How to use up leftovers: riso alla Cantonese (or Yeung Chow fried rice) fried in duck fat

Alternative title: Chinese food that really isn't Chinese

Most of us are aware that the Chinese food we eat is often heavily bastardized. I still haven't had the privilege of eating the authentic thing, but between NY and Milan (the latter appartently boasts the largest and oldest Chinatown in Italy), I have been lucky enough to get a little closer to the real deal compared to the food we are so often served on this side of the world.

Taking a step back, I think even the concept of Chinese food is a foreign invention, because it is such a regional cuisine, with dishes and ingredients varying enourmously from one part of the country to the other. Much like Italy might I add. Another thing to consider is that meat does not often take center stage in an authentic Chinese meal, leaving much more room for fermented foods and tofu, and when it does, the cuts, the kind of animals (insects and jelly fish just to mention a few alongside pork, chicken and beef...) and animal parts used (chicken feet, duck tongues, pig ears and blood are just a few examples) are often not quite suited to Western palates (although many of us are becoming more adventurous and curious eaters). The same goes for certain flavors: chefs often add sweetness (sweet and sour pork anyone?) or dial down the heat or fermentation factor to appease their local clientele. Last but not least, many authentic ingredients never make it over to our side of the world, so we substitute them with more common ones. And when they do, it is sometimes hard for a Westerner to order them (more often than not, they are listed in Chinese or simply a given and not even put on the menu). I like looking at what my Chinese neighbors are eating and whenever I enquire with the person serving us about certain unknown vegetables, they don't even seem to have a translation for them. The answer is invariably "verdura verde cinese", or green Chinese vegetable.

Have you packed your spatula? A book review and pea, mint and feta fritters

I thought I was going to start this post telling you how I had been eagerly awaiting a package for weeks, checking my mail day after day but when the Royal Mail is involved, things arrive at your doorstep rather sooner than anticipated. That is not to say I wasn't impatiently waiting, even if it was just for a handful of days.


My excitement upon carrying the red and white parcel upstairs was palpable for a variety of reasons, the first being that it is not all that often that I receive tangible evidence of the people I communicate with every day in the virtual world. It is nice to know they actually exist in the flesh and not just in some crazy corner of my mind (do you ever wonder if the blogging world is all just a figment of your imagination?). The rush of pleasure that I experience upon opening a new cookbook, or any book for that matter, is not a secondary factor. I know you know what I mean, that slight crackling of the binding when you first turn the pages, the anticipation of pages filled with words, colorful photographs and enticing recipes yet to be discovered.

 

 

Last, but certainly not least, my excitement was generated by the opportunity handed me by an extremely talented blogger to review her first baby, the one in print that is. Although it actually isn't her first book, as she already has an e-book out on no-carb eating.

 

Tori, in case you don't know her yet, is an Australian food blogger based in London, married to the Hungry One. After going through a white food phase in her earlier years, she turned into a travelling omnivore once she met her soulmate. They set off to discover the world with a "wish list scribbled on the back of a boarding pass".  After wandering to the farthest reaches of Asia from their home in Sydney, in the past years they have started visiting more of this side of the hemisphere (but not only) taking advantage of the endless low-cost weekends on offer. Their wish list turned into a baby bucket list and as the months went by, more and more items got crossed off. Not that having a Stowaway (yes, the baby already has his very own blogging alias) has really stopped them, as they travelled to the Americas in the throes of morning all-day sickness. As Tori's belly grows into various stages of fruit and vegetable, her trips have been getting shorter. Not a bad thing for those eager to learn more about the beauty England has to offer.

If you are a reader of her blog, you already know she is  as partial to pink wine as the Hungry One is to black forest cake (of which there is a mouthwatering cheese strudel version in the book) and she can get evangelical about pulses. She loves spread sheets and nuts in all shapes and sizes.

Her book is an extention of her blog, like the bonus dvds with great extra content you get when you buy a movie you love. Except better. It is so much more than just eye candy: it is a travel journal and a good read, peppered as it is with the author's trademark evocative phrases that conjure images of irresistible meals: yolks bleeding like a sunset over sand, pale plumes of ricotta, tomato fritters as dark red as a British backpacker's neck, sauce as soothing as a squeeze from your mum, fish flesh as pink as pinched cheeks.

She not only gives us pointers to the best hot dogs in the world, her pages are filled with recipes that are vibrant in color and texturally intriguing. She intersperses them with advice like joining a long food line "because locals are always waiting for a reason"; or "if something has been washed it doesn't mean it is clean" (especially if it was washed using local tap water, might I add!). She teaches us what any traveller needs to know: after suggesting we pack the now-obvious spatula, trusty black flats and a scarf that doubles as an airplane blanket or pillow  in her blog, in the book she advises taking along an open mind and an insatiable curiosity and appetite. But beware, it might lead you as far as tasting evil in the form of fish protein.





