finding fall in southern italy

I grew up in the mountains of Pennsylvania, so finding fall was as easy as walking out the front door anytime after late September (and sometimes even before). From the unmistakable chill in the air to the red, orange, yellow, and brown leaves hanging onto the trees for as long as they could keep their grip, fall always found me.

Here in southern Italy, it's not so easy. Yes, our temps get cooler and some trees even manage to lose their leaves, but you have to pay attention. You have to really look; blink and you'll miss it. Fall can easily pass you by--and that would be tragic for me as it's my favorite season.

Fall here, though, isn't all about things dying as there's a lot of new growth too. I mentioned the citrus fruits the other day, but there are also some flowers who are just making their appearance as well.

So while I miss fall from back home, I have an all new fall to appreciate here. I found her yesterday. And she sure is pretty.

Today I'm thankful for:

Please see above photos.

P.S. Don't forget to visit Ilva's Lucullian Delights and see what she has made for the Dolce Italiano Contest--and leave a comment over there to enter the drawing to win a free, signed copy of Dolce Italiano by Gina DePalma!

we have blossoms!

While walking with the pooches yesterday morning, I came face to bark with a tree that had seemingly blossomed overnight. I certainly didn't remember it so full of life the day before. Where was I looking?

I don't know about the day before, but now I see a truly gorgeous tree with lovely thick, strong, furry leaves and sweet-smelling, bellissimi blossoms:

Anyone know or care to guess what kind of tree bears such blossoms?

I *know* some of you know.

Today I'm thankful for:

Citrus season! It's starting now and by Christmas, we'll be inundated with lemons, oranges, and clementines. And I love me some clementines.

Isn't Mother Nature wonderful that she gives us these sweet, juicy, bursting-with-color treats smack dab in the dead of winter?

Genius.

what's cooking wednesday: zucchini flowers stuffed with ricotta, spinach, and prosciutto crudo

Today's What's Cooking Wednesday has us playing with some flowers.

Those of the lovely zucchini, or courgettes to some of you:

Don't they just look good enough to eat?

Fiori di zucchini come in two varieties, male and female, and they're both edible. You can tell the females by the fact that they are attached to the zucchini whereas the males have stems like regular flowers. The ones pictured above, then, are males.

Plus, of course, the females have pistils and the males have stamens (you remember biology class, right?). They say you can leave these in when you prepare the flowers to be eaten, but I always remove them with a quick twist. Ouch!

There are a lot of very basic, very delicious recipes for fried zucchini flowers out there--just whip up a tempura batter with flour, egg, milk, and salt (slightly more exact measurements below), and fry 'em up.

And that's what I did with about half of the flowers, the smaller ones.

With the rest, though, I wanted to try a little something more adventurous. So I spiced up my ricotta and spinach cannelloni filling with some prosciutto crudo. I loved the results, the way the saltiness of the prosciutto picked up the sweetness of the flowers and how the spinach brought it all back down with its earthy flavor.

All measurements are approximate, so feel free to play.

Zucchini Flowers Stuffed with Ricotta, Spinach, and Prosciutto Crudo

(Fiori di Zucchini Ripieni con Ricotta, Spinaci e Prosciutto Crudo)

Approximately 25-30 large zucchini flowers

Filling:
1 egg yolk
One small container ricotta cheese (fresh if you can find it)
1/4 to 1/2 cup chopped spinach
prosciutto crudo, torn into bits or diced
grated parmigiano reggiano cheese
dash nutmeg
salt to taste

Batter:
(Note: I used this for all the flowers,
so this was enough for about 60 in all)
3 eggs
3/4 cup flour
1/4 cup milk
1/4 teaspoon salt (to taste)

Vegetable oil for frying

Prepare the batter and set aside; it shouldn't be too thick for this recipe, although here they definitely make this batter quite thick and you end up with almost a fritter--tasty too, but not what we're going for here.

One note: do remember that you're dealing with flowers, so be gentle.

To prepare the zucchini flowers, remove the stamens and stems and then wash the flowers carefully and put them on paper towels to dry. Note that you can also leave the stems on for presentation purposes, but I usually take them off.

Prepare the filling by combining all the ingredients above and gently stuff the zucchini flowers up until the point where the petals start to open. I used a makeshift pastry bag (Ziploc with the corner cut off). You can twist the petals a bit to close in the stuffing.

If you aren't going to fry them right away, you can store the stuffed flowers this way in the fridge for a few hours, although I wouldn't wait too long because the ricotta can get watery.

