Feast of Figs

These are some of our first figs from Campo di Pere. Just after taking this photo, I ate the three large ones on top. They were exquisite, but when I finished the last one, I realized that I needed to eat another. I dug through the bowl in search of the best fig, but there were so many perfect ones that it was impossible to choose. I narrowed the choice down to two, and then decided to eat them both. I'm glad that I did because the fifth one was unquestionably the best fig I have ever eaten.

A few weeks ago, while contemplating the impending arrival of the figs, I was inspired to write this haiku about them:

Delicate skin holds
their honeyed, succulent flesh.
Taste of Paradise.

Non-fig-lovers may think I exaggerate, but I offer this evidence that I am not alone in my estimation of figs. Below is a detail from the north portal of Chartres Cathedral, which illustrates the creation of the world according to the book of Genesis. The scene depicts the vegetation of the earth on the third day.
Just which tree was chosen at Chartres to represent the momentous event? Look closely: those leaves are unmistakeable!

The best part of the summer is here: the figs have finally arrived to punctuate the hot, oppressive days with their luxurious sweetness.

Love Thursday: Angels at the door

Door handles at a church in Munich

Colpiti da siccità

For the past week, this is what's been coming out of our faucets when they're opened to maximum. (Please, no comments about calcare (lime scale) on the faucet. I still haven't reached that level of expertise in cleaning an Italian house.) Italy is suffering from a drought, most severely in the north. We had a very rainy spring around here, but the rain must have come down in all the wrong places because we're already having water problems and it's only the middle of June. Saturday the water was turned off completely for a few hours. Annoying, but nothing like what typically happens later in the summer when the water can go out for more than twenty-four hours at a time. And this year is has been drier than most. Our town is actually served by two aqueducts, one of which I've heard never runs dry. I guess we're just hooked up to the wrong one.

Another day, another meme

Last week, Mary from Flavors of Abruzzo tagged me with a meme begun by Hilda Carroll at Living Out Loud. These are Hilda's rules:

1. Post about the one song that makes your heart sing, and uplifts your spirit every time you hear it. If you can provide a link to lyrics and/or audio that would be fabulous. But it's not essential, so don't worry about it if you can't.

2. Include a trackback to this post

3. Tag three others and ask them to include a trackback to your post and this one when they post.

Hilda asked for music that came immediately to mind, and for me that was the MGV, a orchestral work commissioned from Michael Nyman for the inauguration of the high-speed TGV in France in 1993. Nyman is perhaps best known for the soundtracks he wrote for several of Peter Greenaway's films. It's really the last movement of the MGV that I find most uplifting, because it's so triumphant. When I was in graduate school, I had the disc on heavy rotation and listened to it whenever I needed send a draft off to my advisor.

Not to disappoint anyone looking for more popular music, I offer my second choice: King without a Crown by Matisyahu: (Feed readers will have to click through to see the video.)



This song fills my heart with joy whenever I hear it. I love the way Matisyahu makes religious music that is completely modern without falling into the trap of sentimentality. I usually don't care for popular religious music, even though I'm a fairly religious person, because I think so much of it is cheapened by cliched lyrics and music. Matisyahu's songs are deeply spiritual but also interesting on an intellectual level. And of course, his music has got a great beat. Here are the lyrics to King Without a Crown, just in case anyone is curious:

You're all that I have and you're all that I need
Each and every day I pray to get to know you please
I want to be close to you, yes I'm so hungry
You're like water for my soul when it gets thirsty
Without you there's no me
You're the air that I breathe
Sometimes the world is dark and I just can't see
With these, demons surround all around to bring me down to negativity
But I believe, yes I believe, I said I believe
I'll stand on my own two feet
Won't be brought down on one knee
Fight with all of my might and get these demons to flee
Hashem's rays fire blaze burn bright and I believe
Hashem's rays fire blaze burn bright and I believe
Out of darkness comes light, twilight unto the heights
Crown Heights burnin' up all through till twilight
Said, thank you to my God, now I finally got it right
And I'll fight with all of my heart, and all a' my soul, and all a' my might

[Chorus:]
What's this feeling?
My love will rip a hole in the ceiling
Givin' myself to you from the essence of my being
Sing to my God all these songs of love and healing
Want Moshiach now so it's time we start revealing

[Bridge:]
Me no want no sinsemilla.
That would only bring me down
Burn away my brain no way my brain is to compound
Torah food for my brain let it rain till I drown
Thunder!
Let the blessings come down

