POST LUGGAGE TRAUMA ALLOWS ME TO REALLY SEE TURIN

Warning:  Photos took forever to upload over here and my computer act very slowly and strangely. Spell-check on my blog highlights every word here, so is useless.  Forgive any mistakes and thanks.  

Apple fritters from Stefanone

Now that the luggage drama is over, I can hopefully settle down and get a better look at the city. I started this morning by going to my local cafe for a caffe latte, which they do differently than I've seen before. I was presented with a glass of hot, foamy milk with a tiny pitcher with a shot of espresso, which you pour into the milk.  My eye caught a scrumptuous looking croissant with chocolate strips baked into its puffy top. It was filled with a hazelnut crema--utterly obscene and completely irresistible.  One outside, I headed for the inside of the two churches flanking one end of the Piazza San Carlo  with my camera.  Chiesa San Carlo and Chiesa Santa Christina don't look anything alike despite the fact they are side-by-side.  Churches are always worth a look in Italy, mostly because they are fanciful, or opulent, or scary in their projection depending on your spiritual persuasion.  Their soaring spaces, generous use of marble, elaborate carving and competitively decorated side chapels are hardly tasteful, but that's the beauty of these amazing structures. Some have scary depictions of the Virgin swords plunged into her heart, such as the below.  Even crumbling churches in Italy inspire awe.


Circling over to the other side of the piazza I found Paissa, a store selling fancy packaged foods, wines, champagnes and spirits since 1884.  Everything is beautifully packaged and displayed and the staff is friendly and eager to please.  Around the corner, I was back on via Maria Vittoria, and stopped into Stefanone, an elegant small shop specializing in take-out foods.  I was able to talk to the chef, asking if I could take photos of the enticing foods on display.  We talked amiably as he described to me all the wonderful things the shop sells, such as

A chocolate croissant filled with hazelnut pastry cream.

  

I'm not Catholic and can't even begin to explain this.  

Some of the amazing foods found at Paissa

Chocolate confections at Paissa

The inner historical center of Turin has many of these retail arcades with soaring open areas completely enclosed and easy for shoppers to avoid the possibility of bad weather.

Christine invited me to lunch with her Parsifal, tenor Christopher Ventris, and Laurie Feldman, an American opera director who makes her home in Turin.  We ate at a restaurant specializing in deep fried foods, such as calamari, shrimp, zucchini blossoms, artichokes, etc.  You place your order and then eat your meal on benches with wire cones to hold the containers of cooked food.  They also sell beverages to go with your meal.  It was an unusual and tasty lunch. Afterwards, we decided to take in the sights at the Egyptian museum--the largest collection of Egyptian art and mummies outside of Cairo.  I found the museum a mixed bag of the bizarre--they have at least ten mummies, a mummy head, and they are just plain weird.  I don't get the mummy thing other than the odd fascination of seeing a completely dead but remarkably well preserved corpse with skin that is leathery and just plain strange.  The sarcophagus boxes held limited fascination, their heiroglyphics didn't capture my fancy, and the artifacts are just okay to these eyes.  The culture of the Pharoahs does little for me, and mostly I found the museum to be disappointingly musty. Christine however, loved all the sandals!

We had a 8:00 dinner.  Just down the street from her apartment is Trattoria La via del Sale, a place I had turned down the night before because it wasn't too busy.  I'm glad Christine suggested it, because our dinner there was not only delicious but fun.  She had invited another cast member to join us, and the baritone singing Amfortas in PARSIFAL, turned out to be a smart, funny, insightful dinner companion.  His name is Jochen Schmeckenbecher.  I had heard him in Philadelphia when Christine was singing Rosalinde in DIE FLEDERMAUS.  He is a very busy and in-demand German baritone--a fine singer and a good actor.  We hit it off, and had a fun evening eating good food (a delicious potato and anchovy salad with a parsley pesto for a first course, followed by gnocchi with cheese and cream, and then a rich braise of beef in red wine and lemon sorbetto for dessert).  Christine and I polished off a carafe of Barolo and I got lured into a grappa with Jochen (which I paid for with a nice hangover the next day).

  

Those are the Italian Alps that you see in the far background--an amazing sight on the city's horizon!

Saturday morning, I slept until nine--finally the jet lag is over.  After a leisurely morning, I met Christine at her apartment.  We were to meet Laurie plus Mark S. Doss, a baritone also singing in this Parsifal, and his lovely wife, Dawn, for lunch.  We meat at Dual--a very contemporary restaurant near the opera house.  Christine recommended the pizza, and in my case it was a red onion and gorgonzola pizza.  It was fantastic. 

