Post-Lockdown Florence

It pays to utilize social media for keeping up with things that are happening on a local level.  And right now in Italy, just about everything is happening on a local level. Every region and city is allowed to take a slower time to reopen, if necessary, depending on virus data. I'm not sure, but I do think that Florence took a little extra time. All of Tuscany has been averaging less than 10 new cases per day for awhile, though.

The Pitti Palace in Florence is hosting an exhibition of the works of Giovanna Garzoni, a 17th century artist whose small still life paintings were collected by the Medici family.  Her work, like that of many female artists in centuries when very few female artists were known and even fewer were collected by such prestigious families as the Medicis, was more often housed in the collector's wunderkammer, or cabinet of wonders. It was thought that a female artist was so unusual that the work she produced should be in the same kind of collection that also contained rare, natural wonders like unusual seashells or pricey objects like painted porcelain from the far East.

Since Italians were finally freed to travel between regions on June 3rd, I declared that we should take a short weekend trip to see the exhibition. We booked train travel and a b&b we already knew, and traveled this past Saturday morning.

This meant, of course, that we could experience post-lockdown train travel. When we booked this little 90 minute sojourn, we didn't understand why our seats were not together, but we figured that since we went for a cheap purchase (you sometimes have to pay extra on this continent for selecting seats on planes and trains), we might not be able to do that. No big deal, we thought.

But in reality, we were seated at a table and across from each other...diagonally. No one was seated next to or directly across from anyone on the train. That was clearly a post-lockdown virus control measure undertaken by the train company.

We underwent what I would call a little health security theater as well. Checking temperatures at entrances to buildings and spaces with lessened social distancing is a superfluous gesture when you consider that asymptomatic carriers of this particular virus are still quite communicable.  But lots of places and entities (namely, the Italian government) insist upon it, so...well, ok. Upon entering Rome's Termini station area for ticketed passengers, we had one of those temperature 'guns' aimed at each of our heads. Upon departing Florence's Santa Maria Novella station, we were monitored by a stationary device, for which we had to be sure we were not wearing any glasses (perhaps because lenses would reflect the technology and prohibit an accurate reading?). Yet another of those devices was placed at an exit from the train platforms in the arrivals area of Termini in Rome, too.

Our b&b owner greeted us warmly upon our arrival. We all wore masks during our conversation.  Hand sanitizer was located in several places throughout the space. We learned that as soon as hotels and b&bs in Florence were given a firm date for re-opening, they all undertook enormous measures to clean their spaces from top to bottom. Nevermind that while the virus is known to live for days on some surfaces and these places had not seen guests in four months...they still rigorously cleaned. The only hiccup for us in all of this was the fact that the room air conditioning units could not be run yet because - again, Italian government mandate! - they had not been thoroughly cleaned by a professional. Fortunately, we were supplied with a fan (not that we are opposed to opening windows, but no screens, and blood-sucking bugs in the humid, Arno river environment kept us from doing that). Our lovely breakfast would have ordinarily been a buffet, except that current Italian restrictions on that practice meant that we had to ask our owner to dole out what we each wanted instead.

Casa dei Tintori is on the street of the cloth dyers...The building itself retains some of its original features as an old workshop for dyeing

I do hope that it is clear in this post that I am merely describing what this experience was like...not complaining. I want to detail all of the big and small actions that were taken during this unique phase in modern Italian life. And I also want to stress that these actions largely struck us as warranted and remarkably reassuring.

As we strolled around town after our lunch at Pizza Divina (incredible stuff here, offered by a really sweet couple who do all of the work), we shopped a little, thunderstorms set in, and we spent time in a church I don't ever recall previously visiting. San Salvatore in Ognisanti (Saint Salvador in all the saints) houses some Renaissance works, as well as the bones of one well-known Renaissance painter: Sandro Boticelli.

It is believed that the man kneeling in the above region - in red - is Amerigo Vespucci. 

This crucifix is attributed to Giotto di Bondone, the 'Father of the Renaissance.' 

St. Jerome, by Domenichino Ghirlandaio.

Boticelli requested that he be buried near the woman he loved, Simonetta Vespucci. His grave is near the foot of her grave in the same chapel. 