Strip away the layers and reveal your soul
Got to give yourself up and then you become whole
You're a slave to yourself and you don't even know
You want to live the fast life but your brain moves slow
If you're trying to stay high then you're bound to stay low
You want God but you can't deflate your ego
If you're already there then there's nowhere to go
If you're cup's already full then its bound to overflow
If you're drowning in the water's and you can't stay afloat
Ask Hashem for mercy and he'll throw you a rope
You're looking for help from God you say he couldn't be found
Searching up to the sky and looking beneath the ground
Like a King without his Crown
Yes, you keep fallin' down
You really want to live but can't get rid of your frown
Tried to reach unto the heights and wound bound down on the ground
Given up your pride and the you heard a sound
Out of night comes day and out of day comes light
Nullified to the One like sunlight in a ray,
Makin' room for his love and a fire gone blaze

[Chorus]

Reelin' him in
Where ya been
Where ya been
Where ya been for so long
It's hard to stay strong been livin' in galus (exile) for 2000 years strong
Where ya been for so long
Been livin in this exile for too long

I'm not going to tag anyone in particular, but if you'd like to participate, just follow the rules posted above and when you do post, include a trackback to both me and Hilda Carroll.

Who, me?

I've been tagged twice recently, and I must say that I'm honored. Last week, Caroline from First Paris then Rome tagged me with a local dining out meme, then just a couple of days ago Mary from Flavors of Abruzzo tagged me for another one about uplifting music.

Caroline's meme goes like this:

1. Add a direct link to your post below the name of the person who tagged you. Include the city/state and country.

Now Caroline was very considerate and posted links to all the tags leading up to hers. I like to think I'm a considerate person too, but I've been feeling a bit lazy the last few weeks, so I'm going to let a link to Caroline's post suffice.

Caroline, Rome, Italy

2. List your top five favorite places to eat at your location.

Well, now I'm really going to seem like a difficult person, because I can't give a neat list of restaurants and addresses. We don't eat out very often, partly because there aren't many restaurants nearby, and partly because N and I prefer to eat at home. There are a few places we visit every now and then for a change of pace. But we don't go to them very often, so I don't know their names, and since N is always responsible for getting us there, I don't really know where they are, either. (Seriously people, can you believe I actually have a Ph.D.?)

A. My kitchen. Enough said.

B. Trattoria in Cellole that I swear is located next to a bar called the Blue Penguin (Pinguino Blu.) Or some other color of penguin. Like the other places we frequent near here, this trattoria is very simple and offers homestyle cooking. The food is pretty good, but we usually eat there when I'm too tired to cook, or we're on our way to somewhere else. This place is special, though, because its portions are huge! Excellent if you want to save some money and order only a first or second course.

C. Trattoria with Napoli in its name (I think) on the road between Formia and Gaeta. N loves this place because it offers Neapolitan cuisine. I still haven't figured out what makes the food there Neapolitan in particular, and not just coastal Campanian, but the food is pretty good there. Portions are smaller there than in Cellole: last time we ate there, N took the size of his second course as an insult. I think they must have good seafood, but I never eat it so I can't say. We eat at this place every time we go to Gaeta and can't find somewhere that has a good selection of non-fish dishes.

D. Trattoria da Nicola on the Corso in Sessa Aurunca. This place may not actually be a trattoria, but it seems like one. Da Nicola isn't its official name, either. I think it's actually "il Rinascimento," or something equally grand. The food there is very good, if you like simple and honest dishes.

E. Pizzeria Risto Flash in Sessa Aurunca. Their pizza is excellent, as good as some of the best you'll find in Naples. In my opinion, they have also achieved pizza perfection: the Ghiottona, which has tomato, mozzarella, prosciutto crudo, arugula and shavings of parmiggiano reggiano. I'm a purist, though, so more often than not, I order the Margherita.

3. Tag five other people (preferably from other countries/states) and let them know they’ve been tagged.

I've done such a poor job of doing the first two parts of this meme, but I still haven't finished mucking it up yet. I'm also not going to tag anyone, but if anyone would like to do this meme, let me know in a comment here, and post a link back to me.

I hope that this particular meme performance won't dissuade anyone else from tagging me. I really am a good sport and I honestly had quite a bit of fun writing this one up, even if my responses diverged a bit from what was expected.

