"Breaking up is hard to do..."

A "Dear John letter" is a letter written to tell someone their relationship is over, usually because the composser has found another lover. They are often written out of an inability or unwillingness to inform the subject face to face. It pains me to do it, but, this is my "Dear John Letter" to Italy, (only I have not found another lover, just another country)

    

Dearest John, I mean Dearest Italy,

I know this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be done. Writing like this. But, it’s the only way I have left. I am constantly surrounded by you, looking into your food, wine and culture, my mind goes blank, my thoughts jumble, and I am left with nothing for you but tears.

Being with you has been wonderful. Being with you has taught me so much. And there is so much that I am grateful for, so much that I will cherish well into my declining years.

But the time has come to say good-bye.  We both knew that this would not last forever.

We were simply not meant to be, my love.

You have your ways, I have mine, and nothing in the middle seems to make sense, particularly driving habits.  So many things still baffle me about you.

I love you, still. But the carbohydrate intake that lies beneath my stomach lining, has become more than I can endure. More than anyone should have to. For me, and for you. We are too good to settle for something that will never be.

I wish for you, all the things you dream of. All the things you need, such as more patience while queing and a better understanding of customer service.

I wish for you, a happiness that will endure.

Good-bye Italy my love, you will never be forgotton.

"Io vi amo e vi ringrazio per i ricordi."

 

Gonzos Abroad

I want to ride my bicycle

Life is like riding a bicycle - in order to keep your balance, you must keep moving. ~Albert Einstein

So I did... keep moving.. into a hedge... then onto the pavement.  Splat!
 
Apparently, you never forget how to ride a bike.  But you definitely lose the expertise, mobility and courage.  Hubby and I purchased new bikes last week and with added seats for the children, basket for the front, I was feeling very 'European' and could not wait to have a leisurely cycle to the city.
 

"I want to ride my bicycle,

I want to ride my bike,

I want to ride my bicycle,

I want to ride it where I like!"

I had been practicing this Queen song in my head all week, so surely I was well prepared?  I took dibs on travelling with my son, presuming the 3kg weight difference between siblings could make all the difference to my thighs if we hit an incline.  So I strap him in real good, he is not going anywhere, poor thing is very excited "bike, bike, bike" and can barely see under his safety helmet, which is probably for the best, he can not see the nerves on my face.  "I think I will need to practice a bit" were the words to leave my mouth as my husband pushed off with daughter in toe.  I saw my husband wobble slightly, is that what i am supposed to do, wobble? As you know, husbands know best, so I mimick his actions, my bike wobbles.  This resulted in panic as I attempted to mount the high curb, (some may say it was not a high curb, but instead a smooth incline, do not listen to 'them', they are not the ones retelling the story).  So in my attempt to 'get air' over the extremely high curb, I ride into a hedge, and end up doing a slow motion fall to the ground, bike between my legs and son strapped into the back.  "Help.... help... help, help, help," started off mumured under my breath slowly, then increased to a quick squeal.

I now know that these bikes are heavy, especially when you are trying to lift it off the ground with a toddler still attached.  He was strapped in well, he didn't go anywhere!  Son was not overly impressed with this new bike thing, and was a little hesitant at my response of "Ta Da", I think he was a little unsure about the adventure ahead.... considering we had not even left the front gate of our apartment!

Needless to say, I am now nursing a bruised leg, wrist and ego, but determined to look like a cute European family, I climb back on the bike.  (I actually don't.  I walk the bike out the gate, accross the road and down the path.  When my husband asks me if we are planning on walking the children on the bikes all the way into town, then I climb back on.)  He was smirking at me for the rest of the day, and I am glad that the mental image of me falling off the bike 15 meters after I mounted it, brings him such happiness.  Afterall, I am here to entertain.  In an attempt for him to feel less guilty for his giggles, he did in return get his wheels stuck in the tram track and squealed like girl.  That makes me giggle.  Now we are even and can enjoy our day.

