Risi e Bisi

Risi e Bisi - Rice and Peas is a perfect springtime dish.  The word for peas is actually piselli but rise e bisi has a nice lilt. This Venetian classic is made with sweet, tender peas and short-grained rice.  In an earlier post I discussed polenta - a northern Italian favorite. But rice/risotto is equally popular. Rice is primarily grown in the Po River basin in the provinces of Piemonte, Lombardia and Veneto.  Italy is the largest producer of rice in Europe.

Note Piemonte, Lombardia and Veneto in the North.

Note the bed of the Po River right through those northern regions.

Italian Rice Paddies

Risi e Bisi is a soupier version of risotto, although you can make it drier if you like.  Venetian chefs suggest using Riso Vialone Nano Veronese- a variety of short pearls of rice.  The word nano means dwarf in Italian…like a nanosecond! 

Risi e Bisi

For 4 people
Ingredients:

1 cup of Riso Vialone Nano - or Arborio Rice

2 lb. of tender sweet peas in the pod.

1 quart of vegetable broth

2 ounces of pancetta

1/2 onion

1 small bunch of parsley

1 quart of vegetable broth

4 T. of butter.

Freshly grated Grana Padano or Parmigiana

1. Shell the peas, saving a large handful of tender pods.  
2. In a saucepan, cover the handful of pods with salted water and simmer for 30 minutes.
3. Grate the onion, chop the pancetta and the parsley.
4. In a large saucepan melt 2 T. of butter, add the onion and the pancetta.
5. Meanwhile bring the vegetable broth to a simmer. 
6. When the onion is translucent, add the peas, 1/2 the parsley and a ladle full of broth.  Cover and cook for 10 minutes.
7. Meanwhile blend the pea pods with a 1/2 cup of their broth.
8. Pour the blended mixture through a sieve into the simmering vegetable broth.
9. Add the vegetable broth to the peas.  Add the rice and stir well.
10. Cook briskly, stirring often, until the rice is soft - about 15-20 minutes. Be careful the rice doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan.
11. Stir in the remaining 2 T.  butter and the Grana Padano or Parmagiana.
12. Divide between four bowls.  Sprinkle with more cheese and the rest of the parsley.

Suggestions:  You could use about 2 cups of frozen peas and skip the pea pod mixture.

Venezia, Pandemonium and Hitler

Venice - Ponte della Paglia and Ponte dei Sospiri (Bridge of Straw and Bridge of Sighs)

Venice is about an hour and a half drive from Verona.  The two cities are both in the Veneto Province. 

See Verona on the left and Venezia on the right.

When I look through pictures from the past, I realize that we went to Venice many times with various friends. It was an easy day trip with the children. Venice is a magical place. The kids had a wonderful time chasing the pigeons on Piazzo San Marco and running over bridges. We rode the vaporeto (water taxi) and went out to the Island of Murano to see the glass blowers.  Once we went to the Lido to play on the beach. 

Christopher, Charles and Marie-Juliette spellbound by the pigeons.

Murano glass blowers.

Murano Glass

Lido Beach

Perhaps my most memorable trip to Venice, however, was with a group of acquaintances.  We were 4 couples, all of us transplants to Verona.  Two couples from Torino and another from Bologna.  I knew the women relatively well, but I’d never met “Carlo”.  Dark wavy hair, a sturdy build and an aggressive manner. He exuded a certain slippery sexuality.  

It was decided we would drive there together in a VW van that Vincent had inherited from an Italian-American couple who had returned to the states. Our friends were used to driving snazzy cars so taking a rusty van was a lark.

We set off at four in the afternoon so we could go for a walk-a passeggiata and do some shopping before dinner.   A leisurely passeggiata is essential to Italian life; walking slowly arm in arm and chatting intimately.  At first this closeness seemed strange to me.  In America we maintain a certain distance.  But Italians like to get up close and personal.

We had an aperitivo at a bar and wandered down small passageways and over stone bridges.  As I remember one of our group was looking for a rare book and we stopped at several librerie.  Our destination for dinner was in the old fish market.  Perhaps it was the Antica Trattoria Poste Vecie that specializes in Venetian food and local fish.  I looked at their web site today but it looks fancier than what I remember.

