My 2014 Year and Reading List

Posted on December 31, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

Happy New Year! I hope this past year ended on a note as positive for you as mine was for me. Although everyday life prevented me from accomplishing all of my 2014 writing and personal goals, I did manage to finish some of them.

For starters, Italy to Die For: From the Savino Sisters Mystery Series is now available in soft cover print. I’m still working on the second book in that series. It will take place in the Piemonte Region of Italy, a contemporary novel incorporating two mysterious deaths during WWII and introducing the descendants of several characters from my Italian-American saga Family Deceptions. Of course, in the name of authenticity I just had to make another trip to Italy in June and spent a good amount of time researching the area when I wasn’t visiting with family or sampling the awesome food and wine.

After returning from Italy, I collaborated with voice actor Thomas Fawley to recreate Chicago’s Headmistress as an audiobook. Wow! Hearing my words narrated by a professional turned out to be so much fun I did the same with two of my short stories, “The Baker’s Wife” with Kathleen Lisa Clarke and “Youthanasia” with Susan Fouche. By the end of January 2015 two more novels should be available in audio format—Lethal Play with Diane Piron-Gelman and Italy to Die For again with Susan Fouche.

Do I have a New Year’s deal for you on Audible/Amazon.

You bet I do. The first five people signing up for my e-newsletter will receive an audio version of Chicago’s Headmistress, “The Baker’s Wife,” or “Youthanasia” at no cost. That’s right, it will be free for those of you residing in the United States or the United Kingdom. Sorry, Audible does not extend beyond these two countries but I’d love to add readers from all countries to my e-newsletter. There’s no obligation and you can cancel your subscription at any time. Just fill in the contact form on this website.

For more on the plus side, after nearly four years of writing my bi-monthly Loretta on Life, I have yet to miss a single deadline on topics ranging from travel, family, and cooking to entertainment, friends, and remodeling projects. Still want to turn the best of those blogs into a full-length book, but not before I finish the Savino Sisters Series.

As for the many books sitting on my bookshelves and on my Kindle, I didn’t get around to reading as many as I should have; but listed below are those I did read, all of which I enjoyed otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the time to finish them. Time, it’s all about time. More to the point, how well I manage my time.

How about you? Is time your enemy or your friend?

My 2014 reading list

Novels

The One I Was by Eliza Graham
Bones of the Dark Moon by Richard E. Lewis
Racing on a Wire by Inge Moore
The Contestant by C. J. Lea
The Detachment by Barry Eisler
Allegra by Anna Lisle
Tony Partly Cloudy by Keith Cronin
The Ghost of Calico Acres by Bonnie Turner
Blitz Kid by Eliza Graham
1932 by Karen M Cox

Short Fiction

“Miss Popularity” by Rachel Elizabeth Cole
“Kidnapped” by Inge Moore

Audiobooks

Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie She’s Dead
Christiana Miller, Author; Marie Rose, Narrator
Johnny Carson
Henry Bushkin, Author; Dick Hill, Narrator

Killing Patton: Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard, Authors
Bill O’Reilly, Narrator

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Posted in audio books, Bargain Kindle Fiction, Books, eBooks, Italy, Lifestyle, Reading, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Peanut Butter Etcetera Cookies, My Way

Posted on December 15, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

Well, it’s that time of year again, usually the only time I bake cookies since the temptation would be too much for Hubby D and me if those delectable morsels were available year round. Besides, this Christmas season #1 son M and family will be joining us so we have to feed them something besides turkey and dressing and tiramisu and my old standby, ravioli, which true to my earlier blog/confession, we will be serving for an extended family gathering between the holidays.

As for my yearly cookie projects, they are the occasional hit and miss—just ask Hubby D. Humph, him and his years of managing a high-end bakery, the jewel in the crown of a now defunct department store that once reigned supreme in the St. Louis area. As for my domain—the Giacoletto home kitchen—there is one cookie that rarely fails me, one I feel compelled to make each year. This particular recipe for peanut butter cookies came from my Aunt D who passed it on to my mother and later to me. Where Aunt D got the recipe, I have no idea; but each year when I start assembling the ingredients I think of Aunt D’s kitchen where something was always cooking on the stove or baking in the oven. And then I think of my mother’s kitchen where something on the stove or in the oven was limited to weekends only since Mother held down a fulltime job outside the home, at a time when very few moms did.

In the interest of full disclosure of my growing-up years, I should add that I stayed as far away from my mother’s kitchen as possible, opting instead for the clean-up detail which she gladly relinquished to me. Little did I know then how marriage and five always-hungry children would drastically change my perspective. That’s life or so it’s called.

Of course, over the years I’ve fiddled with the original peanut butter cookie recipe to where it now feels more like mine, but the basic ingredients remain the same and will produce the kind of cookie that invites you to pop one in your mouth and then another and another.