Our ride into Milan city centre, probably should of been 5 minutes, but took about 10, we were in no rush, and by the time we arrived at our restaurant, I had convinced myself that I had training wheels so the bike would not fall again. We had a lovely lunch at one of our regular restaurants, and the children ate well and entertained each other without breaking any glasses We climbed back on the bikes, now feeling a bit more confident with a couple of glasses of wine under our belts, (surely that would assist with the bike wobbles) and found ourselves on wide paths in the park. Yep, you guessed it... I had another moment. We all giggled riding next to each other, proclaimed our love for each other, everyone was smiling and we managed to maneuver around pedestrians without having to use the bell. I had an urge to sing "The hills are alive, with the sound of music!" Why I do not know because I wasn't on a hill, but it just reflected my happy feeling. The day ended with us all eating gelati, now I just need some flowers to decorate the front of my bike basket!

Muffin top, here I come!

I am not a good baker.  How did I come to this conclusion?  When my children eat my cakes and muffins, more food ends up on the floor than in their mouth.  (Anybody aware of my childrens eating habits knows This is rare!) More crumbs end up on the floor from me just carrying them to the table, and I use a large tray.  My son prefers to eat the muffin wrapper.  My husband thanks me for the muffin before he eats it, not after.  And I, like anybody in denial, do not blame myself; I blame the fact that I think baking powder and bi-carbonate of soda can only be purchased in Milan on the black market, or if you have some sort of connection with the Camorra / Mafia.  And any good baker knows, you need baking powder and bi-carbonate of soda to make a good muffin?

What am I doing?  I am on a diet, finally reserecting my Italian carbohydrate situation that has lead me to my doctor saying, "Perhaps a little bit of exercise?"  I want yummy muffins, not cuddly muffin tops!  But with daughter home ill three days in a row, I was over painting, drawing, acting like a monkey and bathing barbie; it was now time to cook...

You should all know, I have cracked the code; finally a crumble free muffin that does not require a dustbuster!

I am not so good with measurements, my mother would cringe watching me cook using a coffee cup to guess my calculations. But give this a whirl, and keep in mind that this is best made with love and children in toe...

Strawberry yoghurt muffins

• 250grams butter
• 2 cups sugar (cannot find caster sugar here, but this would be preferable)
• 4 eggs
• vanilla (you buy it in sachets here, I just used one)
• 1 cup of berry yoghurt (or flavour of your choice, they sell coconut yoghurt here which is delicious)
• 1/4 cup milk
• 1 1/2 cups self raising flour
• 1 1/4 cup plain flour
• 1 cup chopped strawberries

1. Have all ingredients at room temperature.
2. Cream butter and sugar together, adding sugar small plastic cup at a time, (a bit of extra sugar may be necessary to replace the sugar your 18 month may take out to decorate the floor with).
3. Add eggs, one at a time, beating inbetween, (do not hesitate to remove the larger pieces of shell from mixture with your fingers, and if the bench was cleaned first, spilt egg can be swiped straight from the table into the bowl).
4. Add vanilla quickly while no one is looking as it looks like the sugar satchels the children love to tear apart and play with in cafes.
5. Mix in the sifted flours and milk and yoghurt mixture alternately.
6. Gently fold in chopped strawberries. 
7. Swiftly spoon mixture into muffin wrappers, while children are preoccupied licking a beater each... raw egg, yum, yum... Rocky did it, so it must be good if my children are to win battle??!!
8. I allowed my children to add a M&M to the top of each.  Provide more than necessary as I can guarantee, 1 out of 4 will actually make the muffin!  (When I took the muffins out of the oven the M&M seemed to have disappeared from each; I even experiemented with a blue; still disappeared?  I either have a chocolate evaporater in my oven, or my 3 year olds has faster fingers than Winona Ryder and Lindsay Lohan put together.)
9. Bake in a 160 degrees fan forced for 20 to 25 minutes.

When you eat, it is imperative that you make the "num num num" sound to truly appreciate the experience.  These freeze well, and if yours do not work out as well as mine, just heat in the microwave and add  creme gelato (vanilla ice cream).   As my 18 month old says, (when in doubt, troubled, happy or sad), "Taaa, Daaa!!!"

IF Interesting Fact

According to Wikipedi; Muffins are often eaten for breakfast; alternatively, they may be served for tea or at other meals. (This is the best news I've heard all day... look out chocolate, chirioz, sweet and sour pork muffin... here I come!!! Num, num, num!)