After lunch we were to meet Laurie's husband, who is masterminding a big installation at the Palazzo Madama of a recreation of the first Italian Senate of 1871.  This was the famous senate created during the unification of Italy.  Giuseppe Verdi, the grand master of Italian opera was a member of that first senate.  We arrived at the Palazzo Madama, an imposing building on the same square as the Royal Place, home of the House of Savoy Kings and Queens of Italy.  Palazzo Madama is was created as a retreat for the dowager queens of Savoy.   by the Queen of Savoy. The installation, which opens in March is well underway with scaffolding supporting the recreation of the original senate hall.  The opera house's principal set designer is in charge of the physical recreation, while Laurie's husband is producing the event.  It was thrilling to see this production in its early state.  It looked like the creation of an opera house production and these pictures show just where the project stands at this point.  

Installation of the recreation of the first Italian Senate room during the unification of Italy in 1871.

Prior to this we were taken to the palazzo's tower where we enjoyed thrilling views of the city surrounded by the majestic Italian Alps.  The city is in a low valley surrounded on three sides by these huge mountain peaks. 

We later toured the museum, which houses a superb collection of art dating back to Renaissance Italy in the 14th century.  The museum was opened four years ago, and is quite beautiful.  They've restored the palace to it's original beauty, with new fabrics that recreate the orginals, restored ceiling paintings, and gilt plastering, and wall paint.  The museum's collection encompasses a vast array of paintings, sculpture, furniture, and household items such as silver and glass ware, a child's wagon, and other treasures. The top foor houses a stunning collection of pottery and porcelain objects, table settings, candelabra and other impressive decorative objects.  It was a very worthwhile visit and we later enjoyed a bicerin, a delicious drink of espresso chocolate and whipped cream after our tour.  This was a big highlight of my visit to Turin.  

This room is filled with these beautiful vitrines showing off the House of Savoy's bountiful collection of porcelain, pottery, silver and glass.  This "table top" comes from all over Italy with one display case filled with objects from Vienna.  You could set a proper table for a year and not use all of this stuff.  

A generous cup of bicerin, a locally created drink that combines chocolate, coffee and whipped cream. 

We enjoyed our bicerins in the palace's former vegetable "cellar" which is now a storing place for some of the palace's massive silver collection. 

The facade of the Palazzo Madama

This afternoon I'll see the final performance of this run of PARSIFAL and join the cast for a party at a local restaurant to celebrate the completion of a successful run. 

I can't believe tomorrow is my last day in Turin already!  Because of the difficulties getting to Turin, I had to sacrifice my plans to see Genoa.  But I'd love to come back here.  

TURIN; Day Three with the Diva

My adorable diva, Christine Goerke, who is killing them at the Teatro Reggio Torino, with an opulently sung and vividly acted Kundry in Wagner's final opera, PARSIFAL.  I have travelled widely to hear her perform in San Francisco, Seattle, at Tanglewood, Covent Garden in London, the Maggio Musicale in Florence, Santa Fe and of course, the Metropolitan Opera.  In my not-so-humble opinion, Christine is one of the most significant dramatic sopranos of her generation.  Her Wagner and Strauss heroines will take her all over the world. I'm happy to follow and be swept away by her gorgeous voice, riveting dramatic presence, and charmingly goofy sense of humor. 

When I bought my house in Portland, I ordered things from many national retailers with websites and the first thing I noticed was that with each purchase, came this needy survey, asking me if I was happy with the service, the items I purchased and the prompt delivery of such items, among other things.  This struck me as annoying.  If I was unhappy with a purchase, I would certainly let them know, but to beg for a compliment seemed the height of corporate PR hubris. Don't they realize that if a customer is truly unhappy, they will make their unhappiness known to them. Why do they need to take our money, but also be praised for giving us the service we pay for.  Seems very dumb to me.  All that "we're here to serve you," nonsense is pure hooey.   Today in my e-mail arrived a survey from Delta Airlines, apologizing to me for the "inconveniences" I suffered as a result of their incompetency.  Would I mind answering a few questions as to my satisfaction, or lack thereof, with the service I had received?  NOT AT ALL.  They asked me the airport where the problem started, was I satisfied or unsatisfied with the gate manager there, etc. Best of all there was a box for me to add any "extra" comments that might clarify matters for them in the future.  To say that I retrofitted them with a new corporate asshole in appropriately florid Gregory-style, is to put it mildly or bluntly, take your pick.  I challenged them to get the missing piece of luggage to me at my hotel before I returned to the states, and suggested they fire their ferociously mean gate manager, who verbally abused staff, which I thought was the reason my luggage got detained in the first place.  I also promised to follow up with more "suggestions" on how they might make me whole in the future.  I MEAN, REALLY!!!!

Two Pugliese farmers showing off their impressively large cabbages! (I'm not going there!)

