Food – Page 2 – Tales and Travel

Rambling along the Riviera

Emmy and Anne came to visit. They are sisters, my cousins whom I have not seen in too many years.

Emmy is a year older than Anne. Anne is 5 days older than I. As children, we saw each other frequently. With time and moves, all that changed. (Thank you, Emmy, for above photo. )

**And cousins now**: Anne, me and Emmy. We celebrated Derby Day with mint juleps.
As a young reporter I worked for the Louisville Courier-Journal and was assigned to cover the elegant Derby “balls.”

Neither cousin had been to my turf in southern France. I wanted to show them my favorites and the must-sees of the area. We were on the move during their week-long visit, rambling along the Riviera.

I asked them to send me impressions, comments, etc. after their return. Continue reading for photo highlights and their comments.

First stop was the old village of Roquebrune, a quick, but steep drive from my abode. Gorgeous views and an ancient olive tree.

We ventured up in the hills on day #2 of their visit, a stop for meditation and reflection at the place where my Bob’s ashes have been dispersed. Husband Bob and I were avid cyclists. He loved challenging climbs. We attacked this road and its numerous hairpin turns many times.

*Pilgrimage chapel along the road between Sospel and Moulinet where I dispersed Bob’s ashes.*

“I loved seeing the remote and serene place where you gave Bob a final resting place. What a beautiful place to commune with nature and to be part of a sacred pilgrimage like so many before us,” Anne said.

We were on the border with Italy. I felt they should have a taste of my preferred country, so we continued up the mountain and returned to the coast via Italy. Bob and I had cycled some – but not all of this terrain. It was a long, long way down.

Anne’s comment: “You complained about the day with the too long drive but that was one of my favorite days. You are a fearless driver! The hairpin turns, the cyclists, the sheer drop offs were terrifying to me but didn’t seem to faze you.” …Driving in the Mediterranean hinterland is not for the faint of heart.

Markets are de rigueur around here. The Saturday morning market in nearby Menton is enticing with clothes (Italian bargains) in addition to tempting produce. Cousins were impressed, and each found a garment souvenir. “The market in Menton was lots of fun,” noted Emmy.

A market of a different sort was also high on their list of favorites. Conad, an Italian supermarket on the border, is like no other, the antithesis of a sanitized, huge, beautiful American supermarket. It’s cluttered, chaotic, always crowded. French love the cheaper prices. I love the prices too, but mostly the crazy ambiance and the Italian products.

Patience and skill required to negotiate the aisles at Conad.

For Anne, this was her “upfront favorite experience… both disorienting and fascinating.” Emmy commented that she was glad she had the experience “in the store with anything and everything one might want. ” Pots and pans, socks and underwear, plants and flowers — all are stuffed in those narrow Conad aisles.

Outstanding art museums are a major attraction on the Riviera, including the Picasso museum in Antibes where I found lots of photo opps.

Miro sculpture on the terrace of the Picasso museum.

But for me the museum piece de resistance is the Fondation Maeght in St. Paul de Vence. On my first trip to the Riviera moons ago, I visited the Fondation. I was overwhelmed then and overjoyed recently with our visit. The art museum on a hill overlooking the medieval town features a superb collection of modern art including large sculptures in gardens and on terraces.

Alexander Calder sculpture in the garden.

Since we were in the area, we stopped to visit the Matisse chapel in nearby Vence. A nun inspired the artist to create the chapel whose vibrant colors are dazzling.

Emmy summed up her take on the trip: ” I loved each and every excursion. Was especially intrigued by Dolceacqua with its historic bridge and unique and ancient tunnel structure leading up to the castle. Loved the trip to Eze with its beautiful gardens perched on the hilltop.”

*Dolceaqua with its castle and ancient bridge*

Food is a travel highlight. My dear cousins are easy to please and liked everything. We avoided expensive eateries. Sitting outdoors at a Vence resto, Anne ordered coffee as her lunch beverage. I explained that in France coffee is a breakfast drink, definitely not ordered as liquid refreshment with a noon or evening meal. However, after the meal, a “petit ” espresso is in order. It was all in fun. One can drink whatever whenever, but I thought they should learn a bit about the local customs.