Stay tuned for Mary's meme...

Love Thursday: A first flower

I've only been gardening for a few months now, but it has already become one of my favorite pastimes because it fills me with a sense of great peace. After spending a few hours tending the garden this morning, I felt so content that I began to think about how much I wanted to do a Love Thursday post. It seems that one of the garden plants was similarly inclined:I know it looks a bit reticent, but it opened just this morning and it's this oleander's very first flower. This post is your reward, little oleander, for blooming on cue.

Happy Love Thursday!

Casertavecchia

On Sunday, N and I spent the morning wandering around Casertavecchia, a medieval hill town overlooking the modern city of Caserta. The town was founded in the ninth century as Casa Hirta and was a residence of the counts of Capua. Its influence began to decline in the middle of the fifteenth century under the Aragonese, and about two hundred years later, the castle was abandoned in favor of a new residence at Torre. In the middle of the eighteenth century, the cathedral was reduced to a parish church, and the construction of the Reggia on the plain beneath the old town confirmed the ascendancy of the new city of Caserta.

At the eastern edge of the old town are the ruins of the thirteenth-century castle, unfortunately closed to visitors. A sign indicates that the there is some restoration work in progress, supported by the European Union, but managed by volunteers, which suggests that any work will be slow. The best preserved structure at the site is the cylindrical tower, standing thirty meters high. It was built earlier than the rest of the castle, perhaps in the ninth century.

The twelfth-century cathedral is located on the main piazza, which it shares with the old bishop's palace and seminary. It was built during the Norman domination of the town, and represents a mixture of architectural styles. While the facade incorporates Lombard elements (like arched corbel tables,) the dome is decorated with interlaced arches that recall twelfth-century Sicilian architecture. The windows of the north and south walls are framed with keyhole arches reminiscent of Islamic architecture. The interior follows a simple basilican plan, with a nave and two aisles, and has an open-timber roof that suggests Roman influence. (Photography is forbidden inside the church, so I don't have any images of the interior.) The cathedral is flanked to the north by a thirteenth-century bell tower, whose pointed arch at ground level is also the entrance to the piazza.

Above is a view of the cathedral's dome with its interlaced arches and polychrome decoration. Also visible is the upper part of one of the keyhole windows. Below are a couple of sculpted corbels I noticed on the north wall. On the left is the figure of a man and on the right, two women. They are like no other corbels I have ever seen, but maybe I just haven't been very observant. (As always, click on the image to see an enlarged view.)
At the west end of the piazza is a street that passes under an arch and leads to the Casa delle bifore, named for the double-light window in its facade. A description of the house painted on a wall across the way reveals that the building (a former church) had been in ruins until a German woman very fond of Casertavecchia restored it. Near the description is a button that, when pressed, illuminates the window in the facade. N tells me that not long ago, various mechanized objects were displayed behind the glass to suggest that the house was enchanted. In fact, the sign that is appended to the facade indicates that the house is the culla degli spiritelli, or the cradle of puckish spirits: (Perhaps there is no more activity at the window because the little spiritelli have grown up and left their cradle?)

After a few hours spent exploring the town, N and I had lunch at one of the many restaurants offering typical dishes. Then, before we left, we considered buying some wind chimes for our garden from an artisan's shop, but decided to wait until our wisteria arbor has grown in enough to obscure the source of the sound from our neighbors, thereby creating our very own culla degli spiritelli.

A little piece of America

On Saturday, N and I decided to do some shopping in Formia, a city in southern Lazio. He was looking for shirts, and I was looking for anything that would fit me. Being a medium-sized American is not easy in a country where the clothing available in plus size (taglie comode) shops begins with the equivalent of an American size 6. I've seen conversions charts that claim that a 42 is an 8, and perhaps it was thirty years ago, but I was wearing 42 (and 44) here in Italy while I still fit into a size 6 back home. Anything larger than that, and you are a bella grossa donna (actual words used to describe me by the workman we hired to plough Campo di Pere.) For anyone wondering, I currently wear a size 8 American.

Aside of the plus-size considerations, which admittedly are not too much of a problem given that it is possible to find larger sizes here, one major difficulty is that most of the clothes available in my size are simply just larger versions of clothes designed for girls who like to show off their thongs in ultra-low rise jeans. Those young ladies must all have very thin legs, because I haven't found many trousers that I can even pull up over my thighs. Trousers that do fit my legs tend to gape at the waist and bunch in the front. My muscular legs also mean that buying boots here is out of the question. Recently, N bought me a pair of rubber boots to wear at Campo di Pere, and they are uncomfortably tight around the calves. Does that mean that even the legs of farmer's wives are stick-thin?

