Sports Section: The Italian Family Dinner

Guys, I like to eat. Love it in fact, there's not much that makes me happier than sitting down to a great meal. And, not to brag, but I can kind of hold my own at the dinner table. Now that we've gotten the foreshadowing taken care of, onto the main event.

On Saturday, we were invited by one of Anthony's cousins, Maria Olympia (can we please agree that this is the best name ever? She's the one standing up with the great smile) to a late lunch at their home just outside the walls of Barga. They were so welcoming and kind and when we sat down to eat I was pretty flipping happy.

The food was incredible, but I quickly learned that eating a true Italian meal is not a sport for the faint of heart. As my pasta dish was refilled again and again as if by magic I began to feel as though I had shown up to a marathon, without ever having run before. My brain began to cloud, my arm moved on autopilot. Cake from an old family recipe? Yes please. More wine? But of course. Thirds on the rosemary potatoes? Please get in my mouth right now. And on it went. Bite after delicious bite.

Somewhere around my fifth glass of wine, I began oscillating between a floaty warm ball of pasta happy place and a fluffy pillow of cake happy place. At that moment, Maria Olympia's husband leaned over and said "so, do you guys want to see my guns?"

UM...YES.

Above I give you Anthony, renegade killer of boars. Or at least he will be in September when he comes back to go hunting. I will be at home trying unsuccessfully to control my jealousy.

Anthony and his other cousin, Ivo. Owner of a very cool jacket.

After we had digested to the point at which movement was no longer painful, we took a trip over to see some property that Maria Olympia had inherited. 

Above, an outbuilding on the land.

The house was in rather (charmingly) rough shape, but the property was beautiful. 

Rolling hills with a great view of Barga in the distance.

All in all, a great day.

A walking tour of Barga (with sporadic text accompaniment)

We spent our four-day Easter weekend in Barga, a teeny little hilltop town in Tuscany where Anthony's maternal family hails from. Since coming to Europe, I have gotten to see many beautiful things, but I was not prepared for the incredible charm that fills this place.

There is only one place to stay within the city walls - the Casa Fontana. It is amazing.

The owners were very kind and offered us a drink in their garden before we set out to explore. I showed everyone a magic trick with the amaretti cookies above. One minute the cookies were there and one blink later, the cookies were gone. And I was furtively brushing crumbs off my shirt. Magic.

Our window looked out onto one of the many little winding streets that make up Barga. 

I don't know the proper term for these little alcoves, but they were all over the place. I documented as many as I could find - this is one of the um...classier variety as it lacks the Christmas lights and glow in the dark stickers that adorn the more contemporary Mary Abodes.

The streets are so small, that most cars can't drive within the walls. Now and then we came across teeny little vintage cars, like this Fiat. Note to self, buy a vintage Fiat. Grey with red interior and white steering wheel. It can be friends with the Mini. Like a sidekick.

The tiled floor leading up to our room. We spent quite a long time just staring at it, trying to figure out how long it would take the owners to notice if we chiseled it up and took it home with us. In the end, our consciences got the better of us and we left the floor as is. Also we had forgotten to pack a chisel.

We wandered down to the market and perused the vendors. The food is much cheaper in Italy than Lausanne, so we indulged (in everything but most specifically) in a giant wedge of aged pecorino. Let me say that again for dramatic effect, Giant. Wedge. of Aged. Pecorino. I think this place may be heaven. We're only about a third of the way through it, which is good, because as soon as it's gone, we're going to have to drive the 5.5 hours back and get more. I will not let this cheese out of my life. EVER.

Banners in people's windows for the evening's Easter celebration (which we missed because, well, we had stuffed our faces indulged at dinner and fell into massive food comas).

The view from the highest point of the city.

So, the Duomo. Built in the 11th century, an example of Romanesque architecture, iconic landmark of Barga...aaaaaand kinda ominous on the inside. I guess in the 11th century, glass was not really available, so they were like "yeah, sure, natural light is fine, but you know what's better? ROCKS." 

In all fairness though, the few windows that do exists are paned in very thin sheets of stone. How they created this in Thee Olden Dayes is beyond me. 

I think the moss covered car thing (©2012 Kimberly Van Ness All Rights Reserved If You Steal This Idea I Will Hunt You Down) would be a big seller in Portland.

I need an ape (ah-pey) in my life stat. This is a matter of critical importance. Think of all the cool things I could do with it: carry groceries, move very small items of furniture...hang out with my (as of yet imaginary) Fiat...it would be my sidekick's sidekick.

And this is the part where I leave you with some lovely wall texture and go to work. Lots more pictures to share this week.

Happy Monday!

