The Secret Rome in 1967

Beef braciole al sugo (in tomato sauce)

Preparation time: 30-35 min   Cooking time: 2 1/2 hours   Servings: about 4 – 6

Braciole with sauce is one of those traditional Italians meals reserved for special family gatherings. For many Italians, braciole are synonymous to their nonna’s cooking and memorable Sunday lunches. Thus, Braciole are part of the fond memories of most Italians who can recite who in their upbringing made the very best. Here’s our recipe.

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 lb beef top round or flank steak – if meat is thick butterfly it or ask your butcher to do this. You’ll want thin slices of meat for rolling.
• 1/2 c. Chopped Fresh Flat Leaf Parsley
• 1/2 c. Grated Parmigiano-Reggiano Cheese or Grated Aged Provolone Cheese
• 2 tbsp. Garlic chopped finely
• Salt and Pepper to taste
• 6 – 10 slices prosciutto or speck, halved widthways
• Toothpicks or string (butcher’s twine) to secure the rolls
• 3-4 Tbsp. Olive oil for browning
• Tomato Sauce (see recipe for this to follow)
• 500 g rigatoni

Instructions:

Using a meat mallet or a rolling pin, pound the steaks between sheets of baking paper to about 5mm thick. Cut steaks in 2 widthways. (You can ask your butcher to do this for you.) If making  smaller ones cut the meat into 5-6” slices.

Rub each slice with olive oil. Lay the prosciutto slices over each steak and scatter chopped parsley, cheese, garlic and salt and pepper to taste.

Roll up to enclose and secure with toothpicks. You can use 2 or 3 strings to secure the smaller ones. If making large ones, use more string or toothpicks.

In a large frypan, Brown the rolls in olive oil over medium-high heat for 3-4 minutes. 

When finished – remove them and tranfer to tomato sauce.

Cover the pan or pot and simmer for 1 1/2 hours. Stir gently occasionally to turn the braciole.

Uncover the pot for the last hour of cooking to thicken.

Remove braciole before serving and remove and discard toothpicks and strings. Slice the braciole thickly.

Tips:

Serve with rigatoni, plenty of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and a nice glass of red wine.

Flavors from the Sea-Calamari fritti or Fried Calamari

Note: I grew up loving these but the first time I made Calamari Fritti was in the summer at the end of my eleventh grade. A few of us had gotten together to rent an extremely rustic farmhouse ($20/month) on the very isolated west side of the island of Paros in the Cycladic chain of islands  in Greece. It was the night of the full moon and we decided to have a party, the Calamari were one of the main courses.

This is a perfect fry with all the taste of fresh squid

Ingredients: 800 g squid, semolina, olive oil, salt.

PREPARATION: Wash the squid, and pat dry with kitchen paper. Cut into circles and turn them over in the flour until it no longer adheres well. Put the squid in hot oil and fry until golden turning with a slotted spoon. Drain them, put them on paper towels, season with salt and serve hot. The secret of a good fried food is the temperature of the oil. To find out if the temperature is right immerse the handle of a wooden spoon. If the oil bubbles around the spoon, it means that the oil is at the right temperature.

3 Reasons I Will Never Leave Italy

The title is probably an exaggeration. I most likely will live in the United States again. Statistically, very few expats live out their lives in a foreign country. Most, eventually, find their way back to the land of their birth.

So let me just say that these are the top three reasons that I can't imagine leaving Italy... today.

#1. Coffee. Coffee is not just a drink in Italy....it is a work of art.
Starbucks may have 17,000 stores throughout the world, but Italy does not have a single one. A barista will make your espresso, simply called a caffe`, with the precision of a skilled craftsman. From the coffee beans, to the pre-heated machine, to the properly sized cup, to the exact strength and temperature of the caffe`, and milk, it will all be controlled by a professional. The "no foam, skinny latte, double shot of vanilla" order does not happen here. To drink an espresso, macchiato, or cappuccino in Italy, is to enjoy something just as it has been made for generations. The taste is exquisite....perfection. I cannot go back. And, it's the only place I have ever found that wants to drink coffee as I do, all day long.

#2. Emotion. There is just so much of it. 
My first week in Florence, I rounded a corner on a narrow side street and walked right into a melodrama. A man was crying out to a woman next to him that he was, "Frustrated. Heartbroken. Devastated." Arms raised, palms up, he wailed to her, (and the neighborhood), that he just "couldn't take it anymore." "Wow," I thought. What could she have possibly done that had him so distraught? It didn't take more than a couple of weeks of living in Italy to realize that was everyday, normal conversation. She'd probably forgotten to pick up his dry cleaning. Similar dramas can be heard from any open window, trattoria or sidewalk, on any given day. And while everything is of the utmost importance, nothing is private! Passionate, kissing couples are everywhere, while the rest of the traffic just walks around them. Life seems to be lived fully in the present, engaged and emotional. It's raw, real and refreshing. It makes me smile a little as I walk by. Good stuff here, happening just outside my door.

#3. La Bella Figura. There are rules here that simultaneously impress and frighten me. You may not know the rules exist the first time you visit Italy, but live here for a while and they become clear. This is an entire country of people who strive for "la bella figura", the art of making a good impression. These are the sometimes subtle, but always present, rituals of behavior that make this country unlike any other. As a foreigner, you may just notice how polished everyone seems to be. It's staggering. Constantly aware of aesthetic beauty, confident and manicured, they are a walking advertisement for the good life. But there are rules to be followed in creating the good impression that go beyond how one is dressed. And here's where it becomes a little tricky. You don't know the rules. You only begin to learn the rules after a certain number of withering looks. It might be from the server at the trattoria, fruttivendolo, or a full out scolding by an Italian Grandma in the market. Pretty soon, you catch on. (As a side note, these rules of behavior have been in place longer than the United States has been a country. So don't be asking why a certain rule exists. It just does.) As well mannered as you may be, no outsider is a match for those that were born and raised in the country of la bella figura. Many of the rules come from cleanliness and spreading germs. So please don't touch the produce at the market, unless you have placed on a disposable plastic glove, and if you do touch it, buy it. Don't share food, even pizza.

