tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60218173555470608072024-03-14T12:40:11.905+01:00Cookin'for 3An Italo American-Irish Mom's quest to feed her two very italian menEllehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-4651229748692476862010-10-31T13:35:00.003+01:002010-10-31T13:38:35.821+01:00Zucchini flowers with anchovies and melty cheese<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoiFmzmJPQqSpSTgXK1jM2tvM7Ar1OumnMoGd2vBv63Nn6LO_r-qqfJt97e-D9Wu_gXmKZQTFcJVmaPhVcPTP5_afcvVp2GJsoqCeTcK8xGItZkidQA27YqcKtvW9LeL-mWYTIN4fZEc/s1600/fiori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoiFmzmJPQqSpSTgXK1jM2tvM7Ar1OumnMoGd2vBv63Nn6LO_r-qqfJt97e-D9Wu_gXmKZQTFcJVmaPhVcPTP5_afcvVp2GJsoqCeTcK8xGItZkidQA27YqcKtvW9LeL-mWYTIN4fZEc/s400/fiori.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
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<b>For the batter you'll need:</b><br />
<b>100 gr of beer (or water, ut beer's better, you get to drink the rest while cooking) </b><br />
<b>150 gr of flower</b><br />
<b>2 eggs</b><br />
<b>a pinch of salt </b><br />
<b>a pinch of pepper</b><br />
<b>(enough batter for 15 flowers, but you can use it for cauliflowers, zucchini, onions...) </b><br />
<b>Wash the flowers thoroughly, taking out the stems and cutting off the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, SunSans-Regular, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">leafstalk. </span></span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, SunSans-Regular, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b>Wash the salt off the anchovies , cut thin slices of the cheese you plan to stuff the flowers with. Mozzarella does fine.</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, SunSans-Regular, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b>Cover them in batter and have a pan full of boiling oil waiting. Better if frying oil. </b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, SunSans-Regular, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b>Stuff anchovies in flowers, (one each) and the cheese. Cover them in batter, carefully because they easily rip and let all the stuffing out while cooking. </b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, SunSans-Regular, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b>Fry them about 5/7 minutes.</b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, SunSans-Regular, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b>Enjoy!</b></span></span><br />
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</span></span>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-65305105463124617452010-10-28T14:27:00.001+02:002010-10-28T14:28:40.341+02:00Driving Miss MommySo I'm learning to drive. Why I don't have a driving licence at the age of ** (NOT telling!) is a long story, I'll make it short by telling why I've finally decided. I'm just so sick and tired of asking for rides, waiting for late people in the cold and need more independence. I've been doing just fine wih public transportation up to now, but trying to walk in high heels, with grocery, a school backpack and an umbrella on a ridiculous sidewalk, in the rain, holding your son's hand is just not fun anymore.<br />
I passed the quizzes just fine, but now I gotta get driving <i>practice</i>. I always knew it wasn't easy to drive in Rome, and today I found out why. BigGuy decides he could spare some time this morning, so we headed off in the morning traffic. It was a stop-n'go every second. My leg hurts from the clutch pedal (I hope this <i>driving stuff</i> won't affect muscles only on one leg..it would be awful) but we got to destination ok. Ok means the car went off just a couple of times, and no one was harmed. Had a coffee, then BigGuy tells me he's running late for a business meeting so we gotta head back home and yes, I'll have to drive home too. Motorcycles everywhere, cops, ambulances, old folks on bikes...where is everyone going! Just stay home!<br />
Maybe the amount of caffeine, the sun, wrong shoes or what ever it was, but at 2 minutes from home, I step on the brake to hard an a car crashes into us. Great. Out comes a short santa-look-a-like, with the whole beard thing going, a french beret and a little scarf around his neck. Clearly a painter. An old nice cute painter which just excused me, patted my arm and gave us his card. Come by for a coffee, he offered. Or chamomile.Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-30222181248316037922010-10-28T13:10:00.000+02:002010-10-28T13:10:44.672+02:00Disposable ClothesWhat's up with ironing anyway? Can we say we are modern people?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7q8qiWVfwZPx0hS1K8vbZwKsUhvBB-Sq6aHlHldsDtyDJBfAOYBNgxWzupBToWsj9KWazCi_9yEeshZKh1M63uLLj8jqtc56LBvUCxUdffJ6Y5ypMEKzAleBcsBjm2MbNrjX9wyxcZWA/s1600/A-collection-of-buttons-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7q8qiWVfwZPx0hS1K8vbZwKsUhvBB-Sq6aHlHldsDtyDJBfAOYBNgxWzupBToWsj9KWazCi_9yEeshZKh1M63uLLj8jqtc56LBvUCxUdffJ6Y5ypMEKzAleBcsBjm2MbNrjX9wyxcZWA/s320/A-collection-of-buttons-001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> We haven't even invented disposable wear-one-time clothes yet! How much fun would shopping be then? Every other week, shopping sprees galore!!<br />
"Honey I have to buy something to wear... for Saturday Sunday and next Monday". Ups... there's a spot on this. In the wash? No! In the bin...<br />