When you're ready to fry, heat the vegetable oil in a medium to large pan.

One by one, dip the stuffed flowers in the batter (you're going to have to use your hands here) and let excess batter drip off. Then drop the flower in oil and allow all sides to brown before you lift out and put on paper towels to drain.

I'd recommend only frying two flowers at a time otherwise they become difficult to keep track of increasing burning possibilities.

Although they require a bit of prep work, these make tasty, impressive-looking appetizers, but you need to serve them warm. If you won't be serving right away, use an oven to keep them heated until you're ready to serve.

Buon appetito!

seashells *and* ponies!

Good news and bad news.

Bad news first, OK?

I won't be around for a few days because of various work commitments, so you probably won't hear from me again until Friday or so (most likely no What's Cooking Wednesday, sniff sniff).

Just didn't want anyone to worry about me or my Internet connection, so there you have it.

Now the good news:

As I type this, the cuffs of my capri-length jeans are still damp from the waters of the Ionian Sea (although I have changed out of them) and bits of sand are sprinkled throughout my house.

Let's start in the early morning.

This morning I was walking Luna when I stopped to take this photo of a pretty tree in the piazza:


Check out the (untouched) color of the sky. I just knew it would be a good day.

Also, you can't see them very well, but there are some fallen petals on the sidewalk; obviously I got there before the rubbish collector did, otherwise they'd have been swept up.

While I was snapping, P's sister-in-law came over to me. We chatted for a few minutes--P is currently painting her house--and when I mentioned I had to go down to the Marina (part of the village on the coast, 5 km away), she offered me a ride as she was headed there.

This was an hour before I was planning to leave on the bus, so I took Luna home and packed up everything I'd need for my errands, which included the bank (ATM), bakery, grocery store, market, and beach if there was time (not an errand, but a thought).

But soon the whole plan changed.

As I was finishing up at the ATM machine, I got a call from one of my employers telling me that I could go pick up my paycheck (my first from them--only two months late!) at a bank in another town. So I hurried up with my errands in the Marina and caught the bus to the other town.

When I arrived at the bank, I couldn't believe it--only five people in line! Oh. Just one teller.

And there's the rub.

So I waited an hour and a half for a transaction that took literally two minutes. By then, I had missed the next bus back to my village, although I was blessed with the amusing sight of a woman being refused entry into the bank.

[For those who don't know, in order to enter a bank here, you have to press a button for a little Star Trek-like glass pod to open. You step in and the Controller of the Pod (we'll call this person "COP") says yea or nay via a button that opens the other side of the pod leading into the bank.]

This poor woman, probably in her 30s, long black hair pulled back in a pony, stepped in and out of the pod at least five times with no luck. I think she finally went and put her purse in her car because she eventually convinced the COP (with no havoc ensuing, thank goodness).

Anyway, by the time I finally got another bus to the Marina (I'd then need a separate bus, passing through the Marina an hour later, to get up to my village), it was noon and I was starving. So I did what any self-respecting non-Italian would do at mezzogiorno--I got a panino and a peach iced tea and headed for the beach.

Of course at that hour, the seaside was all mine as all the real Italians were home for lunch most likely featuring pasta and not simply prosciutto and provola like I was about to have.

But before I got to the sand and surf, I was greeted by ponies (and a horse and a donkey)!








Circus is in town, you see. Not as funny (and useful!) as these ponies, but that first one really has something to brag about if you ask me.

Soon I got comfy with my lunch.


As this was yet another unplanned beach excursion, I didn't have any of the usual supplies. I had to make do with a scarf, which I always have in my bag, and rolled up capri pants. In the past couple months, I've come to realize that I actually don't dislike going to the beach as I always thought I had--what I hate is the preparation, the making sure I have absolutely everything I might need.

A trip to the sea is quite enjoyable, I've found, when you simply show up.

When my belly was full, I walked along the beach snapping some more photos.




Did I mention that our water is clean, clean, clean?


And then it was time to go.


But not before I grabbed some free souvenirs so that I can always remember those gorgeous few hours.


Ah, and then it got even better!

When I arrived home, a copy of Eat, Pray, Love was waiting for me--my prize for winning Shelley's (At Home in Rome) La Mia Italia post contest with Conquering Evil (One Plastic Red Horn at a Time)!

Hope everyone's week is as lovely as my Monday has been!

no parking (plus a poppy)

This is a sign in the corner of the small piazza near my house.

For those who don't know, these two, taken together mean "No parking in the entire sqaure."