“One of my favorite moments was when I ordered coffee at lunch and you gave me a startled look and told me that was a gauche thing to do. Or perhaps I am gauche, your country bumpkin, too-American cousin! That struck me as so amusing, so familial in a way,” she recalled. BTW: Anne is delightful, definitely not gauche.

Because we were on the move, I did not prepare at- home dinners, except for their arrival, my all-time favorite, Shakshuka. Click for the recipe. I had made a rum carrot cake in advance of their arrival. We had a slice every day — too much and it wore thin (but not on the waistline). We never did finish it.

It was heartwarming, fun and gratifying to reunite with my cousins. A few months ago my nephew visited – his first time in Europe. We had a “blast.” Read about that adventure: Intro to Europe 101.

I hope all my kin will come back. And, so does Simba who bonded with Emmy.

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TODAY'S TASTE: Rum-soaked mangoes (a winner)

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Swedish holiday “orgy”

Following is a guest blog with photos by Swedish friend Lars who recently journeyed to his home country to celebrate his sister’s birthday. It was more than an over-the-top birthday party: the Julbord, a holiday overdose of food – and akvavit (a popular and strong Scandinavian spirit. See below for more on this beverage). The Julbord is a must at Christmas, but can be repeated during the festive season including on New Year’s Day. The eating can go on all day, Lars says. “It’s supposed to be drawn out. It’s an orgy. You need time to recover.” He recalls that housewives used to “slave for two weeks” to prepare the food, but many now celebrate in restaurants.

By Lars Sjöström

On the topic of Christmas food traditions, Sweden is in a league of its own when it comes to sheer opulence embodied in the institution of the Julbord, which is a king-sized jumbo version of the famous “smorgasbord” with extra bells and whistles and a bow on top.

The canonical way of eating your way through a Julbord is to start with a plate of cured salmon, several varieties of smoked salmon, and at least three — preferably 5-7 — different kinds of pickled herring , mackerel, smoked eel and various sauces eaten together with boiled potatoes and “special Christmas edition” crisp bread.

The first of several shots of akvavit is consumed in conjunction with communal singing of a snapsvisa — an often humorous ditty extolling the virtues of (heavy) drinking. There will be many more of these and they become naughtier as the evening progresses…

Next up is assembling a plateful of cold cuts, where the glazed ham is the centerpiece. There should be a minimum of ten, but usually many more different dishes ranging from sausages, patées and meats in jelly, to smoked reindeer and smoked lambs leg and whatever else is traditional in various parts of the country.

Another shot, another drinking song, and a swig of either Christmas ale or julmust, a nonalcoholic soft drink only available at Christmas time.

The third round consists of hot dishes, and here is where the famous Swedish meatballs enter the scene. There should also be tiny hot dogs made from premium ingredients, spare ribs, different kinds of stews often based on game such as deer, moose or reindeer. At this point vegetables like red, green and brown cabbage, cauliflower and Brussel sprouts are introduced.

Another shot, another song— you know the drill.

There is a cheese round, a dessert round and a Christmas sweets round, all with songs and shots.

If you are still able to function after all this, you can enjoy Julgröt — porridge made from rice boiled in milk and flavoured with cinnamon. There should be a single peeled almond hidden inside, and if you happen to find it, it will bring you luck in the new year.

Akvavit/Aquavit is a distilled spirit (at least 37.5 % in alcohol strength) produced in Scandinavia from grain or potatoes and flavoured with spices, especially caraway. Dill is also used in the Swedish version. The obligatory toast, *Skål*, precedes each shot.

Happy New Year! Let’s hope that the devastating wars ragging in too many parts of the world will come to an end. I especially grieve for Gaza that has and continues to be destroyed by US bombs, with some 45,000 lives lost. This has to stop. Let’s try to be optimistic and hope that somehow sanity and morality will prevail in the U.S.

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FOOD: GLORIOUS CHRISTMAS FOOD

Forget the tree and presents. Of course, they are important. For foodies like me, however, it’s food that makes the holidays especially tantalizing, delicious, rewarding.

*An overload of Christmas desserts in Portugal*.

Eggnog, Christmas cookies, fruit cake, turkey, standing rib roast and baked ham are among American holiday treats. What about other countries? What do their citizens savour during the holidays? I asked several non-American friends about their Christmas food traditions.

