Eating at a Wine Festival

In the beginning of April I made a work trip to Italy's (and maybe one of Europe's) biggest wine conventions, VinItaly, in Verona. I was there with a coworker, Nicola, who's the author of wine and food guides to Southern Italy, and we went to do research for a tour we're creating at work. I was a bit apprehensive at the beginning, since I was required to wear a business suit and I was dreading potential business-y meetings. Luckily, Nicola regards his profession as a call for enjoyment, and that's what we did.

On the first day of the festival he took me to the biodynamic wine division, which was located about 20 minutes by car from the main center (apparently due to tension between the two different types of producers). Biodynamic, as Nicola explained it, is a method of production without chemicals or any kind of environmentally-destructive interference. That even means no machinery! The wine tastes different, too - with all of the different kinds I tasted, there was an actual fruity flavor, and most of the wines weren't the typical white or red colors that we're used to. The best part of the wine tasting area was that all visitors were given a wineglass to wear in a little pouch that was slung around the neck. (Mine is now hanging in my room in Bologna as a badge of pride.)



Nicola pointed out to me that biodynamic wine producers are a rare breed, as their calling requires them to be involved in production around the clock. And it was clear that these were interesting characters, many of whom did not appear to spend much time with normal society. But even stranger were the organic cheesemakers, who had a separate tasting room before dinner. You can see a small example of the insane spread, below. Cheese galore, and it was incredible. The cheesemakers bustled around, manhandling crusty wheels of cheese and wearing their wool hats indoors (for the duration of the evening).



Cheese eating was followed by a five course dinner, the photographs of which follow below. One of the perks of the dinner was that the half-drunk wine bottles from the festival were left out so that diners could keep drinking their favorite wines as they ate. I was seated with a group of wine and food aficionados; this is our table BEFORE dinner started. Nicola and his comrades actually hid some of the most sought-after bottles under the table so that they could drink without being harassed by other wine lovers.

This is the first appetizer: a cake made of Adriatic bluefish and "crunchy" sardines.


Second appetizer: veal loaf with seasonal vegetables. The stringy dark green stuff must've been found in a forest somewhere, and it was the best part.


Third course, the "primo", which is usually pasta-related. This was rolls of pasta stuffed with Abruzzese black pig, juniper ricotta and wild asparagus. The black pig is a specialty (the meat itself isn't black, of course), but slight disappointments were the ricotta (which didn't taste anything like juniper, whatever that must be like) and the asparagus (which was mostly ground up into a sauce).


"Secondo", or meat course. Veal cheek cooked in Montepulciano wine and glazed onion. The meat was really good, but I'm generally sort of freaked out by eating cheek meat, because there are always strange gummy bits in it that remind me too much of my own cheeks.


Dessert, "sweet pizza", which was a mix of chocolate cake, amaretto paste, and some kind of cream. At this point I'd had enough biodynamic wine that I forgot about my photo project and started eating before I took a photo. I then tried to put my "pizza" back together. It's a bit of a patchy job.


The dinner was followed by one of the most bizarre and unique performances I have ever witnessed in my life. A group of Georgian winemakers were the celebrities of the gala dinner, as they had traveled thousands of miles by van to attend the festival (apparently biodynamic winemaking is a big thing in Georgia). About three-quarters through the dinner, strange and interesting sounds started to emanate from the Georgians' table. We were soon informed by the host that polyphonic singing is a UNESCO Heritage-protected patrimony of Georgia. Who knew? The mustachioed,7-foot tall (including the women) Georgians proceeded to give us a concert of polyphonic music, which I cannot describe accurately except to say that it's sung without words.

Speaking of life-changing experiences (as the Georgian polyphonic singing clearly was), I recently attended an alter-ego themed party. My friend Natasha and I decided to dress up as men (my idea, probably somehow related to the fact that I feel out of sorts in Italian gender dynamics) and we had a terrific time. Suspenders are an amazing invention; so much better than a belt! And I learned how to tie my tie from the internet, which I am infinitely proud of.



As for the alter-ego theme, it's unclear what some of the other partygoers interpreted themselves as. Though it was interesting, regardless.