Today, Christine Goerke, my hugely gifted soprano friend, and the reason I'm in Turin, took pity on me and on the day of a performance, insisted on taking me clothes shopping.  We found a few sweaters, some underwear and socks at Rinascente, a trendy department store here.  She then decided to walk me over to see the city's largest open-air market, and it was a revelation.  Rome may have the Campo dei Fiori; Florence, the Mercato Centrale; Barcelona the Bouqueria; and Nice, a spectacular open-air market, but none of them boast such a comprehensive and large a market that is both open-air, and in a series of buildings all spread out over a two or three block area.  I bought white socks and some t-shirts, a kilo of these adorable tiny oranges, and a jar of chestnut honey from the local vendors.  There were fruit and vegetable stands, cheese vendors, purveyors of salumeria, fish mongers, meat sellers (macelleria), bakers, stalls selling artisanal pastas, fresh and dried, dry goods sellers of kitchen, linen and various household products, and clothing, shoes and other leather goods, furniture, second hand fur coats, and all manner of of goods.  It was as colorful as it was vast, and we enjoyed an hour or walking up and down aisles, in and out of buildings.  I happily snapped photos, including two humorous vendors of enormous cabbages.  I shot one photo of the two men picked up one huge specimen and posed holding this green beast while they smiled for the pazzo American taking all these photos!

A fine selection of olives.

Rabbits and chickens and squabs, oh my! 

Parma ham (prosciutto), and salamis and wedges of Parmesano-Reggiano.  Such indulgence!

Miles and miles of verdure!

Pasta Fresca! 

The diva looking for oranges.

Pork--the other white meat!

From the local forno--breads, pizza, rolls, focaccia

We stopped at a favorite bakery of Christine's where we ate tiny circles of just fried mini-doughnuts sprinkled with sugar.  They were just made and still warm and each one was two bites. Heavenly. I bought  a small, flat, oval loaf of olive bread that was indescribably tender (and ideal for breakfast as I write this).  I brought the rest of it back to my room to snack on with the oranges.  Christine had to be at the theater by 4:00 PM to get into make-up and costumes and warm up in preparation for this Wagnerian marathon which lasts five hours (Wagner's operas are as windy as a Eugene O'Neill plays).  So we opted for an early lunch at a local place she was fond of and enjoyed a delicious plate of pasta (agnolotti for her; penne pomodoro for me; very thin slices of roast pork for both of us with side of cavalofiori (green cauliflower).  Like many Italian restaurants that are family run, there is a tendency to overcook vegetables and this was no exception. Still this three-course gem was 8.50 euros each. And I had a little half-jug of red wine. 

We never have winter markets like this in Portland or New York

Anchovies and jarred tuna packed in olive oil.

The variety of freshness of vegetables and fruits available to Italians is amazing.

So many cheeses, so little time!

Christine dropped me off at my corner, and I returned to the hotel for an eagerly anticipated nap. It was a kind of self-indulgent afternoon.  Before the nap, I walked around the neighborhood a bit more.  I needed a nail clipper, and started to look for a suitcase that seems obvious I will need.  I stopped at the corner coffee bar and had a "shakerato," a wonderful cool glass of espresso mixed with a little simple syrup (cooked water and sugar), then poured over ice and shaken until foamy and light and poured into a stem glass.  This elegant drink came with four tiny butter cookies, and I sat there reading my book until my yawning sent me back to the hotel for that self-promised nap.  


Two hours later, I woke up, and got dressed and as out the door to search for dinner.  Without my guidebooks and research done before leaving Portland, I had to now rely on instinct for dinner.  Tonight the search made for a long walk.  I had seen a tiny little trattoria about four blocks from the hotel and decided that where I would go.  But it was closed--apparently it only serves coffee and lunch.  Moving on, I found an attractive spot a few blocks away and after reading the menu, walked in.  The hostess was a bit tart, saying she could seat me, but I had to be gone in 45 minutes or suggesting that I come back an hour later because they were all booked.  There was something condescending in her manner, and I declined.  I walked over towards the opera house, and nothing appealed.  Doubling back, I ended up back in my piazza!  It was now 9:00 PM, and I was beginning to regret passing on that previous 9:00 offer.  In finally found a tiny spot in a side-street and sat down.  Another overly brightly lit space (Italians don't seem to be romantic about atmosphere in their restaurants--they are truly able to see the food on their plates--even in very contemporary settings.  The menu was fairly broad, with many pastas and main courses to choose.  I took a carafe of the house red wine and nibbled on some grissini while I figured out my dinner:  agnolotti with a meat sauce to start, and then a grilled paillard of chicken with rocket and lemon, and a green salad.  The meat-filled pasta was an indulgence sauced with a meat ragu, Parmesan and black pepper.  Then the chicken. Chicken always tastes superior in Europe to me.  The thinly pounded and grilled chicken breast is a modest main course. It came covered with fresh rocket (baby arugula) and needed only a fresh squeeze of lemon juice and black pepper to bring out its simple flavors. I decided to eat the salad on the same plate as my chicken, and the combination of slightly bitter escarole, more arugula, and raddichio with oil and vinegar was enhanced by the lemon and chicken jus left on my plate.  Okay, the pasta was rich, but I had been good in my choice of the chicken and salad.  I should have left well enough alone, but my waitress suggested panna cotta for dessert.  My resistence crumbled.  A minute later, she set before me a mound of panna cotta covered with a caramel sauce much like creme caramel--an unusual flourish to this essentially simple dessert.  I make panna cotta all the time at home, but this was something very special. Of course the cream they use is superior to the pasteurized thin dairy we get at home.  This panna cotta had a dense richness that was pleasant and not at all heavy.  Cooked cream indeed. The four course meal with wine and tip came to 30 euros.  


