craning your neck

Our apartment passed the inspection.

Finally.

Here is a shot of the front of the building (it is the orange one in the middle), with a veggie/fruit truck from Gaeta beautifully stationed in the front.

This is, apparently, what the square will look like on occasion, when the market is not in progress.

When we met last week for the inspection, we got a taste of what our neighborhood will be like on a more typical day...  imagine chaos involving a daily market, not knowing exactly where to park, people, motorcycles, and cars parked three-deep everywhere - remember that video I shared a few posts back?

Our landlord finally advised us to park in the courtyard, between the two buildings.

Now granted, there is a garage there for our use.  However both of our cars are much to big to manage the small space (think mini or smart car).  No... we have to make a grand entrance with our enormous CR-V and park smack in the middle of the kiddie play area.  Fantastic.  Even better was the 30-point turn it took us to back the car out.  Nothing shouts THE AMERICANS ARE HERE any better than that (a big thank you to the sarcastic passer-by who voiced the obvious as we blocked his path in the alley).

Can't wait till the crane arrives to unload our furniture.  Mamma mia.

  
So we met with the inspector...

There might have been a bit of tomfoolery involved in that meeting - something to do with our landlord not using the realtors working on base...  we suspect everyone...

Have you ever tried to read body language when Italians are speaking?

Impossible.

It's solved.  For the moment.

So then we swing by the housing warehouse, where we deliberate (and actually make a few trips to measure, estimate, and ponder) over which appliances we should select to make our stay as pleasant as possible.

This is an arduous task.  Especially related to how the Italians do laundry.  They use very small washers (there is one currently in the apartment that is 5.5 kilos).  This allows for about two pieces of the Majors clothing at one time.  And since the washers heat the water per load, it takes about ninety minutes to do a load.  Do the math on that one.

Oh, AND, since electricity is so expensive, they don't generally use a clothes dryer - they put everything on the line outside.  I remember doing this when I was a kid.  In Nebraska.

We will have a dryer, but apparently they take around two hours to dry a load of clothes, and we could use the laundromat on base, but that will involve several flights of stairs, a very active bimba (soon to be toddler), and parking who knows where...

So...  I have been practicing my clothes hanging technique in our current lodgings.

My mother should be proud.

The great news is that we have a contract signing date.

Monday.

Our stuff, and by this I mean *oh thank god I finally get to sleep in my own bed*, arrives on Thursday.

Barring any other interruptions.

For example, it rained a bit last week, which means that some of the streets were flooded.  Which causes traffic jams - that's fairly normal.  Apparently Major was in one such jam.  "Allegedly" there were Italians (my favorite is when people pronounce this *I*-talians) driving on the sidewalk.  Even motorcycles were jammed in.  Someone (again "allegedly") started to bump from behind, which eventually pushed Major's car into the car in front, etc...  Have you ever heard of people shoving one another in a traffic jam before?  Ah, well, once again, welcome to Italy.

Throw in ANOTHER holiday (with fireworks all the day long OF COURSE), to create unpredictable traffic patterns, mysterious gatherings and liquefaction of saint's blood...

And then yesterday there was a strike at the NATO base.  I was planning to attend a welcome coffee for the Allied Spouses club.  They do charity things, I thought I would be a good wife and check it out... Major calls with news that he is still in the car.  This is after 9:00 a.m.  He left the house at 7:30, with a 1/2 hour drive to work...  There is a massive jam-up in front of the base.  Do I really want to bring the baby into that mess?  Skipped the coffee.

So what could possibly go wrong next week?  I'll let you know.

In the meantime, we will spend the weekend shopping for a teensy car that Major can barely fold himself into (that *might* fit into the garage), area rugs so Smalls doesn't crack her head open on the marble floors, transformers so that we can figure out what to plug in where...  and a basket of laundry pins.

mouth watering

Grocery shopping here is a delicious adventure.

Every little market seems to have farmer's market quality produce - at a fraction of the cost.    

Once prepared, the colors of the food pop right off the plate.

  

Shopping for dinner is fun, but also relatively easy.  Although at first it seems that there is not much variety here, I have already learned to appreciate the seasons of food.  What is fresh and in season is what is available.  Right now, zucchini, various lettuce, apples, eggplant, tomatos, figs, peaches, green beans, and mushrooms are starting to show up.

