Tomato sauce with mozzarella-filled meat balls - perfect for Valentine's Day!

I make ragù on an almost weekly basis and always keep some in my freezer for a last-minute, balanced meal for the kids. Vegetables, protein, carbs, dairy/calcium all in one. Lately, however, I have been on a ground meat roll, making anything from sturdy meatloaf, to shepherd's pie to more genteel meat balls. And  then, the other day I suddenly realized I had never made spaghetti and meatballs for the kids! Such an important part of their American (yes, American! not Italian) heritage.

Italian children of my generation (and later ones) only discovered spaghetti and meatballs when the Tramp nudged that last meatball over to Lady with his damp nose in that charming Italian trattoria, definitely not because their mamma lovingly prepared it for them. Although this dish was originally inspired by similar recipes from the South, in the Old World, it was the Italian immigrants that made it popular in the New World around the turn of last century. 



Disney's Lady and the Tramp - Happy Valentine's day

Braised rabbit with black olives and ground almonds

 

 

 

I'm not that kind of girl. Really.

 

It is not like me to turn my back on a meaningful relationship because things aren't the way they used to be. Things change, we get older. I always knew that. And let's face it, he was no spring chicken to begin with. When we met he was stylish and wordly but he had had his share of relationships before me and they had certainly left their mark. It didn't matter to me then, I coveted him from afar and waited patiently, because I knew he would come to me. He did and the fact that he was older didn't matter to me at all because I loved him. All I cared about was sharing my time with someone who was really there for me, supportive, someone who was in it for the long-term. So when we walked down the street I didn't care if people stared, I just walked on, my hand curled around him, head high, confident of what we shared, disinterested in what people thought of us. So what if he was old? Nobody knew what we really shared. He knew everything about me, kept all my secrets. He made me laugh, he made me cry. Thanks to him, I contacted old friends I hadn't seen in years. He got me to stay more in touch with my family, he travelled around the world with me. He shared my fondest memories: my children growing up, our travels. So even if I saw the signs of his ageing, I shrugged them off. Until there was just no ignoring them anymore: he was suddenly slow, he just couldn't keep up with my pace anymore. He often needed to rest, to recharge his batteries.

 

 

And then it happened. A few months before Christmas, I met the object of my desire. Young, sexy, sleek, sophisticated. Fair, so different from the darker tones I was used to. He knew everything about anything, he seemed ahead of his time. I accidentally brushed him with the tips of my fingers and was amazed at how responsive he was to my touch. My head was spinning, I had forgotten what that felt like. I left immediately, ashamed of my behaviour, my heart pounding. I told no one for the longest time, not you, not my friends, not my family. How could I? I turned my head and went on with my life. I pretended I had never seen him, that he did not exist, that he wasn't suddenly everywhere I looked. I am not one to make sudden decisions and I knew I did not want to invest in a whole new relationship, the cost would be too high, it was not worth it. All relationships get old sooner or later, the excitement wears off quickly. But I couldn't shake the memory of our first encounter and my relationship was undeniably starting to show the strain. I kept trying to ignore all the signs but finally I gave in and went to look for him.

 

I could not resist, I succembed. Forgive me, but I am in love or call it lust if you prefer. I know things will change, but for now I have decided to enjoy every second.

Pizza and changes

 

Ok, so I haven't been totally honest with you.

Or rather, recently I have been omitting a part of my life in this blog for various reasons. First of all, because I was waiting for a certain outcome before mentioning it. Secondly, because my blog is my happy place and I do not want the stress of my daily life to permeate it. 

There has been a lot of stuff going on at work. Let's just say finance is not a great place to be working these days.

Our division was sold and we are moving in a matter of days. The saga started over a year ago (yes, it has been a long, exhausting wait) but the last few months, the last few weeks in particular, have been a whirlwind of meetings with management and unions. There has been a lot of whispering by the coffee machine. Each and every person has a point of view, and not one is positive.

It has been emotionally taxing to say the least. All this talk, these conspirancy theories day in and day out have really worn us out and eroded what little self assurance we still had. We have said goodbye to friends and colleagues who were moved to other departments or offices after working together for many years. We have watched our team fall apart over more or less serious issues. People we trusted disappointed us, we have been left guessing about our future and what lies ahead of us.

There was no clarity, no certainty until yesterday.

Now we know. Some of it is good and some is bad.

We still have a job. And a nice office right in the center of town that I can bike to.

Something you don't take for granted when you find out you might have to wake up at 5am to get to work (in a dangerous place right by the urban fringe) by 7am, even on holidays, due to the nature of our jobs. And that you might have to pay for help on the same salary and that you may only get to see your children for an hour a day before bedtime. So yes, I am grateful.

But these deals never take place without some damage, some loss, some resentment. Things will not be the same. And the future still holds a lot of uncertainty.

I have gotten through this year by remembering how fortunate I am and how some people I care about are experiencing much more difficult circumstances right now. It helped me to keep in mind that these are minor mishappenings in the course of life. I have focused on the one thing that gives me strength and that pushes me forward.

My family. My husband and my children.

Knowing that they are there for me at the end of a long day. Knowing they are healthy and that we all have each other. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my job, the indipendence it gives me. I love being out there in the world, doing my part. But ultimately I work to live and not the other way around.

So what better recipe to write about than the pizza we made last week end. It was a true family effort, teamwork, little and big hands working together to prepare our evening meal. It felt so good, sitting in the kitchen together, music blasting from the IPod, laughing and making a mess. My children were so excited, the room was warm and cozy despite the first autumn chill in the air. I knew once again that this is all I needed to be happy. 

It was good but for one thing. I made the mistake of trying out something I knew I would probably regret. When I was at the supermarket I saw that an upscale brand of buffalo mozzarella was marketing a new kind for pizza. I was tempted, although I usually know better than to buy mozzarella for pizza rather than the real thing. It melted well and stayed more gooey whe cooling down but it burnt easily. This somewhat ruined the pizza because I had to take it out earlier than I had planned to and the bottom crust was a little undercooked. Luisa's (or should I say Jamie Oliver's?) recipe was certainly not to blame.

Please, bear with me if my posts slow down a bit in the weeks to come. I may need a little extra time to adjust, to figure out where I stand, to make all the parts of my day fit together in a new routine. I will still be cooking and thinking up things to write, it may just take a little longer to share.