That's just the tip of the iceberg. There are rules on when to drink cappuccino, what sauce goes on which pasta, and what color to paint the shutters. I haven't even mentioned the language rules. There's an entirely separate vocabulary for those that must be spoken to in the formal, rather than informal, context. I am not complaining. Rather, I enjoy a society where everyone is making it a priority to be civil. But what about how they drive? And the dreadful condition of the sidewalks and public squares? Many neglect to pick up after their dogs or themselves. How is it that they continually butt in line or refuse to move over even an inch on the sidewalk? Therein lies the paradoxical life of la bella figura in Italy! I would miss the rules. I have worked so hard to learn them.

Do you know how to speak with your hands Italian Style?

Knowing some Italian makes any trip to Italy easier. But understanding Italian gestures might be even more important. Learn some with this cute video from La Repubblica... starring Dolce & Gabbana models.

why do Italians love food so much?

Someone asked me yesterday, “why do Italians love food so much?”. Here is what I think. They love it because:

it is a matter of culture and identity…

In Italy “food” is more than just food. There are some people who say that in order to really appreciate an Italian recipe you should know everything about the region where the recipe comes from, meaning the landscape, the traditions, the way of life. If “culture” is the ensemble of the systems of meanings through which we make sense of what is around us, “food” here is one of the ways in which what is around us finds a way to express itself. In Italy, food is culture and you can find over 70.000 traditional recipes that are the perfect expression of a particular context. We could say that…

Italians love food so much because it is part of their roots, an essential companion of the beauty that surrounds them and one of the key elements that makes them… who they are.

 it is a matter of passion and pleasure…

I remember reading the results of a research once, a study that was carried out by an expert linguist. The researcher was trying to understand the difference between Americans and Italians when it comes to food. Looking at how typical Italian and American parents talk about food at dinner with their children, the scholar underlined that in the United States mothers and fathers tend to present dinner time to their kids saying things like “be a good girl/boy and you will have a reward… a wonderful dessert!” or “I know, you don’t like to eat, but be good and you’ll have some ice-cream later”. In Italy, however, parents talked about dinner with their children portraying it as a wonderful moment: “Guys, mummy cooked something delicious and special for us!” and “how delicious is dinner today, don’t you think?” were common expressions among the Italians. The conclusions of the piece, with which I perfectly agree, stated that…

 Italians think about food as something pleasurable, and therefore communicate their passion to their children. In Italy, people love food because it is definitively a matter of pleasure!

 it is a matter of simplicity and community…

Did you know that many of the Italian traditional recipes were born in the house of poor farmers who had to make the best of whatever they have in their kitchens? “You don’t waste nothing”, used to say my grandma. But because they didn’t have much, these pioneers had to keep their dishes simple. In doing so, more or less consciously, Italians have learned that the quality of the ingredients is way more important than the quantity. Cooking, for an Italian family, has always signaled the coming of the moment in which everyone can sit at the table and enjoy the simple pleasure of a warm meal. So..

For the Italians, then, food is always a reminder that life can be complicated and hard, sad and cold… but that happiness is just a matter of few, delicious ingredients.

Map of Europe: 1000 AD to present day

Look at all those changes over the time

9,000 YEARS OF BOCCE

Nowadays, the United States Bocce Federation (USBF) promotes it as a sport and has been sending the best American players to world championships since 1979. They are part of a movement that is trying to get Bocce into the Olympics.

Thanks to Italian immigrants, Bocce has come to flourish in the United States although we find signs of the game before the 1800s: one early playing field was Bowling Green at the southern tip of Manhattan and we know that George Washington built a Bocce court at Mount Vernon.

Nine thousand years ago people played games similar to Bocce. Polished round stone balls with evident signs of having been rolled on the ground were found in Çatalhöyük, modern Turkey, and in an Egyptian tomb dated 3500 b.C. The Greeks played Bocce andHippocrates, the father of western medicine, considered it a healthy activity for the young and old. But it was the Romans that made it famous throughout the Empire. They invented wooden Bocce, cheaper and easier to make and to carry around. Emperor Augustus had a personal set made out of fine olive tree roots.

In the Middle Ages Bocce was played by kids and adults, rich and poor, on roads, alleys and squares. Old Bowling Green, the first Bocce club, was founded in Southampton, an old Roman colony, in 1299.

All this happiness bothered some aristocrats who did their best to ban it. Among them, French kings Charles IV in 1319 and Charles V in 1369, followed by the English kings Richard II in 1388, Henry IV in 1401, and Henry VIII, the king who had six wives, divorced two and had two beheaded.

Strangely enough, more somber people like Martin Luther (1483–1546), the German monk credited with initiating the Protestant Reformation, and John Calvin (1509-1564), the founder of Calvinism, found Bocce a fantastic game. According to legend, Sir Francis Drake refused to set out to defend England against the Spanish Armada until he finished a Bocce game, and we find Bocce in Rabelais’ novels, in Shakespeare's Richard II, in Peter Bruegel the Elder's paintings.

You can find courts almost everywhere but you can also play it on lawns, on the beach, wherever you find a leveled field. All you need is 8 colored balls, in two different colors or four different colors, and a pallino (smaller ball). 