Again, I woke up at 5:30 and could not fall back to sleep.  Up 20 minutes later I was at the computer downloading photographs for this installment, eating oranges and olive bread.  It's now 7:30 and I'm off in search of some coffee.  I plan on a visit to the Egyptian museum today.  I'm told this is the largest collection of Egyptology outside of Cairo.  Ironic to be looking at this stuff today when Egypt is in such turmoil.  Christine is planning a dinner adventure for this evening.  Haven't heard back from Delta yet. No surprise there!

I would like to come back and see this charming piazza lit up at night with all these lights!

TURIN: Day Two and a Half

The Albergo San Carlo entrance in the heart of Turin's second largest piazaa.  Don't let the imposing facade fool you.  It is barely a three star hotel. 

Two cathedrals anchor one end of the Piazza San Carlo

My hotel is on the right side of this arcaded facade of the Piazza San Carlo

A wide view of the Piazza San Carlo

By the time I got to the hotel in Turin, it was 6:30 PM, nearly seven hours past my original arrival time.  My travel karma seems to be terrible these days. In more than 45 years of air travel, I’ve never lost a bag. I’ve heard horror stories from friends about this happening, but the worst suitcase issue was a late arriving bag, which was resolved in a few hours.  This time I think the bag is gone forever, and I have to buy clothing and a new suitcase while I’m here.

My hotel, the Alburgo San Carlo is located right in the heart of Turin’s historical center, in a large and imposing piazza, brilliantly lit at night.  It’s on the fourth four of a square of identical multi-story eighteenth century multi-purpose buildings that combine a large square of arcaded restaurants, coffee bars (very popular here), and retail shops on the main level with offices, hotels, and other businesses.  It’s a modest three-star hotel with few amenities, but it’s spotless.  My room is typical of the type.  It’s fairly large, with a big double-window that opens into the courtyard side of the building.  A massive, handsome antique armoire dominates one wall with an old fashioned walnut and antiqued brass embroidered twin beds and matching night stands with marble tops,  a tiny desk and a wood and upholstered arm-chair in one corner and a small mini-fridge to complete the décor. There’s wifi here, but I have to go to the lobby to use it!

The owner, who also lives here with his family (an adorable little boy, and a teenage son) has been most helpful in getting me settled, not an easy task with an exhausted hotel guest without luggage, lacking sleep, and new to a strange town.  In the midst of trying to send my friend Christine, a note telling her I was here, I had a honking nose-bleed!  I was terrified of bleeding over the last of my existing clothing.  The quick thinking of the owning saved me (there was a funny and touching moment, when his youngest son handed me his used tissue!).  He sent he to a local grocery store where I could stock up on the missing toiletries and some water.  And then he sent me to a local trattoria for a restorative Italian dinner.

