**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, Conor Bofin of One Man's Meat. Please check out this post, leave comments for exchange with the author, and give their blog a read.**

I am posting here with Michael because it is an excellent thing to do. It is one small way of giving something back to my Irish Italian friends and another small step on the road to getting Michael and his wife over here to Ireland (with some fine Italian wine).

Blog: www.conorbofin.com

About: www.conorbofin.com/about

My tale begins 127 years ago. The story goes that Giuseppe Cerve came to Ireland from Casalattico in central Italy. He came here with very little, to find a better life for his family. He began selling potatoes cooked in oil from a barrow. We Irish liked it so much that he soon opened Ireland’s first ‘Chipper’ where he began selling fish and chips. An Irish Italian tradition was born.

Let’s bring the clock forward to December 2009. Ireland is in the grips of the greatest recession that anybody alive has ever seen. Businesses are failing and unemployment is rife. I take a call from Mario Aprile the President of the newly formed ITICA – The Irish Traditional Italian Chippers Association.

As the economy had tanked, the number of enquiries from desperate businesses trying to survive had risen. Daily, we had been taking calls from crackpots with outrageous ideas that were doomed to failure. So it was with little hope of doing any real business that I agreed to meet with Mario’s Committee.

This meeting took place (as nearly all ITIAC meeting do) over a late night meal. Things started badly. Being an early eater and sleeper, I was too hungry, too tired and too suspicious of them. In return, they were apprehensive and wary of me. The first course arrived - “just a little antipasti”. Conversation began to flow. The next course arrived “a little fish” (seven types of seafood). We were getting on all right. The third "some steak and vegetables", the fourth “just a little cheese” and the fifth “a tiny taste of Italian ice cream” courses arrived. I warmed to their generosity and found myself laughing until I cried at the stories and banter. I knew then that I had to work with these guys. This despite ‘Big Frankie’ telling me that Fish and Chips Day had to work or I would find a horse’s head on my pillow.

Side Note 1: I have learned that “just a taste” or “a little portion” or “You will have a little nibble” or “Go on, it would be rude to refuse” are all ruses used by these hugely generous people to get you to forget your diet related qualms and just enjoy the food and drink.

At the next meeting (another late night performance) the Committee appointed us as their advertising agency and plans were laid for National Fish and Chips Day 2010.

Thankfully, I have been involved with many successes in my 30+ years in the communications business. Nothing that I know of has produced the bang for the buck that National Fish and Chips Day achieved. Virtually every chipper in the country ran out of fish as queues stretched down the street. We had a hit on our hands.

When the hue and cry had died down, another meeting was called. Another meal, another performance of “try a tiny taste of this”, “It would be rude not to” ensued. This time the celebration was held in Bianconi's Restaurant on Dublin’s Merrion Road. Now these guys know how to celebrate. There were speeches, there was laughter and there were toasts, plenty of toasts. Then a vote was held. By a majority they elected me as Honorary Italian, a distinction that I truly treasure.

More important to me than the commercial success (though it does help) are the numerous friendships I have gained amongst this fantastic community. Since Giuseppe Cerve started serving his first fish and chips the Irish Italians have a place in our hearts and have become so much part of our way of life.

The late night meetings go on. My sleep is disturbed but my life is richer for it. And, so far, I have not given Big Frankie a reason to fulfill his promise.

Side Note 2: National Fish and Chips Day is now an annual event. This year it takes place on May 30th. Last year, over 200,000 people visited their local ITICA Chipper to join in celebrations. Over 60,000 pounds of fish and 400,000 pounds of potatoes are used by ITICA Chippers to keep up with demand on the day.

Some links:

http://www.independent.ie/lifestyle/food-drink/national-fish-and-chips-day-thank-cod-for-giuseppe-2656484.html

http://www.itica.ie/

http://www.advertising.ie/blog/view/may_26th_is_national_fish_and_chips_day

My Dinner with Malcolm Gladwell (Epilogue)

Bounty hunter #1: You're wanted, Wales.
Josey Wales: Reckon I'm right popular. You a bounty hunter?
Bounty hunter #1: A man's got to do something for a living these days.
Josey Wales: Dyin' ain't much of a living, boy.

- The Outlaw Josey Wales

TUESDAY: I had to come up with a plan. It had to be fate that Malcolm “Blink”ing Gladwell rolled up next to me at the Catalina having what appeared to be a cappuccino while looking nervously at his computer screen. I could leave him alone, or I could see what he was all about. This is Texas, and we are nosy, chatty, and very much want to tell people about ourselves; therefore, if I just start a chat it will either become a legitimate chat, or possibly one of the suicide scenes from Airplane. I took a shot of Rwanda to instill some bravery and -----I quickly decided that if it was fate I would indeed see him here again and we might even have a meaningful chat.