One important observation to make of this short trip is the generosity we experienced at every turn, it seemed. 40% of Florence's economy is supported by tourism. Plenty of people were walking the streets this past weekend. Interestingly, Italian tour guides were giving tours to...Italians! So, that's great. I'm still of the opinion that Italy should belong to just Italy for a little while.  As hard as her citizens fought to arrive at this point, there should be at least some room for their own leisure, however they can enjoy it.

But there we were, not looking like Italians, and at least when speaking to one another, not sounding like Italians. And when I visited a leather shop to admire a bag, I was offered a 15 euro discount on the price without my even pretending to be indecisive or enacting any other tactics to bargain the way that visitors like to think they should in such situations. I have learned that discounts typically happen here because you are a neighborhood fixture, a repeat customer, the good friend of a known customer, or someone doesn't want to make loose or small change (seriously). I have learned that the more hardcore business of bargaining still does in fact happen, but in some cases - like a business owner's four month stretch of zero income - it would be absolutely crass to even go there. But he offered. And then he explained: we were his first customers since the lockdown had been lifted on June 3rd...and add to that four months of NO possibility of customers.

I'm not sure if just anyone can quite appreciate the moment of hearing that, unless you have walked a kilometer in their shoes.

And on top of the low-priced bag, I was offered a free leather keychain as well.

(Don't they need our money? The Spouse asked. Why are they not taking it?)

A paper marbling business owner was demonstrating his craft in his shop, and we stopped in to watch.
He struck up a conversation. Before we had left, it had been established that I sometimes make books like the ones he has for sale, and he handed me his card, saying: come back, and I'll let YOU make some of this paper.

We went to our favorite restaurant - a family joint. We were immediately recognized by the waiter. He took great care of us, after having us fill out forms that documented our presence in the dining room that evening.  Every customer had to do this. How's that for being prepared for contact tracing, if the need arises?

Sorry to all the vegetarians who weren't forewarned. Tuscan beef is definitely worth the occasional sampling. It is topped with 'lardo,' or pig's fat. 

Marco told us about how business had been picking up since reopening a little over a week beforehand. It's not a really tourist place, so the neighborhood regulars were eager to go out and have their regular Tuscan fare served in a place that has a sign that reads: 'We have no wifi. We have wine.'

When The Spouse said that he felt as though Florence was really doing a great job with reopening, Marco bluntly said: hey, Italy cannot afford to lockdown twice.

I cannot describe the utter joy of pairing this wine with this messy, homemade tiramisu. 

Often, you can be offered an 'amaro' at the end of a dinner at an Italian restaurant.  This is similar to the way that we call all bandages 'Band-aids.' An amaro is one kind of digestivo, a high proof alcohol that is served in a small glass at the end of a meal, intended to enhance digestion. THIS stuff - which was freely recommended at my behest - was not nearly as strong as others I have tried. It was quite nice, and while lemony, not sugary the way limoncello can be. I could imagine it as a hot toddy, too.

The lemony digestivo he offered me that night was only made and sold at a monastery near Fiesole. We expressed a little disappointment to learn that the only way to get it was to go there. He then said: call me before you come here again, drive yourselves, and we can make a plan to go to that monastery together. Before I got back to the b&b, I had a WhatsApp from Marco, so he's now officially a contact.

Sunday morning, we went to the Pitti Palace. By this point, I'm thinking that the mention of everyone having to wear masks indoors is unnecessary...but maybe to some readers, it isn't. I would not have been allowed in any business, restaurant or museum I visited in Florence if I had not worn a mask the entire time (except for eating and drinking). This was uncomfortable for me, as I am such a heat-sensitive person, and I'm finding that all the sweating that is happening under my mask is not doing anything great for my complexion...but the rules are the rules. Unlike our Raphael exhibition experience of the prior weekend here in Rome, we were not restricted to a tiny cohort of people entering at each 5 minute interval.  We were instead permitted the option of wandering the way we usually would in a museum. Of course, there was no queue to enter, and the museum was in no way crowded.

The 'back side' of the Ponte Vecchio jewelry shops.

Make no mistake: many businesses are still shuttered. The jewelry vendors on the famous Ponte Vecchio depend on tourists for much of their income (largely because so few of them sell anything original, anymore...only one or two businesses create and produce work on-site that has some originality). I just recently read that rent on this bridge is as high as18,000 euros a month. That's a lot of gold and stones. Italians are not going to spend what little money they have on those things right now. So, for the foreseeable future, these vendors are not open for business. 