Da Mauro, is a pleasantly old-fashioned, family-run restaurant a few blocks from the hotel. It’ one of those sprawling, overly-bright restaurants, with all three large dining rooms busy and bustling with weeknight diners (always a good sign).  The large menu offered familiar dishes from all over the country’s cuilinary map. I was starving.  I hadn’t eaten since ten this morning, and I quickly stumbled my way through the menu with my inept command of Italian with a pretty and efficient young waitress, who quickly figured out my requests with humor and warmth.  I would start with a dish of gnocchi Valdostano, braised rabbit and a mixed salad and a half battle of Barolo.  The restaurant was filled with locals, businessmen, couples, and a few lone diners such as myself. I brought along Ken Follett’s latest novel (more about that later) to keep me entertained and settled in anticipating a good dinner.  I wasn’t disappointed.  The gnocchi were tender and perfectly cooked and the sauced with rich heavy cream, Parmesan, thin strips of ham and freshly ground black pepper.  It was a lovely beginning, a nose-thumbing indulgence that made me laugh as I contemplated at least three days of being without my cholesterol medications, now lost with that missing suitcase!).  Next came a generous portion of tender, braised rabbit.  I still don’t understand Americans squeemishness about this wonderful meat.  Its mild taste is certainly reminiscent of chicken and it’s one of those lean meats you would think fat-obsessesed Americans would take to their hearts.  But no—visions of Thumper and Bugs Bunny keep intruding.  Their loss I’m afraid.  This dish was tasted of onion, carrot and celery and bay leaf.  It was served by itself on a plate (I rejected the roasted potatoes after the gnocchi), and it was just what the doctor ordered.  A mixed salad followed with escarole, Roma tomatoes, shredded carrot and thinly sliced fennel, all dressed with carafes of olive oil and happily, red wine vinegar (instead of the wearily familiar and, to those who know me well, unpleasantly sweet and pungent balsamic vinegar (which I prefer cooked in sauces, rather than raw on salads). The food, wine, finished with an aromatic espresso restored my good mood. It was a terrifically restorative meal for about $42. I headed out the door promising to return before my trip was over. 

Walking back to the hotel I noted many of the usual retails giants you fine in every city.  Hermes, Prada, Max Mara, Calvin Klein, Stuart Weitzman (yes, Maryann, you can buy his shoes here too). The old buildings are imposing.  I made a mental note to visit two churches, one truly massive, the next day.  I’ll go to see the Shroud of Turin and stop by the Egyptian museum as well. 

Back in the hotel, I found Christine has received my email, but I was really only interested in collapsing into bed.  Not even Ken Follet could keep me awake. I said a mental prayer for the return of my suitcase, and with the lights out, fell immediately and gratefully to sleep.

Ken Follett has often been a comfort to me in a crisis.  I was privileged to work with this talented and prolific popular writer through six of his novels beginning with his magnificent Pillars of the Earth.  I remember riding home on a Greyhound bus after a visit for my mother’s 70^th birthday in the wake of 9/11.  The only thing that made that 19-hour ordeal bearable was the entertaining distraction of reading Code to Zero.  I bought his latest, Fall of Giants last fall, read about 100 pages, and because of work and a hectic holiday season, put it down.  This trip offered the ideal time to finish this huge novel (nearly 1000 pages) and so far it’s been a grandly entertaining read.  The first in a projected three-volume work set against the epic events of the 20^th century, Follett ambitiously recreates the lives of several American and European families caught up the tumultuous months leading up to the onset of the First World War.  In short order, I’m about a third of the way through the book, and expect to be finished before I fly home.  But its hefty weight has led me to the decision to buy a Kindle when I return home! 

CHICKEN WINGS, ITALY AND THE PRESIDENT'S STATE OF THE UNION

Tailored Laurel Hedges

My heather has been obscured by Kyle's truck and my driveway is a wind-tunnel that gets clogged with leaves from everyone else's yard surrounding my house.  Here it looks relatively clean. 

This rosemary was a small pot last summer. It weathers our wet winters very well here.  

On the landing at the top of my stairs, the smells from my kitchen are at their most intense.  If I were to sell my house, I'd bake a loaf of bread and a batch of cookies just before an open house.  I would have multiple offers on the first day.  That is how intense the aroma can be and it is at its most intense when I'm cooking something Spanish or Indian.  On Thursday night, I made Susan Loomis' Curried Chicken Wings.  I found this wonderful recipe in her memoir, Cooking at Home on the Rue Tatin (Wm. Morrow), and a simpler recipe cannot be imagined.  For four servings, you place four pounds of chicken wings on a single layer on a baking sheet (lined with foil and then misted with cooking spray).  Season the wings with salt on both sides. In another bowl, you'll need one cup of full-fat plan yogurt, 2 tablespoons curry powder (she recommends Madras, which is my preferred mixture), and a good pinch of hot paprika.  You pour the mixture over the wings and with your hands make sure they wings are entirely coated.  Then bake them in a 375 degree oven for 50-60 minutes.  Loomis recipe calls for a hotter oven (475 degrees F), but it always burns the wings and I've turned the heat way down.  Maybe it is because I use Greek Yogurt.  In any event, the wings turn a heavenly shade of yellow/brown, and are intoxicatingly aromatic with the curry spice.  I serve them with tater tots from Trader Joe's and a big green salad. I never have leftovers, but the smell of the curry is in my house for at least a day afterwards, and as reported, most intense at the top of the stairs.

