Wanna See My Pictures?

For some weird reason, I could never upload photos to my blog while in Italy.

Allora, if you're interested in looking at them, click here.

Best Friends Forever

What's better than spending three weeks in Italy with each other?

Capping it off with five days in Rome with our best friends.

Truly, five straight days of non stop laughter, late night poker, extraordinary eating, incredible wine and, let's not forget, the Phantastic Phillies!!

We continued the party on the return flight on Toll Air, sitting down to a great lunch of Italian food and wine scored at Volpetti before our departure.



Arriverderci, Roma

L and L

It's raining in Rome but the fearless tourists ventured forth once again...for lunch in the shadow of the Pantheon, one of Rome's most important and historic sites.

While gazing at the Pantheon, we enjoyed a dozen oysters and then a sea bass baked with porcini mushrooms, all washed down with two bottles of a Gaja 2006 sauvignon.

L and L. Loaded and Lunch.

YOU MUST LISTEN TO THIS!

In case you missed hearing Barack in Ohio yesterday, please take the time to listen to the close of his speech. It is truly inspirational. One more week...

Fabulous Funghi

I have a new favorite food this season in Rome.

Last winter it was artichokes especially when fried jewish style at Piperno restaurant in the Ghetto. Then in the spring it was fresh fava beans plopped down in the middle of the table to be shelled and eaten raw accompanied by pecorino cheese.

Now in October I have discovered my fall food obsession--fresh porcini mushrooms. Many of the restaurants have baskets of these orange, woody beauties displayed at the entrance. They show up in salads and pastas but I prefer them sliced thin and roasted in the oven and presented on a plate glistening with oil or butter. To this quasi-vegetarian, eating porcini mushrooms prepared that way is comparable to digging into a nice juicy steak.

Real Tourists and Real People

Today, at last, we acted like real tourists. Well, maybe not totally since real tourists would have left the house, guidebook in hand, by 9am. Real tourists wouldn't have been moving so slowly in the morning as the result of another night of eating and drinking and general hilarity to be topped off by Bob and Steve staying up to the wee hours watching the PHILLIES win game four!!

Anyway, at 2 pm, these real tourists started off on from Trastevere provisioned with a few slices of pizza to the Circus Maximus, the Palantine and the Roman Forum, must-see sights on every real tourists' hit lists. However due to our late start we were unable to get into the Colosseum and so we stopped at a nearby enoteca to enjoy a glass of wine and as Steve always says, "a little nibble."

Finally Bob, ever the fearless tourist, convinced us to take the subway so we could see how real people live. It was rush hour and real people and a few real tourists like ourselves were jammed quite tightly into a subway car. We got off at the Piramede in Testaccio and walked home to Trastevere but not before stopping off at one more very important sight--Volpetti, an incredible purveyor of all things delicious and Italian that is frequented by real people and real tourists.

Live from New York...

I couldn't help it. This is too funny.

Buon Giorno

We have no need for an alarm clock at Vicolo del Cedro. At around 7:45 every morning (except Sunday, thank goodness), we are awoken by the rising chorus of students arriving at the high school across the way accompanied by the roar of motorbikes driving into the courtyard. By 8:15, the cacophony subsides and we can snuggle under the covers and go back to sleep or decide to throw open the shutters and greet the day.

That decision often depends on what happened the night before. Last night, for example, we met our friend Christina for dinner in a charming little restaurant on a side street in Trastevere. This morning I, at least, was not ready to face the sun at 8:15. Around 10, I slowly got out of bed to discover Steve, downstairs already and parked in front of the TV watching the Phillies!

Back to Normal

It's wonderful how quickly and comfortably Steve and I have fallen into our old routine here at Vicolo del Cedro.