Any time you see an Artemisia Gentileschi, you should take a minute. This is one of those versions by her - of a popular subject at the time - which is pregnant with dramatic tension. Old Testament heroine Judith is escaping under cover of night after having beguiled, seduced and beheaded an invading Assyrian general named Holofernes. She and her maidservant, Abra, have heard something that we cannot see.

Interestingly, this Raphael painting was not commandeered by the museum holding the Raphael show in Rome. 

...and here is who I came to see.  Giovanna Garzoni. Still life painter, scientific illustrator, silk painter. 

These tempera on vellum paintings are almost stippled, if you inspect them up close. This appearance could be a feature of vellum as a a very thin animal skin with still-present hair follicle holes, but it could also be due to the way that Garzoni had to apply the paint in order for it to sit and dry on the surface. 

The idea that her work was showcased in a Medici wunderkammer is underscored by virtue of the inclusion of objects typical to such cabinets of wonders.

(MAN, I like so many more things here with substantially less crowds)

When we decided to stop our wandering (the Pitti is HUGE, so I think visitors tend to wipe out before they complete the whole series of exhibitions and spaces), we visited the cafe for a coffee and tea in the inner courtyard of the large building. Every time a museum visitor got up from their table, a masked employee came to disinfect the table and chairs.

We strolled through the Oltrarno district towards a recommended lunch spot, and stopped at a store selling linen garments for men and women. We each tried on a few things. We each bought one garment. The woman running the store explained to us that her son was a graphic artist, an illustrator...really, a man who draws fumetti (the Italian nickname for comics, which literally means 'the smokers,' referring to the speech bubbles, which look like smoke clouds, for characters) and she showed us his publications on the countertop. He provided cute images for some of the linen t-shirts.  She pointed to the large Epson printer in the back, explaining that they took his designs and printed them on the shirts using the machina. It's charming to learn the different things that require power or fuel for operation being called a machina (machine) here. A car is a machina. So is a large format printer or a computer.

I don't know if it was because we exhibited interest, or it was because we made minor purchases, but before we left, she had slipped into the bag two fumetti booklets as well as a another full-size book also published by her son. No charge.

On the way to lunch, we managed to get into the church of Santa Felicita, which is best known for its Capponi chapel with Jacopo Pontormo's Descent from the Cross, a Mannerist masterpiece. Not everyone is familiar with Mannerism, a short-lived movement inspired by the Last Judgment fresco in the Sistine Chapel, with attenuated, long-limbed bodies and extreme emphasis on graceful form to the expense of anatomical accuracy (I mean, do look at the crouching figure in the foreground, impossibly on tip-toe, who has more vertebrae than humanly possible). Pontormo's work takes this somber subject and oddly places nothing of serious meaning in the center of the composition.  There is just a cluster of hands, instead. A cluster of hands surrounded by these highly keyed colors in acid-bright hues.

On the adjacent wall inside the same chapel. 

The thurible - the censer that holds burning incense in Roman Catholic churches - was still smoking, post-mass. 

Lunch was a pleasant affair, outdoors, with a pizza that ticked ALL my boxes. Not long after, we took a train home.

Yes indeedy, folks, it's now officially time for caprese salads...I don't want them until tomatoes are in season. 

Hot salami, gorgonzola, red onions and mozzarella. This counts as one of my top 5, here. And that is saying something. If you want to know where to find this or the other pizza place, just contact me.

We had a little time to stroll more comfortably through town on our way back to the train station. So here are a few photos:

Lorenzo Ghiberti's self-portrait, included on his Gates of Paradise (this is a replica).

The entire train station had these directional arrows on the floor, designed to direct traffic in a space that is ordinarily quite disorganized. 

On the ride back, I thought about how it took Italy four months to get to this.

ALL of that. All the cases, the deaths and recoveries. All the weeks of staying at home. The constantly moving target of a lockdown lift. The utter quiet in cities that ordinarily rage with noise, punctuated only by ambulance sirens. Balconies hosting singers and musicians and fluttering tricolor flags. 