Peanut Butter Etcetera Cookies
Loretta Giacoletto

This recipe makes about 7 dozen cookies, depending on their size
Prior to baking, pre-heat oven to 325F degrees

1 cup white sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1cup softened butter
½ cup softened peanut butter
(I prefer super crunchy. Or, replace peanut butter with ½ cup butter)
2 large eggs

½ t salt
2 cups flour
1 t baking powder
1 t baking soda

2 cups oatmeal (I prefer old-fashioned rolled oats)
1 cup corn flakes

12 oz bag of butterscotch chips
Or
12 oz bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips
Or
6 oz each, butterscotch chips and semi-sweet chocolate chips

Cream together:
Sugars, butter, peanut butter, and eggs
(I prefer using a heavy-duty stand mixer but a hand-held one would also work.
Or, for those of you with arms of steel, mix by hand with your tool of choice.)

Combine with whisk or sifter:
Salt, flour, baking powder, and baking soda

Add dry ingredients to the creamed ingredients and mix well.

Add oatmeal, combine well.
Add cornflakes, combine well.

Add butterscotch or chocolate chips,
Or divide cookie batter in half and add half bag of each chip to mixture.

Divide mixture into workable sections and
Roll each section into a log (about 1.5” diameter)
Chill logs until firm and easy to cut with a sharp knife
Cut logs ½ inch slices and place on cookie sheets
Bake in pre-heated 325F oven about 12 minutes or
Until the cookies are light brown on the bottom.

Store in cookie tins (add orange slice, apple quarter, or piece of bread to keep fresh)
Or,
Place in plastic freezer bags and store in fridge or freezer.
Enjoy!
So, what about you? Any recipes from long ago you’d like to share?

Posted in Baking, Cooking, Family, Food, Holiday meals, kitchen, Lifestyle, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Kitchen Updates and Special Moments

Posted on November 30, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

Six days after the tear-out of our twenty-two-year-old ceramic tile kitchen floor, the new kitchen floor was declared ready to walk all-over, as was the family room floor previously covered in wall-to-wall carpeting. This practically maintenance-free porcelain tile has taken some getting used to—not so much in the kitchen but its extension into the family room which sort of reminds me of an old-time dance floor, given the tile’s resemblance to weathered wood planks. Hmm, perhaps an area rug to absorb the sound … no, no, and no! We are not going there. Next thing you know, we’ll be covering the area rug with plastic runners. Not.
One thing’s for sure, this new floor is as durable as it is unforgiving. Lesson One I learned in a most painful way after bumping into a prized bottle of Ligurian wine we brought back from our recent visit to Italy. The dry red had been sitting on the new porcelain floor of our family room closet, apart from the rest of our wine stored one level below. One accidental nudge tipped the bottle over, breaking its neck and sending the aromatic contents mixed with shattered glass in all directions. Quick! Grab the towels—paper, kitchen, old bathroom, whatever. A five-minute clean-up, tops. At least we didn’t have to be concerned about staining the carpet since it was long gone.
Ah-h, but the wine, that was a different story but nevertheless still gone. A special gift from a special cousin, carefully wrapped and stored in a suitcase the airline lost on our return trip, which made that particular wine all the more special after we finally retrieved our suitcase and discovered the bottle still intact. And now this! Hubby D and I had been saving our special wine for a yet-to-be-named special occasion. Lesson Two, do not, I repeat, do not wait too long to savor special moments. On the plus side, the special moment we’ve been denied now requires another trip to the Italian Riviera for another bottle of special wine. If not 2015, then 2016; mustn’t wait too long for special travel moments.
Back in our partially updated kitchen, the new switch-from-electric-to gas range has been installed and I’ve been giving it a steady workout. So far, so good—no eggs scrambled to the consistency of rubbery leather, no Thanksgiving pies underbaked or with crusts charred. Haven’t tried roasting a turkey yet, that’ll have to wait until Christmas when No. One Son M and his Wyoming family descend on our otherwise quiet household. Another special occasion over which we have no control but one we will savor more than any bottle of fine wine.
How about you? Any special moments you’ve savored to the fullest? Or those you’re still waiting to savor?
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Posted in Cooking, Family, Food, Italian American, Italy, kitchen, kitchen design, Lifestyle, Travel, Writing | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

One Thing Leads to Another

Posted on November 15, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

Our first kitchen tear-up/redo started some years ago with the demise of the self-cleaning cycle on our 1970s avocado green GE electric range. Considering the cost and practicality to repair an appliance that came with the house, we decided to get a new stove instead. A middle-of-the-line Jenn-Air I expected to last a lifetime, my way of justifying the outrageous cost of the appliance and installation which included a downdraft vent. And since we were replacing the range, it made sense to replace the matching mini-oven mounted over the range with a new microwave that also required special installation costs. Our hardly-used counter-top microwave found a new home with Hubby D’s mom, who mentioned she’d been thinking about getting one.

