When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, thats amore!

For hundreds of years Italy was divided into city states and each was governed individually; therefor regional cuisine quickly emerged, and because the areas were so autonomous, the cuisine did not journey from place to place. This has resulted in various styles and tastes of food in various parts of Italy.

Generally speaking, Italy is famous for pizza, pasta, risotto, Parmesan, salami and soccer (calcio).
Northern Italy is ideal for grazing cattle; so butter, cream, cheese and beef are prominent. Southern Italy is more about the sheep, goats, chicken and oil.

Each place has staked their own claim on the best of something; Milan upholds rights to risotto, Genova has pesto, Tuscany cultivates truffles, Sicily produces all that is juicy in the world of tomato, Puglia hooked the seafood, Bologna claimed tortellini and Naples is renown as the worlds best pizza.

So tonight my husband is treating me to pizza from Naples. Not actually from Naples, rather it is from our kitchen and one weeks Internet research to make the perfect pizza base. His rostered night to cook this week was postponed as he was away in Naples; he returned with a big bag of Mozzarella Buffalo and a big pear shape of Scamorza, (grilled scamorza is a traditional dish in Neapolitan cooking, this is a cheese more commonly made in the south rather than the north).

I think maybe we were off to a rocky start as cooking night was moved to Friday, and Thursday the dough was to be prepared so it could sit. (Research said this would be best!) I looked in the fridge Friday morning, flour was still in the bag and no dough to be seen. Once again I have been proven wrong and was treated to a lovely meal, with a delicious pizza base.

Ingredients:

• 4 1/2 cups unbleached high-gluten, bread, or all-purpose flour (type 00), chilled


• 1 3/4 teaspoons salt
  
• 1 teaspoon instant yeast


• 1/4 cup olive oil


• 1 3/4 cups water, ice cold


• Semolina flour OR cornmeal for dusting
  
  Recipe
  

1. 
   Stir together the flour, salt, and instant yeast in a bowl. With a large metal spoon, stir in the oil and the cold water until the flour is all absorbed. (If you are mixing by hand, repeatedly dip one of your hands or the metal spoon into cold water and use it, much like a dough hook, to work the dough vigorously into a smooth mass while rotating the bowl in a circular motion with the other hand.) Reverse the circular motion a few times to develop the gluten further. Do this for 5 to 7 minutes, or until the dough is smooth and the ingredients are evenly distributed, or until your arms hurt too much. If the dough is too wet and doesn't come off the sides of the bowl, sprinkle in some more flour just until it clears the sides. If it clears the bottom of the bowl, dribble in a tea- spoon or two of cold water. The finished dough will be springy, elastic, and sticky, not just tacky. Your hands will be messy, so mental note, take off your rings first if wearing any.
   


2. Sprinkle flour on the counter and transfer the dough to the counter. Prepare a sheet pan by lining it with baking paper and lightly oil . Using a metal dough scraper, cut the dough into 6 equal pieces (or larger if you are comfortable shaping large pizzas), You can dip the scraper into the water between cuts to keep the dough from sticking to it, sprinkle flour over the dough. Make sure your hands are dry and then flour them. Lift each piece and gently round it into a ball. If the dough sticks to your hands, dip your hands into the flour again.



3. Dust the counter with flour, and then mist the counter with spray oil. Place the dough balls on top of the floured counter and sprinkle them with flour; dust your hands with flour. Gently press the dough into flat disks about 1/2 inch thick and 5 inches in diameter. Sprinkle the dough with flour, mist it again with spray oil, and cover the dough loosely with plastic wrap or a food-grade plastic bag. Now let rest for 2 hours.



4. At least 45 minutes before making the pizza, place a baking stone either on the floor of the oven (for gas ovens), or on a rack in the lower third of the oven. Heat the oven as hot as possible. If you do not have a baking stone, you can use the back of a sheet pan, but do not preheat the pan.



