recipe’s ingredients.

**As for the antique recipe, to obtain the best castagnaccio the baking tin should be shallow.

Fun fact:

According to an old legend the fresh rosemary needles used to flavor the castagnaccio were thought to be a love elixir and have the power of making a young man who ate it fall in love with and ask in marriage the girl who had offered the cake to him.