When one lives in Italy, the neighboring countries are just that. Places that seem so far away from Oregon, were just "around the corner" from me, while growing up. Many European capitals are reachable in less than 3 hours, with a quick flight from Rome.
On the last day of the year, I leave you with both a recipe and video for gnocchi and party making, in the hopes that you will be encouraged to spend time with those you care about, by sharing some food with them. From our group of food lovers to yours, Happy New Year!
I am a September baby. That means that, by the time my first Christmas rolled around, I was barely 3 months old. Clearly, I don't remember a thing. Fortunately, my Dad was wise enough to take pictures.
Home is where your heart is" or sometimes home is not where you are physically, but a place you carry IN your heart despite the distance. Just the thought of it, makes you smile and feel happy....or homesick, in my case. A big piece of my heart belongs to Cesano, Senigallia.
The holiday season is here. With that, fond memories of the many great times spent in Italy with my family. Decorating the tree: year after year, using the same ornaments and the same short, beaten-up artificial tree from which we couldn't depart such we loved him so much.
Growing up in Perugia, in the heart of Italy, we did not have any fruit other than the one Nature could provide on its own, without manipulation. That meant the usual Winter melons, Apples and Pears.
Thanksgiving if the holiday that made me a better person. It made me more aware that there are so many reasons to be grateful, and I need to celebrate each one of them. Mille Grazie! (A thousand thank you's)
Here is what I learned from life: Diamonds are NOT a girl's best friends. FRIENDS are. I know, truth can hurt, and don't get me wrong...I like the bling bling, too. When it comes to real life, though, everybody needs a very close friend. A BFF as they call them now.
When one gets married, in Italy, one is willing to grow deeper roots. I, on the other hand, always wanted to grow wings- for as long as I can remember.
When one is born Italian, he/she is supposed to like coffee, wine and animal organs (in this order) as if it were part of the natural genetic patrimony. Caffelatte (Milk and coffee) is what I grew up having for breakfast as a child.