COZZE CON POMODORI- Clams with Tomatoes

INGREDIENTI: 1 spicchio di aglio, 500 g di cozze, olio extravergine di oliva, pepe nero qb, prezzemolo tritato, vino vermentino di Gallura, 200 g pomodori

 PREPARAZIONE Pulite le cozze eliminando il bisso. Cuocetele in un tegame con il vino bianco e fatele aprire a fuoco vivo. Tritate l’aglio e rosolatelo nell’olio; aggiungete i pomodorini tagliati a cubetti, unite le cozze e il loro sughetto e fate saltare il tutto. Aggiungete per ultimo il prezzemolo e il pepe macinato al momento. Disponete il letto di pane carasau e aiutandovi con un cucchiaio versate le cozze con i pomodori.

Eternal Veggies

Il Geco Biondo ("The Blond Gecko") is an organic vegetarian eatery that specializes in pasta dishes.

By Eleonora Baldwin
Published: 2013-01-13

T

he average Italian is a carnivore, Romans in particular. Veal and beef are the norm as main courses and in pasta sauces. But the city also has plenty of vegetarian options, mainly because mainstream Italian cuisine, which hasn't changed much since the 19th century, leans heavily on vegetable, pasta and dairy products.

Driven more by poverty and availability than conscious choice, traditional regional recipes depended more on what the land produced than what animal pens had to offer. Meat and fish were costly items, usually reserved for nobility or higher social status, and often downright rare for non-hunters. Hence the birth of polenta, pizza, gnocchi, vegetable pies, the vivid selection of cheeses, hearty soups and affordable preparations that relied on leftover bread, beans and potatoes: basic sustenance that has trickled down in history into our every-day meals.

So vegetarians visiting Rome don't need to worry. Here's a shortlist of reliable vegetarian, vegan and ovo-lacto friendly havens I've dined in lately.

Arancia Blu, among Rome's pioneer vegetarian destinations, has moved from its original San Lorenzo location to a larger, more comfortable venue in the Prenestina suburbs. Equipped with a lovely outdoor patio that welcomes pets and kids, the nifty à la carte vegetarian menu is also very popular with meat people, helped by a 600-bottle wine list, homemade stuffed pasta dishes, soups, salads and a mile-long cheese menu.

Natural foods on The Beehive blackboard.

I pretend to be vegetarian for their leek and almond quiche, the mouthwatering tortelli with Parmigiano filling, dressed with watercress pesto and topinambur (Jerusalem artichoke) chips. Leave room for dessert. ¶ Arancia Blue. Open daily from 5 p.m. (high tea); aperitivo and cheese/champagne tastings at 7 p.m.; dinner at 8 p.m. On weekends open for lunch only. Via Prenestina, 396e. Tel. +39.06.44.54.105.

The Beehive Café is a dreamy corner of peace which makes you forget you're two blocks from zoo that is the Termini train station. It's part of the eco-conscious and welcoming Beehive Hotel, a sustainable mix of budget hotel and upscale hostel. Owned by a lovely American couple, the hotel's kitchen offers daily breakfast graced by organic coffee and homemade bread, pancakes, omelets and bagels; plus weekend brunches, and evening vegan buffets three nights a week, all with healthy, organic food. You can come for that, or simply choose to sit in the garden, sipping herbal tea and surf the web thanks to the free Wi-Fi. ¶ The Beehive. Open daily 7:30 a.m.-9:30 p.m. Via Marghera, 8. Tel. +39.06.4470.4553.

Bibliothé is a peaceful vegetarian hub that draws indophile yogis, artists, poets, and travelers wishing to find a quiet space for reading at teatime. It serves 100 percent organic Ayurvedic cuisine (a holistic Indian approach to dietary needs). Guests are treated to candied ginger and caffeine-free tisanes; and the menu showcases dishes made with all manner of cereals, legumes, and fresh seasonal produce. I come for the tasty spelt crepes, the wonderful chutneys, homemade yogurts, and vegan desserts. ¶ Bibliothé. Closed Sunday. Via Celsa, 4 (Pantheon). Tel. +39.06.678.1427.

Il Geco Biondo ("The Blond Gecko") is an organic vegetarian eatery not far from Ponte Marconi that specializes in pasta dishes, salads and vegan desserts. It offers a wide selection of handmade gnocchi, lasagna, strozzapretiand stuffed ravioli, dressed with original sauces and condiments. Between the opening salad and the main dish, there's always a surprise, whether a protein dish, a veggie pâté, a bowl of soup, a mini cereal salad, or a side dish sampler. ¶ Il Geco Biondo. Open for dinner only, closed Sunday. Via G. Cardano, 105 (Marconi/San Paolo). Tel. +39.06.557.1048.

Margutta RistorArte is a very posh vegetarian restaurant with outdoor seating a stone's throw from Piazza del Popolo and the Spanish Steps. All is homemade here (including bread, desserts and pasta) and popular menu items include a veggie tart with smoked provola cheese and zucchini in mint marinade; risotto with strawberries and Gorgonzola; and springtime asparagus and hard-boiled egg cous cous salad. There's a four-course vegan menu, affordable buffet lunch and three brunch options, according to calendar. ¶ Margutta RistorArte. Open lunch and dinner, seven days a week, year-round (except Christmas Day). Via Margutta, 118. Tel. +39.06.3265.0577.

Ten Things NOT to Do in Italy

Posted by Fodor's Guest Blogger on January 07, 2013 at 12:55:32 PM EST

By Eva Sandoval

The more time you spend in Italy, the more you'll notice that Italians love telling you what to do...whether you ask them for advice or not. Try this wine. Try it again. Pass that semi truck—you can do it! Wear different shoes. Change your hair; you're not eighty. Loosen up. Mangia, mangia! For a change of pace, here's a list of things NOT to do in Italy—a country as beloved for its passionate people as its natural beauty and delicious cuisine.

Don't....