Italy took the hard route, of really and truly shutting down, and prolonging that shutdown beyond one benchmark after another...and now, issuing decree after decree, gradually - almost painfully, it is so slow - allowing layers of societal movements and spaces and behaviors and norms to return.

Only it is not normal. 

As our b&b owner said: I am struggling with this mask, as I feel as if half of my communication is lost. I might as well have my hands tied behind my back, too.  

Italy has had her hands tied behind her back in a number of ways.  But she has made a great difference in the public health crisis that forcibly hit her in February.

Below is where the rest of the world is, currently.

We watched plenty of footage of America's justifiable moral outrage over police brutality and deep racial divides that persist.
We are wondering why, if Black Lives Matter (and there is no question...they DO) - and, for instance, a very substantial portion of Montgomery Alabama's hospitalized COVID19 patients are people of color - America seems to have no comparable moral outrage for a public health disaster that continues unabated. So many government officials on local, state and national levels would prefer to ignore it, just as it rises up to demand attention. Again.

Italy's nationwide movement to rein in a virus that was swiftly killing its elderly population was not so swift, initially.  It took a visit from Chinese physicians who had already dealt with the problem at home to visit the Lombardy region, render judgement and make hardcore recommendations. And that, friends, is when the lockdown 'got real,' to use common parlance. Meanwhile, American healthcare workers face what they faced two months ago PLUS the reality that many of their fellow citizens have elected to throw them - and any potential victims, which is a wholly unpredictable number of people of all ages, sizes and states of health - under the proverbial bus. Curve? Didn't we flatten it? Yay! We're done with all of those pesky little (and trust me, in most states, if they existed at all, they were minimal) restrictions on our freedom-we've-confused-with-unbridled-'me-first-itis.' Cities and states with spiking case counts are, in some cases, simultaneously refusing (not avoiding or dismissing...but REFUSING) to issue any mask-wearing ordinances for citizens, despite the reality that several studies now show that it may be the single best thing we can do to de-escalate spread. No state is like any other state in virus data collection and, more importantly, forthright reporting. Remember those meat processing plant outbreaks? Wonder why you don't hear about them anymore? Some may have been dealt with, but how would you know, since the primary way that people have been lulled into a false sense of security has been to simply not report the data? The plants themselves are not required to report. Very high-ranking officials are urging states to put out disinformation that is so blatantly false that the very action of making such assertions could take your breath away. It should be infuriating that someone would presume that you, Mr. or Ms. American Citizen, are really that stupid.
How did a pandemic become a mere inconvenience?

Where is the moral outrage?

Italy cannot afford another lockdown.
Can America afford to lose another 100,000 citizens (by October???) to a 'pretend' pandemic?
She has already and very recently proven that she can mobilize and express enough unified outrage to prompt change. So she can no longer shrug her shoulders and assert that she can't do or say anything significant about a big problem, can she?

And understand this: the EU has declared that it will review other countries epidemiological status before considering whether to allow them to have access. In other words, if you have sharply rising case counts where you live, it is highly unlikely you will be welcomed for non-essential travel. This, America, is just another reality check for you.

Fallo da Solo

(do it yourself)

During this coronavirus lockdown - and especially as I see American friends' exclamations about cooking frustrations after a few weeks in isolation - I've thought about how much energy I have devoted to DIY food creations.
Reasons for DIY can range from necessity to pure volition.  I don't have X and I can't buy it, so I have to make it. Or I really like the idea of making something 'from scratch.' Additionally, it is possible that out of health concerns, doing it yourself is the better option.
I can easily embrace any and all of those reasons.
You may find yourselves embracing any and all of those reasons too, because of limited availability (I do hope that the stores are being restocked, because your lockdown is going to be much smoother if you know that you can relax about essential supplies) of ingredients, imposed limitations on your physical movement might prompt you to make more healthy choices, and if you have time on your hands and ingredients that you've never tried to work with before, why not research some recipes, invite family members (or whoever you're locked down with) to help and make something interesting?