5. Generously dust back of a sheet pan with semolina flour or cornmeal. Make the pizzas one at a time. Dip your hands, including the backs of your hands and knuckles, in flour and lift I piece of dough by getting under it with a pastry scraper. Very gently lay the dough across your fists and carefully stretch it by bouncing the dough in a circular motion on your hands, carefully giving it a little stretch with each bounce. If it begins to stick to your hands, lay it down on the floured counter and re-flour your hands, then continue shaping it. Once the dough has expanded outward, move to a full toss. If you have trouble tossing the dough, or if the dough keeps springing back, let it rest for 5 to 20 minutes so the gluten can relax, and try again. You can also resort to using a rolling pin, though this isn't as effective as the toss method.



6. When the dough is stretched out to your satisfaction (about 9 to 12 inches in diameter for a 6-ounce piece of dough), lay it on the peel or pan, making sure there is enough semolina flour or cornmeal to allow it to slide. Lightly top it with sauce and then with your other toppings, remembering that the best pizzas are topped with a less-is-more philosophy. 3 or 4 toppings, including sauce and cheese is sufficient.



7. Slide the topped pizza onto the sheet pan and close the door. Poor a glass of wine. Wait 2 minutes, then take a peek. If it needs to be rotated 180 degrees for even baking, do so. The pizza should take about 5 to 8 minutes to bake. If the top gets done before the bottom, you will need to move the tray to a lower self before the next round. if the bottom crisps before the cheese caramelizes, then you will need to raise the stone for subsequent bakes.



8. Remove the pizza from the oven and transfer to a cutting board. Wait 3 to 5 minutes before slicing and serving, to allow the cheese to set slightly.

Conclusion; meal was lovely. The base tasted delicious, but perhaps pizza could of been cooked for longer, (was in oven for over 10minutes), think this would of been improved if we had a pizza stone, or a proper pizza flame oven in our kitchen. Hubby kept the topics basic, mozzarella Buffalo and oregano on one and zucchini and anchovy on other; perfecto!! Already asking him what's on the menu for next week...

Work to get to work

Until today, I have been oblivious to the extreme sport that my husband partakes in daily. Today, I was introduced to the underground sport of the 'metro'... That big M that you see on every second corner, (no, not the Macdonalds sign), is actually the entrance to a rabbit warren of mayhem, perturbation and irratibility.




I have always been confused by my husband returning from work hot and sweaty when it is cold outside; "You do not understand, there are so many people on the train." I have always been confused how my husband can possibly arrive an hour late to work when he allows an hour for a 45 min trip of train and tram hopping; "You do not understand, there are so many people on the train". I have always been confused as to why he does not just take his jacket off on the train and push in instead of constantly waiting for the next train as 'hopefully it will have more room'; "You do not understand, there are so many people on the train!" I was convinced that he was over exaggerating and that the commuting time was a great chance for him to read his book and relax away from home and work.

So we ventured into the city today for an appointment at 8.30am with the kids. Not too many people walking the streets, or in the station, or even waiting on the platform for that matter. But as the train arrives, all I see is a blur of squished faces doing the 'blow fish' up against the windows. It truly was new meaning to packed in like sardines.




Within 2 minutes of the train trip, I was sweating profusely, there was no option to remove my jacket let alone scratch my nose. There was absolutely no room!! I was holding Leon on my hip at the time, which I probably could of done with no hands, as the force of the train mosh pit seemed to be keeping him above breathing level just fine. Exiting the train was like the breaking walls of a dam, and I walked down several corridors before I was able to cling onto a wall to remove my jacket. This is a chore in itself ; 'delayering' myself and 2 small children for a short trip, only to layer again minutes later when we reach destination. Then there is the transportation of jackets, scarves and hats on the train, (no room to scratch my nose remember)!


After our appointment, we go back to the platform for our return train ride home. Not only do people just stand in front of you as though you are invisible, and they are obviously of more importance, but they stand directly in front of the exit, not allowing people to get off as they try to get on!! Sort it out people, they need to get off SO you can get on!