GERMANY : “It must always be fish on the 24^th,” says my German friend Andrea. She prefers salmon and roasted potatoes. Andrea, an excellent cook, seasons the fish with salt, pepper, rosemary, a bit of wine, and rubs it with oil, then roasts it. Delicious, and not a lot of work. Her father went for carp on Christmas Eve.

On the 25th, it’s venison goulash with priselbeeren (similar to cranberries) and dumplings for Andrea, husband Thiemo and her mother, Tekla. In many German households, roast goose is the Christmas highlight. When I lived in Germany, I tried it. Good, but tricky. It can easily dry out. The array of German holiday sweets is almost decadent: Stollen, homemade cookies galore, gorgeous cakes. Lebkuchen, a type of gingerbread cookie, are ubiquitous.

In FRANCE where I now live, the Christmas Eve Réveillon is the meal extraordinaire. It could begin with champagne and oysters, although these are popular throughout the holiday season. If not oysters, perhaps a mixture of shellfish or smoked salmon.

Foie gras is also de rigeur, although controversial. Geese or ducks are force -fed during the last weeks of their lives to yield extra-large livers.

I love animals, but I also love foie gras. Many years ago, for article research I spent a day working at a goose farm. The geese did not resist the force feeding. Their owner insisted it was not cruel. This was a beautiful farm. The geese were free ranging until their last days. However, not all geese and duck farms are like this.

The French love champagne and oysters during the festive season.

I even took a foie gras cooking course and learned to prepare the delicacy which I did for Christmas guests. Those days are over. Now I feel guilty eating foie gras, but I do indulge in a wee bit at Christmas.

Turkey, or another bird such as capon or guinea fowl, can take the spotlight at the Reveillon dinner. A Buche de Noel (Christmas log), a fancy cake in the shape of a log, caps off the meal.

In ITALY, Cinzia tells me, after midnight mass on the 24^th, all return home to open presents and enjoy Panettone, the Italian holiday cake, with a glass of sweet wine.

Cinzia loves her mother’s Christmas lasagna.

As in many countries, the customs can vary with regions. She hails from Piedmont, the north, where Christmas lunch on the 25^th is the major event. As this is Italy, there’s a pasta course which, at Christmas, is usually homemade stuffed pasta, such as tortellini or cannelloni. Her favorite is her mother’s lasagna. “Now people eat it all the time,” she says, but formerly it was reserved for Christmas and special occasions. Roasted lamb, beef or the holiday special, zampone (stuffed pig’s feet) follow the pasta.

For Cinzia, the Christmas meal represents “the fact of feeling part of a family which was there for you year after year, the (illusory) idea that, no matter what would come, every year the family tradition of eating what she was cooking would perpetuate, it’s about a sense of belonging and ‘safety'”

*Arabella (back to camera unfortunatley) leads her pupils in Christmas carols*

Like Cinzia, Italian Arabella says her favorite is Panettone. But, at her house the major feast is on Christmas Eve featuring some type of meat. That’s fine for her husband and daughter. But, she’s a vegetarian and will also prepare ravioli stuffed with spinach and ricotta. She is also a big fan of an Italian Christmas chocolate, Cri Cri, with hazelnuts and praline.

ROMANIA: Romanian Florin remembers childhood Christmases in his country where carnati (smoked sausage) is a holiday must. Preparation in country villages begins on December 18 when neighbors gather outdoors to kill a pig, then cover it with hay and set it afire. Gruseome! Florin even remembers killing the pig once. The cooked beast is divided into parts. All work together to turn out the tasty sausage.

Slaughtered pig is covered in hay and set afire.

Killing the pig is illegal today, but Florin says it probably continues in some areas. Those who are not up to the carnati labor, not to mention killing a pig, can purchase the ready-made sausage. Other Romanian Christmas musts are sarmale (stuffed cabbage) and cozona, a light “puffy” holiday bread.

PORTUGAL:“We eat a lot at Christmas and Easter, a lot of different things,” Portuguese Catarina says. “We have a full table of food. It’s too much. We don’t eat it all.” For Christmas Eve dinner, potatoes, carrots, the famous Bacalhau (boiled, dried salted cod), and more fill the table. Her favorite, however, follows the next day, roasted octopus at lunch. She hails from northern Portugal where roasted goat is also common on the 25th.

