Sunday, November 4, 2012

The Hungry Dog goes to Italy: Rome

The Spanish Steps.
Part 1 of 3.

A few weeks ago, we returned from Italy, and since then I've been struggling to pull a post together. Returning to real life has been difficult. When something you've looked forward to for a long time is suddenly behind you, you have to readjust your mindset. Daily life can look pretty boring in the afterglow of a great trip.

While you wipe away your tears of sympathy, I'll fill you in on our travels. Of the three places we visited, Rome was our favorite.  I'd heard mixed things about the city--its detractors said it was crowded, hectic, loud, and dirty. Turns out those things don't bother me. In fact, I felt much more comfortable there than on the precious streets of Florence or in the idyllic hills of Chianti, where we were largely surrounded by wealthy tourists.

We stayed in Rome on both the front and back ends of our trip, in two different places. At the beginning, we stayed in Trastevere, a lively neighborhood packed with restaurants and shops. At the end, we stayed in a funny little hotel in the Trevi/Tridente area. Although the lodging was nothing special, the location was preferable, as it was within walking distance to lots of sites and accessible to the metro.

We did enjoy exploring Trastevere, though. Here's the view of the street below our apartment, which was located along the Tiber River. Vespas were everywhere and everyone was riding them! Women in skirts and high heels. Little kids with their schools bags clinging to their parents' backs. Men in suits.


Next door to our place was a little grocery store which kept us in espresso, wine, bread, meats, and cheeses. Here's the front window.


Our first major site-seeing was the Vatican museum, which we found impressive (did you know they have a  modern art collection, including works by Salvadore Dali?) but also upsetting. The museum is filled with art and antiquities worth hundreds of millions of dollars and everywhere is gold and marble. Meanwhile, out front, old women are literally begging for crumbs, change, anything. Am I the only one that thinks there's something wrong with this picture?

Social injustices aside, the Vatican does have at least one thing going for it even to an atheist like me: the Sistine Chapel. I wish I could show you some pictures, but you're not allowed to take any. You're also not supposed to speak inside the chapel, but of course people do, so mostly what you hear are peevish guards hush-shouting, "SSHHHH. QUIET PLEASE." It was not lost on me that they assume the rude talkers are English speakers, which seems to be unfortunately accurate.

Here's the front of the Vatican museum. Not too shabby.


Our next order of business was the Spanish Steps (pictured at the top of this post), which we loved, and the nearby Trevi Fountain. Though packed with tourists, the fountain was an undisputed favorite for both of us.

It's HUGE.


Here's a closeup.


Rome has fountains everywhere. It was one of the things I discovered I loved most about the city--how many there were, how beautiful I found them, and how well they have survived.   In Piazza Navona, there are three fountains, the most famous of which is the Fountain of Four Rivers by Bernini. Not a great picture, but this is a view from one side.


We also greatly enjoyed the Pantheon. Did you know that when it rains, the water that comes in through the 27-foot oculus drains quickly through tiny holes drilled into the slightly slanted floor? That's some crafty design work.

It was hard to get a shot of the front of the temple...it's just so enormous. That, combined with my well-established mediocre photography skills, resulted in this being my "best" shot. Sorry.


The Colosseum, Roman Forum, and Palatine Hill were also among the highlights of Rome. No matter how many photographs I've seen of these sites, seeing them in person is overwhelming. Although much of the original architecture is gone, it's incredible to see how much remains, in spite of the effects of time, wars, pillaging, people, pollution, and natural disasters.


Here's the floor of the Colosseum, where they kept wild animals and gladiators.


 Constantine's Arch.


 Roman Forum.


And here's a small thing I liked: Throughout the city, there are water fountains from which you can drink clean spring water. Like much of what the ancient Romans built, they continue to endure. We came across this one on Palatine Hill and filled up our bottle.


Sightseeing makes you feel like you've accomplished something, but to me, one of the best things about traveling is just wandering. We walked and walked and walked, because we like to, and because taxis are not easy to come by, and because the metro is limited. Plus, when you're eating multiple plates of pasta each day, plus gelato, plus wine at lunch and dinner, plus balls of mozzarella the size of your fist, you'd better walk so you can fit into the airplane seat on the way home.

We walked down little alleys, where we saw restaurants on every corner, preparing for patrons.


And chestnut roasting stations.


