Traditional Italian Black~Edged "Mourning Envelopes"

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"From dust we come, from dust we shall return" (Ecclesiastes 3:20)

Even though life is beautiful (la vita che bella) it is also brief and precious.  I have been away from my blog and all of my friends in the blogging community for almost one month due to a different and more important life focus:  the joy and the sorrow of celebrating a life in my family . . . the life of my father, who passed away one week ago today.

My father lived a full life of 92 years and influenced me in many things, including living life with gusto and with an appreciation for God, family, friends, work and food.

Nearly one month before my father's last weeks on earth, my mother asked me:  "Have you ever seen an 'envelope with black edges' that announces the death of someone in Italy?".  Upon our return from our trip to Italy in mid-October, my father's health began to severely decline and my mother began to speak to me about the rituals of death.

As an Italian-American, born and raised in the States, my answer was an obvious "No".  This was not and is not an American custom for funerals and the announcement of one's passing.  My mother proceeded to go to her bedroom and quietly returned with a box of funeral mourning cards that are delivered through the mail and/or presented to family and friends upon the visitation and funerals of their deceased loved ones.  Inside the box, my mother tenderly presented an envelope sent to her from Italy years ago . . . an envelope with black edges . . . within it was enclosed a 'mourning announcement' of the passing of one of our relatives in Italy.

As a crazed, searching-for-answers academic, as always I was curious about this now non-practiced European (not just Italian) tradition.  I felt compelled to research these mysterious, dark, black-edged envelopes considering the state of my father's diminishing health.

I suppose that this was one of my ways of accepting the inevitable . . . death . . . of a parent.

Unlike in the States, death and funeral proceedings are a BIG DEAL in Italy.  Those who have passed are continually honored and remembered, not just buried in the ground to visit only once a year on a national holiday.

When we first stepped into my relatives' home in Modena, Italy this past October, after receiving food (freshly sliced Prosciutto di Parma, Parmiggiano-Regiano, wine, and balsamico vinegar), we were immediately presented with photo albums full of death announcements and memorial cards, including the photos of the funerals of deceased relatives . . . and at the same time as birth announcements and life-time photos of family.

As a woman raised in American culture, I thought this to be very odd indeed.

But death is a revered part of life in Italy.  Funerals are very important life events!  The dead are remembered and honored throughout the year, not just on Memorial Day.

In Mexico, the "Day of the Dead" is celebrated with feasts to honor loved ones who have passed away.  The Japanese honor their deceased in "Obon Week".  And in Italy, the Feast of "All Souls Day" is celebrated immediately at the beginning of November, just after Americans celebrate the very commercialized day of Halloween.

When my parents and I visited Italy, our relatives not only showed the funeral cards of 'mourning', but also took us to the village cemetery to visit the graves of my relatives.  I also visited the grave of Luciano Pavarotti in Modena; interestingly, a common thing for visitors to do when in Modena . . . just 10 minutes from my relatives' home.  In Italy space is limited, so one is buried vertically in a mausoleum.  It felt strange to me, but I understand why . . . Italy is a small country (about the size of Florida, USA or a bit larger).  We in the States take for granted the size of our country, until we visit a land of such smaller size, such as Italy or England!

On a very humble plastic table cloth in the dining area,
my cousins display the mourning cards of those who have passed away.
The deceased are never forgotten and discussed just as joyfully
 as are the newborn babies when they enter our lives.

Oh, the cycle of life!

The next day my cousin Enrico kindly gave me a break from the insane driving
 of Italy and drove my parents and me up into the northern mountains
of Emilia-Romagna where my relatives were born.

climbing through the wooded, hillside terrain, 

up, up, up into the tallest mountain of Italy, Mount Simone . . . 

with verdant pastures in the foothills on a cloudy, drizzly day

past estates and tall, spiraling cypress trees . . . 

higher and higher . . . 

becoming ever more mountainous . . . 

with nothing flat anymore, only slippery slopes . . . 

to the point of only rock . . . 

and we arrive to the village of Magrignana where the deceased are buried . . . 

shielded with stone walls and iron gates . . . 

and small alcoves dedicated to the Blessed Virgin . . . 

before entering the final resting place of many of my relatives . . .

with beautiful iron artwork to commemorate those that have left us.