Who needs space missions.... get down to earth and invent something<b> really USEFUL!</b>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-76423646153384871802010-10-26T15:35:00.001+02:002010-10-26T16:03:17.822+02:00Autumn In Rome part IIWe call them simply "ottobrate", those days in October when the air is still warm, the sun is really hot around late morning, and you can count on those sunny rays to dry at least a few loads of washes you've stacked up during the rainy miserable days before.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Some one needed a good wash too.....Littleguy's fave comfort toy</b></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-33710393895102869542010-10-26T11:34:00.001+02:002010-10-26T14:01:28.091+02:00First Month's UPS and downs...and codfishMy first month as a blogger. Sometimes I was into writing more than I had the time for. Sometimes I wouldn't even turn on my computer.<br />
Sometimes I wanted to take pictures of thing I was cooking, but had already brought it to the table. And started eating !<br />
Once I made a beautiful (and delicious!) cake. But couldn't find my camera. So it got eaten, no pics, no post. But a full tummy!<br />
It's not a job for me, but a fun moment in which I feel I want to share something I made, and for the only purpose of EATING it , or bringing it to friend's house for dinner.<br />
Talking of which I have to come up with some really good cake or dessert to bring over to my new friend's house, she's been talking about this dinner for a while. She's brazilian, and I found out that over there codfish is one of the important bases of meals. I just tried codfish this summer for the first time (OMG my mouth is watering... it's only 11,20 am!!) deep fried in batter and I must admit I adore it. In Italian calling someone baccala' (codfish) is usually associated with not beeing very smart, or not knowing how to act in different occasions.... I know italians are wierd. So I never even <i>WANTED</i> to eat this fish.<br />
I've been missing out on a lot of things 'cause of their name. <b><i>How silly is that? </i></b><br />
Back to my friend L., she lured me into this dinner by promising codfish. Brazilian style. Can't wait. Must find something yummy.Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-46916495764940554092010-10-19T18:15:00.001+02:002010-10-19T18:16:30.746+02:00<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 13px;"><em><span style="color: #cc66cc;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">"May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun.</span></span></em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 13px;"><em><span style="color: #cc66cc;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></span><span style="color: #9999ff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">And find your shoulder to light on.</span></span><span style="color: #333399;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">To bring you luck, happiness and riches</span></span></em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 13px;"><em><span style="color: #333399;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #cc66cc;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Today, tomorrow and beyond".</span></span></em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc66cc;"><i><br />
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</i></span></span><span style="color: #663366;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">(An Irish Blessing)</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 13px;"><span style="color: #663366;"> Visited <a href="http://mandarineditalie.blogspot.com/">http://mandarineditalie.blogspot.com</a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 13px;">Thank you for these heartwarming words, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 13px;"><i>The butterfly lover in me.</i></span></div>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-16792315285599000152010-10-19T16:54:00.012+02:002010-10-26T16:24:47.294+02:00TEN THINGS TO THINK ABOUT WHEN .....<b>It's just one of those days... the sun never even showed up today and it's so dark it's been looking like 6 pm since this morning. Everyone feels sleepy, sometimes bored or depressed. But then you sit down and think about things that brighten up your day just thinkin' about them ....and those for me today are.....</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOij9M5KDr7t6Fzmxa7rKYcqiAZ5o5h3usTUzqCR5Ra7HDk4Zf4vs6iVO8sqpbxzDrWP5IIwBVSbqqGSVIKU1Qy9YKT5tEZdpVghirrBEhHF8qpoCr3SzssDGi1-ffGTV5Mx24jO_tEyo/s1600/DSC00063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOij9M5KDr7t6Fzmxa7rKYcqiAZ5o5h3usTUzqCR5Ra7HDk4Zf4vs6iVO8sqpbxzDrWP5IIwBVSbqqGSVIKU1Qy9YKT5tEZdpVghirrBEhHF8qpoCr3SzssDGi1-ffGTV5Mx24jO_tEyo/s400/DSC00063.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">1)</span> Littleguy's kisses and funny faces, and how proud he is of himself when he makes me laugh 'till I'm breathless. He'll keep at whatever funny thing he's doing and won't stop till I got tears in my eyes.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>2)</b></span> Getting an email from an old friend you haven't seen in ages....but you treasure in your heart, and find out she's doing well...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitIe8WCidozxgL9IBaw4pKAz8lg-2kGfvaDLUdD0IWbkd12SQvmtDRph_Qa51lVPPL6a4Gi7nUbRhOax9w1gc1kYCHRpmP9OH9vDTLhMMnF-LMU8WAu6iZnACvH21BSxGj8dh0b4JQs2g/s1600/DSC02482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitIe8WCidozxgL9IBaw4pKAz8lg-2kGfvaDLUdD0IWbkd12SQvmtDRph_Qa51lVPPL6a4Gi7nUbRhOax9w1gc1kYCHRpmP9OH9vDTLhMMnF-LMU8WAu6iZnACvH21BSxGj8dh0b4JQs2g/s400/DSC02482.