Chocolate and chestnut truffle cake

 

Who would've thought, when I walked into that office more than 15 years ago for an interview, that those rooms would become such a meaningful place in all our lives?

So much happened there, good and bad: that desk is where I got the call from my husband about the first plane crashing into the World Trade Center; I remember calling family and friends before the lines were disconnected, to make sure they were safe. That is where one of us faced the ugly C word, another one of us announced the creation of two lives that were then prematurely lost. But it is also where I planned my wedding and then showed my honeymoon pictures. Where friendships bloomed.

The first person I saw while sitting in the hallway waiting for my interview became my wedding witness and lifelong friend; well, more of a soulmate than a friend if you ask me. We were born and grew up in the same city but our destiny was to meet on another continent. She lives across the Ocean now, but we are as close as if she were still sleeping over on the tiny Ikea couch of the first apartment F and I called home.

One day a Texan at heart walked into those rooms to make and enquiry and never left (the premises or my affection).

The pretty blonde, a real English rose, I sat down and chatted with nervously during that interview is the kind of friend I don't need to see or talk to that often to call her that.

The awesome Tasmanian with the beautiful mane of fiery red hair (to match her creative spirit and the clementines below) and the voice of a black blues singer moved back home recently and took a little piece of all our hearts with her when she did (together with two very precious things she had been waiting for for the longest time, her daughters).

The only true Italian of the gang, a good friend and enthusiastic follower of this little blog, contributed the right touch of Mediterranean character with her contagious laughter and loud chatter to this group of Americans (yes, Canadians included), Brits, Southafricans, Barbadians, Kiwis, Aussies etc. (you name it, we had it) .

 

What did we have in common at the beginning? Not much really, except we all spoke English. And yeah, were were all young(er), funloving and a good looking bunch if you ask me. But that was it. We came from different cultures, backgrounds and educations. We had different interests, friends, aims.

But we clicked.

I think we all realized to what extent when we separated a few years later.

In time, the evenings spent in front of pitchers of margarita (I am still paying for that night) or downing a few too many vodkas (even those who stated to have never gotten drunk - and you know who you are - are still paying for that party), the late night drives down country roads to hidden-away biker hangouts, the Halloween parties and summer barbecues gave way to weddings, baby showers and family brunches.

Most of us have moved away, others will be moving soon, some closer and some farther. But almost two decades later we still get together whenever possible.

Now we are parents, we party a little less and change diapers a little more. We may be scattered all over the world and have a wrinkle or two, but inside we are the same people and when we are together we connect.

This is a cake I made to celebrate the visit of our "Australian connection". It is the kind of cake you make for a festive occasion, a large group of people. It is rich and decadent and a slice is enough to satisfy your longing for chocolate. Well, unless you are my daughter. Yes, the one who doesn't usually eat my desserts, she had two. If she liked it and if the recipe comes from this girl, then you know you have a keeper.

Roasted balsamic brussels sprouts & (roasted) chestnuts and butter the old-fashioned way

Thanksgiving is not a holiday here in Italy. It is a day like any other so by the time I get home from the office it is pretty impossible for me to roast a turkey, even the smaller kind they sell here, and organize a meal for a group of friends.

When my American friends and I were not parents yet, we organized a dinner every year and ordered a pre-stuffed turkey in a fancy schmancy food store. In those days having dinner past 9 wasn’t a big deal. It was not a school night and colleagues at the office were pretty forgiving if you walked into the office a little hungover and sleepy the next day. Kids are not quite as forgiving. The first time we ordered the abovementioned turkey it was a little flat looking (it hadn’t even crossed our minds to specify that the turkey should not to be deboned) but we printed out Thanksgiving place cards and decoration and hung a big American flag on the wall and had a really good time.

Nowadays, if we do a big celebration, it is on the week end. Nonetheless, I try to keep some of the tradition alive and make simple yet Thanksgiving-reminiscent dishes for the family on Thursday night. Turkey in some form and an easy fall-inspired side dish like the one I am posting today. I tell my children about the Pilgrims, the Mayflower and the Indians who helped them survive that first dreadful winter in the New Land. We draw turkeys with our hands and talk about what we are thankful for.

This year I drew inspiration from a post by The Nervous Cook, in which she oh-so-charmingly described making butter in the second grade while her teacher told her and her classmates about how Thanksgiving started. The point was to show children the fun way how people used to make everything from scratch, with hard physical labor. They then used the butter on an important staple of those days, corn. Pop corn with homemade butter: how simple, yet how brilliant! I immediately did this with my children and was quite stunned myself at how easy it was to make your very own butter, even without using a stand mixer (which would sort of defy the whole point). All you need is some cream, about a cup, a pinch of salt and a jar. Just shake, shake, shake until the cream thickens and then solidifies, the fat separating from buttermilk. I think it took about 20 minutes on and off with all three of us taking turns (I’ll let you guess who did most of the shaking). It took even less to polish off the bowl of pop corn. I am thankful for these special little moments with my children.

Here are some more things I am thankful for this year:

 

My job. A lot has changed in the past couple of months and it hasn’t been an easy transition but I feel fortunate to have a good job in a beautiful office, colleagues that are also friends and a salary to bring home. 

My children and the man I created these miracles with. I am in awe every single day.

 

My whole family, each one of you.

Being healthy. This should be at the top of the list, because you don’t really need any of the rest if you aren’t around to enjoy it.

An unexpected (but much hoped for) four days coming up with my sister and her family. Any time our kids get to spend together is precious.

I am thankful for this blog and I am thankful for friends. New friends, old friends, blogger friends. Thanks for being a part of my every day.

I wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving. And even if it isn’t Thanksgiving for you, just take a minute to think about what you are thankful for in your life. We should do this more often. What are you grateful about today? 

Ingredients

Roasted chestnuts

Brussels sprouts

Olive oil

Salt

Pepper

Balsamic vinegar

I was lucky to have some roasted chestnuts my mother in law gave me in a doggy bag leftover from our Sunday lunch together. If you aren’t that lucky, to make life easier you can roast yours beforehand. My mother in law sprinkles some salt on them before roasting, I think it is the perfect extra touch. Cut the brussels sprouts in half, toss in a bowl with olive oil, pepper and salt and a drizzle of balsamic vinegar and lay out on a lined baking sheet. Roast in the oven for about 30 minutes at 200°C. Add the chestnuts for the last 5-10 minutes to heat them up. Toss them in a bowl again with extra salt and pepper to taste and serve warm.