A tiny, yet lovely stone chapel sits on the mountainside . . . 

inviting one to peak inside a white iron gate door . . . 

to view an altar with pristine, crisp white linens to offer homage and a prayer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

But a life worth living is a life deserving of celebration, 

with food that is lovingly prepared and shared . . . 

so we end our visit to the mountains 

in my father's family ristorante in the nearby town of Renno . . . 

where my paternal cousin greets us with delicious espressos, latte's and Italian pastries . . . 

before the lunch time opening . . . 

and embracing family that is rarely seen . . .

and we read about our food and restaurant business heritage that began in Italy . . . 

and as my father stands outside the old stone walls of this little family restaurant, he gives his final earthly good byes . . . 

to his family in Modena.

Dad, your parents climbed those unfriendly, 

yet beautiful mountains of Northern Italy

and you climbed the mountains of life within America.

You reached every one of your goals

and your legacy on this earth has left all of us inspired.

Thank you for an amazing trip to Italy, Dad . . . you made it again!  

Thank you for letting me be your 'taxi-driver' and to push your wheelchair along the ancient cobblestones.

I will remember it forever.

May you rest in peace in your ultimate home with our Lord!

Amore,

Roz 

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Risotto with Porcini Mushrooms from "Harry's Bar" in Venice, Italy!

Ahhhh, beautiful, romantic, and mysterious Venice, Italy!  

What an extraordinary experience of a lifetime to visit and experience (even if only for a brief moment in time) Venice that is said to be sinking during our lifetime (which I hope Italian engineers will prevent)!  After seeing the major sites of Venice among unexpected throngs of tourists in the 'off-season' of October, I ventured to successfully check off one of my "bucket list" items . . . "to enjoy a famous "Bellini" cocktail at the infamous Harry's Bar in Venice, Italy" where Hemingway often dined and drank. 

Tucked away in a semi-hidden side street is where you can find Harry's Bar.  The establishment's location is not quite what I expected from reading about it in all of the tour guide books that stated Harry's Bar is located on the Piazza di San Marco.  That is NOT where it is located at all!   You must walk over several canal bridges to arrive to the correct 'via' or street and turn right where it is on your immediate right . . . and without a sign.  This is what you need to look for:

1323  Calle Valleresso 

which is on the right in the very first location.

It is easy to miss with very little signage!

  

And as with many windows in Italy, it is protected by bars against criminal activity.  How sad, but true in Italy.  From what I could see, this is the only visible sign to know that you are at "Harry's Bar" in Venice, Italy.  My mother purchased the phenomenal cookbook, and yes, this window is the one and only sign to identify Harry's Bar.  Again, this a 5 minute walk away from the central piazza of San Marco and NOT on the piazza itself as popular tour guide books state.  It is very worth the trek . . . even while wearing a back brace (post-surgery) as I did!

Upon entry into the super-crowded and amazingly-small dining area of Harry's Bar, I was immediately and kindly swifted away to the top floor at a wonderful table for two facing opened, screen-less windows that allowed a full view of the Venetian lagoons on a beautiful warm and sunny October afternoon!

the view of a Venetian lagoon through the restaurant windows directly from my table!

Pinch me, am I really here in Venice, Italy seated at a table in this infamous foodie and cocktail location?

The service for a single woman was spectacular (something usually poor given employees providing less service due to the 'smaller' tab total for his/her tip amount).  I had three (3) men attend to my every foodie and beverage need with not one moment of hesitation to serve and satisfy me for my complete enjoyment!  

On the right of my table was a lovely Italian couple who knew Italian cuisine inside and out, yet were willing to spend time to chat with me about all things regarding Italian cuisine and the Italian way of life focused on high quality food!  On my left was a delightful couple from England, enjoying their food selections and chatting with me in English . . .  a welcome language amidst my broken Italian that I could barely remember from my college Italian courses!   

Both couples' mouths were humming with sounds of blissful enjoyment as they enjoyed each and every morsel of their meal.  And then I joined them in harmony as my creamy risotto entered my mouth!

I had previously done my research and knew that it would probably be impossible to order the Venetian specialty of "Bacala" (salted codfish), knowing that Venetian fishermen do not fish on Sunday nights . . . and because I was there on a Monday, I knew that fresh fish was not to be found on any Venetian menu.   EVERYTHING is served as fresh as possible; nothing is frozen whatsoever in Italy!