Do you need any more convincing? I didn't think so.

Expect to walk through the markets of Paris with a heavy backpack strapped to your sweaty back in search of some perfect picnic nibbles to then quickly change into a black dress and those flats you packed for a night out in a Michelin-starred temple. You will lie with her on the beaches of the Pacific and watch people ski by you whilst resting on the deck of a chalet in Switzerland.

 

Mind you, your journey will not end there.

Spezzatino con piselli

 

 

I live in Italy and as I have already told you more than once, Thursday will be just another day -office, taking children to a birthday party, dinner, getting ready for another school/work day on Friday - so I have plenty more time on my hands right now than most fellow Americans.

 

Granted, we will be eating turkey meat for dinner and cranberries will make an appearance in some form on our table, but I am not standing in my kitchen cursing right now like so many of you probably are. Or maybe not since you are sitting here reading my blog, in which case, what are you doing here??? Get moving, Thanksgiving is the day after tomorrow!

 

We may not celebrate Thanksgiving as much as we would like to for all the reasons above, but it still is a time of the year to stop and think about what I have and say thanks.
 

 

 

I am thankful I am not a turkey.

 

Ok. Just joking.

 

But not entirely.

 

I am thankful I have first world problems to worry about, like will the buttercream frosting for the birthday cake I am baking this week end turn out ok or not.

 

I am thankful for the circle of life. Two days ago I found out that the place my grandmother just left in this world will be filled by a brand new soul: a person I love dearly just told me, in these exact words, that she is baking a second turkey this Thanksgiving, due in April. Making a turkey is not always as easy as it looks and she is some of the best mom material out there, so I couldn't be happier. It makes loss easier when you realize that those who have lived a full life must leave room to others who are still waiting to get their first, incredibly sweet taste.

 

For more things that really count when you are giving thanks, go here and here.

 

 

 

Here is something you might feel like making now if you are not American, or next week when you are all turkeyed out if you are.

 

This dish is a classic Italian recipe, the kind grandmas were making long before we were born. It is traditionally made with veal, the less noble cuts, and it is great to eat as a main course accompanied by mashed potatoes, rice or polenta.

Leek soup with peas and sauerkraut, a recipe for love (and marriage)

Today is about his brown eyes, his beautiful hands and his good heart. Today is about love, friendship, companionship, parenthood. Today is about memories of off-white silk and red wine from the hills of Tuscany. 

Ten years ago we were two kids dressed up in party clothes dancing to Abba, inebriated with wine and love. Today we are a family of four. The two lives we created are a source of endless love we never deemed possible, even more so when we thought nothing could be bigger than what we had.

A decade is a long time in our relatively young lives. I raise a glass to these ten years.

I raise a glass to every slammed door, to every flung object, to each and every tear shed in frustration onto a damp pillow, to late night arguments, to every moment of endured nagging, to every soccer game tolerated or renounced, to every sexy human being that ever crossed our path, to every moment of  boredom, to all the instances of child-related fear, doubt and pain, to every fleeting feeling of missing out and constraint, to every weathered disappointment, to the moments of worry and uncertainty, to sometimes feeling misunderstood by the one who knows you best. To sweaty sports briefs, to unflushed tampon wrappers, to hypochondria, to badgering, to everpresent children, to never-present intimacy, to exhaustion, to exasperation.

If, after ten years, you can still look into each others' eyes and know you want to wake up seeing them every morning to come. If you feel a flutter deep down in your stomach when you know a whole week end together is approaching. If what shines the brightest in your kaleidoscope of memories are your shared laughter, the cuddles, tucking your children in at night together and watching them sleep, secret hideouts between rocks on tropical beaches, oysters and champagne in Paris, reading books under a duvet, sharing a pint of ice cream during a movie, a tiny apartment and a greatly missed red tabby, then cheers!

Tonight the kids are going to bed early and Mommy and Daddy are popping a bottle of bubbly and dining on take out sushi.

For you, a recipe that is humble, wonderfully warm and comforting, full of different textures and flavors and with an unexpected zing in every bite...just like marriage, no? 

Chilled pea & mint soup

The time has come to defrost my freezer. This task is long overdue and my freezer has started sending me messages. It is like the North Pole in there, ice and snow everywhere. Since we are leaving for sunny beaches in a few days (and my Sicilian mother-in-law's cooking - fear not I will document and pass on recipes! I promise), I have decided to use up everything in it and pull the plug.