There didn't use to be the additional "per tutta la piazza" language below the main sign, but it was added because some crafty parkers argued that, well, they weren't parked right below the sign, so they weren't in violation of anything.

Glad we got that cleared up.

Bonus! Here's a poppy just because.

sunday scribblings: wings

Prompt #57: Wings

Cheesy as it sounds, the first thing that came to my mind when I read this prompt was Bette Midler's song, Wind Beneath My Wings. And my next thought was of my mom, because, well, that's what she is to me, and that song always brings tears to my eyes because it makes me think of her. Doesn't hurt that today just happens to be her birthday as well.

My mom is truly my best friend, *the* one I turn to in times of happiness, sadness, and every emotion in between, and she has always, always, always been there for me. She's never disappointed me. Not once. Ever.

Is she a saint? Well, sometimes I think so, but as far as I know, she hasn't performed any miracles. Well, other than managing to remain a kind, loving person after what one could only euphemistically call a rough childhood.

But that's her story, and certainly not mine to tell here. What I can tell is my story, or rather ours from my perspective. How I became best friends with my mom through weekend and once a week visits. How she sacrificed custody of my brother and me when she left my father because she knew that's what was best for us. We had already been growing up in a house with my father's family; she saw no need to pull us from the stability. Besides, she was working the 3-11 shift at a hospital a half hour away--not the easiest hours to maintain when you have a 2 and 8 year old.

Of course I didn't know any of this until many, many years later. But oh, how I appreciate it now. I marvel at the strength it must have taken to do something so unselfish, and I only hope I've inherited and/or learned half of what she's exhibited.

And so, during my formative years, we got the best of the mother-daughter relationship (shopping, intimate chats, watching stand-up comedy into the wee hours of the morning on HBO, trying all the new restaurants) without all the daily annoyances (curfews, how much time we hogged the bathroom, begging permission to do things). Who woulda thought I would've ended up with such an idyllic childhood after my parents divorced when I was so young?

Now a lot of the goodwill that sprung up between us came because my mom let me be my own person, within boundaries of course. Controlling and domineering, she's not, but she's not a complete pushover either (although even she would admit to being more of the latter when it comes to her kids).

One of the stories she loves to tell, and that I have come to admire, is that I was always allowed to pick out my clothes--from the choice of a few pre-selected outfits. That way, she reasoned, I had the feeling that I was in control and making my own choices but at the same time didn't leave the house in horribly mismatched, embarrassing outfits. Genius!

And that's why I love my mom. She guides without pushing. She listens without judging. She loves with all her heart without taking.

And sometimes I think she's more than the wind beneath my wings--she just may be my wings themselves.

Happy Birthday Mom.
And thank you. For everything.

you make me think, i give you a rose

And an award! Don't forget about the award!

In my absence from the Internet, I was named by the lovely Bella at Public Musings of a Mama as a Thinking Blogger.


Grazie! Grazie! Thank you! Thank you!

Now what's this all about you ask?

There are 3 rules:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the "Thinking Blogger Award" with a link to the post that you wrote.

So here are five bloggers that make me think, and that I highly suggest you visit as well:

1. Sara at Moving Right Along. Sara writes beautifully and honestly about tough and light-hearted subjects alike, all while keeping a fantastic sense of humor.

2. Corey at Tongue in Cheek. Corey shows us France, California, and wherever else she lands through gorgeous photos and words.

3. Judith at Think on It! Whether it's about food, fashion, culture, or anything really, Judith truly does make me think on it.

4. Ninotchka at cease cows, life is short! Ninotchka always has an awesome photo and story to share about her life, husband, children, and Charlie the Chocolate Lab.

5. goodthomas at, well, goodthomas. Beautiful writing mixed with unique, thoughtful observations--can't ask for more in a thinking blog.

Honestly, it was difficult to narrow this list down to five; I could've given out many, many more of these awards. In fact, if you see them in my sidebar, they make me think. So take some time and visit those folks as well, would you?

Ah, I promised flowers! Here are 5 shots for the winners to share, and also for all of you to enjoy--we're all winners today!

My roses as seen this morning.

Have a lovely weekend, and keep thinking!

top o' the morning to ya!

As I type this at 2:30 in the afternoon, it's raining. Hard. Again.

But it was an absolutely gorgeous morning, and for the first time in a (too) long while, I went out and about and took some photos.

First, some of Luna Balloona.

Chillin' in the piazza.

At attention.


Her response to "Work it girl! Bring the sexy back!"
Also known as the over-the-shoulder-come-hither.