Lots of chores were on my list of things to get accomplished this weekend in preparation for my trip to Turin this coming Tuesday.  It's been three years since my last visit to Italy, and I'm very excited to hear my buddy Christine Goerke, who is in the midst of a five-performance run singing the leading soprano role of Kundry in Wagner's PARSIFAL.  It will also be my first trip to Turin and I'm going to spend a day in Genoa too.  So my plate was full:  a haircut, to the bank for Euros, shopping for groceries, drugstore for travel needs, and back in time for the gardening service to trim my enormous laurel hedges, which have grown more than two feet in the fourteen months since their last trim.  I've been putting out things to take with me for a week.  I'm determined to bring one small rolling bag and a backpack and that's it.

I really liked the President's State of the Union speech, which may not have pleased the pundits (head's up ladies and gentlemen of the blogosphere--it wasn't written for you), but it think it went a long way towards telling Americans that we need to get back to innovating, educating, and investing in our future. Not that Republicans would have it that way.  They are too busy being disrespectful as they attempt to repeal every Obama initiative coming out of the White House.  I didn't realize afterwards that CNN was the only network that ran Michelle Bachmann's insane response to the State of the Union.  With her graphs and her mashed truths, she looked more zombie-like than she did the night she won her election. If that's the future of America, INCLUDE ME OUT. I've had a belly-full of mouthy know-it-alls like the Tea Party and their Republican counterparts.  I'm just happy that the insanity at the heart of the Tea Party message will give the Republicans major headaches.  They deserve it.  

Saw Secretariat, the Disney biopic about this amazing Triple Crown winning thoroughbred--the last horse to win it nearly forty years ago.  It's a thrilling movie with a sensational cast, headed by the emotionally compelling Diane Lane, one of the most underrated actresses in films today.  James Cromwell, John Malkovich, Scott Glenn and others all contribute to this emotionally satisfying movie.  Old fashioned--yes, but this was a horse to root for and a story worth telling. It's a far better movie than Seabiscuit.

Will write more from the road.  Planning on taking lots of pictures to download this trip.

MY TREE IS STILL UP

Bay scallops, rice, and romaine and avocado salad

Bay scallops with grape tomatoes, artichoke hearts, garlic, leeks and scallions, thyme, 

red pepper flakes, salt and pepper

Week three of 2011 and my tree is still up.  So are the outdoor lights and all the decorations except the wreath on my door which was trashed yesterday.  I'm kinda drowning in this exciting new year.  I've got a second cookbook bestseller in less than two months that's taking up a lot of time, as well as working on several other cookbook promotions, new business proposals and planning a quick week's getaway on February 1st.  I'm off to Italy for a week. My buddy Christine is singing her first Kundry in Richard Wagner's epic opera, PARSIFAL. She'll be performing the role in Turin, an Italian city I've longed to see. I'll also get a day's trip to Genoa, another city on my must-see list.

Work on the basement has begun again.  Kyle has been filling cracks, framing out a closet, while a young laborer is helping with digging holes on the side of the house whenever it's not raining, and insulating the basement ceiling.  While the snow has been burying much of the country, we've had nothing but rain. There's hardly a day in the past three weeks that we haven't been rained on.  Beau has been missing his daily walks, and while he's always hated rain, he's learned that a quick visit to the back yard is often the only outing he'll get.  We got a walk in yesterday, and already you can see shoots coming out in the neighborhood gardens.  Crocus and daffodils will be out in a few weeks.  It's not cold.

A Pam Anderson recipe:  Italian sausages, cherry tomatoes, onions garlic, thyme, salt, pepper, and cannellini beans

But it does feel gray and still wintry, and I've been cooking food that makes us feel good.  On Saturday, I made a recipe from Pam Anderson's fine new cookbook, PERFECT ONE-DISH DINNERS.  Cassoulet-Style Italian Sausages and White Beans is a recipe guaranteed to keep winter at bay.  Cherry tomatoes, garlic, onions, thyme, salt and pepper are combined in one large roasting pan with the sausages and beans.  All it needed was a nice green salad.  The leftovers made a spectacular lunch. After all the beef and lamb of the holidays, it was a pleasure to tuck into a steaming dish of shrimp risotto.  I had some tomato sauce in the fridge and stirred a few tablespoons-full into the risotto which also had scallions, a few anchovies and lemon zest to brighten it's flavors.  Tonight I made my friend Sherri's fresh scallops with grape tomatoes, garlic, onions, white wine, vermouth and parsley.  I had some frozen artichoke hearts and a big leek, so they went in with some red pepper flakes.  You put it in a roasting pan and put it all in a very hot oven for about 12 minutes.  The recipe makes a wonderful sauce, perfect for dipping bread into. Another night of grilled salmon with a brush of Hoison sauce to glaze its surface, baked sweet potatoes, and a saute of zucchini, scallions and smoked hot paprika, made a trifecta of seafood dinners in one week.  