But back to Formia. I must have tried on about a dozen pairs of trousers that day, all of them my size, and all but one of them made for women with a body type completely different from mine. I bought the one pair that fit well, despite its being overpriced (and my not liking it very much.) But I need more than one pair of trousers, and I am running out of places to shop. N has begun to take this problem rather seriously, and he often proposes new places to look for trousers. Yesterday he asked, "Why don't you go to the mercato americano?" The mercato americano is the section of our weekly market where all the stalls sell used and remaindered clothes, allegedly from the United States.

There was some sunshine this morning, so I headed out early in order to get to the mercato americano while the selection would still be good. When I arrived, I found all kinds of clothes dumped in large piles on long tables. Sorting through cheap synthetic blouses and skirts and stacks of jeans, I quickly became aware of two problems with the mercato americano. Very few of the clothes were actually American, and almost all of those that were American were Levi's 501 jeans with a waist measurement of 29 or 30 inches. (Of course, if they had been any larger Americans would have bought them and there wouldn't have been any need to send them to Italy.) I was a bit depressed by these discoveries, but something compelled me to keep looking, and so I did until I saw this:
That's a pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans that looked like my size. There was no way to know for sure because the size printed on the tag was neither American nor Italian, but I bought them anyway, and rushed home as fast as I could to try them on. My hunch was correct, they are perfect. The rise is just right, the legs are boot cut, and the color is just the way I like it. They were made in Mexico of U.S. grown cotton, and that's American enough for me.

Cherry muffins

Something to bake when you have an embarrassment of cherries, or when you have a cup and half's worth and would like some muffins.


This recipe is based on the basic muffin recipe from the Joy of Cooking.

2 cups flour
1 tbsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
2 large eggs
1 cup milk
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup dark brown sugar
8 tbsp. melted butter
1 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 cups fresh cherries

Preheat the oven to 400˚ F. Mix the flour, baking powder and salt together in a large bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, sugars, butter and vanilla. Add the liquid mixture to the dry mixture and mix until just combined. The batter should not be smooth. Fold in the cherries. Divide the batter amongst the cups of a buttered muffin pan, and bake for 18-20 minutes (or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the muffins comes out clean.) Allow the muffins to cool for three minutes before removing them from the pan. Yields about 10 medium-sized muffins.

Notes:
I normally use only 5 or 6 tablespoons of butter, but this morning I was feeling naughty. Now that I've had muffins made with 8 tablespoons of butter, I doubt I'll be returning to the healthier version anytime soon.

Sometimes I add 1/2 cup of sliced almonds to this recipe.

The muffins are best eaten while still warm.

Men at Work

That's the scaffolded dome of the church where N and I were married. I'm glad that those men working on it, because on the interior, the base of the dome is covered in green mold and bits of paint and plaster are always falling on the pews beneath it. The first time I noticed that, I imagined white flakes landing on elegantly dressed wedding guests. I'm sure that it happened during our ceremony, but fortunately my mind was elsewhere that morning, and so I was spared the stress of thinking that our guests had been put out. What I was not glad of was that they chose the week before our wedding to construct the scaffolding up the bell tower, even though, as it later became apparent, they had no intention of beginning the work until several months later. Now they work on it only sporadically, once a week or so, and there are never more than two men at a time. Perhaps now that the weather is good, the pace of work will pick up, and before long, visitors to Santissima Annunziata will be spared the embarrassment of looking as though they have inordinately bad dandruff.

Life is...

Last evening, we went back up to Campo di Pere to pick the remaining cherries off the tree. We couldn't do it any sooner because it has rained quite a bit this week. We weren't worried about thieves returning, though, because we knew that the laziness that deterred them from picking cherries from any but the lowest of branches would make them unwilling to trudge about in the mud. Fortunately for us, birds didn't eat much from higher branches this year, and we managed to pick about 4 kilos (about 8 and half pounds.) That's about two-thirds of last year's yield, and we are very happy to have any cherries at all. When I noticed that the birds hadn't done their usual damage, I was worried that the cherries weren't any good, but I've just eaten a bowl of them, and am happy to report that they are excellent.