The Weather Outside's Delightful

In recent days the sun has been out all the time in Bologna, and I have to say that spring in this city is so beautiful that it makes up for all of the misery, gray, and damp that is the winter here. The red-orange paint that's used on all the old buildings gets really rosy and glow-y and it's light past 7 pm already, and it feels like it's something worth celebrating.



Last weekend my choir had a Sunday-afternoon concert, and the wonders that are Italian organizational methods provided us with a good 2 hours between our rehearsal and the performance itself. While my innate American-ness (read: obsessive tendencies) chafes at these things (waiting, confusion, etc), on this day I really appreciated being in Italy! The sun was out and we took advantage of the wait by lying out in the park adjacent to our rehearsal space.



The pretty little daisies were so abundant that my friends Elisa and Michelina decided to adorn the head of Michele (who happens to be Michelina's twin brother). He was a willing victim and kept his daisies on for the rest of the day, throughout the concert.



Spring fever makes people do strange things, I guess. I can definitely say that it has massively improved my eating situation. I've made two discoveries over the past few weeks that are making my stomach happy on a regular basis.
1. This gelato place. I was told by an American food writer, living in Florence, that this is the best gelato in Italy. I don't know if that's true, but it's absolutely my favorite gelato in Bologna (it's also run by an American woman). Best flavor? The cinnamon-pumpkin. Which goes perfectly with the brownie gelato, and a dollop of whipped cream. Most interesting flavor? The bergamot-jasime, which tastes sort of good. And a bit like soap. I daydream about this gelato ALL DAY. It's a 20 minute walk from my house, which is sort of an obstacle, but when it gets really hot out I think I'll overcome it.
2. Fresh peas in the pod. They're already in season! My mother has always encouraged my love for these things by buying them for me during the summer. But already, in April, I can go to the supermarket and fill a bag to bursting. This is my new favorite snack. Dollar users beware: my habit is costing me a full $14 dollars a week. It's like cigarettes!

Anyway, the point of all this is that spring in Bologna is a wonderful time to appreciate the fact that winter's over and stuff like fresh produce and cold dessert are actually available. Sitting outside in the sun, though, is probably the best perk.



Beautiful Michelina. I love this photo of her, though I'm not sure why. She's as sunny a person as this photo makes her seem.

At the end of our afternoon we decided to commemorate the event by taking some fotos. Miki took charge of the camera. The first try was a bit poor.



But we improved.



The people in this photo - Gustav, with sunglasses, Michele, with daisies in his hair, and Elisa, with the short curls - along with Michelina, who took it, are some of the most important people in my life here. The twins in particular have taught me so much about what strength and inner beauty really is. They're three years younger than I am, and they've experienced things I can't even begin to imagine - as cheesy as it sounds, their ability to open up and love other people inspires me daily. A great deal of the good I see in my life in Bologna is due to them. On that note, happy spring.

Easter Eggs and Illnesses

I've been meaning to post for a while but have been dragging my heels, probably because not much noteworthy stuff has been going on. Perhaps most memorable is the fact that I succumbed to a very bad case of the flu, which involved a first semi-collapse followed by another attack of fever, chills, nausea (and other pretty things) etc a week later. I hit 104 degrees for the first time in my adult life! Below is my collection of medicine, which grew gradually over the two and a half week span of the sickness.



I was lucky enough to find a variety of very caring nursemaids (or whatever would be the male version of the word - nursemen!) who applied cold compresses, carried computers for me, bought me crackers and generally helped me out. I especially needed assistance navigating the world of Italian pharmacies. It's difficult when you don't know the names of any of the drugs! Italian pharmacies are especially interesting (for me) because pharmacists can make diagnoses like a doctor would in the States (and it's an open secret that they can also give out prescription meds, but don't tell). Anyway, I know have a full flu-related pharmacy at my house. Luckily, I'm better!

I have a theory that my illness came from a trip to Switzerland that I made with one of my coworkers, to attend a tourism trade show. We both got sick directly afterwards, maybe from the stress of the many immigration checks we were subjected to on the train. Here I am on the train, before my passport was scanned repeatedly.