The witch did not clean my house!

In Italian folklore, Befana is an old woman who delivers gifts to children throughout Italy on Epiphany Eve (the night of January 5) in a similar way to Santa Claus. This Italian gift-giving spirit may also be known as Saint Befana, La Vecchia (the Old Woman), La Strega (the Witch), and another opportunity for parents to put their hands in their pockets for festive merchandise.

In popular folklore, Befana visits all the children of Italy on the eve of the Feast of the Epiphany to fill their socks with candy and presents if they are good or a lump of coal or dark candy if they are bad. Our children were lucky enough to receive Befana with a small stocking of Kinder chocolates and a book each. We were also pleasantly surprised when the lovely Signora across our hall came bearing gifts of dolls and blocks. Her generosity was overwhelming, we are lucky enough to have the lovely culinary smells that come from her apartment everyday, gifts are not expected. (Perhaps it was a bribery to keep the noise down?)

Being a good housekeeper, many say Befana will sweep the floor before she leaves. The child's family typically leaves a small glass of wine and a plate with a few morsels of food, often regional or local, for the Befana. I did not leave an offering of food, is that why the witch did not clean my house? Children are left with gifts, I am left with dust... maybe next year?

All I want for Christmas is a girdle...

Guess what I got for Christmas? Heavier. That's right. Heavier. Santa did not bring it, it was a gift to myself that came in all forms of good things to eat and drink...










The most significant meal of the Christmas Day is the lunch or il pranzo. In Northern Italy, Christmas dishes likely to feature are:

• lo zampone - the skin of the lower pig leg, including the toe little bones, filled with minced meat and sausages




• il cotechino - pig's foot stuffed with spiced minced meat




• Sausages made of pig's intestines and smothered in lentils
  



• Turkey stuffed with chestnuts




• Lamb is also enjoyed with mashed potato and lentils




• Panettone - light but buttery sponge cake
  

I become a little unsure about my culinary skills while contemplating how to stuff a pigs foot with minced meat, or even handling toe bones for that matter; therefor I decide it would be best to continue researching and to leave the piggy alone for Christmas. I wanted our first Christmas meal in Italy to be special while being reflective of our new Italian lifestyle. Ideally, a mesh of our Australian and Italian Christmas traditions and cuisines.

The Feast of the Seven Fishes (festa dei sette pesci), is celebrated on Christmas Eve, also known as The Vigil (La Vigilia). It is believed to have originated in Southern Italy and is not a known tradition in many parts of Italy; but since the typical Northern Italian Christmas does not particularly suit my husband, (being a vegequarian/pescatarian) I figure we can borrow custom from the South for a day, (even if it will appear a day late). This feast typically consists of seven different seafood dishes, (or 9, 11, 13, I think it must be an odd number). This celebration is a commemoration of the wait, Vigilia di Natale, for the midnight birth of the baby Jesus.

OUR FAMILY CHRISTMAS FEAST

Breakfast - Briòche and Champagne, (family tradition to start the day with a champagne while opening the presents, coffee prior of course!)

First Course-

• Bruschetta with - smoked salmon / tomato, basil and mozzarella /tuna, sundried tomato, olives, capers, oregano
  
  
• Figs and Ricotta wrapped in Prosciutto



• Crumbed mozzarella balls



• Arancini (rice balls coated with breadcrumbs, filled with ragù (meat sauce), tomato sauce and mozzarella)



• Olive balls



• Selection of cheeses



• Bottle of Prosecco (dry Sparkling White Wine, similar to Champagne and apparently very Italian)
  

Main Course-

• Marinated sardines



• Marinated mixed seafood



• Pesto and spinach lasagne



• Mixed seafood salad



• Mussels crumbed with parsley



• Bottle of Insolia. (This is a white wine present mainly in Tuscany and Sicily, it is said to be paired nicely with fish dishes, marinated sardines in particular, sounds pretty specific doesn't it, it is amazing what you find on the Internet!)



• Chiant Classico. (Red wine that tends to be medium-bodied with firm tannins and medium-high to high acidity, a Tuscan wine. And yes this is pretty much how I was speaking sniffing my wine and swishing it around my glass by the time my husband and I reached the 3 rd bottle of the day!)