Beautiful buildings at every turn.


We walked to Campo di Fiori, a big piazza lined with restaurants and shops and filled with merchants selling flowers, pastas, wine, and cheese.


We discovered the smaller Piazza Farnese, where we stopped for prosecco and snacks one day. Pretty much everywhere we went, we found that when you order a couple of drinks, they bring out a stream of complimentary snacks. At Cafe Farnese, where we stopped to rest our feet and people-watch one afternoon, we got potato chips (a surprising Italian staple)...


 Arancini (fried risotto balls stuffed with mozzarella)...


Mixed bruschetta...

And little sandwiches.


People have asked us what was the best thing we ate on our trip. Let me tell you: the food was good everywhere, at fancy places, holes in the wall, odd little sandwich shops. On this trip, I confirmed what I long suspected: Italians have the best food. French people, Chinese people, Spanish people--you put up a good fight but you can't compete with the Italians. As someone without a speck of Italian blood, I feel I can say this without bias.

One day, for lunch at a plain old restaurant we stumbled upon, I had radicchio involtini stuffed with ham and smoked mozzarella.


 Followed by spaghetti with tuna amatriciana.


While the husband started with tomato and mozzarella salad.


And then rice and mussels.


Then espresso.


We had a standout dinner at a Sicilian restaurant called Le Gensola--so delicious that at the end of our meal, we made a reservation for the following night. Over the two nights, we shared, among other things, swordfish involtini with eggplant caponata; ravioli with sea bass, grey mullet roe, and sage; tagliolini with porcini and shrimp; and tuna polpettini with tomatoes.  We also had an excellent meal at Il Gabriello,  where I had the best rigatoni carbonara, period. We also tried grappa for the first time, which the husband declared could power a lawn mower.

Throughout our trip, we embraced a common practice of something the Italians actually call Happy Hour. This usually entails paying a modest fee for one drink and lots of snacks. Our last night in Rome, we made our way off the beaten path to Gusto, a wine bar frequented by locals after work. For 12 euros, you could have one drink of any sort and unlimited access to their buffet. At home, I hear "unlimited buffet" and I head in the opposite direction, picturing warming trays, that weird sterno smell, and desiccated food I probably didn't want to begin with. At Gusto, I sipped my Aperol spritz and ate fried Castelvetrano olives stuffed with mozzarella, arancini, grilled eggplant and zucchini, farfalle with cherry tomatoes, artichoke frittata, and couscous with chicken. Happy Hour indeed!

We had some great pizza in Rome. Among the best was at a little shop near the Vatican that my brother-in-law recommended called Bonci's. You walk in, point to what and how much you want, which they then cut with scissors. You can get as many kinds as you like. They weigh the pizza, throw it all in the oven, and when your order is up, you stand outside and eat. While we were there, we saw businessmen, police officers, and any number of locals stop in for a quick lunch.

We also had some good pizza at Obika, a mozzarella bar. We had eaten there once before for dinner (prosciutto with burrata; arugula with bresaola, cherry tomatoes, arugula, and fennel; and pasta with smoked swordfish, buffalo ricotta, and hazelnuts) and it was good enough to fit the bill for a late lunch one day when we found ourselves in Campo di Fiori again.

Pizza with prosciutto, arugula, and mozzarella.


On our very last day, we found a perch at the top of the Spanish Steps. There's a church up there.  It's very, very pretty.


But instead of going to the church, we went to a nearby bar, where we sat on a patio and looked down at the steps and all the people, just like us, enjoying this beautiful city on a warm October day.


 I drank my last Negroni for awhile.


I felt sad to leave, but I don't need to throw a coin into the Trevi Fountain to know I will return.

Rome at night.
Next, we went to Florence.

Saturday, September 29, 2012

A delicious and simple almond cake


Bring this to your next potluck: My cousin, Jen, brought this delicious almond cake to a little gathering we had not long ago and it was the hit of the party. It's super dense and sweet and almond-y and vanilla-y and you'd swear it has marzipan in it, but it doesn't. You could dress it up with a little chocolate sauce or whipped cream, or eat it with coffee for breakfast, which I did, happily.  Next time I'll throw some raspberries in. But just as written, it's a simple and delicious cake and there's a good chance you have all the ingredients on hand.

I underbaked mine a little--I took it out after 25 minutes and it really could have used another few. So, do as I say and not as I do--follow the recipe.