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">3)</span></b> Making loads of pink icing, cover cupcakes in it and then, spoonful at a time, clean the bowl you've made it in. <br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">4)</span></b> Sleep till late on Sundays, and get a <i><b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">good morning kiss</span></b> </i>and breakfast in bed<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTqa4raObjuW7BOcR0bBcXmEb_C0Zn5q4XxcX36LhZvLBPRJyD_1tZThT_0BIGnLsUt-Dawv3A6P1ZHFX0yspltsyjq4xMDcEXQNhNWdjTpkZGFyCJWjp8yD6fEAEvG2uEzOP_smzliSs/s1600/DSC01389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTqa4raObjuW7BOcR0bBcXmEb_C0Zn5q4XxcX36LhZvLBPRJyD_1tZThT_0BIGnLsUt-Dawv3A6P1ZHFX0yspltsyjq4xMDcEXQNhNWdjTpkZGFyCJWjp8yD6fEAEvG2uEzOP_smzliSs/s400/DSC01389.JPG" width="400" /></a> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">5) </span></b>Hang out with people you know so well, you can tell<i> them</i> what they're thinking.<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">6)</span></b> A good fresh glass of white wine for a summer <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>aperitivo</b></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>.</b></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolWfjb96fuYO1mahLsDVhVXCTLvOTn7c33LvNeJZBObWWzB-jyd_E189WbqnCmUJ3Gcd4mm_7ma1J6wOGouYMefpf5UgAW-v1vQ4cFsDkm6bEk7tPsDLrVgX2SWBhXfaiorvanifKF2Q/s1600/DSC02245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolWfjb96fuYO1mahLsDVhVXCTLvOTn7c33LvNeJZBObWWzB-jyd_E189WbqnCmUJ3Gcd4mm_7ma1J6wOGouYMefpf5UgAW-v1vQ4cFsDkm6bEk7tPsDLrVgX2SWBhXfaiorvanifKF2Q/s320/DSC02245.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BigGuy enjoying the Mediterranean</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">7) </span></b>Being rocked by the waves when you're sleeping on a boat and awaking in a new place.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: left;"> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">8)</span></b> Having someone taste something you've spent hours cooking, and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">LOVE it.</span></b></span></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">9) </span></b>Smell baking bread on your early morning jog.</div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>10) </b></span> Feel satisfied by what you have and what you're doing in life and don't give a damn of what all the world thinks.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Peace!</span></b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br />
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</b></span>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-12148431772911537682010-10-17T21:28:00.001+02:002010-10-17T21:29:29.342+02:00Fried Chicken Viennese and One-Person Potato Gateau (and peas)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSI5vidKcB-OSCNwG1hAxD03rJ6MCTzae5qzqmeFLRV6rQTlDCNb_skeoRZWrW3dxI7o1kon5v5R_QRj35pKhyphenhyphenVRw6DWlwKM3kWERLVNpBEnJeepDTe1eWfQS8Nb0OWoFwvLLpYn94aXc/s1600/talismano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSI5vidKcB-OSCNwG1hAxD03rJ6MCTzae5qzqmeFLRV6rQTlDCNb_skeoRZWrW3dxI7o1kon5v5R_QRj35pKhyphenhyphenVRw6DWlwKM3kWERLVNpBEnJeepDTe1eWfQS8Nb0OWoFwvLLpYn94aXc/s1600/talismano.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So Friday I recived the equivalent to "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">mastering the art of french cooking" <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> for the italian classic cooking</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">. A pass-me-down from my Mom, a book dated 1968, even if the author started writing her recipes in 1915. It's called " </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Il Talismano della Felicita</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">'" <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span><a href="http://cosacucino.style.it/libreria/libreria-dettaglio.php/id_libro/lb40559581975e2/dum/1.htm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">a fat book</span></a> of 1150 pages </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> which translates into " The Talisman of Happiness". Reassuring title isn't? Except for the ugly guy on the cover...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">At least two of my gf's have it and put it to use, regularly and with great results. My copy is pretty worn out, inside I found leaflets of recipes, notes, and arrows all over. Can't wait to add some of my notes too.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"> It's a Sunday afternoon, awful weather, LittleGuy's recovering from a small flu... Desperate Housewives season 7 has been downloaded, what is there more to do? </span></span><br />
<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Opening the fridge this big whole chicken stares back at me from his beheaded neck...ookk</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> I</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>'ll cook you ! Give the fat book some use!</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I cut up the chicken, divided it in 6 parts and let it marinate in a mixture of olive oil, lemon juice, pepper, salt and chopped up parsley. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> For two hours.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSBuZlkVF-InMJDyneLZ0mG7SMGTJaeEITPMAf7f4Y-OpxY321JdUZPpywTZApKx-YSY8jhW4fVuSylM_9icQ6jS6zH052P4imUdn5qZPoOhRnKE7hRJ8OgHOj09_16Mda1jytdJ10pk/s1600/pollo+disossato.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSBuZlkVF-InMJDyneLZ0mG7SMGTJaeEITPMAf7f4Y-OpxY321JdUZPpywTZApKx-YSY8jhW4fVuSylM_9icQ6jS6zH052P4imUdn5qZPoOhRnKE7hRJ8OgHOj09_16Mda1jytdJ10pk/s1600/pollo+disossato.