Upon looking at the menu, I found that the luncheon special for this particular Monday was Risotto con Porcini (Risotto with Porcini Mushrooms).  It was pure and creamy heaven on a plate!  What could have served three or four people, I devoured by myself alone, especially due to the price of 36 Euros (approximately 50 American dollars).  Please note, that with all of the walking in Italy, I actually LOST weight while eating like an American pig at the same time!  How much fun is that?  PLUS, I do NOT spend that kind of money on any food(s) in my little hometown in SC.

I admit it . . . I splurged here!  But "Harry's Bar" was the one and only place in Italy that I did so.  And it was worth every penny and every delicious bite!

For me, to eat wonderfully and exercise naturally by walking among beautiful historic architecture without grunts and groans in a gym, and yet still not gain one pound was a dream come true!

When in Italy, be prepared to order water and to pay for it by the bottle, either natural or with bubbles (sparkling).  Another simple part of life that we take for granted in the States is the ability to receive a free glass of natural, clean tap water with re-fills (including ice) in restaurants . . . and here in the Carolina's in our restaurants of choice, my husband and I are even given free, tall, large-sized 'to-go' cups of water!  Keep that in mind in Italy, you pay for every little thing in restaurants!

You even pay to go to the 'toilettes', so bring Euro coins because most do not offer change for larger bills.

Expect no ice cubes in your water . . . it doesn't happen in Italy, although the bottled water that you order (anywhere) for a price is extremely cold and completely refreshing.

Table side dish preparation with 3 men in white tuxedos was a luxury that I have

 never experienced, thus justifying the price a tad bit better!

beautiful and delicious risotto from Venice, Italy!

the best risotto that has ever crossed my lips!

Risotto with Porcini Mushrooms
(from "The Harry's Bar Cookbook" by Arrigo Cipriani, 2006)

3 cups fresh porcini mushrooms, thinly sliced
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
1/4 cup finely chopped Italian parsley
1/2 cup dry white whine
freshly ground black pepper and sea salt to taste
1 recipe Risotto Parmigiana ( ** see below)

Clean the porcini mushrooms by gently brushing or wiping away any dirt.
Wipe the mushrooms with a slightly damp paper towel.
Do not immerse them in water.
Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat.
Add the porcini mushrooms and cook until golden brown, about 7 minutes.
Add the garlic and parsley and cook for 1 minute, stirring well.  Be careful not to burn the garlic.
Add the wine, stir well, cook for 1 minute more, and set the skillet aside.
Season the mushrooms with a little freshly cracked sea salt and black pepper.
Make the risotto as directed in the following recipe, stirring the cooked porcini mushrooms into the rice at the beginning.

Serves 6 as a first course ("i primi")

porcini mushrooms that grow in abundance in the forests of the northern 

mountains of Italy . . . about the size of a man's fist!

** Risotto Parmigiana
(from "The Harry's Bar Cookbook" by Arrigo Cipriani, 2006)

This recipe is 'basic' for all risotto dishes.

5 to 6 cups chicken stock (brood), preferably home-made (you can search on my blog for a delicious home-made chicken broth (brodo) that is also freezable!)
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 small onion, minced
1-1/2 cups short-grain Italian rice (preferably 'Vialone' or 'Carnaroli rice)
5 Tbsp. unsalted butter at room temperature
2/3 cup freshly grated, first quality Parmigiana-Regiano cheese, plus extra grated cheese to pass around the table.
Freshly grated sea salt and black pepper to taste.

Serves 6 as a first course ("i primi")

Bring the chicken stock (brodo) to a simmer in a saucepan and keep it at a bare/lowest simmer.
Heat the olive oil in a heavy-bottomed 3-quart saucepan and cook the onion over medium heat, stirring until the onion is golden, but not brown, about 3 - 5 minutes.
Add the rice and stir with a wooden spoon to coat the rice well with the oil and onion.
Turn the heat up to medium-high.
Add 1/2 cup of the simmering stock, and keep the mixture boiling, stirring constantly.
As soon as the stock as been absorbed, add another 1/3 cup of stock and stir until it is absorbed.
Adjust when necessary, the heat from time to time -- but keep the risotto boiling, yet at the same time, it must NOT stick to the pot.
If the risotto tends to stick, put the pot on a 'flame tamer' (I place a pizza or cookie pan on top of the burner).
Continue adding the chicken stock (brodo), about 1/2 cup at a time, stirring constantly and waiting until each addition of brodo is absorbed before adding the next amount of stock (brodo), until the rice is creamy and tender on the outside with each grain still distinct and firm.
This will take at least 20 minutes, maybe as long as 30 minutes, depending on your pot and your stove.
If the rice is still a bit hard in the middle after you have used all but a few tablespoons of the stock, add some boiling water, 1/4 cup at a time, stirring it in as you did the stock (brodo), until each grain of rice is tender but still has the slightest bit of firmness and the mixture is creamy.
Remove the pan from the heat and vigorously stir in the butter and the Parmigiana-Regiano cheese.  This stirring will make the risotto even creamier.
Taste and season with freshly cracked sea salt and black pepper.
While continuing to stir vigorously, add the remaining tablespoons of hot chicken stock (brodo) or boiling water if you have used all of the stock (brodo) to make the consistency softer and softer.
In Italy it is called "all'onda" (like a wave).
Taste carefully for seasoning and serve immediately, passing a bowl of grated Parmigiana-Regiano cheese.