While awaiting our special-order Jen-Air to be shipped, we decided to have the ‘70s avocado inlaid linoleum floor replaced with ceramic tile—white to lighten up the kitchen. And since we were changing the floor, we decided to replace the ‘70s avocado fridge with a white one that dispensed ice and chilled water. No need to replace the dishwasher—we’d already done that a few years before. Soon after the appliance upgrades, white countertops replaced the ‘70s avocado countertops, at which point, replacing the stainless steel double sink with one much deeper seemed like the right thing to do.

Naturally, making the kitchen brighter made the adjoining family room appear dark and dreary. So, we had two skylights installed and replaced the existing wall of ‘70s avocado bookshelves and cabinetry with reconfigured white-washed oak to better accommodate our lifestyle. After changing the wall-to-wall carpet for a lighter color and eventually replacing the dishwasher again and the fridge again, we considered ourselves set for many years to come.

That year has now come, sooner than anticipated. The family room carpeting had taken an unexpected beating, considering D and I were the only people occupying it on a daily basis. Having spent some weeks this past summer in Italy where ceramic floors are common throughout an entire house, we decided to replace our white kitchen tile floor and beige family room carpet with a porcelain tile designed to resemble weathered wood planks. And since I’d been thinking about the challenge of cooking with gas instead of my comfort-level electricity, we decided to make the switch now since our kitchen would be torn up for a good six days. That decision necessitated hiring our can-do-anything friend to tie into our existing line and to connect our new gas range, one that did not cost as much as the Jenn-Air which was supposed to last my lifetime. And would have, had I been willing to purchase replacement parts that would eventually equal or exceed the cost of a new appliance.

On the plus side, my Jenn-Air has already found a new home, at a church-sponsored food pantry headed by the grateful pastor, who happens to be our next-door neighbor, a surprise gift which makes him happy and me even happier knowing my Jenn-Air will be put to good use. What’s more, after two days of comparison shopping we have acquired a five-burner Frigidaire gas range with a self-cleaning true convection oven plus a warming oven drawer, all of which should keep me happy for many years to come. Forgot to mention the gas range finish—stainless steel with a black enamel cook top. Naturally, it doesn’t match our two-year-old overhead microwave oven. Or the three-year-old fridge. Or the five-year-old dishwasher.
And so the cycle of redoing and recycling will begin again. But not this year. Or the next year … well, maybe next year.

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Ravioli My Way

Posted on November 1, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

If all the people I’ve entertained over the years got together and discussed what they ate at the Giacoletto table, ninety per cent would probably say ravioli.

“If it’s not broke, don’t fix it,” I tell myself, which doesn’t say much for my culinary imagination but speaks volumes about my practical perspective. At any given time several hundred ravioli can be found in one of my three freezers. When those numbers start to dwindle, panic sets in, forcing me to mix up another batch, in case family or friends happen to stop by around mealtime. Or, if I need appetizers for someone’s party or Trivia Night, in which case I resort to my version of toasted ravioli since those tasty morsels work just as well served piping hot as they do at room temperature.

While watching my favorite cooking shows on TV, I try to imagine myself as a confident participant determined to take home nothing less than the top prize. The challenge: prepare a three-course meal, inexpensive but mouth-watering delicious. Let’s see, I could start out with tortellini en brodo, as in, ravioli twisted into little hats and cooked in a well-seasoned chicken broth. For my main course, meat-filled ravioli combined with a marinara sauce topped with grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese. For dessert, a delicate cinnamon-infused butter sauce over half-moon shaped ravioli filled with ricotta cheese and dried plums, California’s glorified name for prunes that amuse and confuse our relatives in Italy.

For my challenge I conjure up the judge I fear above all others—restaurateur Joe Bastianich of Master Chef. Need I say more? Joe would taste my first course, tortellini in brodo; nod his approval, and say, “Not bad.” I return to my cooking station with a spring in my step. Joe likes me; he really likes me.

After a flurry of activity at my cooking station, I place my offering of meat-filled ravioli before Joe and all but genuflect. He lifts one eyebrow and says, “Again?” Followed by, “My mama prefers Grana Padano cheese over Parmigiano.”

I lower my eyelids, express sincere apologies, and retreat to my station with no spring in my step. Don’t hate me, Joe. I forgot about Lidia and the Grana Padano. I hope she lets me back into her Kansas City restaurant.