It's not a matter of finding a recipe and then getting the ingredients, since many of them are not possible to find.  Lately it has been about selecting the ingredients and then finding a recipe.  It's really an entirely new way to think about food.

A famous caparese salad - with melt-in-your-mouth mozzarella di buffala...

Roasted endive, roasted zucchini, sardines, salad with rocket and romaine.  Vegetables taste like they come right from your own backyard...

 

Beautiful grilled sardines - these are a bit of work to eat because there is a significant amount of bones that can poke you - not like the smaller fish that you can eat whole. 

Local caught fish - Orate and Spigole

Here are the little fish, Triglie (small red mullett) - before the frying pan.
We've already had these for dinner a couple of times...  They rival any fried fish I have ever had.

Local mussels.  We think these are farmed - we can see "beds"
out a ways in the ocean in certain spots.

And then of course there are also the local and regional specialties...

For example, there is something truly remarkable about the lemon flavor of things here...  Literally bursting - not too sweet, not too sour...

These cookies are the bomb.  Pretty literally - they have this soft almost creamy lemony filled center...  I have already eaten an entire bag of these...

In the states, the Major wouldn't be caught with pre-ground coffee in the house, but on the recommendation of a friend, this is what we use in our little coffee "machine".

Bitters - Major is on a quest to master this category...  apparently a type of alcohol meant to be mixed in drinks - some apparently have historically medicinal qualities.  Many classic cocktail recipes call for bitters of one type or another...  Here you can find many varieties on the shelves.

I do adore the tiny bottles, and some of the other juices come that way as well - here is a blueberry...

The deli counter at the grocery store holds a lot of fascination for us...  The choice of sandwich meats in particular is pretty extensive.  The Italian delis back home seem to offer just a handful of choices.  Here the selection is overwhelming.  Just getting to know the salamis should take a considerable amount of time.  My favorite so far - Salame il Golfetta.

The Major now prefers Prosciutto Dolce (and he really likes the crudo style as well), but he ate it faster than I could document it...  maybe next time...

We didn't buy any of this, but I had to admire the size of this giant can of tuna!  

The selection of olives at the deli counter is fantastic...

Sicilian Olives (the big green ones are my new favorite).

Extremely juicy, not too salty (unlike the black ones here), and full of flavor.

And then, of course, there is the cheese.

When we came to Italy on vacation a few years ago, one of the most embarrassing moments I had was listening to a guy from Wisconsin proclaim loudly to an entire restaurant how the Italians were clueless about how to make cheese because it was so "hard".  I wanted desperately to disappear under our dinner table watching his young bride smilingly nod along with his rant...  I wanted to die.  I know parmesan is not for everyone...  it is only one of the world's most famous cheeses...  But I digress...

Since we are not in the region of Parma, we don't eat much of that at the moment, and we are quite familiar with the taste, so we have been branching out...

We have been working our way through the different styles of Pecorino cheese.  There seem to be a million different ways, ages, and treatments (like smoked), that it is prepared.  This one is pecarino nero, medium hardness, strong but not overpowering flavor.  

Another new interesting cheese we recently tried, a very fresh Stracciatella - 

like a cross between cream cheese and ricotta cheese.  Excellent on toast.

I found this amusing... but haven't tried one yet.  A snack stick of parmigiano.

This week I will be searching for porcini mushrooms at the market, because I just heard they were in season.  

Tonight we will have the pork ragu I started cooking yesterday.  

I wonder what you all will be eating...

Buon appetito!

la bambina guida

Between language sessions where I make efforts to learn simple phrases, like, "la bambina non guida" - "the girl does not drive", I chase Smalls (only a bimba, not a bambina yet really) around her play areas - that is when we are not shopping for our next meal...

Yesterday, a much needed (please baby take a nap) neighborhood walk inspired me to try a couple of the local establishments we have been passing regularly.  One, a cafe, located more-or-less at the end of our street.  Seems to be quite popular with the locals, so Smalls (as a captive audience) and I ducked in...  with a beeline for the pastry counter.  I saw the croissants straight off, but then noticed a better option, the notorious sfogliatelle.