The news today that John Boehner had led the charge to repeal President Obama's healthcare bill which the Senate and the president supported was very dispiriting.  I don't subscribe to Washington's spineless retreat from in-yer-face politics to pious civility.  It's phony.  The whole republican congressional contingent is a disgrace.  Tea Party sympathizers, right wing nut jobs, so-called fiscal conservatives who waste money on wasteful expensive foreign wars, and legitimize their district's entitlements over healthcare for all Americans are liars and criminals. The can all shake their heads when one of their own takes a bullet from some nut job and try like hell to avoid the fact that they haven't done a think about our country porous borders. Why should they do anything?  I just don't understand why conservative republicans refuse to do anything for working Americans and worse, I don't understand why working Americans cannot see through their manipulative behavior.  Shame on Congress.  They grant themselves excellent health benefits and the hell with anyone else!  Time to hit the veto button, Mr. President.  an I hope he will continue to exercise his veto power as long as Republicans continue their insane policies while corporate America abandons pensions, and fires anyone over the age of 40 because they can, Wall Street wipes out American's 401K plans.  


I saw Condoleeza Rice say that our politicians are grappling with serious issues on TV tonight.  No they are not.  They are wasting our taxes and giving us virtually nothing in return.  Shame, shame, shame.

NEW YEAR MUSINGS

We were all well into our plates before I remembered to get this photo.  I never got one of of the gnocchi. 

But here is the other half that I froze for a future use.

A mixed berry Clfaoutis with raspberries, blueberries, cherries and strawberries

John's New Year's Git--a Red Anthirium

New Year's Eve is an evening I prefer to spend at home.  And home is where I stayed.  I invited John Baker and his friend Darren over for dinner.  John, who is a generous friend brought me a gorgeous anthirium plant.  I had gone to Gartner's, the famous Portland butcher (where I also purchased a whole, boneless smoked ham which was originally priced at $60 for nearly 10 pounds to $20.  I cut the ham in thirds, and froze two segments for entertaining later this winter. The other third had provided us with fillings for omelets, sandwiches and tonight's mac and cheese--see below),  and found a large thickly cut boneless chuck blade roast.  I decided to braise it from a recipe by Michele Scicolone, an Italian cookbook writer that I really admire.  The recipe, Beef in Barolo, is a simple, but deeply satisfying braise of wine, pancetta, carrots, celery, and onions. and long simmered on top of the stove.  The sauce is surprisingly fat-free, and makes a fine delicious on homemade gnocchi, which I served as a first course.  The meat was served with frozen peas that I sauteed in butter and added finely chopped scallions,  a mixed salad and a mixed berry clafoutis for dessert.  We washed it down with a bottle of sparkling rose brut from France.  A delicious way to usher in the new year, we enjoyed more wine and slept in the next day.

Marion Cunningham's fabulous Nutmeg Muffins

The next day I decided to bake nutmeg muffins--a wonderfully fragrant muffin from Marion Cunningham from her fabulous The Breakfast Book.  These muffins are the best I've ever eaten--they require one and a half whole nutmegs that you hand grate.  Kyle is not much for sweets for baked goods, and I had twelve of them.  Kent who came over to go to lunch later that week, was happy to take some of them from me.

The New Year started off slowly, but as of Monday, I was at my desk with requests pouring in for various things related to work projects, and a nagging problem begging for a solution was tugging at the back of my brain.  After the third hole was dug in the side of my house to be patched, I thought, well, that's three big patches, and no guarantee that the problems of leaks into the basement was solved.  What definitively was the state of my foundation?  What if it required a major repair?  And if so, why was I responsible?  Hadn't the previous owners lied about the water problems in the disclosure waiver they signed when I bought the house?  And why was the new basement foundation stripped all the way to the bare concrete if there were no water problems.  This I discovered when the woman who had built the addition to the house told me there had been a finished bedroom and bathroom in the basement.  No more.  I've been involved in the hell of getting that basement renovated since last summer and progress was at a standstill until the issue of the leaks became resolved.  I called the contractor who had installed the egress window and took the weight of the back of the house off the two wide windows that were illegally holding up the weight, installing king studs on either sides of the window as well as steel bars that would now bear the weight of the floor joists above them.  He recommended I speak to a specialist in foundations. I had already consulted with a foundation guy who specialized in vintage homes such as mine.  But this guy was an engineer, and his consultation would be a paid one.