By the time we get to dessert, my hands are shaking as I present the delicate prune-filled half-moons. “More ravioli?” Joe asks with that sneer reserved for those who disappoint him. He takes one bite, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you know what you are?” he asks. Before I can answer, he walks my dessert to the waste bin and deep-sixes my lovely half-moons along with the plate. He levels one forefinger in my direction. “You are a one-note wonder and not worthy of the title Master Chef. Take off your apron and leave, now!”

While walking the walk of shame back to my station, I untie the apron I no longer deserve. Say it isn’t so, Joe, even though I know it is. You have exposed me as a home cook who only does one thing really well.

I’ve been making ravioli for more years than I care to recall. It was my mother who first taught Hubby D and me the finer techniques, using a recipe passed down from her sister-in-law, my Aunt D. That first batch of ravioli took the three of us all afternoon, using a food grinder for the filling, mixing the dough by hand, and then rolling it out before creating those little pillows. After that, I flew solo for years and developed my own efficient techniques until decades later when Hubby D got into the act again, a blessing since he can roll out a perfect rectangle of dough. Mine, on the other hand, resembles a map of the good old U.S. of A.

What once started out as a recipe passed on to my mother has now evolved into one with my stamp on it. And now I’m going to share it with you.

Ravioli My Way, Loretta Giacoletto

Here’s the Ravioli My Way tools you’ll need, the ingredients, and step-by instructions for 50 ravioli, give or take, depending on their size.

Tools
• Food Processor (unless you prefer to hand-mix your dough and hand-grind your filling)
• Rolling pin (D prefers with handles; I prefer without)
• Large work surface for rolling out dough and assembling ravioli
• Pastry crimper or ravioli cutter to seal ravioli (no need to moisten the edges first)
• Cookie sheet or two (on which to set ravioli while they dry out and/or later   while they freeze)
• Plastic freezer bag or two (unless you plan to cook right away)

Ravioli dough
• 2 C all-purpose unbleached flour
• 1 C fine semolina flour
• 1 t salt
• ½ C water
• ¼ C olive oil (I prefer extra virgin)
• 3 extra large eggs

From the above ingredients, add to your food processor:
• 1 C of the all purpose flour
• 1 t salt
• ½ C water
• Pulsate and then blend into a wet dough

Add the remaining ingredients to the wet dough:
• Flour, semolina flour, olive oil and eggs
• Pulsate again and blend until dough combines and moves away from the side of the processor, eventually forming a soft, pliable ball.
• Remove dough from processor, knead briefly into a disc about 1” thick, wrap loosely in plastic wrap or a kitchen towel and set aside.

Ingredients for meat filling
• 3 C cooked meat cut bite-size pieces (Beef, pork, sausage, lamb, venison, etc; for chicken or turkey, combine with sausage or richer meat for added flavor)
• ½ C sautéed spinach or bell peppers
• ½ C onions sautéed with 2 cloves chopped garlic
• ½ C Italian bread crumbs or stale bread crumbs
• ¼ C fresh herbs—oregano, basil, or parsley
• Salt, pepper to taste, also Italian seasoning if fresh herbs not available.
Add the above ingredients to food processor and pulsate until well-combined without turning into a pate.

Remove filling from processor and add:
• 3/4 C good-quality grated cheese
• 1 or 2 T olive oil, if needed to hold mixture together.

Put filling in a container and store in fridge while rolling out dough.
Note: I don’t use a pasta machine but if you have one, go for it.

Rolling out dough
• Lightly flour a large work surface. Your ergonomic preference may vary but mine is waist-high.
• Divide dough in two pieces, unless you are really good at rolling out a monstrous piece, which is why I use D for this task.
• Lightly flour rolling pin.
• Lightly flour the disc of dough, only if it’s sticky.
• Start rolling from the center toward you and from the center away from you.
• Use light pressure to keep the dough even as you roll.
• Roll to the edge of the dough, using the same amount of pressure with each stroke.
• Lightly flour top of rolled dough, gently lift the dough and again flour the work surface underneath to prevent the dough from sticking. Increase pressure on rolling pin to achieve a thin layer of dough.
• When dough is rolled to about 1/16 of an inch, it’s time to assemble the ravioli, one row at a time.

Assembling Ravioli
• Starting one inch from the bottom of the rolled out layer and ½ inch from the left edge, place one teaspoon of filling every two inches until you reach the right side. (Lefties, reverse.)
• Fold the one-inch border over the row of fillings and lightly press down with your fingers all the way across.
• Still using your fingers, press firmly between each filling, making sure to release any air pockets. Again with your fingers, press firmly along the entire row, again making sure to release any air pockets as you go.
• Using a pastry crimper, or ravioli cutter, cut across the row and then between each section. Bingo! You have made your first row of ravioli.
• Set those ravioli on a lightly floured cookie sheet and continue the process until all the filling has been used.

If you don’t plan on cooking the ravioli that same day:
• Set the cookie trays of ravioli in the freezer.
• Hours later, or the next day, place the frozen ravioli in plastic freezer bags and return to the freezer until ready to use.