In the morning I make fresh orange juice (sorry, no blood oranges this time of year) and then head off to the gym to work off last night's dinner. Our old gym is closed but non c'e problema. I now walk another 10 minutes to una pui grande palestra in Trastevere to meet Aramis, my beautiful Cuban trainer. Afterwards, I meet Steve back at the house where we have a delicious lunch of cheese and bread and salami bought in our neighborhood. Then we stroll across the Ponte Sisto and manage to discover streets we've never walked on. At the end of the day, it's back to the house for a tutoring session with Nicoletta, resplendent as always in some fabulous outfit. (Two days ago, she was all in red, today very sexy in a low cut lacy black dress and matching stockings, and always with the requisite coordinated accessories.)

Around 8:30 we meander down to our favorite enoteca at Piazza Trilussa and chat with Fulvia behind the bar. (We've gotten used to the new decor especially since Fulvia is still there.) Last decision of the day is where to have dinner. Last night we ventured out of our neighborhood for a dinner of fabulously fresh fish. (Yes, we are sticking to our post-Sicilian regimen so far!) We finished the evening with a stroll around Piazza Navona before heading back to Trastevere.

Now more than ever, it feels like Trastevere is our little village in Rome. The same characters we saw six months ago are still here and even remember us. Both the old man who sits on the bench with his silly little dogs all day and the really cute mechanic at the motorcycle repair shop gave us big smiles when they saw us for the first time this week.

Welcome Home

After a day and a half in Catania, a beautiful baroque city (at least in il centro--the outer edges are pretty horrible), we are once again nestled in our Italian casa, Vicolo del Cedro 12. We immediately threw open the shutters, the better to hear the steady trickle of the water fountain across the street and the chatter of passers-by. I unpacked our suitcases for the first time this trip and even started a load of laundry while Steve ran out to buy olives, oranges and water at one of the few shops open on Sunday.

So now we are here and facing the difficult decision of where to go for dinner.

Food, Glorious Food

I said when we arrived at Mandranova that we would not be able to leave without carrying an extra five pounds. Today we rolled out of there and, thank god, there was no scale on which to weigh the actual damage.

Last night was definitely the coup de gras. We went out to enjoy a long, leisurely lunch in a nearby seaside town to discover when we got back that a a group of serious foodies and chefs from Los Angeles led by an American cookbook writer and food journalist based in Italy had taken over Silvia's kitchen to prepare a special dinner. Ever curious, I wondered into the kitchen and promptly put on an apron and began peeling shrimp, chopping onions and asking a lot of questions. A few hours later, we all sat down to an incredible, multi course feast that included several antipasti, two different pastas, sword fish with wild fennel sauce and an incredible eggplant dish with mint and cheese and tomato contributed by Silva. Steve and I have vowed to eat nothing by fish and salad until Bob and Jane join us in Rome. Let's see how long we last!

Life is Beautiful

It's 11 in the morning and we are still in bed moaning and groaning after last night's dinner. I swear Silvia and Giuseppe, our hosts at Mandranova, are trying to kill us.

For 2 nights we have been the only guests at Mandranova, a working olive farm near Agrigento on the the south coast of Sicily. The house is incredibly charming, a wonderful mix of comfort and style plus every room is full of treasures that reflect the family's long history in the region--photographs, memorabilia ,antiques. Last night Giuseppe even showed me an old red shirt, worn long ago by a Garibaldino in Silvia's family.

After dinner last night--fried ricotta squares, pasta with cheese and pistachios, Sicilian meatballs in a sweet and sour sauce, caponata (a mixture of eggplant, olives and tomatoes), and last but not least a semifreddo with hot chocolate sauce (hence the moaning and groaning)--we curled up on the sofa and watched Burt Lancaster in the Visconti classic film, "The Leopard.". We felt right at home.

Bada Bing

I think my sense of Palermo has been irreparably influenced by years of watching “The Sopranos.”

All the older men I see remind of Tony—stomachs bulging over their belts, thin gold chains around their necks and wrists. All the young men seem to be shorter versions of Christopher with tight pants and dark, dark hair; the young women look like Adriana in boots and low cut tight jeans with fluffed out hair and big glasses and, of course, I catch several glimpses of Carmela look-alikes with their French manicures and trendy track suits.