I now understand why my husband is sometimes late for work; I now understand why he arrives home with sweat on his brow; and I now understand why he has not read much of his novel. It is work to get to work. There is always the option to drive?? Driving in Milan... another story all together...

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)!

No trick or treaters!

So this was our first Halloween in Europe and we were not to sure what to expect... was it going to be like Australia where the commercial aspect out ways the ritual of dressing up, decorating and having a family festive time? Yes. Same, same. Shops are filled with cobwebs and witches hats, and the only parties seemed to be promotions held by the nightclubs involving drinking cheap bubbling poison and a gooley good time. Not really appropriate for a 1 and 2 year old! We would have to make our own fun, and that we did!!

Something that was on offer in abundance were the large pumpkins for Jack o lanterns. We bought two, (presuming we would make an absolute mess of the first one), and decided to give it a go. Daughter and son both helped and this was a great family activity for kids and mum and dad, although I think parents probably took it a little bit more seriously than the little ones. The look of horror on my husbands face when I said princess could draw on the face before we cut it out... she managed all of the facial features, mostly in the right order (but I must admit I attacked the pumpkin with a scourer to remove random pen marks after). We cut off the top and the little helpers scraped out all the gooey inside with spoons, scrapers and hands. It made for a lot of mess and good fun squeezing in our hands. Prince particularly liked playing drums with the spoons and trying to eat the inside slime. Daughter said "I'll do it", hoping for the sharp paring knife, but was happy to settle for drawing, spooning, being artistic director and washing her hands in a bucket of bubbly water.

Two lovely faces were the end product, the children were very excited to have the lights out and the candles lit inside, and I must admit, loved one and I enjoyed having them lit each night once the children had gone to bed. (I think we have one night left of them before they shrivel to orange size and are carried away by fruit flies...shame.)

Long weekend here in Milan, and we were forecast rain, which set the mood for my family who are still all recovering from illnesses; (tonsillitis, colds, ear infections, conjunctivitis) each having their own, (I've always encouraged us being individuals, but all different illnesses...come on)! So home made fun was on the agenda, and knowing the Gonzalez clan, this mostly involves food! Halloween pizzas were on the menu, (trying to establish some sort of Italian Halloween) and the children made their own, resulting in daughter eating her first whole pizza since we have been here. Pita bread spread with pumpkin soup from night prior, capsicum face, olive eyes, zucchini nose and tomato smile, 'Bone appetito' (that's my skeleton Halloween joke, the longer I am a parent the cheesier my jokes become). Princess decided making her own dinner was fun, and now she will make her own dinner once a week! (Hubby makes dinner on Wednesday nights, so now I just need to work on princes cooking skills, then it's feet up for me, my job here is done!)

We only had 3 short outings this wet long weekend. The markets for a quick fruit and vegetable shop; and just enough time for daughter to tell the beggar with gold teeth "I've got no more" money left, as she gave it to the old Italian violin busker. We managed an afternoon drive to Switzerland factory shopping centre, in hope to buy some warm jackets to combat the colder days, no success... do not care if your name is Dolce and Gabbana or Prada, still not paying 600€ even though you say that is half price. We also made it to the park inbetween rain sets, enough time for a see saw, fall down ramp and a turn on the merry go round.

I was not sure if we would expect trick or treater's so I bought 5 packets of lollies which are still all sitting in the cupboard, and will no doubt stay unopened until Christmas festivities start. Not quite sure what I was thinking... it was forecast pouring rain, I live in a secure building that is only accessed via key and there are probably 4 other children in our entire building. Our children are too young to understand the concept behind halloween; but they revealed in their parents excitement of art, craft, singing, dancing and cooking together, ("Ahhhhh Boo!") Maybe it was Halloween; maybe it was the fact that we were stuck inside for most of the weekend; but it has been great family time, and I am already looking forward to Thanksgiving. Do the Italians celebrate Thanksgiving?