Cooking the ravioli
(About 8 ravioli per serving)
• Drop ravioli in a large pot of gently boiling water containing 2T salt.
• When ravioli float to the top, they’re done (about 3 minutes)
• Remove ravioli from water, using a strainer or spider wire or large slotted spoon.
• Gently stir ravioli into your favorite pasta sauce while it’s heating in a skillet on the stove top.
• Transfer ravioli and sauce to a platter with raised sides or to individual pasta bowls.
• Sprinkle with a good quality grated cheese, and enjoy!

Too much trouble, you say? Come on, you won’t know for sure unless you try. Any question? Leave in the comment section and I’ll get back to you.
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Posted in Cooking, Dining, Family, Food, Friends, Holiday meals, Italian American, kitchen, Lifestyle, television, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

From Research to Listening

Posted on October 15, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

One of my favorite essentials in writing is the research. Those cobblestoned streets I walked in the villages of Northern Italy wound up in my sagas, Family Deceptions and The Family Angel. After my first visit to Cinque Terre on the Italian Riviera, I returned two more times just to make sure I could capture the ambiance of those five picturesque villages for my Savino Sisters Mystery Series: Italy To Die For. Again in the name of The Family Angel, I rode a bumpy elevator 600 feet into the good earth below to explore a once-thriving mine in Southern Illinois. Again for Family Angel but also for Chicago’s Headmistress I poured over 1920s magazines and news articles from Chicago’s Historical Society. I did the same for Family Deceptions in Butte Montana’s Silver Bow Archives. A drive high into the mountains of Montana became an integral part in Free Danner, my anti-hero’s quest for the father who didn’t know he existed. Sitting on the bleachers through countless hours of high school soccer gave me time to think about the coach from hell I created for Lethal Play.

Research that requires me to travel has become the bailiwick of Hubby D, my chauffeur, navigator, and demander of decent places to eat. Of course, not all of my research winds up in print or on the digital screen; but what does, hopefully translates into compelling plots with characters that readers will either love or hate. Or love to hate. After all, if all the characters came across as good guys, what would be the point, the conflict? As for the actual writing, well, that’s my bailiwick, a lonely one I wouldn’t have any other way, although I do rely on the comments of trusted beta readers, including Daughter D.

All of which leads me to my latest literary endeavor, and certainly not a lonely one, that of collaborating with a professional voice actor to create my first audio book. I must say, this has become my new ego-boosting, guilty pleasure, listening to every word I wrote for Chicago Headmistress now being spoken by one amazing narrator using a variety of voices—female, male, Italian accents, Midwest accents, high-brow, and low-brow.

How about you? Whether you prefer holding a paper book or a digital reader, you might want to consider listening to audio books as another option. Here’s your chance. Take a short break and listen to this Chicago’s Headmistress scene between my main character Giulietta Bracca and the devious Liberty Dressler, madam of Certain Liberties. One click will take you to Audible or to Amazon.com or Amazon UK.

Interested in adding Chicago’s Headmistress to your audio book collection? Amazon/Audible is running a $1.99 deal for a limited time. However, be one of the first five readers who sign up for my new bi-monthly e-newsletter and you’ll receive a coupon code to purchase the audio version of Chicago’s Headmistress at no cost. That’s right! The audio book will be FREE if you’re one of the first five from the United States or the United Kingdom. Sorry, Audible does not extend beyond these two countries but I’d love to add readers from all countries to my e-newsletter. There’s no obligation and you can cancel your subscription at any time. Just send a quick email to me: loretta@lorettagiacoletto.com to be added to my e-newsletter and for your chance to get an audio version of Chicago’s Headmistress FREE.

 

 

 

 

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Things

Posted on September 30, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

I have this thing about things, my inability to let go of certain things—some of which are quite useful and others I store out of sight because I don’t want to take precious time out of my day deciding what to do with them.

There’s this box of things sitting in an obscure family room cabinet, things that go all the way back to high school, worse yet, grade school, things that only matter to me and no one else, which explains why I still hang on to them. These things from long ago really do matter, even though I rarely look at them—mostly black and white snapshots of classmates, many of which are now history in the truest sense. Still, throwing away those tattered snapshots would be like throwing a part of me away, my continuing history. Someday I will have to deal with this part of my history, my Pandora’s Box of memories. But not today. Or, tomorrow. Or, next week. For now, I have more important things to deal with.

As for dealing with the history of others, don’t get me started on my mother’s Pandora’s Box of Memories. Or, my mother-in-law’s Pandora’s Box. To throw away someone else’s memories somehow seems unthinkable, most definitely a lack of respect I don’t want cluttering my already over-burdened conscience.