It may be worth noting that Francesca (my coworker) and I were the only people whose passports were checked in our entire train car. Why, we cannot imagine.

This is Lugano. It's pretty! I wish I'd seen more of it. Instead, I was able to appreciate the various culture shocks of not being in Italy. Here are a few: plentiful chicken entrees on restaurant menus, tea served at breakfast, no bidet, and clean sidewalks.



Otherwise life proceeds normally. I spent most of Easter in bed with the flu, but here are the huge chocolate Easter eggs that people normally consume here. Ours are only half finished! You can see how big they are by comparing them to the candle to the left, in the photo. Thanks to Tiziano for mine - inside there's always a little gift. I am now the proud owner of a cell phone carrier with a little strap attached.



My work stress is not diminished. But through the craziness, I think that my coworkers have somehow bonded, which isn't such a terrible thing. (One of them is getting married this summer, which is hugely exciting! And it'll be my first time at an Italian wedding!!) So all is not lost.

Ginevra, Ginevra

I'm writing this blog entry with a single objective: I cannot gush over the events of Sunday, March 9, as much as I want to - if I did, it would be impossible to read this! So I'm going to do my best. Unfortunately this may not be the final entry on this topic; between all of us choir members there are about a million photos of the evening, in total, that I'm waiting to see.

On Sunday, my choir sang in a concert with an Italian folk musician, Ginevra di Marco, and her band. We performed at a church near the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, on a very gray day. In fact, we started the day at 8:30 am, singing at a church in a town called Fiesole outside Florence. This is the landscape around Fiesole, which is beautiful.



From the courtyard of the church, we could see a foggy view of Florence with its bell towers and red roofs. It's much less industrial than Bologna, and with all Tuscan green hills and trees it almost seemed like a postcard. If only it hadn't been so gray.



After Fiesole, we headed to Florence to prepare for the big event. First, some background on Ginevra. She's somewhere in her mid-thirties and is a semi-famous singer who for many years sang with left-leaning music groups from central/northern Italy. By left-leaning, I mean communist, or almost. In a good way. (Sample lyrics from one of their songs: I sing war, and I know I'm not in good company/I sing peace, which isn't a profession, or an ideology/I sing liberty, difficult and never given, must always be defended/always regained.)

Anyway, nowadays Ginevra tours Italy with her band (which includes her hubby, who's the musical director). She sings folk songs from Italy (in a gazillion dialects) as well as songs in Spanish, Greek, Romanian, and other languages. And we were invited to sing on her tour because my conductor's cousin knows someone who knows someone, etc etc. We rehearsed four of her songs with her and she sang two of our songs with us. Somehow she managed to learn our songs perfectly after a single listen. I guess it's her job, but even so.

Here's my conductor walking to the church in the rain, with his little podium. Luckily, when we got there, the technical team supplied him with the priest's pulpit (I believe that the church is no longer sacred) and he was all set.



The streets near the church were full of signs for the concert.



We proceeded to rehearse for a few hours, and were reminded once again of the fact that Ginevra is AMAZING. Her voice is out of this world, and she and her band are all super welcoming and open and willing to share the spotlight. They really enjoyed playing with us and on the spot decided that we'd sing a seventh song together. She, her husband, the drummer and the guitarist all speak in wonderfully thick Tuscan accents (which for me are the hardest to follow).

Here are some of my choir buddies. On edge and ready to go!



Here's the church 20 minutes before the concert started. It was totally packed and they had to start adding extra chairs. I know it's a cliche, but it really did feel as if the air was buzzing. We were super excited; to put things in perspective, we are a folk music choir, so this was like singing with a number one celebrity!



And of course the concert itself was just wonderful. Someone once described Ginevra as "becoming" her voice when she sings, as if her voice is so beautiful that it eclipses her as a human being. It actually happens! And we had a great time singing along (at some points, especially for a Neapolitan fighting song, we were yelling). We ended the two hour concert exhausted and happy. Not as exhausted as Ginevra's kids, though, who were sleeping in the front row as their parents danced around onstage.