*Roast goat takes center stage on many a holiday table in Portugal.*

But it’s the desserts that shine – many, many different treats. She admits they are very rich and sweet, and she is not fond of all. “But I love to see and smell them. That’s Christmas.”

For Portuguese Christmas Eve: boiled cod and vegetables.

She’s right. It’s not just the taste, but the enticing aromas and beautiful presentations that enhance holiday food and make it special. And — friends and family. “Christmas is to be at the table with family,” Catarina adds. Enjoy.

Happy Holidays and Bon Appetit to all.

Scroll down for more holiday photos

I’m old and so is this treasured Christmas recipe. Long ago I clipped recipes from newspapers and magazines. This one is a winner. Read my scribbled notes. I always go for recipes with a bit of booze. Rum makes this cake.

*Smoked eel (exquisite) was a treat at one of my long-ago holiday dinner parties.*

*British friends brought “crackers” and hats to this holiday dinner years ago.*

Coming soon, a guest blog by Swedish friend Lars on the Julbord, “the king-sized jumbo version of the famous smorgasbord.” It’s a food orgy, a mind-boggling, lavish assortment of tastes -and plenty of vodka. Don’t miss it.

If not a Tales and Travel follower, please sign up here. Trust me. It’s safe. Your address is not shared.

Check out my tried and true recipes — keep scrolling down on a phone, or, if on a /PC or tablet, up to the column on right then down to “Recipes.” I will add new recipes soon.

Cooking with a View

This was a cooking class like no other –and I have been to many. The setting:
A precise row of seven white plastic tables and chairs on a terrace overlooking a sumptuous pool with the Mediterranean and the Italian town of San Remo below. Breathtaking. How was I supposed to concentrate on dicing garlic in this seductive ambiance? I wanted to stroll around, sink my feet into the thick grass blanketing the hillside, explore the gardens, take photos. A swim would have been a delight, too.

But we, myself and five others, came to conquer Indian cooking, that is several specialties of this spicy cuisine. We were at the home of Jeryl, the American founder of the Benvenuto Club of San Remo which sponsored the event.

Our teacher: energetic Asif who calls himself “Anglo, Afro, Asian.” He was born in Tanzania of Indian parents, but as a child moved with his family to England. He and his Italian wife Cinzia, a yoga and dance teacher, now live in Italy where they work together on events. He also teaches drums, in addition to “vegan cooking,” often with Cinzia.

The day began with chai, tasty tea with milk and the distinctive flavors of cinnamon and cardamom. “I will give you the skills, showing how to chop… We will move forward from there,” he said, as we enjoyed our morning chai.

Asif has “his history” tattooed on his arm. Ganesh on top with an African mask and the 99 names of Allah on lower arm. His heritage is Muslim, but he does not practice the religion.

“Cooking is smelling, tasting and feeling. Also, memory. Food creates memories.” As the day wore on, we did lots of tasting.

We prepared five different dishes, beginning with potato pakoras, a common street food in India, and tamarind chutney. Most were favorites of his “Mum, ” and he often referred to her techniques.

He mixed up the pakora batter using gram flour which is made from black chickpeas, and water, whisking until ribbons formed. He then added cumin and garam masala.

We each had a potato to peel and slice very thin. He demonstrated the way to position the knife, tip pointed downward. “Let the knife do the work.” My slices were not that skinny. I compared them to those of my friend Kate at the table next to me. Hers looked perfect. Damn.

Ludovica, center, and her mother Jeryl watch pakora preparation.

Asif heated a large frying pan half full with oil. “Don’t let it smoke,” he cautioned.

The fun, messy part –dipping each potato slice in the gooey batter to thoroughly coat. We used his batter to coat our slices, which also coated our hands, then one by one dropped the slices into the hot oil.

Make a double batch, he suggested. They are so good you will eat them as they are cooked. We couldn’t resist, taking one then another from the finished batch. When all were cooked, we moved on to tamarind chutney.