Now, other nature.
A precocious fig tree that already has most of its leaves; village in background.

And, last but certainly not least, the first wild daisy that I've seen this year.

Even when it's raining, may you always walk in sunshine.
--paraphrased Irish proverb

love thursday: flowers dried with love

I've read that it's bad luck to have dried flowers hanging around the house because they are a symbol of death--although that idea seems to be eroding a bit, proving that even ancient Chinese philosophies can be guilty of old wives' tales.

Maybe I'm taking a risk, but I love flowers in any form, and I don't see any reason why you can't still enjoy them for what they have become.


Overlooking my house's only staircase is this wrought iron structure. I started hanging bunches of flowers on it about three years ago, although there still aren't very many bouquets. This is because most of the flowers I receive, buy, or pick can't be dried as they're too fragile, but see those yellow ones? Those were my very first International Women's Day mimosa.

And although it'd be romantic to say that the big bunch of roses in the upper right corner were from P to mark some special occasion, it'd also be a lie. P's more of a pick-flowers-on-the-go kind of guy, which suits me just fine--I don't do well with fresh roses as I'm slightly allergic (my mom is full allergic). Plus I'm more of a wildflowers kind of gal anyway.

The roses you see were actually found in a rubbish bin near one of this village's thirteen churches. Only one of the churches still operates regularly, but for every church, there is at least one woman who opens it up weekly, cleans it, and puts in fresh flowers, candles, prayer cards, etc.

When I saw those roses, still mostly alive although admittedly past their prime, outside one of the smallest and best hidden churches, I marveled at how much care goes into beautifying something that only one other Being sees--that one other Being being the whole point of having the church.

And the little bouquet of red in the middle? In this village, we have many immigrants from Africa and Colombia as well as Kurds from Turkey and Iraq. Just after I arrived came Helen, a nine-year-old Ethiopian girl who had come here with all the men in her family; at that time, there were no other immigrant girls or women (although now there are, as many have rejoined their families).

Both of us hungry for some female companionship, we forged a friendship, taking walks, picking wildflowers, drawing (I keep a stash of colored pencils for children guests, well, and me), and learning Italian together--she much faster than I. One day when I answered a knock at my door, I opened to only fresh air. Then I looked down and saw a small bunch of roses lying on the doorstep. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Helen's head popping back behind the corner.

When I was thinking of a Love Thursday post, I thought of these dried flowers and how even though some may simply think of them as dead and ready for the rubbish bin, I keep them as reminders of times past--good and bad, but mostly good.

Either way, every bunch has a story.

Only as I was taking this photo did I realize that there happens to be a big heart in the middle of the iron structure, so maybe (hopefully) even under Feng Shui principles, that counteracts the death vibes.

Yes, of course I had noticed the heart there before, but you know how sometimes things around you become so commonplace that you don't appreciate their uniqueness anymore?

Guilty.

But I like to think I'm getting better.

Happy Love Thursday everyone!

ode to march

For my second Monthly Musings, it's time to tackle big bad March.

I had originally planned on posting each Musing on the first of the month. Yes, I know March is nearly over, but since I made up this meme only for me, I can make up the rules as I go along too. Kinda like Calvinball, for those of you who remember my fascination with a little boy and his tiger.

Anyhoo, I'm most definitely not a poet, but this time, I decided on a haiku--thanks for the inspiration Bella and Guinness Girl!

Maybe I'll do this for all the months now.

Or maybe I'll change my mind come April.

I love power.







Me and My March

Flippant, fickle month
Warm, cold, wild, calm, cruel, and kind
My kindred spirit.

sunday scribblings: inspiration

Prompt #51: Inspiration

Oh the irony that I vaguely posted on this subject a mere two days ago, and here I am doomed blessed to revisit inspiration once more.

I'm not going to lie to you. The first thing that came to my mind when I read this prompt was the 1984 heart-warming ditty of Chicago, "You're the Inspiration." But since I have no specific memories attached to that song other than singing obscenely loudly (hardly unique to this tune), let's move on.

Let's talk about writing. Again.

Many writers refer to their projects as their babies, and I feel the same. If we're lucky, the reward is a healthy, well-composed baby, and the path to get there is paved with inspiration--great when it's around, torturous when it's in hiding.

For me, inspiration comes when it comes, and there's just no amount of pushing that's going to convince the baby to come out until it's ready. (I'd say "good and ready," but this writer certainly cannot guarantee goodness the first time around.)