Today while wandering through the old section we came across a wedding or some kind of celebration at a church. It was hard not to think that the whole crowd came right from some movie featuring Joe Pesci. Every man was in a black suit of some slick and shiny material. The women, all with long black hair and lots of dramatic eye make-up, had on tight, tight dresses with spike heels and everyone was kissing each other profusely.

Like true tourists, Steve and I stayed away from the main shopping area which our concierge assured us was "safe" and instead plunged immediately into the old historic area where he told us to "be careful." Having braved the back streets of Naples, we weren’t about to be intimidated by Palermo. We spent the entire afternoon wandering through the food market, walking up and down the streets past by a million churches and palazzos, many of which look they have never recovered from World War II and ended up the Cappella Palatina, a medieval jewel box of a church decorated with amazingly beautiful golden mosaics.

Palermo seems a very Catholic city. Every taxi driver has a cross or a religious medallion hanging from his windshield. He needs some protection given how bad the traffic is! Riding back in our taxi to the hotel, we were hit gently but firmly by another car. This caused a great deal of what I assume to be vigorous and colorful cursing by our taxi driver and the driver of the other car and his passenger, an elderly woman. The screaming match ended in a stand off as far as I could tell.

I am Not a Drunk

Contrary to ugly rumors we've been hearing, Steve and I do not spend our days drinking. We restrict ourselves to a bottle of wine at dinner and perhaps a glass of prosecco beforehand. However, as culinary tourists we do like to sample the local cuisine and our last night in Naples was no exception. That night we dedicated ourselves to eating il vero pizza da Napoli which unlike the thin crusted pizza in Rome is made with a thick, chewy crust. We ate outside at an charming restaurant with the obligatory wood burning oven, drank a bottle of the house wine and ate a delicious pizza while listening to the babble of Neapolitan families chatting at high volume and high speed.

I must confess, however, that I prefer the style of pizza in Rome.

Bella Napoli

This is our second full day in Napoli and, despite the fears of family and friends, we have not been mugged, robbed or otherwise assaulted. In fact the scariest thing that happened to us was the cab ride to and from dinner last night.

Traffic here is truly unbelievable. Stop and go, bumper to bumper with the added attraction of motorbikes zigging and zagging in between the lanes of traffic, and all this accompanied by the constant cacophony of horns. The total effect is exhausting and sometimes close to terrifying. Coming home from dinner last light (incredible seafood!) we witnessed a couple of bang ups between motorbikes and cars. Lots of noise but little drama. The bikers just picked themselves and their bikes up and zoomed off. Most cars here bear the scars of battle; I don't think I've seen more than a handful of cars without some dents or scratches.

We drove out to Pompeii today but, fortunately, the autostrada was problem free. Tonight we are going to sample Naples' famous pizza but only if we can walk there!

Andiamo, Andiamo

Here we go again—eating too much, drinking too much and having way more fun than supposedly senior citizens should be allowed.

Our 3 days in Rome are a blur except, of course, for the 3 wonderful meals we had each night at favorite restaurants. First, Da Poeta in Trastevere, our old neighborhood, for perfect thin crust pizza forno al legno. Then, fresh fish at the always crowded Le Mani in Pasta, another Trastevere culinary landmark and, finally, Roscioli or as Steve calls it “the deli”—Famous should only look and taste so good!—for an incredible bottle of Brunello di Montipulciano and a seleczione of proscuitti and salami and fromaggio.

Now we are in Naples. The city is wild—chaotic as one guide book aptly states—noisy and full of people who look they come from central casting for an Italian movie in the 50’s. Chubby bambini running around the piazzas; ragazzi in jeans and tee shirts—the boys with lots of hair gel and the girls with tons of make up (I don’t believe you are allowed in public without dark black eyeliner and several coats of mascara.)--flirting and fooling around; stout little nonnas clutching each other and their shopping bags are all crowding the narrow streets and somehow avoiding getting killed by the scores of motorbikes zooming by in every direction. (Crossing the street here is an exercise in wishful thinking. You walk across slowly but steadily trusting that the drivers racing along the street will see you and not hit you. So far it’s worked.)