Head to Vatican City in a tube top

We know the desire to charm the Italians with your spaghetti strap sundress might be overwhelming, but visitors in skimpy clothing are forbidden to enter holy sights. If you can't bring yourself to wear a top that covers your shoulders, tuck a scarf or cardigan into your bag, and use it to make yourself presentable when you're on holy ground.

Park inside the yellow lines

Or the pink ones, if you're eating for one. Or the blue ones, if you want to save a few euro. Few things are as gutting as heading back to the parking lot and finding a parking ticket on your rental car, or worse, a stark gap where your car used to be. In an Italian parking lot, the white-lined parking spaces are free, the blue-lined are paid, the yellow-lined spots are for disabled motorists, and the pink spots are for expectant mothers. As for potential parking spots that have no lines at all, be sure to look for Zona di Rimozione (Tow Zone) or Divieto di Sosta (No Parking) signs. Or just do as the Italians: cross your fingers and park on the sidewalk. Sideways.

Expect things to happen according to schedule

One of the first things any visitor to Italy will learn is that there's time...and then there's Italian time. Italian time is elastic (don't be surprised when your 4 p.m. Colosseum tour starts at 4:30) and so are business hours. Many businesses—even, bafflingly, restaurants—shut down for lunch and will also be closed two days a week, days which vary from business to business. Double-checking business hours is crucial unless you enjoy making empty treks. Public transportation is also often "out of order" or delayed, so give yourself ample padding between travel connections.

Get fleeced by a gondolier

Taking a gondola cruise in Venice might seem like the most romantic thing on earth until you get the bill. Surprise: a gondola ride can cost upwards of $65 per person (!), and even more if you have a shady gondolier. If a $65-$130 boat ride isn't in your budget, but you still have your heart set on floating along Venice's canals, consider hopping aboard a traghetto—one of the water taxis used by Venetian locals when they want to cross the Grand Canal. The ride will be much shorter, but the traghetto boats are exactly the same as the tourist gondolas and tickets will cost around $5.

Take that Google Maps shortcut

Should you be renting a car to explore the country, you'll probably be using a GPS or Google Maps. You might be tempted to save on autostrade tolls by taking one of the outlined shortcuts. But the farther south in Italy you go, the worse-kept the roads tend to be. Razor-narrow passages, huge potholes and an absence of streetlights can make navigation difficult for a traveler unfamiliar with Italian motorways; the SS7 (Via Appia)—a mostly-unlit winding coastside path running from Rome to Brindisi—is particularly perilous. You might have to pay a bit extra to take the autostrade, but at least they're well-kept.

Get yourself psyched for authentic spaghetti alla bolognese in Naples

In Italian restaurants outside of Italy, all of the boot's many regional cuisines are slapped with the giant umbrella title—ITALIAN FOOD—so you'd be forgiven for not knowing that pesto was invented in Genoa and Limoncello is from Sorrento. But you wouldn't head to Los Angeles hoping for the best barbecue of your life, would you? Do yourself a favor and stick to local foods on your Italian trip. A (very) quick cheat sheet: Genoa for pesto; Naples for pizza; Bologna for bolognese sauce and filled pastas like ravioli, tortellini and lasagne; Milan for risotto alla milanese and ossobucco alla milanese; Rome for spaghetti alla carbonara, spaghetti all'amatriciana and lamb. Gnocchi, bresaola, polenta dishes, and the ultra-popular Italian dessert tiramisù are found all over the country, but are native to the northern Italian regions like Lombardy and Veneto. Prosciutto—or Parma ham—is most commonly associated with central and northern Italy.

Tip everything that moves...no matter what they tell you

Tipping is not obligatory or common in Italy. However, tourist-savvy service people may have heard that Americans are genetically programmed to tip everything from waiters to performing rabbits, so the cheekier ones might try to work you for some spare change. Unless they gave you the best service in the history of the planet, resist. They're getting a living wage.

Ask your waiter for parmesan cheese to put on your seafood pasta

Unless you want to see a grown adult cry, that is. One of the holiest commandments of traditional Italian culinary etiquette is that cheese and seafood never, ever mix. Only very recently have certain cheese/seafood pairings cropped up—i.e., ricotta with sea bass, gorgonzola with clams—but this is considered very avant garde (the elder generation won't touch such dishes). Regardless of your age or level of sophistication, mixing parmesan cheese with seafood remains a cardinal sin, so don't even ask. And for the love of Saint Peter, don't let an Italian see you cutting your spaghetti with a fork and knife.

Kill yourself trying to fit Rome into a crowded itinerary

Twenty regions, so much to see! Most visitors enter Italy through Rome, but if you plan to enter via Sicily or Milan and can't bear the thought of missing out on Roman ruins during your trip, take heart: the Romans were a busy bunch. Spectacular Roman ruins can be found throughout the peninsula, namely Volterra in Tuscany, Villa Jovis on the Isle of Capri, Pompeii and Oplontis in Campania, Piazza Armerina in Sicily, Verona in Veneto, and Mediolanum in Milan. Use the money you'll have saved on extra flights to fill up on wine.

Plan on conducting your entire trip to Italy in English

Yes, the movies would have you believe that any time you travel, your host country will be chock-full of citizens who speak your language perfectly, albeit with a charming accent. But Italy consistently earns moderate to low proficiency rankings on English proficiency indexes—among the lowest-rated in Europe. You'll do all right at hotels, historical sites, and restaurants in heavily-touristed cities like Rome and Naples, but set foot outside of those perimeters and, well, in bocca al lupo.

P.S. That means "good luck" in Italian.

Italian Sign Language...

Old Neapolitan gestures, from left to right: money, past times, affirmation, stupid, good, wait a moment, to walk backward, to steal, horns, to ask for.