Venice at dusk.

Antica Trattoria Poste Vecie.  I read that Casanova brought lady friends here.

As I remember the maître d’hôtel lead us down some stairs to a lower level. We were ushered to a long table.  The walls of this room were stone or brick, elegantly rustic.   Several tables were occupied. Across the room a group of men were just sitting down.  Lively conversation echoed in the room.

We might have started with Sarde in Saòr, sweet and sour sardines or Spaghetti al Nero di Seppia  - spaghetti with squid ink, or Risi e Bisi, rice with peas. These are all Venetian specialties. Then perhaps grilled fish or Baccala (cod). The atmosphere was lively and the conversation brisk.  We ate a leisurely dinner, taking time with each course and drinking quite a lot of wine.

Sarde in Saòr

Spaghetti al nero di seppia  -spaghetti in squid ink.

Risi e bisi

The restaurant emptied out except for the group of gentlemen across the room. One of them raised his voice in song and the others joined in.  They were singing in German.  When they’d finished, our group applauded and we sent a pitcher of wine to their table.  Everyone laughed.  Then we began to sing an Italian song.  When we’d finished they applauded and sent us some wine.  As the evening progressed the atmosphere became more raucous.  We sang, clapped our hands and shared more wine.  The girls got up to dance.  We danced together; we danced with our husbands; we danced with the German fellows. The feeling was wild pandemonium.  I remember twirling around in my red dress. 

Then all of a sudden “Carlo” stood on a chair, raised his arm in a Nazi salute and said: Heil Hitler.  His harsh voice carried across the room.  And then there was total silence.  We were frozen in place.  The German-speakers mumbled, “But we are not Germans.  We are Austrians.”  

Some of us apologized. A cold wind swept through the room.  A delightful evening had turned into a train wreck.

The wine urges me on, the bewitching wine, which sets even a

wise man to singing and to laughing gently and rouses him up 

to dance and brings forth words which were better unspoken.

Homer

The Odyssey, bk. XIV, l. 463

The Sunshine Gardens, the Clairvoyant and Boredom

In a former post I talked about the school day that ended at 1 PM.  As we made our way home for lunch, the shops were closing for the afternoon.  They would usually reopen at 4 PM.  We did the same. After lunch, homework and naps we would head out to the park, Giardini Raggio di Sole-The Sunshine Gardens.  They were barely 10 minutes away by stroller or tricycle. 

Heading out to the park on Corso Porta Nuova.

Giardini Raggio di Sole

The gardens were located along the old city walls.  There were meandering paths, shaded park benches, a cafe for refreshments and soccer fields. But the best part was the fenced-in playground with a guardian on duty.  She/He watched who came in and out.  Children were safe inside to ride their bikes along the paths, play on the equipment or invent games in the trees.  They were supervised and watched-over.  Eventually the kids made lots of friends and played happily for hours.

This is a recent photo of the playground.  The equipment back then was not so colorful.

The first year in Verona, I was busy watching Christopher who was two years old but in subsequent years, the children entered the enclosed playground and I sat outside on a bench knitting and talking to people.  Sometimes I had coffee at the chiosco ristoro (refreshment stall).  When it was hot there was sweetened iced espresso in small plastic cups.

I remember a fuzzy-haired woman who wore a colorful shawl. She brought several thick astrology books and would tell the ladies their fortune.  She was often there with a little white poodle.  It took her an hour or more to do her research and chat up her client.  The results were pronounced publicly to the assembled audience.  Then the ramifications were hotly discussed.

Mothers often scolded their children for running.  “Don’t run.  You’ll sweat.”  The perceived danger was they would catch cold from sweating and then cooling off.  At that time, Italian kids were dressed in nice, tailored clothes of pressed cotton and wool. As soon as it got chilly, they wore silk underwear and a warm wool coat. And of course when they ran, they sweat.  I’m sure all the mothers were secretly horrified at my children’s attire: jeans and tee-shirts.

Quite the fashionista!