Almond Cake
1 1/2 c + 2 T sugar
3/4 c melted butter
2 eggs
1 t almond extract
1 1/2 t vanilla extract
1/2 t salt
1 1/2 c flour
2-3 T sliced or slivered almonds

Preheat oven to 350. Butter a 9" round cake pan or springform pan.

Blend 1 1/2 c sugar with melted butter. Whisk in eggs. Add extracts, then salt and flour. Spread batter (it will be thick) in pan. Sprinkle with remaining sugar and almonds. Bake for 30-35 minutes. Test after 30--cake should be just done, still gooey but no raw batter.

***

Ciao! We leave for Italy this week.  The husband and I are desperate for a vacation, it's been a year since we--or at least I--had a week off. And now, two! I intend to spend them eating, drinking wine, looking at art and ancient ruins, admiring the people, and practicing some pretty terrible Italian.

I hope to have some good photos and stories to share with you when I return, because goodness knows everyone wants to hear about someone else's vacation.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

The one where I discover tonkatsu


I've been in a major cooking rut the last few weeks. Months, really. There's no excuse for it, not with all the wonderful summer produce around. For some reason, I've been making the same things over and over again. The short list includes Chicky Teri, Spaghetti with Shrimp and Arugula, various pureed soups, and the assorted quickie dinners that are the best friend of the home cook: pan-roasted salmon with steamed green beans, grilled flank steak with romesco.

I did make one new, great roast chicken--a Spanish roast chicken, with chorizo and little potatoes--of which I neglected to take a single photo. That post will have to wait for the encore presentation. But overall, I've been relying on old recipes, whose grocery lists and directions are etched in my mind.

Finally, though, I felt like doing something new: tonkatsu.

Tonkatsu is the Japanese idea of Western food, according to this article. The Japanese enjoy these little breaded cutlets, dipped in tonkatsu sauce (reminiscent of BBQ sauce) in their Denny's restaurants and are often surprised when visiting the States to not see tonkatsu on the menu.

My friend Stacie posted about this awhile ago, and I often order it as part of bento boxes at Japanese restaurants. But somehow, I'd never made it on my own. Part of it was a faint resistance to breading and frying pork. Now, writing this, it seems like an absurd claim. But, also, tonkatsu ("ton" is pork, "katsu" is cutlet) is often pounded thin. I have no meat pounder. This always seemed an obstacle.

I overcame this so-called barrier to my tonkatsu enjoyment by placing each cutlet between two pieces of plastic wrap, then giving them some good whacks with my cast iron skillet. I wasn't able to get them too thin, but it helped. I think in the end, they were about 1/2" thick.

The recipe is simple. I actually combined, sort of, the directions in the links above and it all worked out just fine. I made four cutlets; we ate two four dinner and the next day, we had them for lunch. The husband's was packed tidily in a tupperware, snuggled between a scoop of rice and mound of bright green broccoli. I started to feel the need to buy some real bento boxes.

I think I can safely say the rut is over.

  
Tonkatsu
4 boneless pork chops, about 1/2"-3/4" thick
1 cup (more or less) panko
1/4 c. flour
1 egg, beaten
vegetable oil for frying
sliced green onions, optional

Tonkatsu sauce
1 T. soy sauce
2 T worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup ketchup
1 t. brown sugar
1 t. dijon mustard


Directions: Make tonkatsu sauce by whisking all ingredients together. Set aside.

Pound pork cutlets to desired thickness. Season both sides with salt and pepper.

Set up your assembly line: place flour on one plate, beaten egg in a shallow dish wide enough for dipping, and panko on a third plate. Heat enough oil to cover the bottom of a skillet (I used my non-stick) over medium heat.

While the oil is heating, prep cutlets: coat in flour, shaking off the excess; dip in egg (letting excess drip off); and roll in panko, pressing crumbs in. Place chops in pan. You should hear a sizzle, but be careful that the oil is not so hot that it will burn the panko before the pork is cooked. For my cutlets, which were medium-thick, they cooked a total of 8-9 minutes, flipping once, and were perfectly done. The thinner the cutlet, the quicker they'll cook.

When the cutlets are golden brown and crispy, remove to a plate lined with paper towels and let sit for a minute. Sprinkle with green onions and serve, with tonkatsu sauce on the side for dipping.