There is a flakey layered shell with a custard-like center (this one had orange peel involved).  Not too sweet or creamy.

There was a place in San Diego in Little Italy that we went to on a pretty regular basis to find these tasty treats...  and the Major's mother particularly enjoys them (so much so that she completely missed noticing a shiny new engagement ring when she was presented with a box of said pastry).

Lucky us that Naples is specifically known for this particular pastry.  Rock on waistline!

Down by the beach there is a Mister Ghost gelateria that has also been enticing - and since Smalls decided to fall peacefully asleep in the stroller (thank you), what better motivation to keep on walking than an ice cream in hand...

 

It's a good thing she is sleeping.  We introduced her to gelato recently, and she always eyes mine with expectation, although I don't want to reinforce that habit for her just yet.

We have fun selecting which foods we will introduce her to (anything with tomato sauce seems to be the trick for the time being - fantastic coincidental irony there)...  We have started making some baby food, or rather mashing up some of what we are eating for her - mainly roasted vegetables.  She is still working on swallowing larger pieces of food, and only has just the very beginnings of one tooth to assist her efforts...

So, recently I have been prowling the aisles of Conad, the local grocery store, to see what she might be able to eat.  It's a fine balance between what she might like, and what she might not choke on.

I wander into the pasta aisle, since we have had good luck with that...
I am completely overwhelmed.

Never have I ever...  seen so many different kinds of pasta...

So many different shapes to choose from.

And each with a special purpose.

And once you pick the shape, then you have to pick the size.

There is even special pasta for the kids.  Of course!

The Major has strong memories of eating pastina (the tiny pasta) as a child.

And, at risk for starting a family argument, even something special for the Major's mother.

Since I'm just getting used to all of these new pasta shapes, it is helpful that there are some suggestions for use on the packages...

This one is suggested to be eaten with mushrooms... Perfect.

  

Since there were no fresh porcini, I tried the ones that looked the best - pioppini mushrooms.  

Here they are with la ruchetta (aka rocket, or arugula/rugala).  

This isn't really a good food for Smalls, so we hand her a couple of spears of roasted zucchini, and she has a ball.

It has taken me a few passes through the grocery store to really "see" what is on all of the shelves - there is a so much that is different - or at least translating takes time, so it's difficult to tell if the crackers you see are in any way similar to ones you know, or have some crazy flavor to them that is unfamiliar... 

I pass through the baby section again, to get a little more familiar with what is available since Smalls is stepping up the solids...

I see, for the first time in Italy, something that stops me completely in my tracks.

Oh dear...

Don't get me wrong, we really want Smalls to be an adventurous eater...

However...

I think we'll just stick to roasted veggies for now.

old wild west

You can get a little stir crazy when you have been homeless (and wearing the same few clothes) for more than three months.  Sleeping in your own bed is entirely underrated.  We have an inspection scheduled on the apartment tomorrow, which we are hoping will go well.  The contract meeting should happen relatively soon after, and we may be moving into our new home by the end of the month, a mere two months after we arrived.

For now, short excursions around the area keep us entertained.

Over the weekend we found a fairly large mall, that rivals a good one stateside.  We wandered the halls, prowling skinny jeans for the Major...

Ok, just kidding.

And after considering the offerings of the Old Wild West,

(can't help but be tempted by the PC offerings of the Wild West - Carni Grand Canyon style...)

a Haus of Weiners,

and something out of 101 nights...,

we score a bit of tavola calda from a cafe, where the dish of the day is pasta mixta with mussels and beans...

We scour the mall for a reasonable pair of polarized sunglasses to no avail, and settle instead for an our old friend Illy.

No take out cups here.  You don't see Italians walking anywhere with coffee.

On our way home I insist that we get a closer view of our neighbors...

These fellas are the real deal.  Unlike the "bison" we have in the states...

What I learned about their cheese, is that it was popular before cow's milk mozzarella, thus the designation of "mozzarella di buffala", to distinguish it from it's lesser rated sister.  There is a slight sourness to this kind of mozzarella that creates its unique flavor.  Divine.

I grew up in the heartland of America...  so it seems a bit strange that after all this time, I finally get to see where the buffalo roam.  Just outside Naples, Italy.