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Michael D Housewright
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The Essence of the Sea (Guest Post)

**The Blissful Adventurer is running about Italy at the moment so in his stead we happily endorse and support the work of the following blogger, Molly Elmore of Paprika & Pinot. Please check out this post, leave comments for exchange with the author, and give their blog a read.**

Molly Elmore of Paprika & Pinot is an avid lover of food and wine, and is especially interested in the synergy that is created when a great meal and a wonderful wine are enjoyed together.  She loves to cook and regularly writes about the meals she prepares and how they complement (or how they clash) with the wines she pairs with her dishes.  Most of Molly's vacations include trips to wine country she often recounts her exploits and adventures along the wine trail.

I grew up eating calamari quite often.  It was (and still is) a favorite dish of mine so my mother prepared it for me whenever I got to choose that we were having for winner.  Interestingly, I did not try deep-fried calamari, which seems to be a very popular way to enjoy this treat, until I was an adult.  While I really believe that frying can be a wonderful way to prepare some foods (like chicken) I am not a lover of fried seafood because I think that it masks the delicate flavors of the wonderful frutti de mar.


The Italian style of calamari that I grew up eating is a simple dish but it requires a good foundation in the form of homemade marinara sauce.  I have made my own tomato sauce since I was a kid and there are only a few basic rules.  Unless it is late summer, I recommend high quality canned tomatoes and a lot of brands fit this description.  Any Italian tomatoes from San Marzano and even domestic brands like Muir Glen will do.  I don’t use tomato paste, but my mother does, so you can decide for yourself if that adds a good flavor and texture.

My sauce is simple; heat a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil on medium low and add a finely minced garlic clove or two.  Once you can smell the garlic, add the tomatoes (don’t let the garlic burn).  Sometimes I want a chunky sauce and sometimes the recipe needs a smooth base, so that dictates if I use puree or diced tomatoes.  For my calamari dish, I used a one can of each.  Because I prefer my sauce to not be sweet, I cook it for a long time.  Sometimes I let it cook all day, and always for at least two hours if pressed for time.  You want it to gently simmer on medium low heat, and you should stir it every half hour or so.  If you plan to cook it low and slow for a long time, you may need to add some water so that it does not get too thick.  I added a generous pinch of dried oregano after the sauce reached a simmer.

Calamari from the store comes cleaned or straight from the sea.  There is quite a bit of work involved in cleaning squid but it saves quite a bit of money if you have time to do this yourself.  Once cleaned, I like to cut the main body into large rings, and leave the tentacles whole.  Squid, like many shellfish, needs to be just cooked through or it will become tough and rubbery.  I added the cleaned and cut calamari to the pot of sauce and let it simmer for about 20 minutes.   This dish is wonderful on its own in a big bowl with a huge chunk of crusty bread.  However, my husband cannot have gluten I opted to serve this over GF pasta.  I finished the dish with minced Italian flat leaf parsley.

This dish would pair very nicely with a crisp white wine, however, I wanted to explore pairing seafood with red wine.  I selected a Cannonau from the island of Sardinia and it was a lovely complement to the calamari.  Cannonau is known as Grenache in France and Garnacha in Spain, however, this bottle was much lighter in body than other Grenache based wines that I have had.  It has a very unique nose, almost a little musty and earthy, but it was a wonderful wine for a marinara based seafood fish.

tags: @blissadventure, Europe, food, Images, italian, Italy, Travel, wine
categories: Drinking, Dining, Food Travel, Italy
Thursday 05.10.12
Posted by Sarah Finger
 

True Italy Stories - Out of Gas in Puglia (Part 4)

Dear Readers I am posting from the plane over the Atlantic :-) Here is part 4 of the day the disco broke down

Exhausted, nauseated, and suffering from a sudden case of cat shat fever our group of weary birthday revelers had made it to and from Lecce, eaten like queens, and now roamed the industrial back-streets of Monopoli in a scorching summer sun in order to return home to prepare for one of Puglia's, if not Italy's, greatest dinners (and values) at the gem of Triggianello: Braceria da Matteo.

Puglia is home to a great dining institution called Il Fornello, which is basically a butcher shop where you select your cuts of meat and they actually grill your selection for you while you wait or more commonly these days, you actually sit and enjoy the meat at very spartan tables along with some simple sides and very pedestrian local wines. The Braceria da Matteo in the bustling hamlet of Triggianello (population approx.200) takes the fornello concept to new heights and I will offer a detailed full review of the experience in a future blog as we will never make it to the disco breakdown if I start going on and on about one of my favorite dining experiences on the planet.