This requires a jar of concentrated tamarind paste, available in Asian stores. The prep is simple. Just add water, salt, sugar and chili powder to the paste in a pan and bring to simmer. Stir and taste until you have a perfect balance of sweet and sour. Here is where tasting is essential. You may need more sugar. You may want to turn up the heat (as in taste).

Before moving on to curry, we took a break to savor more pakoras with the chutney. The combo was a delicious hit with all.

Ginger and garlic are the base of curry, Asif told us. We had to dice both as well as an onion. He demonstrated nifty techniques to simplify the procedures. Sharp knives are essential. We had been told to bring chopping knives, a peeler and a large frying pan. He used his steel to fine tune our knives. Unfortunately, mine needed more serious sharpening. I’ll add that to my never-ending to-do list.

He emphasized the importance of a very fine (tiny) dice of garlic and ginger lest you come across a chunk when eating the curry. Again, Kate outdid me with miniscule bits of garlic and ginger. I was jealous. What is her secret?

She explained that her husband cooks and she does the prep. Dicing and slicing are tasks which she has perfected. I have never had the patience for perfection, nor did I think a piece of ginger or garlic would be so bad.

We each had a portable gas stove with one burner on our table. We were given pots to cook the curry which began with caramelizing the onions in oil. To prevent burning, small amounts of water were added as needed. Then came the ginger and garlic which cooked briefly before adding cut up tomatoes — and spices.

We had been given five small plastic bags, each containing a different spice: garam masala, coriander, cumin, basaar (an extra hot Pakistani curry powder) and turmeric.

“In Italian cooking you get amazing flavors with four ingredients. In Indian cooking you can use 13 or 14 different spices,” Asif noted.

After the curry mixture simmered for what seemed like a long time, chopped spinach and chickpeas were added for more simmering, this time with the pot lid on. Throughout the process, we tasted, ours and the curry of others. Seasoning was adjusted accordingly.

While the simmering continued, we struggled with chapatis (flatbread): mixing the dough, kneading until clumps formed, breaking off chunks, forming into small balls, and, with a rolling pin, flattening the balls into circles. Our dynamic teacher showed us an easy method to roll and obtain perfect circles. Kate mastered it. I failed. My chapati looked like amoeba on steroids.

Kate rolls dough. Mary flours her perfect circle chapati,

Asif then showed us how to cook the circles (or giant amoeba) in oil in our frying pans. He also prepared rice, sharing his secrets for a perfect result.

It had been a long day of cooking. We were hungry. We sat around a large round table and enjoyed our culinary creations: spinach and chickpea curry with rice and chapati. There were ample portions of curry to take home.

I was not the star of the class, but I had an enriching, delightful day. I picked up some helpful tips and relished the ambiance.

Back at home, since I am neither a vegan nor vegetarian, I added pieces of sauteed chicken breast to my curry mixture. Shame! It was tasty, and Asif was right. The curry tasted better the second day. The flavors of all those spices had mellowed

“Food to me is joy,” he said. “It brings smiles to people’s faces.”

We were all smiles after a fun day of learning, tasting, and eating, especially with that spectacular view for inspiration.

Cooks’ view: San Remo and the Mediterranean

For more recipes and how-to demos, see Asif and Cinzia on You Tube.

Another cooking adventure: Read about my experience at Cordon Bleu

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Check out my recipes here

Up on the farm

Way, way up: A precarious auto journey slowly, cautiously climbing a skinny, twisty road. We passed a few houses clinging to the hillsides, others hiding below the road down treacherously steep lanes. Lots of overgrown vegetation all around. More curves, hairpin turns, and more of each

This was rough, remote terrain in Italy’s Liguria region above the Mediterranean. I was driving, and hoping we would not meet a car coming in the opposite direction. I am not skilled at driving in reverse, and this road was barely wide enough for two vehicles. How much farther? I was nervous. Did we miss it?

Alas, a small sign. “ L’Oasi del Rossese,” our destination, an agriturismo above the town of Dolceacqua. Agriturismo is a combination of the word for “agriculture” and “tourism” in Italian. Agriturismi (plural) offer farm stay vacations and are very popular in Italy. In addition to lodging, most offer meals featuring local specialties, often made with products from the farm.