One day I was sitting alone on a bench and an elderly man sat down next to me. He told me he was retired and what he'd had for lunch.  Then he said his wife needed some quiet time in the afternoon.  I was knitting a royal blue sweater.  As we talked the conversation turned to the war.  He had been imprisoned in Russia for an extended period of time.  He said that the German army sent the Italian soldiers ahead as fodder for the Russian troops.  He said he was captured and held prisoner in a box.  He could barely stand up.  Alone and nearly starving, he would hear other prisoners going crazy, screaming and crying.

He told me he didn’t lose his mind because he escaped mentally every day.  First he would exercise as best he could doing push-ups and sit-ups.  Then he would work out mathematical problems and review history facts.  Sometimes he’d try and visualize the places where he’d been and the people he’d known.  Mentally, he would recall every room in his house. He imagined stories and happenings.  In this manner, he escaped his horrendous surroundings. 

I’ve often told this story to students when they complained they were bored. I’d rant,  “Bored?  Bored? Boredom is self-afflicted.  You can listen to me expound on the subjunctive (terribly interesting); or look at the bulletin boards and escape mentally to France; or think about the prom and what you’ll wear.  But don’t say you’re bored.  Say you have no imagination!  It’s in your power to enrich your life.”

A favorite Einstein quote: “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.”

Pasta Overload and Proper Nutrition

While we were in Italy, pasta infiltrated out lives.  It was difficult not to be enticed to eat it everyday.  It must have been something in the air. However I usually planned for one carb in a meal.  So we ate potatoes, risotto, pasta, polenta and crispy bread.

One day Signora Simiele called.  She worked at the central post office in Verona.  She told me that all the postal workers were getting together to order a carload of De Cecco pasta.  Apparently everyone thought the familiar blue and yellow box was the best brand.  We’re talking a freight car here.  Signora asked me if I would like to go in on it. I said "yes."  She asked me how much and what shapes: spaghetti, penne, farfalle, rotini, linguini etc?  I didn’t have a clue.  I suggested she order what she thought was best. Remember Signora had a family of 5 hungry children, two hard-working adults and friends and relatives.

About a month later our order arrived.  Vincent needed to borrow a van to pick it up.   There were several large cartons 3’ by 3’ as I remember.  Inside were smaller cartons with boxes of all shapes of pasta.  We had enough pasta for eternity and then some.

That fall the first grade parents of students at Agli Angeli Elementary School were summoned to a meeting.  I remember an elegantly appointed room and about 30 mothers, all chatting to beat the band.  The principal introduced a medical doctor to the group.  The Dottore was there to talk to parents about good nutrition for their bambini.

Basically, her message was that children needed to eat meat and vegetables before they were served pasta.  Traditionally, Italians begin their noon meal with pasta and then move on to the meat, veggies and salad.  The Doctor pointed out that children will fill their tummies with pasta and have no room for the rest of the meal.  Nutritionally they needed the vitamins and minerals provided by fruits and vegetables.  She was met by silence.  Then there were a few questions about carrots vs. string beans and polenta vs. pasta.  Then we left the room.

I had a feeling that when they got home, these mamme would probably not change the natural order of a traditional meal.  After all they had been raised that way, and they were perfectly healthy.

Here’s a healthy, vegetarian pasta dish that might meet with the Dottore's approval.

Pasta Primavera

1. Melt 3 Tablespoons of butter in a pan.  Add a chopped garlic clove, 1/2 lb. sliced asparagus, 1/2 lb. fresh peas (frozen is fine),  5 ounces of chopped baby spinach. Sauté the vegetables for 5 minutes. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
2. Meanwhile cook a pound of tagliatelle according to the package, drain, saving 1/2 cup cooking water.
3. Add to the vegetables: the grated zest and juice of one  lemon and a large handful of chopped spring herbs: mint, basil, parsley(maybe fennel fronds) Mix well.   
4. Mix the pasta into the vegetables.  Add a little pasta water if necessary to moisten.
5. Fill four bowls with the pasta primavera.  Sprinkle with chopped almonds, parmesan and a drizzle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

Buon Appetito

School Days, Poetry and Wine

Nature's gift to mankind.

The day at The Angels elementary school started at 8 AM and ended at 1 PM.  School was strictly reading, writing, math, science and history.  Art, music and gym were not included in the curriculum.  Community afternoon programs provided soccer practice and classes in the arts.