From: "Speak Italian: The Fine Art of the Gesture" by Bruno Munari (originally published in 1958)

How to Make an Italian Pizza: The Simple, Step-by-Step Guide

Want to know how to make a real Italian pizza? The most important part is getting the Italian pizza dough right! More than just the base of the pizza, the dough is what gives the pizza its texture, holds together the flavors, and—if done right—can make you feel like you’ve been transported right back to Italy.

But first:
Just a bit about pizza in Italy…




A traditional pizza margherita of Naples, complete with the thick crust

Even though it’s become the most popular Italian food abroad, pizza and Italy didn’t always go together like, well, pizza and Italy. In fact, pizza wasn’t even invented until the 19th century, when it started out as a fast food on the streets of Naples. In the beginning (and, we’d argue, even today), the simpler the pizza, the better: The classic pizza napoletana was just dough with a tomato sauce of Marzano tomatoes, oregano or basil, a little garlic, salt, and olive oil.

It’s another pizza from Naples, though, that has the neatest pedigree. When Queen Margherita came to visit Naples in 1889, she was charmed by a local pizza baker who had made, in her honor, a pizza with the colors of the new flag of the just-unified Italy—red tomatoes, white mozzarella, and green basil. Yep, you guessed it. It’s now called the pizza margherita (or margarita, on some menus).

Traditional Roman pizza (check out that thin crust!)

Of course, Italian food is very regional, and so are Italian pizzas. (Although any real Italian pizza should always be cooked in a wood-fired oven; in fact, a pizzeria without one can’t even, legally, call itself a pizzeria!). That world-famous pizza in Naples is known as“pizza alta” (thick crust), while pizza in Rome is traditionally thin-crust and crisp.

Like the rest of Italian food, Italian pizza is best—and most authentic—when it’s made with fresh, delicious ingredients. We’re not talking the microwaved dough and synthetic cheese that you see now both in Italy and abroad, but something completely different.

The best way to try it, short of going to an authentic pizzeria with great ingredients and a wood-fired oven? Make it at home!

What you need to make an Italian pizza

(makes dough for 4 pizzas, each one about 12 inches in diameter):

• 600 mL of warm water
• 7 cups (1kg) flour, type “00″*
• 2.25 teaspoons (25 grams) yeast
• 6 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
• 1.5 tablespoons salt
• 2 teaspoons sugar

*A note on the flour: In Italy, “00″, or “doppio zero,” flour is the most highly-refined and finest-ground flour available. Not available where you are (or too expensive?). An all-purpose flour should work just as well!

How to make your pizza:

Kids love making pizza, too!

1. Sprinkle the yeast into a medium bowl with the warm water. We don’t mean hot, and we don’t mean cold… we mean warm! That’s the kind the yeast likes best. Stir until the yeast dissolves.

2. Place almost all of the flour on the table in the shape of a volcano. (Think Mt. Vesuvius… appropriate since Naples is the king of all pizza cities!).

3. Pour the yeast-and-warm-water mix, along with the other ingredients, into the “crater” of the volcano.

4. Knead everything together for 10 to 15 minutes until the dough is smooth and elastic, keeping your surface floured.

5. Grease up a bowl with some olive oil and put the dough inside. Turn the dough around so the top is slightly oiled.

6. Cover the bowl and put the dough aside to let it rest for at least four or five hours.

7 (optional for those who want their pizza really authentic). Make a cross on top of the dough with a knife. An old Italian tradition, this is seen as a way of “blessing the bread.”

8. Preheat the oven to about 400°F, or about 200°C.

9. Dump the dough out of the bowl and back onto the floured surface. Punch it down, getting rid of any bubbles. (Note: Now’s the time to enlist a kid with more energy than they know what to do with!).

10. Divide the dough in half and let it rest for a few minutes.

11. Roll each section into a 12-inch disc. Now’s your chance to decide how thick you want your pizza to be! Do you want it pizza alta (Neapolitan-style) or pizza bassa (Roman-style)? Just remember, your crust will puff up a little bit as it’s baked!

12.  Transfer the dough onto an oiled pizza pan or baking sheet.

13. Add tomato sauce, if you want a pizza rossa (red pizza). Lots of pizzas in Italy are actually pizza bianca, without tomato sauce, so don’t feel like you have to! Brush the edges of the crust with a little bit of olive oil.

14. Bake each pizza for about 10 minutes, then add mozzarella cheese (sliced or grated) on top, as well as any other ingredients.

15. Let the pizzas bake until the crust is browned and the cheese is melted. By lifting up the pizza to peek underneath, you can make sure the bottom has browned, too.

16. Remove your pizzas from the oven and, for a real Italian touch, garnish with a few basil leaves. And enjoy!!

 Thanks to Walks of Italy’s Loredana of Le Marche, Italy for providing her tried-and-true, authentic Italian pizza recipe!

The Vatican Museum's Spiral Staircase

 The Vatican Museums spiral staircase is one of the most photographed in the world, and certainly one of the most beautiful. Designed by Giuseppe Momo in 1932, the broad steps are somewhere between a ramp and a staircase. The stairs are actually two separate helixes, one leading up and the other leading down, that twist together in a double helix formation. Little did the Vatican Museum know in 1932 that this formation would come to represent life itself, with the discovery of the double helical DNA strand.

The Spanish Steps...

The Spanish Steps (Italian: Scalinata della Trinità dei Monti) are a set of steps in Rome, Italy, climbing a steep slope between the Piazza di Spagna at the base and Piazza Trinità dei Monti, dominated by the Trinità dei Monti church at the top. The Scalinata is the widest staircase in Europe. The monumental stairway of 138 steps was built with French diplomat Étienne Gueffier’s bequeathed funds of 20,000 scudi, in 1723–1725, linking the Bourbon Spanish Embassy, and the Trinità dei Monti church that was under the patronage of the Bourbon kings of France, both located above — to the Holy See in Palazzo Monaldeschi located below. The stairway was designed by architects Francesco de Sanctis and Alessandro Specchi.