After some quality time in the shower while the office cat relaxed in the bidet, I was getting closer to ready for dinner. We all climbed in the trusty van and zoomed along the ridge-line towards Conversano from Monopoli which is a stunning drive featuring rolling elevation changes, ancient olive trees, nearly abandoned dwellings that appear to have simply emerged from the limestone, and sweeping vistas that indicate just how special the rustic beauty of this landscape can be if you simply go 10 minutes from the city centers. We arrived in Triggianello and as usual we were greeted by small groups of locals sitting in front of pale yellow and orange 19th century homes relaxing in lawn chairs and gossiping incessantly staring at our van and group of travelers like we were Cortes landing for the first time on the shores of the Yucatan. Within a few seconds we rounded one last blind corner and before our wandering eyes did appear, the bright lights of Da Matteo and their kegs of artisan beer. Triggianello basically has one square and old Matteo (an awesome Italian dude with an equally cool family) owns the Pizzeria and the Braceria both bearing the da Matteo moniker. We parked the van (in front of someone's house I am sure) and walked slowly, being drawn by the glow of the outdoor facing jewelry case of meat as if it was the Eye of Sauron. We all knew this birthday party was about to get right in a hurry.

Dinner was simply gorgeous and although I ate much less than my normal intake at Da Matteo due to lingering Lecce fatigue, I still did my best to recharge for the coming disco experience with a couple of pints of great beer (Italy has really jumped on the craft brew bandwagon and you know when it comes to food or wine, the Italians never take it lightly and they are crafting some killer stuff) some unbelievable carpaccio, and the best grilled meats this side of Brazil.

tags: @blissadventure, adventure, Audi A4, beach, birthday, Capitolo, disco, Douche Bag, foodies, Havana Club, humor, Images, italian, Italy, Juliet Housewright, Lecce, Michael Housewright, Mojito, Monopoli, Photography, Prosecco, Puglia, SS16, the blissful adventurer, Travel, wine
Wednesday 05.09.12
Posted by Sarah Finger
 

How to Travel Vicariously: A Provençal Experience (Guest Post)

**The Blissful Adventurer is running about Italy at the moment so in his stead we happily endorse and support the work of the following blogger, Come Due Maiali ("Like Two Pigs"). Please check out this post, leave comments for exchange with the author, and give their blog a read.**

Two Pigs know a thing or two about bliss (hint: it involves eating and rolling around). They are friends of The Blissful Adventurer from the degenerate Austin days filled with fabulous cooking, eating and drinking (you will have to ask him about that sometime), and they will do their best to keep you amused in his absence. They are: a Russian-born princess that accidentally got turned into a piglet, and her ready-for-anything cutie husband (who, naturally, suffered the same fate).


As the Blissful Adventurer is currently blissed out somewhere in Italy, the Two Pigs are here to teach you how to convert your travel envy into something positive. In traveling vicariously, they want you to use more senses than just your sight, and do more than just drool over pictures. The only way to experience something is to live it, and it is more about the “how”, and less about the “what” and the “where”.

We have just returned from a fabulous trip to Provence, and we invite you to see the Provençal way of life through your own eyes, not just through our eyes. I could just taunt you with the pictures (well, I am going to do that anyway ).

As the Provençal proverb goes, “Slow in the mornings, and not too fast in the afternoons”, set aside two hours, during which you will not worry about your appointment, the latest FB update from somebody you barely know, or your favorite TV show.

Turn off your computer and cell phone (and obviously, your television). Invite someone whose company you enjoy to join you. That is all you will need.


Set up outside (on the back porch, backyard, or in a park) on a sunny day. The French have a fascination, almost a pre-occupation, with eating outside, and they are not discouraged even by the Mistral, the soul-chilling Provençal wind that blows away roofs and small animals.

Prepare for a leisurely multicourse experience. No wolfing down one plate of even very delicious gourmet food in 10 minutes. Remember, this is about the “how”.

Before anything happens, have an aperitif (kir or pastis) to prepare your body and most importantly, the mind for the luxurious experience.  Get a carafe of mineral or regular tap water (known in France as “Chateau Robinet”(“Chateau Tap”).

Start with an entrée (“appetizer” in French, isn’t that funny): tapenade (an olive spread), a few slices of sausage, young asparagus from the market, and some good peppery olive oil with rustic or sourdough bread. Even though the French have the highest butter consumption in the world, butter is more typical of the North, while the South (and especially Provence) is truly olive oil country.

Your taste buds are starting to wake up.