Doctor prescribed gelati

Man flu is a belittling term that refers to the idea that when many men have a cold, they exaggerate and claim they have the flu — the implication being that women do not do so.

So I am feeling a little guilty that after all of my "Ohhhhh, he has man flu" jokes aimed at my husband have come back and sneezed in my face. My loving husband returned from the doctors yesterday to inform me that he now has the week off work, as well as a severe case of tonsillitis, (which I guess explains the raging temperatures, body aches and fact he has not been able to swallow for the last week). I have now accepted that men do not 'moan' when they have Man-Flu, they just emit involuntary groans of agony that are entirely in proportion to the unbearable pain they are in, ("sorry for doubting the severity of your pain sweety"). My dairy intolerant husband has also been advised by his doctor, ('apparently'; notice my fingers doing the bunny rabbit sign above my head as I speak?), to have a diet of soothing cold gelati, yogurt or cold mashed potato over the next few days until antibiotics kick in. Now my husband is able to smile at me with sweet retribution in his eyes, (Oh dairy intolerant man shall have his day of revenge, haaaa haaa haaa haaa haa ha!)

So I waltz into the kitchen ten minutes after my dairy intolerant, dairy consuming husband, to be greeted by a waft of his revenge. It is now that I decide this apartment is not big enough for all our noses and floating germs; time to spread our wings; hope for a quick recovery; and book our next holiday with the windows down!!! I spend 2 hours on the Internet sourcing a long weekend away. I am thinking 2 nights in Biot in southeastern France, (on the top of a hill overlooking the Mediterranean, situated between Canne and Nice and 40 minutes drive out of Monaco). Then a third night stay in San Remo on the Italian Riviera, (2 1/2 hour drive back to Milan from here). Monday is a public holiday, so I have sourced (not booked) some great and cheap accommodation on last minute.com and I go to bed tired, but feeling very proud of myself. As I climb into bed, I remember telling my husband earlier to sleep facing away from me as I did not want him breathing his germs on me... revenge again... instead I get the dairy intolerant after affects keeping me warm all evening. I promise never to tease a man about illness again!!

I wake ready to surprise my family with my master holiday plans; but I am greeted in the morning by a daughter who is coughing like she has just smoked a pack of Marlboro red cigarettes; a husband who looks like he is performing some sort of body wave break dance move every time he tries to swallow; and a son who has yellow secretions oozing from his nose, eyes and out of his left ear. After the morning nappy change, (son definately has all of the orifices covered today), perhaps now is not the time for a holiday?

After a trip to the doctors, over 100€ later, and a dose of antibiotics for his middle ear infection, we walk home slowly via the boutiques, patisseries and cobblestone streets. I am still in amazement that this is where we live now. We are extremely lucky to be able to live this lifestyle and our only sadness is that the children will not remember these beautiful things and experiences that are surrounding us. No official holiday this weekend; we will get to know our local streets of Milan and holiday at home. There is nothing more heart breaking than seeing your loved ones ill. I am hoping for a quick recovery for my family, and I am hoping to not confuse the pharmacy and medication distribution centre that has now become my kitchen bench. Maybe the spirit of Halloween will brighten their moods, sweets always create cheer amongst the Gonzalez clan, and we may even try our hand at a pumpkin lantern?

Cooking with the colours of the flag

Hi my name is Cathy, and I am a food addict... For those that do not know me personally, I love a lot of things in life; food is abnormally high on my list. Since the move to Italy I have experienced a reborn love of fresh flavours; pizza, bread, pasta, bread, oils, vinegars, bread, cheese, gelati and bread.


So adjusting to my new diet, I joined a sweat less gym and told myself it would all be ok; provided I must exercise off what I put in, in order to not be confused with a snow man when winter comes around. (The last thing I need is Italian children throwing carrots and raisins at me in -5 degrees!) I have now curved my love of bread, pizza is a treat, I always share my gelati with my son and I attempt to monitor my cheese intake. There is however, one dish that must reach our dinner table at least once a week; Insalata Caprese. Not many ingredients, and it is more preparing then cooking.