As far as I know, there's no writing inspiration equivalent of a C-section just yet, and doesn't sound like a particularly enticing idea anyway, but I do hear that walking around sometimes helps move labor along; with writing, I have to agree with this tactic as well.

Breathing fresh air and connecting with other living things--people, animals, or simply nature in general--often gives me that extra push I need to complete something, to break through a mental block, to inspire me to continue. And this isn't limited to just writing. That load of laundry that's beginning to move by itself? The floor that hasn't been mopped since B.O. (before Obama)? The layer of dust that blurs my niece and nephew's photographed faces?

It's not a sure thing, but all of these chores have a much better chance of being tackled after I reintroduce myself to the outdoors.

Procrastination? Nah. Inspiration!

And there's no better time than Spring to drink in all the inspiration I can stand.

Bentornata primavera!

love thursday: celebrating women

*Don't forget that all this week is The Ultimate Blog Party!
Check out 5 minutes for mom to learn more about
how you can participate--everyone's invited!

To all my fellow females, Happy International Women's Day!

Far be it from me to speculate as to why this worldwide holiday isn't celebrated the United States, but I assure you, here in Italy, it's a big deal.

It's called la Festa della Donna, and it's the day when women of all ages are honored with dinners, girls' nights out, auguris, and, of course, flowers--in particular, the exploding-with-joy yellow mimosa, the international symbol of the day.

We have a few mimosa trees in the piazza here and normally they're in bloom just in time for March 8, but this year's mild winter had them full of yellow in January, and so now, sadly there are no more mimosa.

But I thought ahead so I could give all of my favorite women (you're one if you're reading this!) a little love for this International Women's Day, so I snapped this photo on January 20:

Now for you fellas that are reading--you have some appreciating to do.

Happy Love Thursday everyone!

airing my clean laundry

*Don't forget that all this week is The Ultimate Blog Party!
Check out 5 minutes for mom to learn more about
how you can participate--everyone's invited!

I'm smiling just knowing that so many of you enjoyed the photos from yesterday; it was a pleasure to share a beautiful Calabrian morning with you.

Had I thought ahead, though, I would've worn red to stop all that malocchio coming my way from so much envy.

Just kidding, of course--I know it wasn't *that* kind of envy.

On yesterday's post, fellow blogger Stefanie commented that sometimes my life seems like a movie, which got me thinking...and you know what? She's absolutely right. Sometimes it's more romantic comedy and other times horror or drama, although hardly ever Van Damme action (quite by design).

And isn't this more or less how all of our lives are when you think about it?

I tend to focus on the positive in my daily life, and that's what I like to share on the blog as well. Do I never stress about anything? I wish, but I'm human. I have rants and whatnot, but I like to get them out and then be done with it.

Sometimes that's here on this Internet thing, but most often it's on the phone with my mom, or even better, with P. Venting in Italian is *so* much fun--probably because it's the only time I talk really fast in my second language without a care as to whether I'm making sense.

You see, P nods and agrees no matter what. He's a smart man.

What I'm getting at, I suppose, is that I don't dwell on mishaps or frustrations because then I feel like the nasty forces in life are winning.

And I hate to lose.

So besides bringing some warm sunshine to cold, snowy days with yesterday's photos, I also hoped to encourage all of you to appreciate the simple things, the everyday sights in your life, whatever they might be.

And today for me, the sights are laundry (so much that it will spill into tomorrow), a translation project that I need to finish today, and lesson planning for tomorrow and Thursday.

So in lieu of a longer post, I'm going to share more pictures from yesterday's Marina adventure.

I'll start with a woman doing laundry the old-fashioned way (note: I use a washing machine although I do hang out the clothes like most of us here...don't get us started on the dryer situation, right expats?).

"Maria Concetta!" she called out when she saw me, mistaking me for her granddaughter, but she didn't act the least bit disappointed when she realized it was just a straniera with a camera. She even offered coffee, but I was on a tight schedule so I could catch the bus back up the mountain before lunch.

"La prossima volta!" Next time, I promised.

Just a few steps away from this woman's house was this view through the stairway:

And here's a leftover shot from the beach area:

The flower stand at the small market in the Marina on Monday mornings:

A wider view of the mercatino. That's my village nestled into the mountains:

And this was my view while waiting for the bus home:

OK, so this was my view *after* I pushed down a plastic orange fence surrounding the property with one hand and leaned over the squished barrier to take the photo with the other.

Sometimes you just gotta go for it and make your own pretty pictures.

P.S. Happy Birthday Dad!