You Gained Weight!

Most goods vendors in Rome are Senegalese, but many are referred to as Moroccans

By Nicole Arriaga

Published: 2012-10-31

Something that's always taken me back about Rome Italians is their complete lack of politically correctness. Most people in the U.S. work to avoid using words and phrases that might cause needless offense. Italians on the other hand seem to blurt out whatever's on their mind, giving very little thought to the impact of what they're saying.

This can be refreshing at times, admittedly. The downside of the American way is that we often think too much before speaking. Italians might even say we're a bit phony.

Maybe we are, but we're still polite.





Rome's Chinese community is growing, and still faces considerable discrimination.

A good example is the way many Romans still refer to street vendors. Whether the vendors are peddling umbrellas, bracelets, handbags or scarves — spend a little time in Italian cities and you'll notice there is a difference between who sells what — they're often generically called marocchini, Moroccans. There's no mystery as to why: it's based on their skin color and alien-ness.

Though this bothers for a variety of reasons, the first one is pretty straightforward. The vendors are rarely Moroccan. Most are typically from Senegal, Bangladesh or Nigeria (in fact, most of the vendors are typically Senegalese, just as flower-sellers tend to come from Bangladesh).

Italian actually has a phrase for illegal or unauthorized street vendors, venditori ambulanti, which basically means traveling salesmen. But it's a clunky to say aloud. And though Marrocchino is clearly derogatory, no one pays much attention since it's been built into the language.

The same kind of insensitivity goes for the description of babysitters or caregivers. Italians have the bad habit of attaching racial slants to any kind of help-out job, since such work is seen only as menial. I remember a stretch when I was working so hard I had little time to clean up. The suggestion of an Italian friend? Ma perché non ti prendi una filippina? ("Why not hire a Filipino to help out.")

A large Filipino community made its way to Italy in the 1960s and 70s, with most of them taking household jobs, basically the only ones they could get. Many married and started families in Italy. Since then, Filipino has become a going synonym for maid or helper.

Like most countries, the U.S. has its own share of racial and ethnic slurs, but they're usually used in anger. In Italy, north or south, Filipino and Moroccan are part of day-to-day speech.

Live in Italy long enough and some of that language profiling rubs off. The other day my husband called me to ask me where I was. Sono al negozio dei cinesi, I blurted out, "at the Chinese shop."

Chinese families in and around Rome run household item stores that literally sell everything but the kitchen sink (like Korean markets in New York). These shops have names, and in New York many locals actually learn the name of the owner, but in Rome everyone calls them I cinesi. It may be good-natured but it's still discriminatory. I try catching myself, but bad habits die hard.

Another issue is weight. I'm neither fat nor thin, but whenever there's a slight change in the pounds department I'm almost immediately called out. Ironically, the observation often happens immediately after a cordial greeting, as in:

"Hi, how are you? Long time no see! Looks like you've gained a few pounds, no?"

Great. Why don't you tell me how you really feel?

It's at moments like those that I envy Rome bluntness. I could return fire saying,

"Wow, so nice to see you again! It's been so long! Turn around and let me get a good look at you. Yep. You're still ugly."

But I'm not there yet.

Italy, Love it or Leave it

What do you do when your country has gone to shit? Italy: Love It, or Leave It goes beyond the picture postcard version of Italy to show a once glorious country beset by corruption, greed, and trash. Partners in life and filmmaking, Luca Ragazzi and Gustav Hofer have grown disillusioned by their country’s economic and cultural decline. Before deciding whether to decamp to Berlin, the boys embark on a grand tour to rekindle their love for il bel paese. Crammed into their vintage Fiat 500, Luca and Gustav’s road trip takes them from Italian trash TV and Berlusconi’s geriatric fan girls, to Sicily’s unfinished monuments to government corruption and Napoli’s all too literal trash problem. After charming Vancouver audiences at the Queer Film Festival a few years ago with their award-winningSuddenly, Last Winter, Ragazzi and Hofer return with their endearing blend of the personal and the political. –JC