Farm hostess Marinella greeted us and showed us to our rooms. My brother Steve and sister-in-law Yoshie from Colorado were with us. First order of business was a welcome coffee and cookies on the terrace overlooking deep green valleys, mountains and the Mediterranean in the distance. Sadly, we had no sun to enhance the views. Even with overcast clouds, it was splendid.

We heard English at a long table under a wall of balloons. A group was celebrating a birthday. I got up to take a photo and one of the gentlemen stopped me. “I think I know you. Are you a member of BA (British Association of Menton)”? Yes. We sat with Wayne and his wife Veronique, who was celebrating her 60^th birthday, at a BA luncheon not long ago. It was Veronique who told me about this agriturismo. They have a farm nearby.

Marinella, husband Nino and son Stefano harvest grapes and olives on their 7,000 square meters of terrain. The main farm product is wine, Rossese, hence the name, Oasis of Rossese, the noted red wine of Dolceacqua which we enjoyed with dinner.

Nino, Jordan (named after Michael Jordan), Stefano and Marinella.

We were hoping to see farm animals. Their livestock consists of chickens and rabbits. I did venture down to the chicken coop and rabbit hutch. The bunnies were big and beautiful. I hated to think of their future.

Rabbit, Coniglio alla Liguria, is a local special and often served here. Steve announced he would not eat it if it was to be our dinner. Luckily it was not, although I would have indulged. The French are also fond of rabbit, and I prepare it occasionally.

Yoshie and Steve hiked to the village of Perinaldo.

Food is a big attraction at agriturismi. Our dinner was a never-ending, multi course feast. Italian meals begin with antipasti. One after another, Marinella served us five different antipasti dishes: Tomatoes with fresh sheep cheese, a slice of bruschetta, a frittata of zucchini and peas, stuffed zucchini flowers, and a tasty a slice of torte made with tiny fish from the Med. This was followed by the pasta course, ravioli burro e salvia (ravioli stuffed with sage) – all homemade. Instead of rabbit, for the main course we had both roast pork and goat with fagioli (white beans). The latter was our favorite. Dessert: a strawberry tarte. Plus, a bottle of Rossese.

Rossese (red wine) display in Dolceacqua

Marinella cooks, all from scratch. Nino lends a hand, stuffing the ravioli. They have a large vegetable garden, in addition to the chickens and rabbits, to supply the products for her cooking. Stefano and Nino care for the grapevines and olive trees. Stefano also makes the wine. Their production of both olive oil and wine is limited. They only sell to guests and a few local clients.

“People are happy here,” said Marinella. She did admit that the first time is difficult due to the seemingly endless, challenging trek up the mountain. It is only seven kilometers, but they are long and very slow. Many French come for the day from Nice just to eat, she said. In August they have guests from Sweden, Denmark and Germany.

Agriturismo began in Italy in the 1960s when small farmers were struggling to make a profit. Some abandoned their farms and went off to work in cities. However, agricultural traditions are sacred in Italy. In 1973 an official agriturismo farmhouse designation was created to help prevent farmers from abandoning their farms, and to offer tourists a farm stay so they could learn about rural life.

In some regions, but not all, farmers need a license to take part in agriturismo. We have visited nearby Dolceacqua many times. Every time it seems there are more “agriturismo” signs on houses in the village. What do they have to do with farms and agriculture?

According to a spokesperson at the Dolceacqua tourist office, to be considered agriturismo they must show documents to prove they have land and crops. Of course, many may have such up in the hills. But all of them?

Marinella tells me that today many agriturismo are just Bed and Breakfast accommodations and have nothing to do with agriculture. I asked Arabella, my Italian friend with whom I study Italian.

“E una giungla,” (It’s a jungle), she explained. In Italian the expression refers to situations when laws are not respected, everyone does whatever he/she wishes … a bit like Italian drivers.

Agriturismo breakfast — Bob, me and Yoshie. No one looks very happy, but we were very happy. The farm and surroundings are a treat.

AZ Agrituristica, L’Oasi del Rossese de Zullo Stefano, Loc Morghe, 18035 Dolceacqua, Italy, Tel. xx 39 347 8821298.

http://www.agriturismo.farm/en/farm-holidays/liguria/loasi-del-rossese-dolceacqua/33419 Double rooms with breakfast, 60 euro per night. Multi course meal with wine, 30 euro per person.

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