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Grilled Basil Buttered Chicken and California Culinary Memories

Once upon a time I lived in the beautiful state of California.

It was in the 80's, with no recession, and lots of good living in a wonderful year-round temperate climate (although very smog-filled) with endless, ENDLESS things to do.  Although we were living day-to-day financially struggling as a result of the sky-high, off-the-charts cost of real estate with an all-time high 18% interest rate on our home mortgage, I found myself immersed in an up-and-coming culinary mecca.  Luckily, my job had a lot of entertaining and dining perks which contributed to my culinary adventure on the west coast.  I'll share a few of those experiences here.

Now when thinking of California, you can't help but think Wolfgang Puck and Spago.  Or Alice Waters and her farm-to-table revolution and Chez Panisse.  Don't forget Mollie Katzen and Moosewood Restaurant.  And of course, think wine country and Napa Valley.  Think fresh food year round.



Even our beloved South Carolina son and celebrity chef, Tyler Florence, moved to California for a little more of that culinary action.

Hey Mr. Dreamy chef, come back to Carolina!


My son was also born in California, in Fullerton.  Located right next to Anaheim, I knew it was bed-time for the kids when I could hear the fireworks of Disneyland every evening at 9:00 PM on the dot!  My home wasn't air-conditioned so the windows were open a lot and I could hear those popping sounds of the fireworks easily.  I was even able to see part of the Olympic torch run by just one block . . . that's right . . . one block from my house!  With a toddler in hand and an infant in a stroller, the three of us waved our little American flags for that one moment in time.

9:00 PM sharp:  the sound of Disney fireworks every evening marked bed-time for my kids

actual photo of Olympic torch run by my house in Fullerton, California, 1984

(photo courtesy of Bosco Fullerton blog)

My love affair with all things culinary continued from it's beginnings in St. Louis after college and actually exploded in California.  I was even asked by Neiman-Marcus (my former employer) to manage the "Epicure" department in L.A. (I turned it down to stay home, raise my newborn son and toddler daughter, and run an in-home daycare business so I could be with my little ones).  I'd stand in line at Williams-Sonoma to acquire the infamous James Beard's signature on one of his cookbooks that I'd purchased.  I'd write to Bon Appetit magazine religiously to hopefully get my hands on the recipes of dishes served to me in California eateries.  I'd brave the southern California freeways with my kids in their car seats to take them to visit the famous open-air Grand Central Market in downtown L.A. and the age-old Mexican/Hispanic Olvera Street Market for true-to-the-core made-from-scratch tortillas and Mexican cuisine!  I'd gaze at the celebrities in superb restaurants . . . when Fred Astaire walked in while I took my first bite of rack of lamb with mint, I almost choked.

Grand Central Market, downtown Los Angeles

Historic Olvera Street Market

Breakfasting in Laguna Beach, dining in San Francisco, eating in Beverly Hills at my former employer's home . . . just down the street from O.J. Simpson (then a popular athlete) and the deceased Joan Crawford and Bette Davis.  Staying in my boss's private home next to John Houston's home in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico where the house staff took us diving for fresh shrimp to indulge in ceviche (and when I passed out and saw death before me, it was at that moment that I realized my deathly allergy to shrimp and all things shellfish).  Sadly, I haven't touched shellfish since.

In San Francisco, I ventured to the famous Fisherman's Wharf and endulged in authentic S.F. sour dough bread and rich chocolate freshly made from the Italian chocolatier, Ghiradelli's in Ghiradelli Square.