• Spaghetti and Clam dish was on the menu but decided my eyes were bigger than my belly.
  

Dessert

Tiramisu (One of Italy's most famous desserts)

There is some debate regarding tiramisu's origin:

It may have originated as a variation of another layered dessert, an Italian version of the English trifle.

There are claims that the dessert is a recent invention and Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary gives 1982 as the first mention of the dessert.

Several sources claim that tiramisu was invented in Treviso at Le Beccherie restaurant by the god-daughter and apprentice of confectioner Roberto Linguanotto, Francesca Valori, whose maiden name was Tiramisu.

Other sources report the creation of the cake to have originated in the city of Siena.

There are also allegations of the recipe's invention at an Italian brothel to provide an energy boost to exhausted clients. (I guess this was before the invention of energy bars and boost drinks?)

Pandoro, (similar to Panettone) was also on the menu but there was no more room for anymore food, even after changing into my drawstring pants!

So I guess you are all ready to say congratulations on making so many friends to come and feast with you on Christmas Day... alas... it was just us. I did however cook for ten, (a door to door salesman or Jehovah witness would of been dragged in at the front door), the day was still special and very relaxed. We celebrated with food, family, fun and frustration (we were irritated by excess jail like packaging on children's toys), but had a very merry day!

(Due to the last minute cancellation on my clam dish I was concerned that my 7 fish dishes became 6, so I counted the types of seafood in the salads and came up with an odd number. I figure this is acceptable? And if it is not?)

Jingle Bells on a Farmers Day...

It snowed a few days ago, (and that is when I told my daughter Santa would come), therefor Christmas came early this year. Using this as our excuse, my husband and I purchased our Christmas present for each other on the weekend. A new camera; it came from England; the buttons on the camera are in English; but the manuals provided are written in Italian, French, Dutch and German. All languages which I am not familiar. My loved one obviously had high hopes of me recalling my grade 10 education of German; "But we are going to Munich in a week, I was relying on you!" Smile faded very quickly when I told him I may of embellished the truth a little; but I can count to 10 and sing a verse of a song in German, that is also substituted with various, "na na na na Deautch" type sounds, (always thought if I did a little jig; dancing with imaginary stein in my hand then I could get away with anything. Apparently this will not help us to check into a hotel or ask for directions, although it will make for an interesting sight.) So now we have a new toy, one that I have been secretly wanting for such a long time. Unfortunately the cameras functions are as bewildering to me as a vegetarian with a love of osso bucco. I want to learn how to use it but the manual pictures are not enough to get me by; so I will once again turn to the Internet for support and some English assistance.

Succumbed to the spirit of all things festive, prince and princess have decorated the Christmas tree all by themselves. And everyday since its arrival, the tree has been undecorated and decorated again and again by busy little hands. Daughter is truly in the spirit of the season and enjoys sharing her rendition of Jingle Bells with us; "Oh what fun it is to ride.....on a farmers day/dancing all the way/ on fathers day/ down at Warners Bay". Her version is much more exciting than ours!

'They' said it would snow...

It was a recent trip to the local park that made me think about how I was experiencing such different weather to those back home in Australia. I was touching the slide to make sure that it was not too cold for the children instead of worrying it would burn their bottom. When I Skype my family on the Internet, I often say, "It's cold, go and put a jumper on", or "Why do you have a glass of wine in your hand at 8 o'clock in the morning?" I am still obviously getting used to the differences in time and season from the other side of the world.



I was very excited this morning to wake up, look out the window and see snow! I know that is what 'they' said to expect, but 'they' say a lot of things; and how often does the weather man get it right, (especially when it comes to an outdoor party, picnic planned in the park, or washing your car). So here I am running from window to window like an excited puppy in the back seat of the car. Prince just points out the window, speaks a bit of gibberish and continues playing. Princess says "The snow is sweet, is Santa going to come and leave 3 presents under the tree?" (My fault here as I may of mentioned that the fat man in red will drop by when it snows, now I have a month of explaining his GPS is out of batteries and he may be a little lost?) Hubby commented "Yeh I saw it" when I attacked him to come and see. (Think he is preoccupied with thoughts about his walk to and from train station with icicle mucus under his nose.)