Moving on to the compact kitchen, I find my somewhat adequate cabinets filled with too many things—essential skillets, pots, pans, knives, and utensils—none of which I have any intentions of giving up as long as I continue to cook, which does not rank among my favorite pastimes although I don’t mind eating once in a while, especially food better prepared than what I bring to the table. Any kitchen things bought new have been acquired for a specific purpose, or because they were marked so low I couldn’t resist the temptation. Things that have been passed down to me, I hold onto because I use them on a regular basis or when I do use them, I think about the previous owners who entrusted their things to me, knowing I would treat them with the same respect I treat my own things.

I even hold on to things I don’t like, this gift or that gift, out of respect for the person who gave it to me, the person who took the time to consider what I might like and then purchased it on my behalf. This would explain why I’m not crazy about receiving gifts unless I have a say-so in their selection, which supposedly takes away from the enjoyment of the giver. So, does that make me a control freak? Or the giver who depends on my input an enabler? Either way, it doesn’t resolve my dilemma of what to do with things I don’t particularly like.

For now, those things I like or don’t like or feel responsible for maintaining or for preserving can live another day. Better yet, another year.

How about you? Any plans for getting rid of your things? Better yet, letting them live another year. Or five?

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Sounds of an Italian Night

Posted on September 15, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

Of all the places I’ve visited in Asia and Europe, Italy still remains my favorite, which explains why I keep going back every few years. For any first-time traveler to Italy, my suggestion would be to concentrate on the highlights—Rome, Venice, and Florence with side trips to Sienna, Vinci, and San Gimignano if time permits. A second visit might include areas around the Amalfi Coast, Cinque Terre, and the Italian Riviera.

After that, consider the small villages of any region and for those of you whose ancestors emigrated from Italy, by all means find out where your ancestors came from and make that area the focus of your next trip. You won’t be sorry, I promise, especially if you go prepared with the names of family members and some photographs from long ago. Of course, Italy’s art, history, and dining options are legendary but there’s nothing quite like being wined and dined in the home of an Italian family, however distant the relationship or the result of a newly acquired friendship.

During our recent visit to Italy Hubby D and I were the fortunate guests of Cousin E and his wife L, in a renovated house that had belonged to L’s family. Over years of hard work and perseverance, E added on, remodeled, and improved the house, giving the three-story structure a stucco covering and all the amenities that spell comfort and convenience for a modern home. No air conditioning, not in these foothills of the Italian Alps, alleluia! No window screens either, and only an occasional house fly.

D and I slept in a large bedroom adjacent to the kitchen. Our bedroom had tiled floors and a door leading to a small balcony overlooking distant hillsides. At my insistence we slept with the balcony door open, to enjoy that feeling of being lulled to sleep by the sounds of night—cicadas and crickets like those we have back home. But some sounds of the night have a way of wearing out their welcome. I’m talking about the church bells from three villages that chimed every hour on the hour, not simultaneously but one after the other. And then there was the neighbor’s rooster that crowed at four-thirty every morning, followed by the chirping of birds that grew louder and louder until sunrise. On the plus side, there were no mosquitoes, unlike our stay on the River Arno in Florence where teeny tiny mosquitoes waited until we fell asleep before they sucked us drier than vampire bats.

One morning, over breakfast cups of hot latte and coffee for D and L, strong espresso for E and me, I commented about the cicadas chirping through the night. D translated to E, who didn’t understand what I meant until a series of hand gestures explained my inquiry referred to insects.

E shook his head, and said, “No cicadas.”

“Crickets?” I asked.

E shook his head again. He thought a minute, then curled his fingers into claws, spread his arms into flapping wings, and said the one word I didn’t want to hear, “Bats.”

Bats!?! Oh, no. Not bats again. Not after the bats at our Lake of the Ozarks retreat.

Bats make chirping noises at night, really? Bats in Italy, no wonder we hadn’t been bothered by mosquitoes at night or house flies during the day. No problem, I could take it, as long as these bats didn’t get a craving for human blood, American in particular.

That night D asked if I wanted the balcony door opened.

“Si,” I said in my best Italian.

I crawled into bed, pulled the covers up to my chin, and listened for the sounds of the night. Yes, I heard the chirping, only then realizing it was not quite the same as cicadas or crickets. But as long as the bats stayed on their side of the door and not on mine, I could live with their racket. I also heard the bells of those three churches, each taking their turn, every hour on the hour, none of which escaped my tired ears. The rooster and the birds told me when four-thirty rolled around, time for some serious shut-eye before my usual rise and shine—seven-thirty at the latest. Not that our gracious Italian hosts were pushing us. They were wonderful. As for the bats, at that bright and sunny hour they’d be fast asleep, huddled together under an obscure eave until it was time to resume their sounds of night.