Horatius at the Bridge from Lays of Ancient Rome

Horatius

by Thomas Babbington Macaulay

A Lay Made About the Year Of The City CCCLX I Lars Porsena of Closium By the Nine Gods he swore That the great house of Tarquin Should suffer wrong no more. By the Nine Gods he swore it, And named a trysting day, And bade his messengers ride forth, East and west and south and north, To summon his array. II East and west and south and north The messengers ride fast, And tower and town and cottage Have heard the trumpet's blast. Shame on the false Etruscan Who lingers in his home, When Porsena of Clusium Is on the march for Rome. III The horsemen and the footmen Are pouring in amain From many a stately market-place, From many a fruitful plain, From many a lonely hamlet, Which, hid by beech and pine, Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest Of purple Apennine; IV From lordly Volaterræ, Where scowls the far-famed hold Piled by the hands of giants For godlike kings of old; From seagirt Populonia, Whose sentinels descry Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops Fringing the southern sky; V From the proud mart of Pisæ, Queen of the western waves, Where ride Massilia's triremes Heavy with fair-haired slaves; From where sweet Clanis wanders Through corn and vines and flowers; From where Cortona lifts to heaven Her diadem of towers. VI Tall are the oaks whose acorns Drop in dark Auser's rill; Fat are the stags that champ the boughs Of the Ciminian hill; Beyond all streams Clitumnus Is to the herdsman dear; Best of all pools the fowler loves The great Volsinian mere. VII But now no stroke of woodman Is heard by Auser's rill; No hunter tracks the stag's green path Up the Ciminian hill; Unwatched along Clitumnus Grazes the milk-white steer; Unharmed the water fowl may dip In the Volsminian mere. VIII The harvests of Arretium, This year, old men shall reap; This year, young boys in Umbro Shall plunge the struggling sheep; And in the vats of Luna, This year, the must shall foam Round the white feet of laughing girls Whose sires have marched to Rome. IX There be thirty chosen prophets, The wisest of the land, Who alway by Lars Porsena Both morn and evening stand: Evening and morn the Thirty Have turned the verses o'er, Traced from the right on linen white By mighty seers of yore. X And with one voice the Thirty Have their glad answer given: ``Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; Go forth, beloved of Heaven; Go, and return in glory To Clusium's royal dome; And hang round Nurscia's altars The golden shields of Rome.'' XI And now hath every city Sent up her tale of men; The foot are fourscore thousand, The horse are thousands ten. Before the gates of Sutrium Is met the great array. A proud man was Lars Porsena Upon the trysting day. XII For all the Etruscan armies Were ranged beneath his eye, And many a banished Roman, And many a stout ally; And with a mighty following To join the muster came The Tusculan Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name. XIII But by the yellow Tiber Was tumult and affright: From all the spacious champaign To Rome men took their flight. A mile around the city, The throng stopped up the ways; A fearful sight it was to see Through two long nights and days. XIV For aged folks on crutches, And women great with child, And mothers sobbing over babes That clung to them and smiled, And sick men borne in litters High on the necks of slaves, And troops of sun-burned husbandmen With reaping-hooks and staves, XV And droves of mules and asses Laden with skins of wine, And endless flocks of goats and sheep, And endless herds of kine, And endless trains of wagons That creaked beneath the weight Of corn-sacks and of household goods, Choked every roaring gate. XVI Now, from the rock Tarpeian, Could the wan burghers spy The line of blazing villages Red in the midnight sky. The Fathers of the City, They sat all night and day, For every hour some horseman come With tidings of dismay. XVII To eastward and to westward Have spread the Tuscan bands; Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote In Crustumerium stands. Verbenna down to Ostia Hath wasted all the plain; Astur hath stormed Janiculum, And the stout guards are slain. XVIII I wis, in all the Senate, There was no heart so bold, But sore it ached, and fast it beat, When that ill news was told. Forthwith up rose the Consul, Up rose the Fathers all; In haste they girded up their gowns, And hied them to the wall. XIX They held a council standing, Before the River-Gate; Short time was there, ye well may guess, For musing or debate. Out spake the Consul roundly: ``The bridge must straight go down; For, since Janiculum is lost, Nought else can save the town.'' XX Just then a scout came flying, All wild with haste and fear: ``To arms! to arms! Sir Consul: Lars Porsena is here.'' On the low hills to westward The Consul fixed his eye, And saw the swarthy storm of dust Rise fast along the sky. XXI And nearer fast and nearer Doth the red whirlwind come; And louder still and still more loud, From underneath that rolling cloud, Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, The trampling, and the hum. And plainly and more plainly Now through the gloom appears, Far to left and far to right, In broken gleams of dark-blue light, The long array of helmets bright, The long array of spears. XXII And plainly and more plainly, Above that glimmering line, Now might ye see the banners Of twelve fair cities shine; But the banner of proud Clusium Was highest of them all, The terror of the Umbrian, The terror of the Gaul. XXIII And plainly and more plainly Now might the burghers know, By port and vest, by horse and crest, Each warlike Lucumo. There Cilnius of Arretium On his fleet roan was seen; And Astur of the four-fold shield, Girt with the brand none else may wield, Tolumnius with the belt of gold, And dark Verbenna from the hold By reedy Thrasymene. XXIV Fast by the royal standard, O'erlooking all the war, Lars Porsena of Clusium Sat in his ivory car. By the right wheel rode Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name; And by the left false Sextus, That wrought the deed of shame. XXV But when the face of Sextus Was seen among the foes, A yell that rent the firmament From all the town arose. On the house-tops was no woman But spat towards him and hissed, No child but screamed out curses, And shook its little fist. XXVI But the Consul's brow was sad, And the Consul's speech was low, And darkly looked he at the wall, And darkly at the foe. ``Their van will be upon us Before the bridge goes down; And if they once may win the bridge, What hope to save the town?'' XXVII Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate: ``To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers, And the temples of his gods, XXVIII ``And for the tender mother Who dandled him to rest, And for the wife who nurses His baby at her breast, And for the holy maidens Who feed the eternal flame, To save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed of shame? XXIX ``Haul down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may; I, with two more to help me, Will hold the foe in play. In yon strait path a thousand May well be stopped by three. Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with me?'' XXX Then out spake Spurius Lartius; A Ramnian proud was he: ``Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee.'' And out spake strong Herminius; Of Titian blood was he: ``I will abide on thy left side, And keep the bridge with thee.'' XXXI ``Horatius,'' quoth the Consul, ``As thou sayest, so let it be.'' And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three. For Romans in Rome's quarrel Spared neither land nor gold, Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, In the brave days of old. XXXII Then none was for a party; Then all were for the state; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great: Then lands were fairly portioned; Then spoils were fairly sold: The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old. XXXIII Now Roman is to Roman More hateful than a foe, And the Tribunes beard the high, And the Fathers grind the low. As we wax hot in faction, In battle we wax cold: Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old. XXXIV Now while the Three were tightening Their harness on their backs, The Consul was the foremost man To take in hand an axe: And Fathers mixed with Commons Seized hatchet, bar, and crow, And smote upon the planks above, And loosed the props below. XXXV Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Come flashing back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright Of a broad sea of gold. Four hundred