People who have never been to Italy in winter, harbour the belief that Italy is the place where the sun shines all the time. I know I did. Well, we were obviously wrong. I may have my white Christmas!!!

So thinking about snow angels and snow men I am reveling in this excitement before it turns into slush and mud and I am complaining that "I need to get out of the house, I wish this snow would go away!"





What I did not know about snow:

• Every snowflake has its own unique shape and is different than all other snowflakes. (Unique just like a zebras stripes or a tomato bruschetta in restaurants.)


• All snowflakes have six sides.


• Snowflakes aren’t always white.


• Wind blown snow and black dirt is called snirt, (could of guessed).


• The average snowflake falls at a speed of 5km per hour.


• Snowflakes are made up of ice crystals, (not real crystals).


• It is supposed to be a nice experience to catch them on your tongue.


• They hurt when rolled into a big ball and thrown at a body part.

By afternoon, all trace of snow has disappeared and now my toddler wants to see it!! We spend the afternoon cutting out our own snowflakes; we avoid blood shed with the scissors; and hang one with the stars and fairies in her room, ("fairies will now need a jacket so they don't get cold").

Finally I share the joy!

'They' say it is supposed to snow all day Sunday..."Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

"Dance monkey dance"

"G! How to Play 2010" is a Fair - an event in Milan dedicated to the world of children, of adolescents and families whose second edition, held in November of 2009, was attended by over 40,000 visitors in three days of exhibition."

Who could resist a packed convention centre filled with sugar high excited children all carrying an average of 3 balloons each...

The event was well organised; all of the children were 'tagged' on entry so not to get lost, and there was ample entertainment. The toys were offered for play with parents and children and there was plenty of opportunity for art, craft, and hands on learning experiences (involving cooking, milking cows and riding scooters and cars around a road with signs and obstacles).

Princesses favourite activity was Barbie, (bizarrely this was also a babysitting service; just sign your child in and off you go; free)! Javier and I stood behind the roped off area with the majority of other over protective parents, watching on like a day at the zoo. "Dance monkey dance!" Daughter was a little overwhelmed by the amount of children, (or perhaps the amount of pink and parents staring)? It took a while before she stopped looking for us and eventually picked up a barbie. But when it was time to leave, she conveniently refused to hear our calls and kept busy reorganising the pens at the drawing table and ensuring she had touched every pink glittery toy on offer.

Prince enjoyed deconstructing others constructions in the lego area, and he tried his hardest to steal balloons from those oblivious, (after we disposed of his because he kept whacking strangers).

As the volume of children, squeals and tears increased, we decided it might be best to call it a day. We should have known that the children had reached their stimulation limit when princess started screaming because she got a love heart balloon instead of a sword. A great day. It is always nice to find something that is centered around the children, that is close to home, and that is free!

Check depth of leave pile before jumping...

Living in Brisbane and Newcastle Australia, I have never really experienced change of season until now. (Apart from holidays in Melbourne where you have 4 seasons in one day.) The attraction of the gold and red hues that are appearing on the trees act as compensation that the cold weather is arriving.

I am constantly pointing out the leaves to the children, the colours are so mesmerising; my only reply is a glance of "Yeh, I get it, its a tree, oh, look, a rock, you going to get excited about that too?"

Sympathy must be had for the apartment porter and care taker that are out there every morning with a thin broom, sweeping everysingle leaf off the path and driveway. I am sure the tree is laughing from above because once they finish, it is time for them to start all over again.

I am trying to get the kids to collect the leaves, throw the leaves, jump in the leaves, paint with the leaves, blow the leaves, glue the leaves... think they want me to leave!!! Maybe they will appreciate this change of season when they are a bit older? Secretly I

may be using my children as justification that it is fine for a 30 something female to be rolling around in a pile of leaves.

I tell myself that Leon enjoys time on the verandah looking at the beautiful colours in the trees, but I am pretty sure he is really out there to parachute our belongings off the edge. (I found a huggies wrapper and a pair of Mia's underpants on top of the pathway and hedge last week!)

Mia is more interested in when it is going to snow, (mainly because I told her that is when Santa comes with presents; it could be a cheap Christmas for me this year if it does not snow in Milan)!