I'm going to start with granola. I've been told that people who don't make their own are just crazy. Pre-made granola CAN be crazy expensive. But in Italy, any and almost all granola contains one ingredient that I really, really don't like:  raisins. In a country full of grapes, it makes sense that raisins would be a thing.  But they are not my thing. For awhile, I would mule home a number of brands and types of granola after visiting other countries (because northern European countries, Great Britain, Germany...heck, just about anyone else...sell granola varieties which have no raisins.) But this is not sustainable when you don't go to any of those places regularly.  And the United States has these things too, but a) they're not cheap at all, and b) they contain a lot of hidden sugar.
So, I finally broke down and said to myself, 'Self (have you watched Derry Girls? you'll get that citation if you have), why don't you just MAKE IT?'
Plenty of websites feature recipes that are all essentially the same (but it helps to refer to one so you have an idea about proportions)
Oats. Nuts (any and all, plus coconut). Seeds (sesame, poppy, sunflower, flax - they can come separately or in a mix, here). Dried fruit. Some sweet syrup, like maple, or Karo, or even sugar-free pseudo maple (I'm contemplating using some of the surplus fresh ginger I have to make a ginger simple syrup, especially if I run out of other syrups).  Coconut oil or some other kind of vegetable oil. A little cinnamon, powdered ginger, vanilla, and a dash of salt. Set fruit aside.  Combine the rest. Bake. Toss.  Bake a little more. Cool.  Toss in the dried fruit (because I don't hate all dried fruit.  I just don't like raisins). Store. Scoop over plain Greek yogurt and cut apple (my preference, but you do you, babe). Be happy.
Healthy breakfast, anyone?
It takes awhile to accumulate all of the ingredients I like in my granola.  Because of where I live, I have had to map out where I can get dried cranberries, sunflower seeds, coconut and so forth. I cannot accomplish this ingredient list with one-stop shopping.  I will instead strategically sketch out an itinerary for a shopping day that includes those purveyors, because I've found that this granola making practice is economically and healthfully worth it.

I have written about my sourdough starter before, here.  Maria is still with me, taking up space in the top shelf of my fridge.  I feed her when I remember to feed her, or if I plan to bake on a specific day, because the dough rises far better if the starter has been fed somewhat recently. 

Here is latent Maria, after several days without 'food.'

And here she is after having a 'meal.' Bubbly and happy.

Italy is a country of breads. Given its rather large celiac population, it is also good at creating alternative breads (and pastas) without gluten. 

I don't need to make bread, here. 

But I love baking. I love that I have 25+ year old starter gifted by my Italian teacher. I have passed a bit along to one of the The Spouse's co-workers, who is happily baking his own bread now too.

I also have this compulsion that must come from my artist's soul, which is to see, experimentally speaking, whether I can actually make some specific thing. Combine that with an active search engine for recipes, and look out. 

This has led to mostly successful productions.

Ciabatta (Italian for 'slipper') is a popular Italian bread for sandwiches. It is a sloppy, difficult-to-manipulate dough.  I've never made a pretty ciabatta. 

I enjoy using Emilie Raffa's book on sourdough baking, but I have also used King Arthur Flour's website for other recipes as well. Below is Raffa's Whole Grain bread.  It did not rise the way I wanted it to, but Maria the Starter was enthusiastic enough to still produce a good crumb with moderate holes throughout.  The flavor is excellent. 

Some studies have recently asserted that whole grain bread is not necessarily a healthier choice over white breads (gasp! I know - right? WHAT?), but flavor has to count for something. And some allege that sourdough is better for gut health.  

So here was today's lunch: tuna salad on whole grain sourdough. 

(I made the hummus, too)

And for the record, during that last rise phase before baking a sandwich loaf, grease the plastic wrap before placing it gently on top.  Or else you'll get this unfortunate (still tasty, but not picture-perfect) outcome: 

Here is a better turnout. 

Both because I wanted to see if I could make them AND because traditional bagels are not a thing here (oh, sure, some places will say that they make bagels, but they don't taste like, or have the texture of, actual bagels.  They taste like round bread with a hole in the center). 

This is popular with The Spouse, so it has been done several times. Smoked salmon, cream cheese, chives...hello brunch.

Fancy round bread loaves (again- sourdough!) made decorative by strategic slices through the dough's top layer before baking? Why not? 

Lockdown (yep, this is sourdough too!) focaccia, baked with whole garlic cloves (just peel back the papery skin and squish out the sweet, roasted goodness right onto the bread), rosemary, flaky sea salt and pitted olives. 