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I used: </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A whole lemon's juice</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a pinch of salt</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a spoonful of mixed pepper (pink, white, black)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">30 gr of extra virgin olive oil</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">10/15 leaves of chopped up parsley</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">A whole chicken about 1 kg weight</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">one egg </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">breadcrumbs enough to cover all the chicken parts</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Frying oil</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvnStF2v-aHlnAlh41VbSkEcgRcSW_56tRugmWKsU8WAZCnFoS0g2TMv7-T0kaxJth8KtDdbi3xJOEW6vNg7iCQXuJIMKJzUZ1BJFvTgx3Q5b3LhyphenhyphenawdD_hGZ27itELNXjnrGvoI6KRo/s1600/Pollo+viennese.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvnStF2v-aHlnAlh41VbSkEcgRcSW_56tRugmWKsU8WAZCnFoS0g2TMv7-T0kaxJth8KtDdbi3xJOEW6vNg7iCQXuJIMKJzUZ1BJFvTgx3Q5b3LhyphenhyphenawdD_hGZ27itELNXjnrGvoI6KRo/s320/Pollo+viennese.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">After having the meat marinate, pat it dry, dip in the egg you have previously beaten up, then cover it well in bread crumbs and deep fry it. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I must say it was tasty. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BWRda-oufQ7y8o_OLoC21D2_3WWwDkkm01rvcuqhNhIvtG7Rg6RCovGL0fyb7xiVZGZSLluLK_WrQzPofzH0C2kHnmlEMEygnKlPuFqjLhuL-td4cCXRZST0z75Ak6nS-CXTCZeDGdc/s1600/pollo+viennese+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BWRda-oufQ7y8o_OLoC21D2_3WWwDkkm01rvcuqhNhIvtG7Rg6RCovGL0fyb7xiVZGZSLluLK_WrQzPofzH0C2kHnmlEMEygnKlPuFqjLhuL-td4cCXRZST0z75Ak6nS-CXTCZeDGdc/s320/pollo+viennese+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I also wanted to make an appetizer, so I vapor cooked 6 small potatoes for about 25 minutes, then processed them a few seconds, added two eggs, 4 slices of Spanish salami (<i>oh so very</i> tasty and slightly smoked) cut up in small dices, parsley and 30 grams of grated Parmesan. I filled up three small baking tins (previously buttered) of this thick potato cream, and covered the top with breadcrumbs. A little butter-flake and in the oven, 40 minutes at 180°. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DwDEpldx77FYAxmCKD1N0BSAuPl9OBTR3O8Ylarq1vVf7RqFQ9AU3BAaq58mgricHamFDywhFStkxj5dVK5_7VmEB79HYOhUGFBz5cD5xYTKPgSmazHOjKqd1f-WhxyKB2corPWsTlw/s1600/DSC02473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DwDEpldx77FYAxmCKD1N0BSAuPl9OBTR3O8Ylarq1vVf7RqFQ9AU3BAaq58mgricHamFDywhFStkxj5dVK5_7VmEB79HYOhUGFBz5cD5xYTKPgSmazHOjKqd1f-WhxyKB2corPWsTlw/s320/DSC02473.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span></div>there's a pea in the picture too....That's what Littleguy had instead of Gateu... (No Mushy thing for me Mommy!)<br />
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</div>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-1196073998287068222010-10-14T13:54:00.001+02:002010-10-17T20:49:57.202+02:00No Country for young WomenDoes it happen to you too? Those mornings when everything seems to start in the wrong way, you wake up late, you poke your eye real hard while trying to slip your contacts lenses in, you mess up your son's sandwich for school, your kid takes ten (TEN!!) minutes to tie his shoe, you step in a puddle and wet your socks... But the worst part is looking into the mirror and this unknown face looks right back at you aghast. So I took a decision, my beautician center was going to see me real early that morning. It's a fancy place, all decorated in pink, with Marylin and butterfly pictures all over, pink feathers, pink curtains and a big pink sofa.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsV7jj29OToikIbjOjHwazwSIsN0Yb8R66FKux-b8OlqL6iiI7tb1AZubIsJpEytJipC-gz-vUj9PNAnjNEug5e2_vyk6r_ijRFtV_tA6HyD4kIlvdDP7zAugId_DlBk-RpPqvCA1q1E/s1600/pop+art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsV7jj29OToikIbjOjHwazwSIsN0Yb8R66FKux-b8OlqL6iiI7tb1AZubIsJpEytJipC-gz-vUj9PNAnjNEug5e2_vyk6r_ijRFtV_tA6HyD4kIlvdDP7zAugId_DlBk-RpPqvCA1q1E/s1600/pop+art.jpg" /></a></div> But.. I forgot they don't open at 9, but at 9:30. So I sat out there, without a jacket, waiting, my butt freezing on the cold marble seat.<br />
I hate to be the first customer, the girls need a little time to get everything ready,but they're always so nice and welcoming, they let me right in and made me coffee. I told them I felt like an old battered shoe, I needed some pampering, so started out with a manicure and chatted away. They are my age, late twenties early thirties, and we always have a lot to chat about. Two of them come from far, one of these girls takes a train and a subway (2 hrs travel) to get to work. But when she worked closer to home, out of Rome, she earned 400 euros a month , working 8 hrs a day for 5 days a week. That's almost slavery! Another one rides a bus for an hour, but they both live on their own, trying to make ends meet with 900 euros divided between 450 euros of rent, plus food and paying bills. They are worried to go out for a pizza with girlfriends, or to the movie's to see Clooney' s latest. Everything costs soo much. When they go on vacation in the summer ( a week, not much more) they have taken 100 euros a month out of their paycheck to be able to afford it. How can I blame them for saying they wish they found a rich old guy to marry? How are they ever going to think about settling down and having a family? Italian government is getting always worse, and we always hear the news tell us "Italians don't have kids anymore" . How can we afford to? We don't want to have starving kids! Wanna be a mommy? Hope you get your job back once your child is in pre-school, or even worse, hope you don't get "mysteriously" fired once your bosses find out you're pregnant. <i>Or</i>, you can work all your life, slow down in your early forties, decide to have a kid and hope you get one by that age. I have nothing against moms in their 40's, I just can't figure out where they find their energy to run after a toddler. I get tired <i>just thinking </i>about it. ....ps... They received a large platter of Choc chips....Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-29705101787144988322010-10-12T15:20:00.001+02:002010-10-12T15:22:59.917+02:00Forgot the FurryGuys!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6d6tzvi8003sIPuQ4SyCUtQy4mopzEzkaZZ6XxGymEPT52aNUfB3d4lLYINf2VajXpGDlUjVPUZm5wchqyTcEJ7My8Rmu3dfTq8r8txZeBBQt_-hizUlDspVIlRgqil2mfBKOJ5PmGvw/s1600/occhietto.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6d6tzvi8003sIPuQ4SyCUtQy4mopzEzkaZZ6XxGymEPT52aNUfB3d4lLYINf2VajXpGDlUjVPUZm5wchqyTcEJ7My8Rmu3dfTq8r8txZeBBQt_-hizUlDspVIlRgqil2mfBKOJ5PmGvw/s320/occhietto.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I told you about BigGuy, LittleGuy, but I totally forgot my other two housemates! Part of our family since 2008, Grisman arrived as a small black hairball, two big bat-like ears and the bad habit of sucking on your clothes. He probably didn't have enough time with his mommy, and came from an animal shelter. He's know a six-kilo chubby guy. But he 'll still suck on your clothes.<br />
If you're wondering, his name means nothing at all, Littleguy made it up, sounded good and just stuck.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeN9MQBMZdmEMgThLKufwvgJtDSo_tQFt0F_jy1kVPNm2OYmqjXbFgCR-GuMTwbS51CJFcYmbEMu3OkD9cftLRl58FLNC3HVM1Wz6EbJwo0pSqLJOmmLMm7Uajf3ZkQYe_0zNCcGZgBMg/s1600/modella.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeN9MQBMZdmEMgThLKufwvgJtDSo_tQFt0F_jy1kVPNm2OYmqjXbFgCR-GuMTwbS51CJFcYmbEMu3OkD9cftLRl58FLNC3HVM1Wz6EbJwo0pSqLJOmmLMm7Uajf3ZkQYe_0zNCcGZgBMg/s320/modella.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Second arrival to the family, Luna. She has a sad story, beaten 'till her tail broke, her kittens were taken away from her as soon as they were born, and she was thrown, in bad shape, into the same shelter Grisman came from. She's pretty, and loudmouthed.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpc3OrMovRsaelR5LRK-TZJMWhto3DVQUG16rt5jmIJhpxUgowcpIrqDHDvmnIvrq7jsa0go-dc8FFu0r8EmmqSk42RWinTTyykb9jqrhrv3eG9bTgBOi8eanmEVPEuuuUn3Cfi93YJcQ/s1600/basket+cases.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpc3OrMovRsaelR5LRK-TZJMWhto3DVQUG16rt5jmIJhpxUgowcpIrqDHDvmnIvrq7jsa0go-dc8FFu0r8EmmqSk42RWinTTyykb9jqrhrv3eG9bTgBOi8eanmEVPEuuuUn3Cfi93YJcQ/s320/basket+cases.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Here they are just beeing basket cases.</i></b></div>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-46596509948201867432010-10-12T11:55:00.001+02:002010-10-12T12:06:03.188+02:00Chocolate chips cookies the best 'Till nowMy mom makes them, a tradition that comes from over the ocean. I've been eating the dough since I was a toddler, and my mom tried to bake some before I could eat the whole batch. I don't think she learned them from her Mom, Grandma can't really cook or so say her kids. She can bake, or at least used to. My Mom's cookies are kinda tall, fluffy, and never real hard or crunchy. They're <i>wierd</i>. I never could bake a batch like those. I always miss out on the extra fluffy. Mine are salty some times, burnt on other occasions (like when I tried o make a good impression/welcome treat for one of my dear friends new significant other: HI! Sooo happy to meet you. Have a BAD cookie!) but this time I adapted a recipe I found, made the best of my mistakes, and got the best out of it. BigGuy just had his second breakfast wolfed down about 6, and a cappuccino. When making ravioli at the market <a href="http://cookinfor3.blogspot.com/2010/10/home-made-ravioli-di-carne-meat-ravioli.html"> just friday</a> I bought manitoba flower. I think that may be the secret to the consistency I got today.<br />
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This is what you'll need:<br />
100 gr of dark chocolate<br />
100 gr of white chocolate with hazelnuts<br />
230 gr of cake flour<br />
240 gr of manitoba flower<br />
a small SMALL pinch of salt<br />
280 gr of light brown sugar<br />
230 gr of white sugar<br />
100 gr of salted butter<br />
130 gr of margarine<br />
10 gr of vanilla extract<br />
7 gr of baking powder<br />
half a glass of milk<br />
2 medium eggs<br />
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Coarsely chop up the chocolate an leave on a side. Process sugars and butters, I have a machine called BIMBY ( which I adore, it does most of the job) which heats while processing. I heated it to 37° and had it process and fluff up the butter and sugar for 5 min. Stir in the other ingredients, flower, eggs, vanilla, baking powder, till they look really sticky. Then add the milk, have it amalgamate into the other ingredients then add the chocolate. Have the dough sit overnight, or about 12 hrs.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRh3FFx9Ch8jsjSgvZFDz6VvPSW7zVuwzBdc7vtAArrJHGEIlNNidwp2jh0AEIVTGflajYnRzwNalL1MNptcW-RvjgjwA0z1Mli7E2rUptGeXx3_EbetABs8ak5ekHJSOimaEmtwGqwc4/s1600/Chocko1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRh3FFx9Ch8jsjSgvZFDz6VvPSW7zVuwzBdc7vtAArrJHGEIlNNidwp2jh0AEIVTGflajYnRzwNalL1MNptcW-RvjgjwA0z1Mli7E2rUptGeXx3_EbetABs8ak5ekHJSOimaEmtwGqwc4/s320/Chocko1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIkIhU-74GqXj5QTQq9tzrB8uzP5C57LSX9ibSgFi-iCxBQzLTUMqBJEdJB-BM3iI26FARY5S0gBnOKpATbX2XOOZiRmH2n3YP9P8WsnOek0oK3s-i3QC8DJaqMcenYQxhEnI_lBYjF2g/s1600/chocko2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIkIhU-74GqXj5QTQq9tzrB8uzP5C57LSX9ibSgFi-iCxBQzLTUMqBJEdJB-BM3iI26FARY5S0gBnOKpATbX2XOOZiRmH2n3YP9P8WsnOek0oK3s-i3QC8DJaqMcenYQxhEnI_lBYjF2g/s320/chocko2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Heat the oven to 180° , in the meantime make small meatball-like balls, then flatten them in your palms, and spread over cooking sheet. Put no more than 6 at a time, they will widen and stick to each other.<br />