Now for the best moment: my friend Michele, who knows all too well of my crazed-fan-love for Ginevra, has been promising me a photo with her for weeks. I was too nervous to go up to her by myself so he dragged me over after the concert was over. The star of the show was all too happy to take a photo with us, even though I was so star-struck that I stuck Michele between the two of us. (I REGRET IT NOW!) I am only disappointed that I take up more of the photo than she does! Ginevra, why are you hiding behind Michele and your flowers?! (In retrospect I can see that I did not manage to conceal the fact that I was utterly giddy - it's apparent on my face!)



After the photo, she gave me a hearty Italian embrace and told me to email her the photo. So, please excuse me - I have to compose my email now, or at least faint while doing so.

(Here is an interview with my conductor and the amazing Ginevra herself, along with her hubby. If you speak Italian, it's very sweet. And even if you don't speak Italian!)

(And HERE is a video of the concert itself. It's long and may not be as fascinating as I present it to be, but the singing starts around 4 and a half minutes and I swear it's beautiful. And part two is here.)

London Town

This weekend I was the lucky recipient of a four-day weekend with my parents in London. My mother's need to study milk close-up forced her to come all the way to my adopted continent! My parents have been in London for the past month and I caught them just at the end of their trip. As any tired, overworked daughter knows, time with parents is also known as face-stuffing time. This is something I definitely did.



Above is a photo of a "cream tea". This means, apparently, tea, a scone, a jar (!) of jam, and an entire teacup full of whipped (or as the English would have it, clotted) cream. I certainly didn't think I would eat it all, but I did. And it was great!



My parents had rented an apartment outside central London, near Hampstead Heath, and it was gorgeous. Plus, there was more fresh air and nature than I generally see on a daily basis in Bologna.



We also made sure to take in some tourist activities, like the London Eye. The London Eye is basically a ferris wheel made out of enclosed metal pods. But it's very big and very slow, and it's on the Thames, so you can look out over the river and all of London. Even though my own family members derided me for my cheesy touristy-ness, I'm glad we went. Thank you, Mom.



Of course, no big city trip would be complete without my most favorite cuisine. This weekend I had two Korean meals. This brings my grand London total to: FIVE. That is, I have eaten at five different Korean restaurants in London. I am very proud of this fact, not least because I have spent a grand total of 8 days there during the past 10 years. Below, my parents ponder the mysteries of Korean barbecue (their first).



And, especially exciting (Rosa), we went to a pub and had our very first English drinking experience together. One beer each - but being a family of lightweights, we still had to stumble out the door.



It was a really great trip. Thank you, parents.

Celebrations

Now it's Lent, but a few days ago it was carnevale time. This is actually not something that really affects Bologna, or me - especially now that I spent more time at my office than my home (including sleeping time, which is disturbing). But over the past couple weeks I've gotten a chance to see and experience some festivities, which has been nice.



Two weeks ago, Bologna had some kind of Saturday night party that involved an hour of fireworks in the main piazza. Something that I'm starting to realize in my old age is that I love fireworks. They have such a happy mood! And seeing them in Italy, in such a beautiful piazza, was just an added bonus. The show wasn't the obsessively choreographed American fireworks display that we see on the 4th of July, but it was terrific nonetheless - and it really went on for an hour with all kinds of sparkles and booms. The piazza filled up and people started spilling out into the surrounding streets - couples, people on bicycles (like me!), people on scooters (see the helmet, above), children, even buses had to stop because they couldn't get through. Everyone looked towards the sky. There was something really beautiful about the scene, as if the entire city had stopped to watch the show.



To continue with the happy times, I was reunited with two beloved (and much missed) coworkers last week for dinner. We went to a Sardinian restaurant where we were plied with wine and food, including pork stewed in milk, pickled thistles and ravioli cooked in red wine. It all sounds crazy, but everything was great. Letizia and Massimo, whom I hadn't seen since before Christmas, regaled us with tales of non-office life. Massimo then tried to set Letizia up with a friend of his who is currently embroiled in a messy relationship. There she is, talking to him on the phone. As far as I know they have not yet met. And below, me and Tiziano, absorbing our last glasses of wine.