Sourdough bread from the streets of San Francisco

Ghiradelli's famous hot fudge sundae from the Chocolate Shop in San Francisco on Fisherman's Wharf

In California I discovered fresh strawberries the size of my palm, avocados as creamy as butter, fresh chunky guacamole, enormous chimichangas and REAL Mexican food (other than tacos) served in restaurants you'd normally think to avoid from the looks of the buildings' exterior.  At the exclusive "The Cellar" restaurant I discovered forward-thinking and creative ways to enjoy after-dinner coffee filled with unusual liquor combinations that I'd never heard of before (they kindly shared the recipe with me too).

The Cellar in Fullerton since 1970, is still extraordinary 52 years later.

Order their signature liquor-laced after-dinner coffee . . . you'll thank me.

I bit into my very first Veal Saltimbocca.  I embarked on the 'new' California pizzas.  The "golden state" is also where I first tasted "Mu Shu Pork" and authentic Chinese food made table-side in San Francisco's Chinatown instead of the old stand by of chop suey from a can.  I even dined in (what I miss terribly) old-fashioned steak houses where a REAL Caesar salad was made table-side while sitting in leather booths with velvet wall-papered walls in darkly lit, smokey rooms with old Italian crooner music being played from the piano bars (think Sinatra, etc).  Back then even I smoked and no one seemed to mind the aroma in restaurants . . . how far we've come!

The food just seemed to be incredible everywhere in California!

Mu Shu Pork with plum sauce and wraps from Chinatown, San Francisco

my favorite Chinese dish ever since my first bite!

You get the picture, I'm sure!

Yes, California was fun when it came to the foodie scene and played a big part of my cooking evolution.  But that life ended, I moved on to Scottsdale, Arizona and the California food memories are with me to this day.

Among those memories, are the cookbooks that I collected from California, many of them out of print and grabbing very expensive prices among collectors.  Take for example, Vincent Price's "A Treasury of Great Recipes" (you remember him, don't ya?  All of those cheap Edgar Allen Poe scary midnight movies and from Michael Jackson's "Thriller").  Yea, believe it or not, he was a highly respected culinary chef extraordinaire!  The cookbook cost $75 back in the 80's . . . who knows what it would go for today if you can get your hands on a copy.  Other cookbooks that I cherish today include:  "The L.A. Times California Cookbook", "The San Francisco Chronicle Cookbook", "California Sizzles", "Chez Panisse Cafe Cookbook", "Moosewood Cookbook", and "The California Heritage Cookbook".  And although she's not from California, it is where I bought and delved into my Julia Child and Company cookbooks to learn more about the art of French cooking techniques and at that time prepared my very first Steak Diane.  This recipe was one of the first that I taught my kids and that propelled them into their joyous love of cooking.

From those cookbooks I found inspiration for this incredible grilled chicken recipe.

It's so easy, it's stupid.

And it always leaves you happy, happy!


Grilled Basil Buttered Chicken 

Grilled Chicken

4 chicken breasts, boneless and skinless
1/2 cup melted butter
2 - 3 Tbsp. garden-fresh basil, chopped
Sprinkle of my favorite go-to 'trinity' seasonings:  Mrs. Dash (for chicken), Nature's Seasons, and Accent

Basil-Butter Sauce

3/4 cup melted butter
2 Tbsp. garden-fresh basil, chopped
2 - 3 Tbsp. Parmigiano-Regiano, finely grated
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp. freshly ground sea salt
1/8 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

Sprinkle the chicken with your favorite chicken seasonings (mine is listed above:  my go-to 'trinity' for everything I grill).
Melt butter.
Blend in basil.
Brush the chicken breasts with basil-butter mixture.
Grill chicken breasts about 8 minutes on each side depending on how large they are (we select large sized chicken breasts) and how well-done you like your chicken (we like our moist and not dry).
Continually baste chicken with any remaining mixture while grilling to keep them ultra-moist and super flavorful.
Prepare Basil-Butter Sauce by combining all ingredients.
Serve grilled chicken breasts with the basil-butter sauce at the table for guests to top on their own.

Serve with fresh, thickly-cut Italian bread to dip into the basil-butter sauce and/or mop up what is on the plate.

lather the first basil-butter sauce on the chicken breasts, using the pool of sauce left over to continually baste during the grilling process to keep the chicken moist and flavorful

prepare the second velvety butter sauce with basil, garlic, and parmigiano cheese.  
drizzle this sauce on top of the grilled chicken and pass around to your guests
also great for dipping some fresh, thick-cut Italian bread

after a bite the juices of this super-moist grilled chicken drip onto the plate

Mangia!

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