Cook for about 20 minutes. These are mine on the breakfast table.<br />
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Buon appetito!Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-63371621787792520172010-10-08T16:24:00.004+02:002010-10-12T15:23:52.064+02:00Home made ravioli di carne (meat ravioli)Walkin around the local market today I was breathing in the delicious smells of hot bread, cakes, and much more (no, not the fish, it's unbearable in the morning) and walked in front of the cheese spot, where white, pure and fresh, sat a big ricotta cheesecloth. Ricotta has a pretty neutral taste, so you can use it in cakes, or in ravioli.<br />
<div>I had a one moment thought, walked in and bought enough to make tortelli, then asked the shopowner if at the market I could buy the shapes for making ravioli, bought it and went home happy. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I made the broth with: </div><div> chicken, one zucchina, one carrot and guanciale (wich is pig's cheeck, very similar for taste to bacon...just fatter! )</div><div>I had that cook for an hour, then processed all that for about 30 seconds, added also the ricotta and put it aside for the stuffing. </div><div> For the pasta itself, for 3 people, I used 300 grams of flower and 10 grams of extravirgin olive oil, and 3 medium eggs. Worked it well for about 5 minutes. Then I opened the box with the ravioli shape, inside there was also a small rolling pin.</div><div><br />
</div><div> Wich broke, almost immediately. <i>Made a great deal did'nt I?</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEs287tHVh9T03-sGqDd3yedNyUpcurAUjx_GCJJDcbh0vx3jK5CZ2Mma2tE6Uai14ocYpzpFW5l4kG5i_JbB7IhZXG1vsUP5SRRRG5RrAHynAb31Y1Mp4IgVNqFGLIexcX1h7sdsmhpE/s1600/DSC02411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEs287tHVh9T03-sGqDd3yedNyUpcurAUjx_GCJJDcbh0vx3jK5CZ2Mma2tE6Uai14ocYpzpFW5l4kG5i_JbB7IhZXG1vsUP5SRRRG5RrAHynAb31Y1Mp4IgVNqFGLIexcX1h7sdsmhpE/s320/DSC02411.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>I layed the pasta on the shapes, stuck the stuffing in (not more than a teaspoon) and then covered it up with more pasta.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUAHeOMRM-e-AZDNJfz9M8sdFXqxxF95-_KHRb36zj55g2JugIrypSfk2mlJAKUhzS_GqZttYlv3dZvdO3Jt2XkISba1FACrBOg4sI1vcn8NwDHEQfK4N8u85ADQZ_0Mbho_J_zfJ7yM/s1600/DSC02412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUAHeOMRM-e-AZDNJfz9M8sdFXqxxF95-_KHRb36zj55g2JugIrypSfk2mlJAKUhzS_GqZttYlv3dZvdO3Jt2XkISba1FACrBOg4sI1vcn8NwDHEQfK4N8u85ADQZ_0Mbho_J_zfJ7yM/s320/DSC02412.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div>Rolled the (broken) little rolling pin a few times, then took out the big, non-cut ravioli out of the shape. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm not going to say they came perfect ( put too much stuffing in some) or that it was an easy afternoon (Two fell on the floor and <b><i>could not</i></b> be saved) but the worst part was cleaning up. You do know how eggs stick, right? Well my wooden kitchen counter needed a looong scrub to remove everything at the end. </div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wyD5luGye-jtkUtdgJX2KP4hugjCkBEXe7gAQubyQr-IpmQpiYwh_8x43KuosThMxFhhPfw0VSAIH-5XepZZC6DprRFfTjsyY9Bf1mEOGyK0T-DYNe3zer0uVj5mD1bnHfI4IZSsPGg/s1600/DSC02414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wyD5luGye-jtkUtdgJX2KP4hugjCkBEXe7gAQubyQr-IpmQpiYwh_8x43KuosThMxFhhPfw0VSAIH-5XepZZC6DprRFfTjsyY9Bf1mEOGyK0T-DYNe3zer0uVj5mD1bnHfI4IZSsPGg/s320/DSC02414.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>But they look cute. And hopefully good. </b><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><b>I made a very simple sauce with olive oil, onion, tomato and cream. Cooked the ravioli for 10 minutes, and then covered them in sauce. Didn't have time for a picture, the Guys wolfed them down! Will repeat the recipe!!</b></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
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</div>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-59421663609244826652010-10-07T22:48:00.006+02:002010-10-26T15:10:24.918+02:00Marmalade pies - chestnut and apricot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIbJxip06ZFXjZtANWlRCmf6qx2orpagk-H3QgAhTbj7kUg7V8CcdKk6ME1T-oYxijNSFpObUz9HMJ07Vv-A5fXYoFnDYD8Jb5n-qDRyW4p_yoLh-sgHCHkqeavATjDuEVQ2qarN9zt8/s1600/DSC02401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIbJxip06ZFXjZtANWlRCmf6qx2orpagk-H3QgAhTbj7kUg7V8CcdKk6ME1T-oYxijNSFpObUz9HMJ07Vv-A5fXYoFnDYD8Jb5n-qDRyW4p_yoLh-sgHCHkqeavATjDuEVQ2qarN9zt8/s640/DSC02401.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
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Tonight we're DAD-Less. He's out for work, and me and Littleguy have dinner very early whan he's not around. I had Littleguy help me make two marmalade pies, one with apricot marmalade homemade from my friend's polish wife, and the other with cheastnut marmalade, wich I adore. And the guys hate, so I made a one-man-pie. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0eDl-i0CMAEk_i4GgIQeCz16CWIEs7jmyM2QACgrKOe2YCCTPuIJ7iRF09ppvmTA_W15v8FMY-fCOnBc8VBNL5BL-37y36-rsYWTvZs54Y2hA3fxdVEvcOiyiGe59d7FmNzwz5tTcHAE/s1600/crostata+marroni.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0eDl-i0CMAEk_i4GgIQeCz16CWIEs7jmyM2QACgrKOe2YCCTPuIJ7iRF09ppvmTA_W15v8FMY-fCOnBc8VBNL5BL-37y36-rsYWTvZs54Y2hA3fxdVEvcOiyiGe59d7FmNzwz5tTcHAE/s320/crostata+marroni.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> (crema di marroni in italian)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9xPin_cT_1hyphenhyphenMZkgSk45C3fRZ1dauEC8L7dPEw_c_tWbS1nOG2Iz9J613eZbK-nA7sF0aDtwMBnWM96F-jOr158t1ODcCzhCs3m4ohI7YC0UJRhFGGyNKJkU6T4JU-NYUxBD4RoI3a08/s1600/Crostata+albiccocca.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9xPin_cT_1hyphenhyphenMZkgSk45C3fRZ1dauEC8L7dPEw_c_tWbS1nOG2Iz9J613eZbK-nA7sF0aDtwMBnWM96F-jOr158t1ODcCzhCs3m4ohI7YC0UJRhFGGyNKJkU6T4JU-NYUxBD4RoI3a08/s320/Crostata+albiccocca.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>(Albicocche in italian)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The little stars are stolen from Littleguy's favourite cereal, I did not make those!<br />
