Bologna, La Grassa, a city known for its ragù, mortadella (bologna!)
Hi.
Welcome to my blog. I document my adventures in travel, style, and food. Hope you have a nice stay!
Welcome to my blog. I document my adventures in travel, style, and food. Hope you have a nice stay!
All in Italian
Bologna, La Grassa, a city known for its ragù, mortadella (bologna!)
If Italy is a boot then Puglia is its heel, a peninsula jutting out into the Adriatic and Ionic seas. I love Puglia for so many reasons.
Spaghetti with tomato sauce: the simplest and most beloved of all of Italy’s dishes, a symbol of her cuisine, a staple in every region. Every mamma makes it, everyone slurps it up with masterful twirls of the fork on the side of the bowl.
A little while ago, we broke the number one rule when feeding Italians. We served them a saucy, ultra-orthodox version of spaghetti and meatballs. Contrary to popular belief, you will not find meatballs on spaghetti in Italy. Tiny little meatballs in baked penne, maybe. Meatballs as an antipasto or a second course, definitely. But spaghetti and meatballs is a wholly, indisputably, non-Italian entity that – from into songs, children’s books, and Disney movies – has penetrated our culture and become entirely American.
You’d think that after having posted 14 different pasta recipes – and making countless more – I’d have the whole thing down. Especially when it comes to a weekday, throw-it-together kind of pasta.
This is as traditional as it gets. If you want to truly taste Bologna, this is about as close as you can get to a legitimate, authentic Bolognese sauce. Just thinking about it brings me back under the porticoes.
I truly don’t know what we would do without our neighbors. They’re the ones who made us feel totally welcome when we first arrived in Australia
There’s a small place in Bologna called Bar Paolo where you can sit at the bar and order a cocktail that will make your head spin or a simple dinner that will remind you that all is right with the world.
So last night not only did I have five Italians at my dinner table, I had five Italians from Bologna at my dinner table. Since one such Italian was the wine importer (see photo of table below), events are a bit fuzzy.
Maybe you know someone who really has fallen in love over a plate of spaghetti and meatballs or been swept away by an aphrodisiacly absurd chocolate cake. And I’m sure it’s possible.
Until last night, I had never made a roast.
You may think that just because I attempted to make short ribs out of long ribs that I’m unafraid in the kitchen, a pioneer.
One of my favorite things about living in Australia is knowing that as Thanksgiving and the holidays roll around, so will summer. Though I miss autumn in New England for a million reasons – apple picking, foliage, carving pumpkins, Indian summer
Have you ever seen anything like this? In case the picture quality doesn’t render it well enough: deep fried potato doughnuts stuffed with prosciutto and fontina.
Some things don’t automatically go together. I, for instance, wouldn’t dip my bacon in chocolate, or eat scrambled eggs with ketchup.
I know I’m getting a bit Italo-centric here, but what can I say? I cook what I know.
I didn’t know about this dessert at all until a gorgeous dinner during a trip to Italy last year. We had been invited to Francesco’s aunt’s house in the countryside near Bologna. A family affair, the kind I love: piling into the car, getting lost, arriving late and grumpy and starving. And then sitting down in a warm room with a fire and the smell of rosemary and a roast and a table full of unopened bottles.
Things are a little hectic around here. It’s almost midnight and there’s a cake in the oven (yes, that one.
In the throes of mourning after house guest’s 3 AM departure, we have decided to console ourselves the only way we know how: with meat.
Guanciale, pecorino romano, tomato puree, chili flakes, wine, and bucatini: everything you need to make the perfect amatriciana.