Friday afternoon, Jay from Seismic Technologies arrived, and Kyle and I took him through the process that had taken us to this place. He startled me at once saying that my house was built in the late 20s, not in 1938, as the house was originally listed on the real estate statisics.  This will no mean that I'm going to to do a search through city records to confirm this. He based this on the quality of the cement.  He was full of praise for Kyle's solutions by digging deeply into the foundation, and repairing the cracks with cement and then hand-trowelling tar over the cement to give it a flexible and water-proof skin.  He prodded and poked the cement of the walls, checked for further leaks, found another weakness in the wall of the bathroom indicating a sink (gone before I moved in) may have contributed to the wall's weakness (moisture from continued splashing) and made recommendations for its repair.  He sourced the large crack in the walls of a closet from my side garden, and told me to find a device that could measure any changes over a year's period.  Kyle could decide the best way of dealing with any sealing of the interior walls.  He checked along the rose garden, prodding it's depths to make sure there wasn't a pipe underneath that might be causing any water problems.  In all he spent about and hour and a half evaluating the state of my foundation and I'm thrilled that he deemed it sound.  With a few more patch repairs to waterproof the side the house alongside the dog run, and some minor interior patching downstairs, and some fill-in work on the floor, my leaks would probably cease. This is fantastic news as I as becoming more and more frantic about the state of my house.  The renovation would have to be stopped.  I'd have to consider suing the previous owners, and where would that leave me in the future should I ever want to sell the house.  I couldn't pass on to future owners a mess that had been passed on to me through negligence.  Whoever buys this house from me, will certainly receive it in much better shape that I did.

Next week a water-proofing specialist is coming over to weigh in with his opinion.  I think I can finally put this behind me.  Which brings me to one of the biggest points about house renovation  Get an expert's opinion.  Everyone has an opinion and not necessarily a solution. One person who says use French drains, but they also require flushing out, not an easy task when they are buried below ground.  I've heard of drains being dug along the edge of all the basement walls to prevent water from moving in. Sump pumps, a new foundation and any number of other ideas, none of which make sense until you get the word from an expert. Be patient, and don't freak out (like I do) whenever something goes wrong.  Find the right expert to fix it.  I love Angie's List.  The guy with the most reviews, almost always gets my call. He or she has done the work the most.  Don't be afraid to ask an expert to explain something to you.  I've learned a ton about how water travels and seeks an outlet from experts.  Who knew?  Previously when the heating/air conditioning units in my apartment leaked, I called the super and yelled at him.  With a house I can only yell at myself.  My mother, who will be 80 next year, is furious with her condo management, who do nothing.  So she's decided the best thing for her is to sell her condo and buy a house.  I told her not to call me when something goes wrong.  I plan to sell this place in about eight or nine years and move back into an apartment--or assisted living, which ever comes first. I love my house, but it has caused me more than my fair share of stress and it is a money pit.

Saturday, Carol and Sara were guests for dinner.  I made marinated loin lamb chops in olive oil, lemon zest, freshly chopped rosemary, garlic squeezed through a press, salt, pepper and red pepper flakes. I grilled on them on each side on top of the stove in a heavy grill pan and put them in a hot oven to finish cooking. I also made roasted potatoes, Brussells sprouts, salad and raspberry sorbet for dessert.  Sara had brought chocolate covered almonds, which went wonderfully well with the sorbet.

This may be the funniest photo of Beau ever.  He had just polished off a lamb chop bone and was in nirvana, 

licking the dregs of raspberry sorbet!

Sara has developed a special bond with Beau.  She gathered up the empty sorbet dishes, and Beau liked them clean and then fell asleep in her arms.

 Beau relaxing after his dinner treats in the arms of his buddy, Sara.

My very adult mac 'n cheese. The recipe is adapted from a recipe by Sara Moulton

I had intended on taking down the Christmas tree and all the ornaments, but got side-tracked by other things, so I suspect I'll be doing that tomorrow evening. I made a rich, adult macaroni and cheese tonight with all the odds and ends of the cheese I had in the house from the holidays.  So I made a bechamel sauce adding pieces of ham, some dry mustard, and Worcestershire sauce and and a few shots of Tiger hot sauce.  I had a mixture of Pepperjack cheese, feta, Rogue blue cheese, and some mozzarella.  When this was melted into the bechamel,  mixed it with cooked penne, scattered Panko crumbs on top with some Pecorino-Romano cheese and baked it.  The combination was exceedingly rich--the ultimate Mac'n Cheese.

The big news this week is my last-minute decision to go to Turin, Italy on February 1st to see my buddy, Chrisitine Goerke, sing her first Kundry in Wagner's PARSIFAL at the opera house there on February 6th. I had all these frequent flyer miles and had been frustrated in planning two previous trips.  I've always wanted to go to Turin and to Genoa as well, and now I'll be able to do both.  Delta found the right flights and I found an affordable hotel, and I'm off.  I can now tick off two more Italian cities that I'll explore on food, by train and bus.