This is how I made the dough:<br />
Peel one lemon, processes it for 10 seconds real high, then add 80 gr of sugar, 130 gr of margerine, 300 gr of flower, 1 egg and one egg yolk, and one spoonful of baking powder. Littleguy made the "worms" as he called the dough stripes, in fact it looks like a woven basket, more than a pie. <br />
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</div>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-58188610678557251252010-10-06T14:53:00.004+02:002010-10-26T14:51:07.584+02:00Autumn In Rome<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Despite the 26° we're having, for the leaves autumn has arrived, and the many parks in Rome start showing the signs of change.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5-howlhQtCGKpzehN8yY2gNkr2tWKxe_tDsaGLqxPizqi5IbROd3HREmsKPMqJ6nC3H_dfScOf90R9DDanBReFcQP7Rgp7_5fVugwHXsMuqLMysOv2rHECNnTzwvZDcjKn0f7i28xTU/s1600/DSC02394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5-howlhQtCGKpzehN8yY2gNkr2tWKxe_tDsaGLqxPizqi5IbROd3HREmsKPMqJ6nC3H_dfScOf90R9DDanBReFcQP7Rgp7_5fVugwHXsMuqLMysOv2rHECNnTzwvZDcjKn0f7i28xTU/s320/DSC02394.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Green is slowly leaving place to yellow, light orange and dark red leaves all over. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMoQbqvBVf1kfVQg8kExl3BtPNVblnGX2ZUplhT0XABTCp7tv4izjt12J008q1ZHkzMkpA3nIjwLF0aFoCaez3DOcZvLY8sKpacAM0OBzPNMp4X5PnCg8ta8lrtdLxbjq8DF3j9hop_Mk/s1600/Autumn+in+Rome.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMoQbqvBVf1kfVQg8kExl3BtPNVblnGX2ZUplhT0XABTCp7tv4izjt12J008q1ZHkzMkpA3nIjwLF0aFoCaez3DOcZvLY8sKpacAM0OBzPNMp4X5PnCg8ta8lrtdLxbjq8DF3j9hop_Mk/s320/Autumn+in+Rome.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3N7HC_eAilZFFUyHzof2EN2Im4g_H-2TI6xMHT0WKc07NNSnFAdq120sclkoTtfLF1nRH6bdPID4iE7jA_vpyesvdftnjPsXYcT_qLCcg86WeWFR2KCkP2khnGDeHMbbZ3YvvPGWw1w/s1600/DSC02393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3N7HC_eAilZFFUyHzof2EN2Im4g_H-2TI6xMHT0WKc07NNSnFAdq120sclkoTtfLF1nRH6bdPID4iE7jA_vpyesvdftnjPsXYcT_qLCcg86WeWFR2KCkP2khnGDeHMbbZ3YvvPGWw1w/s320/DSC02393.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There is no better season for a walk in the park, savouring the last heat and watching the tutles bake in sun and fish swimming away in the pond. Near my place there are two parks, one is mostly chosen for dog-walking, hasn't much to see but finally this summer hosted a nice jazz festival, if you're in Rome in August you should try to spend an evening there... here's the link </span><a href="http://www.odiolestate.it/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">http://www.odiolestate.it/</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> . The other park is just beautiful, that's were I went this morning, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 38px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Villa Doria Pamphilj and as many parks in Italy used to be country homes of wealthy families, now property of the Government. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCSh80C8AolulyYW8FIoJYKsDdzBbLwDT0SZT_ZyI4wnGJL_9tDy1cLotAnsn5AG4epfjL1h3lJ-VYt9o49DvMGCz6fup3iNHJCljK4UgO7w6NLWDuO7fzC-Ai-rcV88puFbTwxIs7RE/s1600/DSC02418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCSh80C8AolulyYW8FIoJYKsDdzBbLwDT0SZT_ZyI4wnGJL_9tDy1cLotAnsn5AG4epfjL1h3lJ-VYt9o49DvMGCz6fup3iNHJCljK4UgO7w6NLWDuO7fzC-Ai-rcV88puFbTwxIs7RE/s320/DSC02418.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 38px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">They actually had Gheddafi hang out there for a week with catering, tents, and pretty girls. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieplZn3v2fXpj8cN3ncxsyZHFUu9us3vqI095H5QqVnwKWyqXe585ZDxA7DlFPa_jhJZTzsAl5pAtXwgGFAapRsf7z877y-KrwVLE0pOyDYtYS8OGpwQ3Jgtng9eeGFaxCCw3QhdjeU5o/s1600/villa+pamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieplZn3v2fXpj8cN3ncxsyZHFUu9us3vqI095H5QqVnwKWyqXe585ZDxA7DlFPa_jhJZTzsAl5pAtXwgGFAapRsf7z877y-KrwVLE0pOyDYtYS8OGpwQ3Jgtng9eeGFaxCCw3QhdjeU5o/s1600/villa+pamp.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 38px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 38px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The oldest "palazzo" dates back to 1630. There are hedge labyrinths, eleborated fountains, a jogging center, and a very modern bridge to cross from one side to the other.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-FJaYQf5hKzYFIum346N8Gf9Xra2S47WUEn4zD1_JChysG3odIHKHpb47RzmFE1p6B1PODeVVgzbRx94SRzYzkZHBW3S4qnureMuaAAK1jzQmkvB9zdQS5KXaWPt4sbHoXJuAIk2HWw/s1600/pamph2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-FJaYQf5hKzYFIum346N8Gf9Xra2S47WUEn4zD1_JChysG3odIHKHpb47RzmFE1p6B1PODeVVgzbRx94SRzYzkZHBW3S4qnureMuaAAK1jzQmkvB9zdQS5KXaWPt4sbHoXJuAIk2HWw/s1600/pamph2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 38px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</div>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-34893656639873337902010-10-05T19:46:00.005+02:002010-10-08T17:11:54.906+02:00BROCCOLI tonight!Well yes, mea culpa, my 8yr old has <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">NEVER </span>eaten broccoli. Maybe I'm concerned 'cause he's my first (and only, for now) child, and I don't have a wide experience, or maybe memories of my childhood come back when he stares at his plate in disgust. I remember sitting silently through meals staring at veggies or moving them around in my plate hoping the zucchini would magically dissapear, or the peas would evaporate if I rolled them fast enough around the plate.<br />
