Vatican Sunshine
Taken August 2011 - San Pietro in Vaticano
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
The Sophisticated Palate of the Italian Bambino
Food is very important to Italian people. As is true for many other aspects of life in Italy, food is steeped in tradition. Certain things are eaten at certain times, and in certain ways. These unspoken rules are part of the way of life here. Breakfast is a cafe and a pastry (Eggs and toast for breakfast? Ha!). Lunch is between 12-3, and dinner is from 7 or 8 until 10. Try to eat in any quality Italian restaurant outside of those times and you will be out of luck! Dinner is several courses long, and choosing only one course for your meal with be met, almost surely, with annoyance and a dismissive look down the nose of any restaurant waitstaff. Certain shapes of pasta traditionally come paired with certain sauces, and are eaten in particular ways. For instance, I once asked for parmesan cheese to sprinkle over my penne arrabiata (penne with spicy tomato sauce) and was given a very questioning look by the waiter. The man at the next table, eating spaghetti pomodoro (spaghetti with tomato and basil sauce) was left with a pot of cheese when his meal was delivered. It was later explained to me by an Italian that this is just the way it is - no one eats cheese with arrabiata sauce. Just because. No matter the traditions, Italians take very great pride in the food of their country, and rightly so. I'd have to agree with them that it is some of the best in the world.
One tradition I've noticed here is that adults don't seem to feed their babies or children any differently than they feed themselves. While in the USA, any restaurant will have a seperate menu full of kid-friendly (usually quite unhealthy) options, the kids' menu does not exist here. No chicken fingers, no mac and cheese, and no corn dogs are to be found. From the time children are babies, their palates see more culinary action than I will admit mine ever has. Evidence of this is found in the baby food section of the supermarket:
One tradition I've noticed here is that adults don't seem to feed their babies or children any differently than they feed themselves. While in the USA, any restaurant will have a seperate menu full of kid-friendly (usually quite unhealthy) options, the kids' menu does not exist here. No chicken fingers, no mac and cheese, and no corn dogs are to be found. From the time children are babies, their palates see more culinary action than I will admit mine ever has. Evidence of this is found in the baby food section of the supermarket:
"I'll have the steak...and my infant will have the prosciutto with mixed cheeses, please."
A good selection: Trout, Horse, Mozzarella, and Emmenthal cheese
And my personal favorite of the bunch...rabbit.
I've also read, somewhere, that it is typical for baby foods to be mixed together with olive oil before feeding. Why? I have no idea. Some things I won't even begin to try to understand...
Monday, October 10, 2011
Victory!
Today's pre-lunch prosecco toast is brought to you by my brand new, hard earned and highly anticipated CARTA DI SOGGIORNO! Today, finally, we were victorious! We arrived this morning back at the Immigration Office of Rome (also affectionately known as the Seventh Circle of Hell) bright and early. We joined an already big, and growing by the minute, crowd of confused foreigners trying to get on with their business. We felt like seasoned pros at this point, and managed to avoid a few of the rookie pitfalls...no standing in the wrong "line," and no exploding Coca-Cola for me. An officer took my receipt and waved me in the general direction of an empty window to wait to be called. Two hours of waiting (and looking nervously around, trying to confirm we were standing in front of the correct empty window) later, a man appeared with a large stack of folders and began calling out names. I watched the first unlucky few, after having waited hours, get brusquely turned away for one technicality or another. Then they called my name. As I walked up toward the window, I could make out a large, fancy and official looking document with my picture on it - covered in every manner of fancy stamps and seals. Success! I signed quickly and hurried off with my document, suppressing fist pumps the whole way. To add icing to the cake, my papers listed my permit as Permanente - meaning it never expires, which means I walked away from Roma's immigration madhouse for the last time today. So, needless to say, if ever there was a time to drink before lunch, today was it! Cheers!
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