trumpets sounded A peal of warlike glee, As that great host, with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, Where stood the dauntless Three. XXXVI The Three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, And a great shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose: And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that deep array; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrrow way; XXXVII Aunus from green Tifernum, Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines; And Picus, long to Clusium Vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar. XXXVIII Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus Into the stream beneath; Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth; At Picus brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust; And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the bloody dust. XXXIX Then Ocnus of Falerii Rushed on the Roman Three; And Lausulus of Urgo, The rover of the sea; And Aruns of Volsinium, Who slew the great wild boar, The great wild boar that had his den Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, And wasted fields, and slaughtered men, Along Albinia's shore. XL Herminius smote down Aruns: Lartius laid Ocnus low: Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow. ``Lie there,'' he cried, ``fell pirate! No more, aghast and pale, From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark The track of thy destroying bark. No more Campania's hinds shall fly To woods and caverns when they spy Thy thrice accursed sail.'' XLI But now no sound of laughter Was heard among the foes. A wild and wrathful clamor From all the vanguard rose. Six spears' lengths from the entrance Halted that deep array, And for a space no man came forth To win the narrow way. XLII But hark! the cry is Astur: And lo! the ranks divide; And the great Lord of Luna Comes with his stately stride. Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the four-fold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield. XLIII He smiled on those bold Romans A smile serene and high; He eyed the flinching Tuscans, And scorn was in his eye. Quoth he, ``The she-wolf's litter Stand savagely at bay: But will ye dare to follow, If Astur clears the way?'' XLIV Then, whirling up his broadsword With both hands to the height, He rushed against Horatius, And smote with all his might. With shield and blade Horatius Right deftly turned the blow. The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow. XLV He reeled, and on Herminius He leaned one breathing-space; Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, Sprang right at Astur's face. Through teeth, and skull, and helmet So fierce a thrust he sped, The good sword stood a hand-breadth out Behind the Tuscan's head. XLVI And the great Lord of Luna Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Alvernus A thunder smitten oak: Far o'er the crashing forest The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head. XLVII On Astur's throat Horatius Right firmly pressed his heel, And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steel. ``And see,'' he cried, ``the welcome, Fair guests, that waits you here! What noble Lucomo comes next To taste our Roman cheer?'' XLVIII But at his haughty challange A sullen murmur ran, Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, Along that glittering van. There lacked not men of prowess, Nor men of lordly race; For all Etruria's noblest Were round the fatal place. XLIX But all Etruria's noblest Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the bloody corpses, In the path the dauntless Three: And, from the ghastly entrance Where those bold Romans stood, All shrank, like boys who unaware, Ranging the woods to start a hare, Come to the mouth of the dark lair Where, growling low, a fierce old bear Lies amidst bones and blood. L Was none who would be foremost To lead such dire attack; But those behind cried, ``Forward!'' And those before cried, ``Back!'' And backward now and forward Wavers the deep array; And on the tossing sea of steel To and frow the standards reel; And the victorious trumpet-peal Dies fitfully away. LI Yet one man for one moment Strode out before the crowd; Well known was he to all the Three, And they gave him greeting loud. ``Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! Now welcome to thy home! Why dost thou stay, and turn away? Here lies the road to Rome.'' LII Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread: And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay. LIII But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. ``Come back, come back, Horatius!'' Loud cried the Fathers all. ``Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! Back, ere the ruin fall!'' LIV Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back: And, as they passed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack. But when they turned their faces, And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have crossed once more. LV But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam, And, like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream: And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam. LVI And, like a horse unbroken When first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard, And tossed his tawny mane, And burst the curb and bounded, Rejoicing to be free, And whirling down, in fierce career, Battlement, and plank, and pier, Rushed headlong to the sea. LVII Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. ``Down with him!'' cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. ``Now yield thee,'' cried Lars Porsena, ``Now yield thee to our grace.'' LVIII Round turned he, as not deigning Those craven ranks to see; Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus nought spake he; But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home; And he spake to the noble river That rolls by the towers of Rome. LVIX ``Oh, Tiber! Father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, Take thou in charge this day!'' So he spake, and speaking sheathed The good sword by his side, And with his harness on his back, Plunged headlong in the tide. LX No sound of joy or sorrow Was heard from either bank; But friends and foes in dumb surprise, With parted lips and straining eyes, Stood gazing where he sank; And when above the surges, They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer. LXI But fiercely ran the current, Swollen high by months of rain: And fast his blood was flowing; And he was sore in pain, And heavy with his armor, And spent with changing blows: And oft they thought him sinking, But still again he rose. LXII Never, I ween, did swimmer, In such an evil case, Struggle through such a raging flood Safe to the landing place: But his limbs were borne up bravely By the brave heart within, And our good father Tiber Bare bravely up his chin. LXIII ``Curse on him!'' quoth false Sextus; ``Will not the villain drown? But for this stay, ere close of day We should have sacked the town!'' ``Heaven help him!'' quoth Lars Porsena ``And bring him safe to shore; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before.'' LXIV And now he feels the bottom; Now on dry earth he stands; Now round him throng the Fathers; To press his gory hands; And now, with shouts and clapping, And noise of weeping loud, He enters through the River-Gate Borne by the joyous crowd. LXV They gave him of the corn-land, That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plough from morn till night; And they made a molten image, And set it up on high, And there is stands unto this day To witness if I lie. LXVI It stands in the Comitium Plain for all folk to see; Horatius in his harness, Halting upon one knee: And underneath is written, In letters all of gold, How valiantly he kept the bridge In the brave days of old. LXVII And still his name sounds stirring Unto the men of Rome, As the trumpet-blast that cries to them To charge the Volscian home; And wives still pray to Juno For boys with hearts as bold As his who kept the bridge so well In the brave days of old. LXVIII And in the nights of winter, When the cold north winds blow, And the long howling of the wolves Is heard amidst the snow; When round the lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest's din, And the good logs of Algidus Roar louder yet within; LXIX When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows; LXX When the goodman mends his armor, And trims his helmet's plume; When the goodwife's shuttle merrily Goes flashing through the loom; With weeping and with laughter Still is the story told, How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old.