SUNDAY GRAVY

Meet the Bellinos. They're cooking up a batch of Sunday Sauce, aka Gravy in certain Italian-American enclaves. This is real "down home cooking," and nobody is putting on airs. This scene cracks me up. This sort of homemade ethnic food is discovered by foodies and tarted up in expensive restaurants, but there is no comparison with the real family recipe perfected over generations. Foodies will tell you all about osso bucco, say, or risotto, or polenta, as if it's something new--and in all fairness, maybe it's new to them. Bite your tongue. Smile, don't wince, when they mangle words like "gnocchi," "biscotti," "ricotta," and even "marinara." (Not to mention "bruschetta," which is pronounced "brew-Sketta" by the way, not "brew-SHETTA.") Oh, and by all means avoid correcting their mispronunciations; they'll only think you're a snob or a know-it-all--even if you first heard these words pronounced in Italian. That is, correctly. "But everyone says biz-SCOTTY," they'll say, feeling bruised. Or my favorite, "I've heard it pronounced both ways."

I know, I know. Enough talk. Now let's sit down and eat.

BEAUTIFUL SIENA

Siena is simply beautiful. The archrival of Florence has lost none of its grandeur since the height of its glory--roughly 1260 to 1348, when the Black Death killed a third of its population. Watching the sun set in the medieval Piazza del Campo is akin to having a religious experience. Il Campo is the home of the most celebrated festival in all of Tuscany, in which Siena's 17 contrade (neighborhoods) compete in a no-holds barred bareback horserace called the Palio that dates back to 1283. The contrade have their own flags and pageantry, and each is represented by a mascot, such as the wolf, porcupine, giraffe, and eagle.

We were lucky to visit the chapel of the eagle contrada, something not open to the general public but a favor to our local guide. The eagle chapel is small and ornate, with the brilliant banners of the contrade hanging beside the jockey's silk shirts, everything quiet and respectful in contrast to the thundering, bare-knucked race I imagine circling the Campo. These Sienese take the Palio very seriously. We hush ourselves like children in church. The representative of the Eagle contrada is subdued, and our guide--who hails from the Seashell contrada--ribs him good naturedly about not winning a race in...how long? He smiles and folds his arms.

We leave the chapel of the Eagle contrada and stroll a ways to the studio of Massimo Bracciali, Maestro Vetratista (stained glass master). Massimo is a wonderful artist, and he shows us the tools of the trade. He cracks jokes as he handles sheets of red glass I'm afraid he'll drop. "Don't worry," he says, "I could juggle these." He first sketches a "cartoon" and then matches and cuts glass. His work is splendid, and he is commissioned by churches and universities around the world. I ask how long the shop has been making windows. "My grandfather's grandfather made stained glass windows. Before that, I don't know. Who knows?" He laughs.

At lunch, I have Massimo's flyer on the table and the waiter stops to stare at the religious images. I speak a few words of Italian, and he speaks a few in English. "Beautiful," he says, pointing to a Madonna in reds and blues, "are you going to the Duomo?" The Duomo is one of Italy's greatest cathedrals, a treasure of Romanesque-Gothic architecture filled with sculpture and paintings. I tell him yes, we are planning to visit the Duomo. "Then you must pray for the chiocciola," he said.

The Chiocciola?

"I will explain," he says, grabbing his pen and a waiter's notebook from his apron. He sketches a snail. "Chiocciola!" The drawing is crude but I get the idea and laugh. "Pray for the snail? Ahhh...The snail is your contrada!" "Si, si!"

I ask him for the pen. I'm a cartoonist and love to draw, and over our dessert I draw a picture of a galloping snail winning the Palio, leaving the exhausted horses far behind in clouds of dust. When the waiter returns, he can't believe it. He's clearly delighted with the drawing, and I give it to him as a gift. "July 2nd is il palio," he says. "If the chiocciola wins I will never forget this moment."

It's a wonderful exchange, and we're high as kites walking back to the Campo on the narrow medieval streets. Near the fountain, I spot a vendor selling googaws from a cart--postcards, ballcaps, pens, maps--and he has flags--small, nylon, not the glorious silk versions I saw hanging in the chapel. I rummage through them quickly and find the flag of the Chiocciola contrada. It's the perfect souvenir to remember this afternoon in Siena.


Here is a video of the Palio--the whole race lasts only a minute and a half, and it's so rough even a riderless horse can win. Pray for the snail.

THE ITALIAN EARTHQUAKE

A 6.3-magnitude earthquake struck the medieval hill towns of the mountainous Abruzzo region east of Rome early Monday morning. Death and destruction was centered in L’Aquila, a medieval fortress town at the epicenter, but the quake also hit more than 26 nearby villages in the surrounding region in the Apennine mountains.

Rescuers were thwarted by aftershocks and fragile mountains of rubble. At this time, early Tuesday, the official death toll has risen to 207, with 40 yet to be identified. Officials say 15 people are still missing. The estimated number of homeless is more than 50,000, a lower number than previously believed, as many residents took shelter with friends and family.



Falling temperatures, rain and aftershocks that threatened further building collapses also complicated efforts, as rescuers used dogs to find those buried across the region. Another factor was the remoteness of some towns in this mountainous province dotted with rural hamlets founded before the Middle Ages.