However, all of this business pales in comparison to the real Carnevale, in Venice. Last weekend I made the trip with my roommate to join up with a group of more then ten Italians and Americans. This is basically the way it works: Venice becomes a party. The entire city. People are drinking and throwing confetti and running around in costumes - ALL OVER THE PLACE. (They're also peeing all over the place, because you can never find a bathroom when you need one.) The first photo of this post was taken in a piazza in Venice; they all looked like that. Everyone is crazy, and they're all happy to have their photo taken.



Here is a photo of Francesca and me, at the beginning of the night, around 7 pm. We are fresh and happy. Keep in mind that we spent the next NINE hours walking around a freezing city in February, facing wind and drizzle, sitting down for a total of maybe 15 minutes, and covering a total of 10 miles. Insanity. But, this photo was taken before all of that.



And here we are a bit later, with about half the group we were traveling with. I previously knew one of these people.



This is what everyone started to look like about halfway through the night.



And again.



WHO IS THE BOY ON THE RIGHT? No clue, but we saw him later on, repeatedly. Anyway, we departed from Venice at 4 am, exhausted and practically knock-kneed, to find that there were no more trains running. We had been told that there would be trains all night for the last saturday of Carnevale; like idiots, we believed this and never double-checked. Instead of crying in the station, we hopped on the last train leaving (for Mestre, a station about 10 minutes from the city of Venice). After disembarking, we continued to find, without a doubt, that there were no trains. But we had to get to Padova, to sleep at my friend Michela's house. So what did we do? We took a taxi from Venice to Padova! What a triumph. (And strangely enough, it was the same price as a train would've been. And as the Mastercard commercial says, the worth of NOT having to spend 3 hours in an open, freezing train station at the end of long night? PRICELESS.)



If only we'd had real costumes.

Foreign Exchange

I'm recycling a pre-Christmas photo. Bologna's very pretty with all the lights up.

Two weeks ago we received the news that my beloved roommate, Francesca, won a grant to study at Georgetown University for the next six months. We're all very happy for her, but it's sad that she has to go! Also, there's been a lot of roommate traffic in this apartment (her replacement will be the fifth new person to move into the house during the year I've been here).

So, before she goes, we need to use the time wisely. That means house parties, apparently. With nutella.



And I think that I'm stronger than I actually am.



Carnivale is starting here, but it doesn't feel like it. Instead, I'm feeling overwhelmed by work and completely exhausted. To paraphrase Good Will Hunting (a masterpiece!) . . . Management has been restructuring, and it's not very enjoyable for all of us who work under said management. But I'm trying to remember that this will result in some kind of learning experience. I will certainly be thankful for it someday in the future. I'm just not yet at that point.

In the meantime, the Italian government has fallen, and it's strange because there are no visible signs of it whatsoever. (I don't know what I imagined. SWAT teams or something.) Aside from the entertaining aspects - crying senators being carted out on stretchers - it's pretty crazy. And it's fascinating to hear the way people talk about it. Most often I hear that the country is finished, everything is going to hell, and so forth - I was told that this is the "classic" Italian response. It sounds pretty familiar to me!

Jingle Bells

So, I went home for Christmas. It was my first time back in the States since June, and I realized that I really missed being there. Italy feels like home now, but it definitely isn't home home. Like home is home. Etc. And home in this case included Florida and New York along with beloved Boston.

I love Christmas. And I love the fact that being in the US, after being gone for a while, makes me appreciate random things. Like the availability of cranberry juice, scrambled eggs, and non-diesel-infused air. My mom's cooking. Stuff like that.



And snow! It was snowing when my plane touched down, which was a perfect welcome. This was the view from my front door. If you can't see it well, that's because it was entirely white.



And of course it was really amazing to spend time with the people I love, as weird as they are.



It's bittersweet to realize that, now that my life here is full of so many new people, I really value my relationships with the people who've known me for years. In my own language, no less.



Being away makes it ever-so-clear that they're incredibly important to me. So it was hard to leave - even though it's good to be back.