I dropped Marie-Juliette and Charles off at the school shortly before 8.  Once the students had arrived the door was locked and there was no admittance.  At the time, there was a rash of kidnappings in Italy.  Several of the students arrived in armored cars.  Big, burly bodyguards ushered the children into the school, their guns drawn.

Burly guys, but not so big.

Christopher and I would head to the cafe for my cappuccino.  We made friends with the people who frequented the establishment at that hour.  Chris was spoiled by all the attention and sweets.  Then we went shopping at the local shops.  By the time I got home, cleaned up and made lunch; it was time to pick up the children from school.  

The good thing about this schedule was that the children came home starving.  We ate our main meal then: meat, vegetables, pasta, yogurt and fruit.  Afterwards the boys took a nap and Marie-Juliette and I did her homework.  In the first week Marie-Juliette had a poem to memorize for the following Friday.  What a nightmare that first poem was; we both worked on it.  There was a lot of crying and foot stamping but eventually she got it down pat.(And so did I).  The memorization of poetry went on all year, but eventually she could sit down and master a poem by herself.  I wonder about that form of learning?  We certainly don’t believe in memorization today. Did it provide useful neurological gymnastics?

This little poem says: When you get in trouble you feel really bad.  So say you're sorry and you'll feel much better!

One of Marie-Juliette's first homework assignments was a reading about how to make wine:  Come si fa il vino. 

Picking the grapes!

Pressing the grapes.

Bottling the wine.

Vineyards in Veneto!

Imagine teaching wine-making in an American first grade!  There would be all sorts of parental histrionics.  But in Verona, in the heart of Soave,Valpolicella and Bardolino country, children needed to know about grapes and wine.  One day in the fall we saw a parade of horse-drawn wagons piled high with grapes going down Corso Porta Nuova.  It was glorious.

In vino veritas.

Have you read my books?  Captivating characters, spellbinding suspense and delectable food will keep you entranced.

Our move down to Verona and Brioches

During the last few weeks in Cerro things calmed down again.  All the vacationers went back home.  Around us the shutters were down as though the cottages had gone to sleep.  There were some nice days but the nights were chilly up in the hills. Remember we had our bombola di gas but it only heated water.  There was no central heating.  Sometimes after the kids were asleep, I would sit in the bathroom wrapped up in a blanket reading.  I would put my feet in the bidet and run the hot water.  Sometimes I had a glass of wine!

The Lessini mountains in the fall.

We moved into our apartment in Verona a few days before school started.  It was fun to reacquaint ourselves with our possessions.  The children were happy to discover the toys they hadn’t seen for four months. Unfortunately, the newly purchased kitchen appliances and cupboards had not yet arrived.

We went to the school that was around the block.  It was a girl’s school called Agli Angeli - the school of the angels!  They admitted only girls from first grade up, but the nursery school was mixed.  We enrolled Marie-Juliette in first grade and Charles in the nursery school.  Then there was shopping for the appropriate colored smock, school supplies and a backpack.  The children probably weren’t as nervous as I was to see my little ones facing new challenges in a new language. 

La scuola Agli Angeli that my angels attended

Behind the school was this enormous park where the children played during recess.  

Since we had no kitchen appliances yet, we had breakfast in the Bar/Cafe in our apartment building.  Everyone was so friendly.  That first week, we had a table in the back.  The kids had hot chocolate and I had a cappuccino.  These were served with brioches. In France a brioche is a slightly sweet roll shaped like a muffin with a topknot.  But the brioches in Verona were shaped like croissants brushed with apricot jam and sugar sprinkles.  We were all addicted.

French brioches.

Italian Brioches!

On Sunday the bar/cafe was closed.  We were planning to go out and hunt down a restaurant.  At about 8 o’clock, there was a knock at our door.  It was the owner of the cafe with a large tray with pitchers of hot chocolate, cappuccini, and fresh rolls and brioches.  He had come in to clean his establishment and had thought of us!  Wasn’t that nice?  I never forgot his kindness.

Remember all this took place 40 years ago.  I checked out our old building on google.  There is a hamburger joint which seems to be a chain.  It's called: Hamburgheria di Eataly!