Follow these easy steps to feel as though you are part of the Gonzalez ritual...

• Open the wine, pour a glass and sip, (or gulp, depending on your day). Now you are ready.
  
• Slice the tomatoes into medium sized slices. We have been buying ours from the fresh markets at Viale Papiniano every Saturday.
  
• Slice the Mozzarella in the same way. I was lucky enough to be able to try fresh Buffalo Mozzarella from Naples last week, and I much prefer it to normal Mozzarella, (our usual supermarket buy 65c). But normal Mozzarella will be just fine. Treated ourselves with a 3€ purchase for one ball of Salernitana (from Salerno south of Naples) Buffalo cheese this morning.
  
• I also like to use virgin, cold pressed olive oil, (but the same applies, any olive oil will do, but because the flavors are so mild, delicate and balanced, a poor olive oil will affect the taste of the salad).
  
• I also grow my own basil. I live in an apartment, so it’s not hard to grow your own basil, and it tastes 100% better than the force-grown stuff in most stores. Next, chop the basil coarsely.
  
• Place the cheese and tomato slices on a plate alternately and sprinkle with the basil. Next, drizzle olive oil over and add salt and pepper to taste.
  
• It is not part of the original recipe, but I quite like to spread some torn basil on the plate initially and a light drizzle of balsamic vinegar over the top.
  
• I like a fair amount of salt with this salad, but not too much pepper. My husband prefers a fair amount of pepper, but not too much salt. (See how your mood is??) Serve cold.
  
• I like to serve this as a side, my husband says he can eat just the salad alone!

Buon Apetito !

Ne voglio ancora: (neh voh-lio an-ko-rah) Is there any seconds?

Properly trained, a man can be dog's best friend...

Something I have definitely noticed about Italy, (and most European countries), is the love and emphasis on family time. Parks are always bustling, cafes filled with children and adults grabbing a quick brioche before school and work, and child, parent and grandparent outings are daily occurrences. This family value is also extended to the family members with four legs. Living in Milan, a busy city that offers mainly apartment living, I was surprised by the amount of dogs. Big, small, skinny, tall, hairy, bald, any dog at all! Most parks have a dog park attached, and any available spot of grass near a kerb is utilised for doggy relief.

So who is the master? It is not uncommon to be eating in a restaurant and have a pooch eyeing off your pizza from the table next door; I have spotted a dog doing the grocery shop with Nonna; they almost always get to finish off the gelati cone; and usually get to go on holidays with the family as about 1/3 hotels in Italy and Europe are dog friendly., (as well as gay friendly; isn't it funny what they advertise now days... should be a given fact in todays society). The dog is part of the family! They say couples start to dress the same and look like each other the longer they live together; does this apply with family pets? With the colder weather fast approaching, Milan doggy fashion is already prevailing with knitted and leather vests. Dog parks are filled with strutting mutts on cat walks (or dog walks)! And owners in collars?













The local business provide opportunity for social existence for those that can not possibly leave the house without their furry babies. Ikea provides a trolley with a pet box attached so they may help while shopping in their pooch pampering home wares section, (after all, what if you got home and the pooch did not like your purchase, it saves on the return trip). If they do not wish to stay in the cage they must wear a muzzle, (did not see any patches of grass or dog toilets in my loop of home exhibition, what happens there?) Pity the store cleaner... We have been past many petrol stations with a 'Fido Park', just pop in a coin, put your dog in a large cage, and you can still shop and eat inside without worrying about the safety of your critter. While visiting the Genova Aquarium, we noticed 'Dog sitting' was offered, similar to a kids play centre, ahhhhh, the life of a dog!!



The Italians just have so much love to give and food to share, why shouldn't the cane benefit?