I then quickly imagined an entire scenario where I would ask him to dinner and he would refuse, and I would insist, and he would agree. I imagined that if he came I would cook a risotto and offer him something from the cellar, but not the Piemonte wine I had promised, and he would have a girlfriend and typical nerdy insecurities. I imagined he would be polite but not overly excited and I think I would have been right. At the same time, I imagined he would actually enjoy me way more than the story I would write, but since he would not come to dinner (although I did send him an email and request the honor of his presence) I thought letting my imagination flow and engage my roots in play-writing would be fun for this story.

Much of the initial meeting with MG was fact including the rude interruption, and the exchange with the barista. However, as it was, Gladwell grabbed his things and made a point to tell me it was nice to have met me as he rolled out of Catalina on last Tuesday. The fiction ensued from there including Leora, the Krug, and the Krav Maga. I did cook the exact meal I described in the stories for my wife and I, but Malcolm, as he has yet to respond, missed out on the risotto.

I have recently become friends with a super cool writer from New York that is in the middle of a play development process where I am hopeful to direct again for the first time in quite a few years. I have never lost my passion for the stage or the written word and while all of this seems new to those who have known me for only a short time, this path and the pitfalls are not new to me. According to Gladwell, in What the Dog Saw there are some artists whose talent is immediately recognized and who from a young age are displaying their crafts for a world audience (Picasso) and there are others (Cezanne) for whom success came at a much later age (46+), yet the common drive to create and to live a life from their own guiding spirits was unwavering.

I have no idea whether I will be monetarily or even socially successful in my endeavors as a writer and storyteller, but as long as I have fingers, stories, and the feeling that I am inhabited by the characters I have met on this planet, I will create. Some stories will be inane and some hopefully insightful, but just as I told my theater professors in college, I am cut from the cloth of PT Barnum rather than Aeschylus; and I just want to keep audience attention, even if it takes train wrecks, the scatological, or occasionally the sublime.

Stay with me if you want to see what is next or roll back to your comfy pillow and count your money :-)

Michel' Sì probrê du iun!

Wine 101 – With Professor Housewright (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, Kim of The White Trash Gourmet. Please check out this post, leave comments for exchange with the author, and give their blog a read.**

For anyone that’s yet to discover me, I’m The White Trash Gourmet, and I cook better than you. I run a (wannabe) clever food blog from my quaint little town of California, but don’t expect health-oriented, vegan-friendly swill (famous vegan recipe: steam until grey). My cooking is based around three simple rules: if you can read this, you can cook; like college, don’t be afraid to experiment; and everything is made better with bacon. Follow them, and we shall bask in foodie goodness together.

Over the past few months, I’ve been asked to guest post on other blogs. But because I work for a living, and have more mouths to feed than the hydra, I’ve lacked the fortitude to follow through. When Michael wanted me to help hold down his fort while he gallivanted around Italy (to indulge in oenophile-related splendor), my first reaction was, “screw you if you aren’t taking me along.” Then he got himself Freshly Pressed, so I figured I could at least sponge off his success by faking it for a few paragraphs.

Unfortunately, I’m a food bitch—I’m only a wine bitch when I need the things I want to do to start sounding like a good idea. I’ve certainly come along way from my humble adolescent beginnings. I started with Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill, then segued into the ranks of wine coolers (emphasis on rank). My early 20s saw me sipping white zinfandel (which of course made me a zinfandel to the Church of the Vine). As an adult, I’ve been partial to Pinots, Malbecs and Syrahs—almost always choosing red over white. Still, I know nothing of notes and undertones (beyond music), nor clarity and color (beyond diamonds). I can’t talk shop about regional nuances, and the most I know about the genealogy of the growers is that they’re all dead.

When Professor Housewright and I first broached the subject, I told him about my recent love affair with South American wines. “Oh, no” he cried, “California and South American wine is like the step children from a husband/wife you hate!” Apparently, I’m supposed to forgo the Americas altogether and look to the old country for my grapey goodness. So I challenged him, “fine, I’m brilliant and curious. Teach me about wine.” His first lesson for me? A bottle from Cote du Rhone.

Following that, I picked these beauties (each under $15 at BevMo):

The 2010 Cave de Monterail—I allowed it to breath for a bit (that’s what you do, right?) before taking a sip. I found it fairly overwhelming. The professor told me that I should have chilled it for about twenty minutes prior, and that would have reduced the “strong” smell. It was lovely with a bit of spicy eggplant, however. The food completely changed the flavor of the wine, mellowing it substantially.