Wine: your favorite red, white, or rose; we are going for something lighter, with some acidity. Right now, the south of France happens to be one of the most exciting wine-making areas in the world, as they embrace higher standards and work to change the stereotype of rustic, boozy wines. Producers such as Chateau Simone, Domaines Hauvette, Trevallon, Richaume are making stunning elegant and perfumy wines. But I digress…

Follow this up with a rustic salad, such as Niçoise, or a roast chicken with fried potatoes (or you could try making mashed potatoes the Provencal way, with olive oil instead of butter). Or maybe a piece of fish on a bed of primeurs (early spring vegetables) au pistou (the Provençal version of pesto, sans pinenuts)?

A cheese plate (a fresh goat cheese and an aged cow’s milk cheese for a nice contrast, perhaps?) Try a couple of cheeses you have not had before (they do not have to be stinky or blue).

A dessert of any kind (a plate of cookies, a piece of fruit), or if you are ambitious, possibilities are truly endless.

Finish with a coffee, or tea.

Close your eyes for a few seconds…

To quote Julia Child who spent ample time in Provence, “we should enjoy food and have fun. It is one of the simplest and nicest pleasures in life."

Cheers,

CDM for the Blissful Adventurer

tags: @blissadventure, Europe, food, Images, Photography, the blissful adventurer, Travel, wine
Tuesday 05.08.12
Posted by Sarah Finger
 

Haiku Sunday - When in Rome

The final Haiku Sunday before our departure tomorrow. I am in the midst of packing and could not help but play these memories of my beloved Rome for you guys today. I look forward to your comments as I fill the camera bag and suitcases for our big return to Italy. Happy Haiku Sunday!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What are you looking

at, she thought as she lit her

smoke. Get out my face!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This aint no postcard

no animals were harmed in

making this film

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Young lust publicly

viewed by many to be too much

isn't it better to touch?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

excuse me sir, said

the server as he floated

about the diner

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a walk along roads

much older than most reveals

so little about man

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Athena always hates

the last hour before bedtime

she sometimes cries alone

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dante often tires

of hearing so much latin and greek

this is Italy damnit!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wedding cake icing

never tastes very good nor

makes one feel sated

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

eyes have a way of

telling stories that perhaps

even the mind does not

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A warm night stroll is

the impetus for choosing

this image of the Tiber

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Roman eyes are

smiling all the world is

subjugated

Marion, how do

you suppose these little men

drive these teeny cars?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

she laid flowers at

the foot of the dead world just

before her night prayers

tags: @blissadventure, adventure, art, blogging, Haiku, humor, Images, Juliet Housewright, Michael Housewright, Photography, poetry, resurrection, Rome, stories, the blissful adventurer, tragedy, Travel, wit
Sunday 05.06.12
Posted by Sarah Finger
 

True Italy Stories - Out of Gas in Puglia (Part 3)

Now comes part 3 of the story.  This is my little depiction of life in Puglia, Italy. I mean this is what life is about for me.

AWAY WE GO-----

The food at Alle due Corti is simply sublime.  Ciceri e Tria is basically one part hand-rolled  pasta made into a stretched and imperfectly alternating fat and short noodle that is boiled in salted water like any other pasta then tossed together with one part of the same type of pasta that has been pan-fried in olive oil. This amazing juxtaposition of textures is then combined with a very simple sauce of chickpeas and a bit of garlic.

This dish is rustic beyond reproach and at the same time there is very little pasta I would take in its stead. There is an obvious umami component in the balance of natural acidity in the oil, the salty gritty taste of al dente cooked chickpeas, and the simply perfect crunch, then squish, then crunch again of the unique pasta itself.

The lady that runs the joint has clearly spent way more time in the kitchen than on the decor, and if that stops you from being interested in dining here, please do us all a favor and don't travel south of Rome because the only Michelin stars in this part of the world are the tires of some Cretinocicleta (douche bag Ducati and creative license with the Italian)  that is parked in front of the ROMA 2000 bar in Monopoli while the owner preens about in "that" jacket and "that" haircut spending daddy's money and taking up sidewalk space otherwise used by working people and families.

Puglia is not for the Italy novice. People do not speak much English, and sometimes not much Italian either.  One of my colleagues who works for an authentic tour operator in Puglia recently had a client engage her in the following dialog at the end of the orientation chat she gives all her guests:

Client: so what language do they speak here in Puglia?

Colleague: You mean what is the local dialect?

Client: No, what is the day-to-day spoken language in this region?

Colleague: (sheepishly with surprise) Italian

Client: (without acknowledgement of the information)  How would I ask for still water at a restaurant here in Puglia?

Colleague: Acqua naturale...