Use a serrated knife to cut horizontally through the middle, and you've got some mighty fine sandwich bread. 

Pull-apart rolls? Oh yes, sourdough! 

YES - sourdough pancakes. I thought it was crazy too.  It isn't!

(and has everybody already done breakfast for dinner while in isolation? for some of us, it brings back memories of doing that as kids, once in a blue moon. It is happiness and security and comfort)

Brioche is not typically made with sourdough (I do have a recipe for sourdough brioche, just haven't tried it). But in the other baking books I have, there is always a sumptuous brioche recipe.

It takes AWHILE to make a brioche. And it takes a special baking pan, which I bought in Paris.

(I'm telling you, sometimes I'm just compelled)

And isn't it pretty? I mean, it's only got about 5,000 lbs of butter. I would not file this under the 'this is DIY because it's healthier' category.

Sourdough pizza crusts are something I've had to learn to work with and not work TOO MUCH.  Too much manipulation, and it's like thick leather.

But let me tell you: if I have a restaurant pizza with a unique array of ingredients that I wind up enjoying, I will attempt to remake it with Maria.

There is a lot to be said for the 'empty out the fridge' pizza, where you don't have enough toppings to cover the whole thing.  So you do segments. Perhaps you can see: there are four, here.

Variety in one meal!

Bonci pizza here is a wondrous thing.  I wrote an early blog post on the business and my discovery of it. They too make their pizza wth lieveto madre (mother leavener - or sourdough), but they're using a super hot wood-fired brick oven and something akin to pixie dust. One type they make has no cheese.  It just has tomato, basil and chili flakes. And it is mind-blowing. So I tried to re-create it. 

And you know, while mine was ok., it wasn't the same. Sometimes it is good to know your limitations and where to go for the good stuff.

Three years ago in Tuscany, I had a sausage, red onion and gorgonzola pizza that has never left my memory. So I tried to replicate it.

Not the same, but still hella-good.

When I visit the Esquiline market near the main rail station in Rome, I am overwhelmed by the fish options.  But I am trying to teach myself a thing or two about various fish and how to cook them. If you have not yet scoped out a real fish purveyor in your area - NOT your general grocery store, but someone who specializes in selling fresh fish only - then definitely try to do so. Here in this country, I have stumbled across stores that sell only frozen things, including a lot of frozen fish.  That's certainly an alternative if the fresh fish option is not realistic for you. 

Branzino (alternate spelling, bronzino) - or sea bass - is often on restaurant menus in the 'fish of the day' category, prepared in some way that the waiter tends to embellish so that it sounds sexy enough for you to pay the high price for it.

Buy your own, if you can.  Much cheaper that way. Have it cleaned first. 

It is super easy to work with, and the yielded amount of flesh is impressive. I'm following a Tucci Table recipe here, in which the cleaned cavity of the fish is stuffed with some fresh vegetables and herbs and placed in the oven. EASY.

Yes, we have cooked octopus. No, it does not come home alive with you. Those critters are too smart to have alive in your home. They might disassemble your television or abduct the cat. 

But prepared properly - which involves a couple of steps, but they are not hard - it is delicious in a salad with cooked potatoes, pitted olives and a generous quantity of olive oil.

I learned the hard way about vongole.  Do not believe anyone online who tells you that you can store uncooked clams in the fridge under a damp cloth for one day. 

Cook them the day that you buy them. Toss them in a simple, buttery dish of spaghetti, garlic, a little chili oil, and NO CHEESE (unless you're nowhere near an Italian...in which case, do whatever you want).

Maybe you can get either a frozen mix of seafood or a fresh combination.  Get what you like or want to try. There are a lot of online recipes for linquini con frutti di mare (long flat pasta with fruit of the sea) in a spicy tomato sauce.

Shrimps sold fresh here always come with the heads still on. Even when Italians fry shrimp, the shells remain on. I'm not saying I necessarily prefer that.