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So I really never forced him, or in any case DID'NT HAVE TIME to sit through meals for hours trying to convince him he'd like them. And, we all know, you change your likings as you grow.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NgBnBhJW69WGSlkN9cPRHTJz7TwVrvBKelRtPPP7vnr7YY1NaVyeVgA1dW1KaZFYVcuV0s2JJPJy9HVA-1TZBwU2-aRyhswQpDt7Y-S6LV8zb5xZ1otTgIeig6HqSaWlwlnZJa4_atk/s1600/DSC02389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NgBnBhJW69WGSlkN9cPRHTJz7TwVrvBKelRtPPP7vnr7YY1NaVyeVgA1dW1KaZFYVcuV0s2JJPJy9HVA-1TZBwU2-aRyhswQpDt7Y-S6LV8zb5xZ1otTgIeig6HqSaWlwlnZJa4_atk/s320/DSC02389.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Here is Littleguy. Before the broccoli... taking a rest before facing broccoli for supper.<br />
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Well he actually DID like them, steam cooked with lemon, oil and salt.<br />
Liked them means he ate TWO.Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-31380286270578336142010-10-05T14:47:00.004+02:002010-10-17T18:07:46.430+02:00Pasta alla Carlofortina (Sardegna)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMBvsBzCuFzddoWXHWexUGt496-eghxnrrpV194b2uvvItcCUDHxVoBq5KzdPi58a_f8QNkN_OxU-vbw3yTX-r0uA-Jfr1i5LOO-r8LraH4CxRc3NBNx5cNF7WQBzYqVOSN-I9x3fINg/s1600/Carlofortina.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMBvsBzCuFzddoWXHWexUGt496-eghxnrrpV194b2uvvItcCUDHxVoBq5KzdPi58a_f8QNkN_OxU-vbw3yTX-r0uA-Jfr1i5LOO-r8LraH4CxRc3NBNx5cNF7WQBzYqVOSN-I9x3fINg/s320/Carlofortina.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><b>This is </b></span></span><b> a simple sauce I learned from my Sis (she's the cook, the seamstress and the brain between the two of us). She learned it on one of her adolecent summer trips (oh forgot to say she's the traveller too!) in this small place in Sardegna </b><a href="http://www.carloforte.net/"><b>called Carloforte</b></a><b>, on the island of San Pietro where Genoans exported their famous pesto! Carlofortinians mixed it with tuna and tomato sauce, and ... there goes!</b><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>For 3 People </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
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<ol><li><b> 250 grams of short Pasta (pennette rigate, tortiglioni, sedanini) </b></li>
<li><b> a jar of tomato sauce, better if fresh (300 Gr) </b></li>
<li><b>three spoonfuls of pesto (I'll post the recipe to homemade later, promised) </b></li>
<li><b>two cans of tuna ( I use a large one and a small one, like it very FISHY!) </b></li>
<li><b>Pecorino Cheese, grated</b></li>
<li><b>Pepper, extra virgin olive oil. </b></li>
</ol><br />
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<b>Let the tuna cook in the olive oil for about 5 min low flame, add the tomato sauce and mix for a while till the tuna "bumps" dissapear into the sauce. I do not use salt, as I put a spoon full in a litre 1\2 of boiling water for the pasta. Once the tuna and tomato are well mixed, add the pesto & stir till you can't see the green. Drain the pasta a minute and a half before the time written on the box, throw the pasta into the saucepan and mix for a minute, adding pecorino and pepper. </b><br />
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<b>Buon Appetito!</b><br />
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</b>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6021817355547060807.post-85855116187602020112010-09-25T13:31:00.006+02:002010-10-26T15:14:38.910+02:00POST n. 1!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><b><i>So here goes:</i></b></span></span></span><br />
after 5 years of full time -life consuming job ,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> <u>I've had enough</u>! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"></span> I quit, changed house, moved my son to another school, trying to get bad karma and nasty influences out and a new wave of fresh air in! It's not easy to re-learn everything, from cooking to housekeeping, and having chosen to take care of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><u>EVERYTHING</u></span> on my own, I don't have housekeepers anymore to blame or to nag about.<br />
It's just me, and my husband and son. Just three. Two pretty funny guys, the BIGUY and the Littleguy. Ops sorry forgetting the two hairy creatures wich infest our house. Yes, we own two ex stray cays. A boy and a girl. I'll get a pic of them as soon as the stand still long enough.<br />
<blockquote style="text-align: left;"> It's Saturday and while I start writing, my husband is food shopping with a pretty long list in his hands and keeps ringing me for updates: "Only cauliflower, no cabbage!" Oh great ... there goes my Irish recipe day! <a href="http://www.thegoodmoodfoodblog.com/2010/03/traditional-irish-food-colcannon-and.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I will try this soon !</span></a> Littleguy, my great 8yr is just starting to "try" food. After years of nannies cooking him the same thing day after day....I am on a quest for having him try as many different thing I can. I can!</blockquote>Ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14793606339272348181noreply@blogger.com0