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Appetizers on the Italian Riviera

Posted on September 1, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

Seems like only yesterday but it’s been more than two months since Hubby D and I returned from our latest visit to Northern Italy. Although we spent most of our time in the Piemonte Region, we also took a road trip with Cousins E and L, one that D got to enjoy as a passenger instead of his usual position behind the wheel. The four-hour drive via the Autostrada took us through seventy-two tunnels before reaching the Ligurian Coast where our cousins’ recently married daughter S lives with her husband M.

The Ligurian Coast you may ask, where’s that? Well, it’s the Italian Riviera portion of the Mediterranean Sea, from Le Spezia and Cinque Terre to Genoa, San Remo, and Ventimiglia. West of Ventimiglia, Italy becomes France and the Italian Riviera becomes the French Riviera which also includes the sovereign state of Monaco.

Liguria boasts a resort climate and high above the sea terraced cliffs which support a thriving flower industry supplying not only Italy but other countries as well. But it’s the local wine and olive oil that captivated me. Both were an integral part of the wonderful Ligurian meals we ate in the home of our gracious hosts, M and S. Their kitchen was as modern as most in America. Talk about dispensers, this kitchen dispensed just about anything, from typical espresso to carbonated water derived from a tank stored in a drawer. There was also an American-type fridge that dispensed endless supplies of ice cubes which made D very happy since he was experiencing a meltdown from lack of icy beverages. On top of the fridge sat a large metal container with a spigot that dispensed olive oil beaucoup. Pardon my French but we were so close to the border.

I can still hear the collage of mixed languages in that comfortable Ligurian home. Having lived in America for seven years, M spoke very good English so communicating with him didn’t require the usual hand gesturing. However, M did not speak the Piemonte dialect that D used with E and L and S since he cannot speak the formal Italian the others naturally spoke. I, on the other hand, sort of understood the conversations but couldn’t compose a sentence fast enough to respond before everyone else had moved on to another topic. As for N, he had no problem making himself understood in any language and had the run of the house as well as the garden area overlooking the Ligurian Sea. Such is the way of a dog who doesn’t realize he’s a dog.

“My mother taught me to cook,” M said on the day we arrived. “And now I am teaching S.”

Well, I was certainly impressed with what S had learned so far. On Day 2 of our visit she prepared a terrific appetizer/antipasto. Although the Italians probably have a name for this delicious dish, I didn’t catch it. Nor did I observe S during her preparations but she did tell me the ingredients. From there, figuring out the process was simple enough. So, for the sake of expediency, I’ll call it …

Fresh Mozzarella Cheese Roll-ups

Spread out a sheet of “unwrap and roll fresh mozzarella”
Brush lightly with extra virgin olive oil
Slice a small zucchini into thin vertical strips
Place zucchini strips in one layer over mozzarella sheet, sprinkle with salt
Finely chop some olives and a bunch of parsley, add extra virgin olive oil to bind
Spread parsley mixture over layered zucchini
Roll filled mozzarella sheet into a tight log
Tie mozzarella log with the green stems of chives or onions, spacing around 1.5 inches apart.
Cut mozzarella log into serving pieces and arrange on a platter. Enjoy!

Of course, any number of fillings would work—roasted red peppers, fresh spinach, prosciutto, ham, thinly sliced roast beef. Use your imagination!

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Posted in Cooking, Dining, Family, Flowers, Food, Friends, Italian American, Italy, kitchen, kitchen design, Lifestyle, Travel, Uncategorized, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Latest Work in Progress

Posted on August 15, 2014 by Loretta Giacoletto

Moving right along my latest WIP (work in progress), a follow-up to Italy To Die For from the Savino Sisters Mystery Series. During my recent trip to Italy I enjoyed researching this chick lit novel and am now having fun with the writing process that introduces a few descendants of characters from my Italian American saga Family Deceptions. A major portion of the plot travels back to post-WWII Pont Canavese where two mysterious deaths have never been resolved.

Thirty-something sisters, plain-Jane Ellen and super-charged Margo are still vacationing in Italy and have decided to check out the Piemonte village of Pont Canavese where their grandmother Nonnie Clarita lived before immigrating to America at the age of eighteen. Having a personal connection in Pont Canavese, someone to show Ellen and Margo around would make their visit much easier than navigating on their own. So, the sisters decide to replace their lost cell phone and call Nonnie who lives in St. Louis with their mother. A simple phone call, that’s all. How difficult could that be?

Well, the sisters know their grandmother all too well and in the words of Ellen, here’s the gist of their conversation: 

In Courmayeur, I popped for the full amount of the cell phone, even though Margo would’ve paid half if I’d insisted. She would make it up in another way, a bit of predictability I could count on. The clerk spoke decent English and set up our phone before we left. Back in the car, we made the dreaded yet necessary call.