Here is a pasta dish that I got from Cook's Illustrated (online or print subscriptions available, but online might make more sense...and they have an impressive number of options for someone needing to do an online search with one odd ingredient that needs to be used...plus their print subscriptions only come out every other month): Pasta alla Norcina: crumbled cooked sausage, orecchiete (little ears) pasta, cream, butter, garlic and a tiny amount of nutmeg. Bear in mind that no one can require a certain kind of pasta shape (unless they are Italian and in Italy, and even then, they can't get elbow macaroni, which is an American thing, so someone should feel superior about that), so feel free to substitute. 

I LOVE this pasta dish. There is no other food that can comfort me more. 

Most people know gnocchi as small dumplings made of potato and flour. Some people make a big show of rolling little balls of the dough across fork tines before boiling them, so that they have grooves that catch the sauce.  Other cooks roll out a rope of dough, cut pieces and toss in the salted boiling water because who has all day to do this dinner thing? 

Roman gnocchi, however, are made from semolina flour.  Cooked like polenta (which is more or less like cooked corn meal and is also similar to Southern American grits)  at first, it is spread thin to cool and then cut into round shapes that are layered, sprinkled with parmigiano (Americans know this as parmesan) cheese and baked.

The Spouse is a fan of pie. BIG fan. This was his birthday pie for yesterday: lemon cream. Graham cracker crusts (and if graham crackers are thin on the ground, do look for McVittie's oat biscuits in the British section of some grocery stores.  They will work as a good sub) ought to be made with almonds mixed in.  That is my pie crust discovery for this go-round.

Of course, later in the summer, there will be more pie filling options. 

Berries, baked, with a crumb topping.

My contribution to a Friendsgiving dinner, a couple of years ago: apple pie.  And with that fancy lattice work on top. It was worth the trouble. 

For all of my talk of culinary creations, I have to acknowledge the fine ingredients at my disposal. This is the vegetable stand I visit at least once a week. Marco kindly upsells (who am I kidding? He wants my money, of course) his better products of the day.  While he may indeed want my extra money, his recommendations are never wrong. I have learned a lot from him about seasonality in Italy, as well as how to cook some of the more unusual things I've found at his market. 

Here is the value of going to a farmer's market:  being gifted with a small treat, just to underscore the validity of the upsell.  Fragole di bosco (wild strawberries, or more literally, strawberries of the woods).

I don't do it often, but I sometimes bow to Marco's suggestions even when I don't know quite what I will do with them. Like agretti, a green that is otherwise known as 'land seaweed.'  It makes a kind of slight, squeaky sound against your teeth.  Boiled briefly in salted water, dressed with lemon and olive oil, Marco advised. So I did as I was told. It's a springtime treat, now. 

Since I've finally successfully seasoned my cast iron pan, I've been working hard on my frittata game. This one has sausage, leeks and cheese. This would be a good example of my doing something new because I had one ingredient that I needed to employ: the beautiful leeks. 

And in the summer, when tomatoes are plentiful, I've learned from the author of the Smitten Kitchen blog that a good way to maximize them is to slice, salt and oil them before slow roasting in a not-terribly warm oven. Suspend them in more olive oil, stick in the fridge, and add them to quick pastas later...unless you decide to eat them like candy. (p.s. Smitten Kitchen currently has a blog entry on pantry stocking, and she has a tiny New York kitchen...check out her recommendations for a good stockpile of basics)

Fici (figs), which will take awhile yet to come in season, combined with citrus. 

Dear, sweet Antonio, my chicken guy. 84 years young (and yes, right now he is fine!), and originally from Sardinia. His 'bio' (pronounced BEE-yoh) grade chicken enables me to do a lot of things.

How about a little combo of Indian and Middle Eastern foods: chicken masala and mujadara (rice and lentils)? I got both recipes from Cook's Illustrated. 

Roberto at my neighborhood macelleria enables me to explore pork and beef dishes. 

Pork and ramen soup, courtesy of Cook's Illustrated slow cooker cookbooks (there are two volumes; if you are an easy-prep <opening cans and boxes and bags is good enough!> kind of person, get Vol II, the Easy Prep Edition). 

I hope that this foray into another person's kitchen has helped others to think about what else to do in a quarantine kitchen.  I will frankly admit to being stymied for ideas, too (and especially right now, after 46 days of this!), but in the act of preparing this entry, populated with photos taken over the course of three years, I've remembered other things in my repertoire, things I've proven that I can do myself. When so little feels as if it is under control, the kitchen is still thankfully mine.