Admittedly, the city is filthy—graffiti everywhere, trash bins overflowing and every building seems to be in some stage of decay with weeds growing out of cornices and paint peeling off the walls. Despite the noise and the chaos, Steve and I feel perfectly comfortable and safe. It is like walking through a blown up version of South Philly with everyone gesticulating wildly and talking loudly.

Last night for dinner we walked around the corner from our hotel to Osteria da Carmela. Carmela turned out to be an tiny but energetic woman around my age dressed like a punk rocker in a low cut summer dress accessorized with black tights and motorcycle boots. Her bright red hair was as short as Steve’s except for a single long pig tail that reached down to the middle of her back. It was just Carmela and one other cook in the tiny kitchen but they whipped out an incredible meal—pasta with fresh porcini mushrooms (in season now!!) and cuttlefish, fried anchovies, Steve’s fave, and sautéed tiny clams (so sweet) served on a bed of chopped croutons perfect for sopping up the delicious sauce. The restaurant was full of regulars; we were the only strangers but afterwards we went back to the kitchen to thank Carmela for our meal.

Benvenuto a Roma

Here we are back in the land of pizza, prosecco and pasta. In less than 24 hours of our arrival in Rome, we sampled the first two and I'm hopeful tonight that we will enjoy the third.

The city is golden, the streets are full (although not as crowded as in the spring) and the weather is perfect for strolling. We spent our first full day visiting some of our favorite places from the Piazza del Populo down to the Piazza da Santa Maria in Trastevere. Steve even got a hair cut and beard trim at his barber so he is looking quite the Italian gentleman.

The big news--for us at least--is that our favorite wine bar, Ferrara on Piazza Trilussa, has gone through a major renovation. Although the wine is still wonderful, the new decor lacks the warmth and charm of the original space. Oh well, life goes on.

Mary J Blige is in the house. . .

And so are Ellen and Amira.

I was so impressed. Amira knew the words to every song. We both spent the whole concert on our feet dancing and grooving to Mary J. She was an incredibly powerful and passionate presence on stage in skin tight pants and thigh high stiletto boots. She gave us her all, the highs and lows, the ups and downs, and at the end we were all "Just Fine."

I Missed the Debate and I'm Proud of It

Why I can't stand to listen to CNN anymore, courtesy of Charles Pierce on Altercation:

"For several days, it was made increasingly apparent that the Republican Party has nominated for vice-president a person who is manifestly unqualified to teach middle-school history. (Hint: the default answer, always, is, "Dred Scott v. Sanford, Katie." The Civil War was, like, a bad thing.) And yet, through the entire run-up to the debate, it was argued by serious people who analyze serious politics and make a serious living doing it that Sarah Palin could reveal herself to be non-dim by putting on the correct puppet show for the media in her debate against Joe Biden. Make no mistake. That's what the punditocracy was arguing. Give us a reason, please, not to have to write what we all know to be true, what has been self-evidently true to the entire country since you walked off the podium in St. Paul. . . None of what the Walking Dead on the cable shows were looking to see has the slightest thing to do with her fitness for the office she seeks, let alone the office that might descend upon her. Journalists should not be in the business of perception-is-reality. It is our job to hammer the reality until the perception conforms to it. Hell, even Katie Couric's pretty much figured that out. Any postgame analysis that doesn't reflect this principle is not worth talking about."

One More Day to One Night Only

. . . and I don't mean the Biden/Palin debate.

Thursday night, 7-10 pm, the place to be is the spiffy showroom of Luxe Home at 1308 Chestnut Street for One Night Only, a very special evening to benefit Women's Medical Fund.

What's in store--an open bar, great food from Peachtree and Ward, fabulous music with DJ Abbey Klein and a raffle with incredible prizes. Ticket price is ridiculously low--just $35 for those under 35 (I wish!) or $75 for those $35 and older.

Best if all, you'll be supporting a really important organization, the only one in the area that provides direct financial assistance to women and teens in need of a safe and legal abortion.

You can pay at the door or click here. I hope to see you there!