What if Mom answers the phone?” Margo asked while setting the phone to speaker.

“At this hour, I don’t think so. It’s Thursday, she always has lunch with Kat.” Kat had been Mom’s best friend forever. Every woman, no matter how old needs a BFF. Not that fifty-five was old, nor did Mom look her age but she was still way ahead of Margo and me. Take eight-two, that was probably old but Nonnie didn’t seem old, just steadfast. Make that obstinate.

Nonnie answered on the third ring and Margo got the conversation off to a confusing start.

“Guess what, Nonnie?” Margo said.

“Who is this?”

“Who do you think? How many people call you Nonnie?”

“Just my two granddaughters and they’re in Italy. God only knows doing what.”

This could’ve gone on and on, so I spoke up. “Nonnie, hi, it’s Ellen and Margo calling all the way from … Italy.” I didn’t bother with the Monte Bianco thing.

“Ellen and Margo, why did you say so from the beginning instead of making me guess. It’s not like we’re on one of those silly game shows. Talk fast; this has to be costing you a bundle.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I said.

“If I don’t, who will? Your ma can’t come to the phone. She’s—”

“Yeah, we know. It’s Thursday,” Margo said. “Guess what.”

A stupid question that stupid could only lead to nowhere.

“You’re getting married,” Nonnie said. “Well, it’s about time, given your … never mind.”

“Sorry, Nonnie,” Margo said with a laugh, “I’m still looking for Mr. Right.”

“Good luck with that. How about this instead: Ellen’s going back to the nunnery?”

“Never going to happen,” I said. “Here’s the thing: while Margo and I are here in Italy, we want to visit your village.”

“My village, what village?”

“The one you grew up in,” Margo said. “You know, we want to walk the streets you walked.”

“You think I was a streetwalker? Show some respect.”

“Now, Nonnie, you know better than that.”

“Yeah, yeah, just kidding,” Nonnie said. “I just don’t get it. Why now?”

“What better time, we have another ten days before we go home.”

“No-o-o, you don’t say.” She paused, not a good sign. “I don’t know … call back tomorrow.”

“Nonnie!” Margo said. “We thought you’d be crazy for the idea.”

“Shush, give me a minute. I’m thinking.”

Margo raised an eyebrow. I resisted rolling my eyes. Silence filled the Fiat.

“Hello, Nonnie,” Margo said. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “Trust me, you won’t like it there. Talk about nothing to do. It’s not like St. Louis, you know. No Cardinals baseball, no Forest Park, or casinos.”

“Neither one of us gamble, Nonnie.”

“No, but I do … never mind.”

“We’re tired of touring,” I said. “We need some quiet time.”

“Maybe you but Margo won’t last more than a day or two. From what I’ve heard, Italy’s not like it was in my day. Back then we danced the night away. Worked like dogs the next day so we could dance again.”

“Like Nonnie, like me,” Margo said.

Okay, now. Drum roll for my eye roll.

“Dancing was a long time ago,” Nonnie said. “Now those same people will be sitting around, coughing up their guts, complaining about sore knees and bad backs that went out and didn’t come back. That is, if these old farts are still looking at the green side of the grass. Talk about boring.”

“There’s no talking us out of this, Nonnie.”

“With or without your blessing, Ellen and I are going.”

Not the way to handle Nonnie. I motioned for Margo to button it up.

“Nonnie, it’s me, Ellen. What about the cousin you exchange Christmas cards with.”

“A very distant cousin, we hardly share the same blood. In fact, I doubt we’re even related.”

“Would you mind calling her, at least let her know we’re coming.”

“How long you known me?” Nonnie asked.

“My whole life.” I could not recall a time when she hadn’t live with us when Margo and I were kids and now with Mom.

“And when did you ever hear me call Donata on the telephone? I don’t even have her number.”

“Just give us her address,” Margo said. “That I know you have.”

“Directions to her house would be nice,” I added.

“What do think I am: one of those smart computers? It’s been forever and a day since I last saw her. It’s not like we’re best friends.”

“Not so fast, Nonnie,” I said. “What about Donata’s married name. I used to know it but forgot.”

“She’s a widow which might mean the married name no longer counts in Italy.”

“Think, Nonnie, think.”

“Oh, for god sake, just hang around the piazza and ask the first person who looks friendly, but not too friendly. Watch yourself, Margo. Don’t do anything to embarrass the family. Ellen, I ain’t worried about. Her beauty comes from within. Right, Ellen. Ain’t that what your ma … look, I gotta go.”

“But Nonnie—”

“Somebody’s knocking at the door. Ciao, Margo. You too, Ellen.”

End of conversation, before Margo or I had a chance to say our goodbyes.

End of my excerpt, a long way from ending my novel. But half the fun of getting anywhere is the journey, right?

 

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