A Smattering of Little Things (predominantly food)

Outliers is one of those books that I picked up, expecting to get a third of the way through and lose all interest, but I was so fascinated that I tore through it and then my brain began spinning and doing back flips. A totally worthwhile read. At this moment I am impulsively downloading all three of Gladwell's other books to my kindle.

Tangent: I am having one of those weeks, nay, months it seems, where time is just getting away from me. On one hand it's frustrating because I just wish I could slow everything down and savor it more. On the other hand, reminding myself that we have only been here 2.75 months eases my inner perfectionist when I am wondering why I am not yet fluent in French.

(Sitting with a group of Italians at work is not helping this matter as learning to swear in Italian is WAY more fun than say, learning French verbs and their conjugations).

This past weekend we just hung out. Anthony was on a business trip until Saturday mid-morning and he was exhausted when he got home so we decided to lay low and make lots of great food. I don't know if there is something in the water here or what, but lately I have been wanting (I can't even believe I am typing this) to cook. Like full on simmer and saute crap and chop and blend and whatnot. This is probably a harbinger of the apocalypse, so when it happens, just remember that you read it here first (because there obviously won't be other things on your mind).

Pizza dough - the easiest thing that I never everever thought to make from scratch. Five ingredients and a few hours later put that blinker on because you are merging onto Gluttony Highway. Plus you get to punch the dough...does it get more fun than beating up your food? I think that it does not. Also, it's a law in Europeland that pizza must be eaten in its entirety on the day it is made. And we are nothing if not compliant.

Pinterest recipes finally got the better of me so I decided to make this incredible soup. Roasting a tray full of mushrooms, onions and herbs smelled so incredible that I kept cracking open the oven door to take a whiff. I can now say with conviction that a mushroom and onion steam is forever onward my preferred method of facial

(especially because it does not come with a Ukrainian lady looking at my face with a giant magnifier and clucking disapprovingly). Even though the recipe only called for one pound of mushrooms, I decided that two pounds would be more appropriate and was thrilled with the result...until I learned that cooked mushrooms give Anthony the heebie-jeebies. He may have actually tried to tell me that while my face was in the oven and I was huffing the steam. Whoops. Listening ears, Kim. We pureed a batch and the smoother consistency made all parties happy.

During our Saturday round of errands, we accidentally stumbled into Globus, the single greatest grocery store on planet earth. While it's pricey, we decided to indulge ourselves a leeetle bit and bought these incredible cherry tomatoes.

(And some incredible Parmesan and some incredible cheese straws and some incredible bread...and there may have been an incident where Anthony had to pry a tiny 20 franc sausage from my hands as I cried and mumbled something insane about Fresno peppers and cured meats being the only thing in the world that would ever make me happy...hilarious times you guys.)

While we brought a lot of storage containers with us, we have been fighting an ongoing battle between our American sized tupperware and our tiny Swiss fridge. Luckily Anthony found this company that makes all sizes and manners of canning jars so he ordered us a variety. They fit perfectly and are incredibly fun to fill with food...and squeal about how cute they look whenever I  open the fridge. Above, a caprese salad in progress. Aaaand finally,

The sunsets from our bedroom are unreal. I only opened up the exposure on this a bit - the rest is all nature. Every night it's different with the color gamut ranging from Malibu Barbie to Early Sixties Living Room. It's awesome. Beyond awesome. I'll try and not bog down too many posts with sunset photos, but I cannot make any guarantees. Because...I mean...look at it!

Happy Friday!

Vevey Pt 3: Enough About the Swans Already

I know, I know, please stop it with the swans, but just humor me a little longer, okay? Living in Chicago, the only birds I really ever saw were the inbred, disease infested pigeon community. The amount of times I had encountered swans in my life until moving here resides somewhere slightly above zero. And now? They are all OVER the damn place. So I have been going overboard a bit, but I'll calm down eventually.

Swans are such bizarre creatures. Part beauty, part battleship and 1000%* narcissistic, they just command attention. And also? They appear to be kind of...well...assholes. Take a look at the action going on in the lower left hand corner of the above photo. Belligerence!

At some point during my photographing, they became aware that they were In the Public Eye and began some synchronized floating. Not unlike when the girls on America's Next Top Model holding hands on elimination day even though they are kind of hating each other.

Aaaand, then the short-lived civility wore off and we were back to swan-on-swan abuse. There are at least 2.5 example of nastiness going on in the above photograph.

So that is pretty much my current mindset towards swans at the moment. I think I've gotten it out of my system (for now) so I'll try and aim my camera lens at something else for awhile (maybe).

Happy Monday!

*Principles of mathematics disregarded for dramatic effect.