To help: The nonprofit National Italian American Foundation based in Washington, D.C., today announced a special Abruzzo/NIAF Relief Fund “to help victims and their families who perished from the recent earthquake in the town of L’Aquila and other small towns in central Italy in the region of Abruzzo.” Link here to help.



The Italian American Museum has established the "IAM Earthquake Relief Fund 2009" and is accepting monetary donations at the museum at 155 Mulberry St., NYC, NY. Link here.

For more on the Italian earthquake, read the story in the Guardian.

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HAPPY ST. JOSEPH'S DAY

You know about St. Patrick's Day, but do you know about St. Joseph's Day?

This feast day is as important to Italians as St. Paddy's is to the Irish. In Italy, and in neighborhoods with a population of Italian Americans, people celebrate the patron saint of Sicily. There won't be any green beer, but there are special pastas, fish, sweets, baked breads, and fava beans. Some Italian Catholics will prepare a St. Joseph's table, or Tavole di San Giuseppe, and provide a feast spread that is open to all. Special groups such as orphans, the elderly and the homeless are invited to attend. This is a day to remember the poor, so there will be no meat, and instead of cheese breadcrumbs are sprinkled over pasta. These traditions go back to the middle ages, when much of Sicily was wiped out by a famine. It is said that the humble fava bean helped them survive, and to this day favas will be included in the feast of St. Joseph.

zeppole

And of course zeppole. Don't forget the zeppole. A zeppola (plural zeppole, in southern dialects zeppoli) or St. Joseph's Day cake, also called sfinge and in Rome Bigne di San Giuseppe, is a delicious little fried pastry. They sell them on the streets of Rome, Naples, and Sicily. Sometimes they're filled with crema or custard. (Read about them here)

Italians in New Orleans celebrate St. Joseph's Day:


Like the Irish and St. Patrick's Day, this is a day for Italians to take pride in their culture and heritage. Even if you're not Italian, have something Italian today. Have a slice of pizza (invented in Naples) or some pasta (invented by the Romans) with a nice glass of chianti, or have a caffe latte (you guessed it) or maybe an ice cream (gelato was first created by the Sicilian-born Procopio dei Coltelli back to the 16th century). Won't you join me?

The Holy Trinity: Italian bread, Italian wine, and some extra virgin olive oil.

Oh, and use a fork. Knives go back to prehistoric times, but Catherine di Medici brought the first fork to France in 1533 when she married the future King Henry II. The French were slow to warm to the idea. She also influenced their cooking to a great degree by bringing a sophisticated palate and cuisine from Italy.

An Englishman named Thomas Coryate brought the first forks back to England after seeing them in Italy during his travels in 1608. The English ridiculed the forks as effeminate and unnecessary, and explained that they had two good hands to eat with. Gradually, they came around.

Finally, on a lighter note, everyone's favorite Italian American, Paulie Walnuts, comments on the Italian contribution to world cuisine. Ethnic pride? Fuggedaboudit.

SPRINGTIME IN ITALY

Oh, God. The weather forecast is predicting snow again...snow! We've already been dumped with more snow than I can ever remember in one year in the Pacific Northwest, and now it's a week into March and we're in for more snow! We can't wait for springtime when we'll be traveling in Italy.

We'll be leaving our rain barrels and snow shovels behind. We'll be visiting the lakes, the mountains...climbing the goat trails of Cinque Terre, getting lost in Venice, sipping wine in Tuscany, dodging Vespas in Rome.


The history of Rome is fascinating. If you've watched the HBO mini-series you know it was filled with empire and intrigue and conquest and bare breasts. Plenty of bare breasts. But that wasn't the entire story.

To help us navigate the labyrinth of Roman History, we've enlisted the help of an old friend, Terry Jones. Terry is an historian, actor, screenwriter, comedian, director--and probably best known for being a member of the British comedy troupe Monty Python's Flying Circus. Here he gives is a little Roman history lesson.

THE SURPRISING HISTORY OF ROME

IT AIN'T THE OLIVE GARDEN

What's Italian? The Olive Garden? Chef Boy-r-dee? Everyone loves pizza, pasta and The Godfather. Maybe everyone's part Italian, but there's more to it than that, shidrool.

Here's an interview with professor Fred Gardaphé, director of Italian-American Studies at Stoney Brook. His books include Italian Signs, American Streets: The Evolution of Italian American Narrative; Moustache Pete is Dead!; Leaving Little Italy; and From Wiseguys to Wise Men: The Gangster and Italian American Masculinities.

Here Gardaphè comments on America's favorite Italian-Americans, The Sopranos.

Dr. Gardaphé's website: http://www.italianstudies.org/iam/

AN OLD MAN AND HIS GRANDSON

Domenico Ghirlandaio (1449-1494) was a brilliant Florentine artist who produced many finely detailed paintings and frescoes during the Renaissance. His real name, like the art he created, was grand and decorous and very Italian -- Domenico di Tommaso Curradi di Doffo Bigordi; "Ghirlandaio" was a nickname that meant "garland-maker" (his day job). Eventually he apprenticed with Alessio Baldovinetti.
Later, Ghirlandaio had apprentices of his own, including Michelangelo. The garland-maker continues to teach us today.