Client: Oh, I thought I could simply just ask for Acqua con panna

Colleague: Well, that would actual mean, water with whipped cream

Client: Well, that is what it says on all the bottles of still water I drink here

 Colleague: (with growing indignation)I think that may be the brand of Italian water you are getting.

Client: I am reading a book right now about Campania (Italian region of Naples fame) and I heard they speak a Slavic language there.

Colleague: (trying hard not to be a bitch) Well, I am pretty sure they speak Italian there as well.

Client: In my book they speak a Slavic language in Campania.

Colleague: (no longer filtering ) Well, this is not Campania, this is Puglia.  They speak Italian here and if you ask for Acqua con Panna you will get really strange looks and likely a glass of water topped with whipped cream. If you have other questions please feel free to call me while you are on your bikes this week (not meaning a word of it).

So, if you did not know that Italian is the official language of Italy and that Acqua Panna is a brand of water; well, now you do.

So, completely stuffed and still sweating  from our pre-lunch sunshine hide and seek we left Alle due Corti with the usual pleasantries and promises of returning soon that always accompany an exit from any Italian building.  Basically if you do not say hello and goodbye when encountering Italian people in a shop, restaurant, jail cell, or drug deal gone bad, it is a crime worse than calling them a bum, calling their family useless, or spitting on a priest.  Do not, under any circumstances forget to say hi and bye to an Italian or you will get the stink-eye and be the butt of jokes and scandal for days, and possibly forever. I am not kidding, the difference between ciao and NO ciao could mean your longterm happiness in Italy.

I am almost always a bit annoyed with the first 15 minutes of any meal in Italy as it is clear the staff and owners usually believe I am just another nuisance to their already busy day and it is usually after several courses  and some decent wine are ordered that the restaurant folks are willing to let me into the outer circle of trust. This circle of trust can be a bit of a chess match to prove my worth, but by the time the meal is over, my appetite, curiosity, and deference to the genius of the cook has usually landed me at least a polite chat and a better than half-hearted smile on the way out the door.

We made our way through the empty streets of Lecce (this town is like Invasion of the Body Snatchers at lunchtime, I swear) for an Iced Almond Milk Coffee (Caffè in ghiaccio con latte di mandorla)  which is basically like a little espresso with a cold shot of sweetened almond milk that is stirred over ice.  This little sugary caffeine jolt is just what we needed to make the final rounds of Leccese architecture before we hit the train back to the office in Monopoli.

It was still ass-hot  and I was saying quiet prayers for the AC to be functional on the train. As we hustled back to the Lecce station my buddy's very pale head was taking on a noticeably pink hue.  The Ferrovie dello Stato(Italian train system) gods were with us, and the train car, while smelling vaguely of shit (shout out to David Mamet), was at least a comfortable climate controlled cabin for enjoying the occasional whiff of dook (pronounced Duke) on our 1 hour and 45 minute ride back to Monopoli.

We arrived back in Monopoli, still full from lunch, coffee, and a few sweets. We desperately needed "before birthday dinner and disco" naps.  Sadly, I will be the first to admit I am not good at all with walking directions, and my ineptitude reared its ugly head (again) at the worst possible moment as we made a series of wrong turns on our way from the Monopoli train station back to the office.

Meanwhile, my buddy's pink head was moving step by step towards Lobsterville until he eventually threatened a small bar owner with a vitriolic American moment if he did not sell us his last three waters, including one that was completely frozen. Lobsterhead wore the frozen bottle like a necklace for the next 2000 meters.

After a few more poor choices by yours truly we at long last, found the office. Tired, full, and weary from a day of decadence and wrong roads, we walked into the office and were greeted  immediately by a cat-shit surprise waiting just inside the office door in the makeshift litter box. The office cat is a subject for many chapters and I will leave it here for now saying simply, that outside of a mass grave at close range, I am pretty sure warm cat shit is the worst smell on planet Earth, and when one is right on the border of heat exhaustion and the natural tendency for nausea that goes with that, a furry feline fecal deposit is not a warm welcome (pun completely intended) especially when the office team was waiting for us, smiled, and asked "Are you guys excited about dinner?"

(to be continued)

tags: @blissadventure, adventure, Caffè in ghiaccio con latte di mandorla, Campania, Cantele, Cat, Ciceri e Tria, Europe, Ferrovie, food, food porn, foodies, Images, italian, Italian Trains, Italy, Juliet Housewright, Lecce, Michael Housewright, Monopoli, Photography, Puglia, Southern Italy, stories, the blissful adventurer, Travel, wine
Saturday 05.05.12
Posted by Sarah Finger
 
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