Two nights later, I opened the 2009 Domaine Notre Dame de Cousignac. The professor has suggested this would be more my speed. He was correct. I even tried to look for color and clarity (in a non-gemological sense). It was a very dark garnet. No sediment or bits floating about. This was a cheat of sorts since it’s a Rhone wine, not Cote du Rhone.

Through these lessons, my aforementioned ignorance of wine was reinforced. But I’ll keep doing my homework like a good drunken student, and someday I’ll be the person you hate at Thanksgiving—it won’t be enough that I know about wine, you must, as well. A girl can hope.

Corporate Cookbooks vs. Food Bloggers (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, The Passionate Culinarian. Please check out this post, leave comments for exchange with the author, and give their blog a read.**

The Passionate Culinarian believes that cooking is a form of worship and should be treated as a blessing, not a burden. Long live the Family Table! He resides in a house overrun with estrogen, and longs for the day when he can get a male dog to eliminate the hormonal imbalance he daily contends with.

First: Grazie molto, fratello, per questa l'oportunita!

Now let's get dangerous.

How many cookbooks do you have? Whether you're a seasoned culinarian, or a newbie exploring the wonderfully strong world of food, I guarantee you have at least one cookbook. I have only 3 cookbooks that I rarely use. Most of my recipes were self-handwritten, on notebook paper, while learning to cook in Italy. I reference them when needed. As I pursue this passion of mine, the more I develop my own culinary identity. The cookbooks I have are merely guides.

Cookbooks prompt me to steal from another and reshape that booty into mine own. (Not that I am opposed to this. I encourage people to steal my recipes and make them into their own. I will hardly be offended.)

I mention all this because I detest reading the recipes of strangers. These 'famous people' cookbooks are written by people I will never meet. Mario Batali, Bobby Flay, Guy Fieri? They're not even approachable. They are corporate, at best. A brand. A name. A commodity. *facepalm* They cheapen culinarianism for the sake of status.

Most of the cookbooks we read are lacking any familiarity of spirit, and are presented to us so we can vicariously achieve ' foodie rock-star status'. I have seen people say, "Well, this is a recipe I got from (insert some famous chef's name) and it's amazing!" Well...I mean...it's not their recipe, then. They are merely parroting someone else. Where's the passion? Where's the pride in ownership? Where's the culinary mindset? Be honest: Do you really need someone to tell you how to bake a chicken? There's only so many ways to do it, and we probably all know them.

If you want a real recipe, I know where you should go. I am speaking of the Foodie Bloggity-blog world.

Like having a conversation in real-time, when I read foodie blogs and their recipes, I feel as though I am there with them, learning about them. These are real people, with real blogs and real lives, and they use their precious time to share their culinary acumen and real-world culinary experiences. And the best part is, I can email them with questions or even leave a comment, that I know will be read, on their blog. I love that kind of interaction and approachability. It's so...not...corporate.

I harp on local organic farming and sustainable local organic food production quite a bit. I would rather know where, and from whom, my food is coming, instead of the cold and impersonal corporate food brainwashing and cheapened slavery that is readily available in grocery stores across our Nation. So it goes with recipes. I can buy a cookbook from someone I will never meet, hoping to eventually name-drop them when I mimic one of their recipes, or I can read and digest recipes from real foodies, with real food blogs, and embrace their passion and creativity.

I know I want others to view my blog in that light. I want others to visit, to read, to contemplate, and to steal from me by making my recipes theirs, with their own little something. Even Michael, here at TBA, has shared part of who and what he is through a recipe or two. I adore that.

Please, visit your approachable foodie bloggers and let them speak to you through a recipe. It matters.

Coffee - Our Daily Passion

Juliet taught me to love coffee. Yes, I was an Italian caffe' guy from way back but I did not drink much coffee in America.

The main reason I discovered was that coffee in America was often simply not good. This, I am proud to say, is changing rapidly and has improved dramatically since I met Juliet 5 and a half years ago.

America is making some of the best coffee in the world and I would be proud to exclaim that across the pond. Our artisan coffee houses are sourcing the top 3% of the top 3% of the best beans in the world and turning them into the finest espresso, macchiato, cappuccino, cortado, americano, latte, and pour-over coffees on the planet.

Today is a tour of our little secret passion, the coffee photo. Popping a creative shot of a creative shot allows us to enjoy the little bit of roasty, warm joy for all that much longer. So, without further ado, enjoy the java!

Source: Uploaded by user via Juliet on Pinterest

Juliet is really the master of the coffee shot. Here is a link to her Pinterest Board for Coffee. Juliet's impeccable taste is evident throughout her board and I suggest you give her a look and a follow.