Seasonal Cooking

With no formal training, simply my mother’s kitchen, significantly more error than trial, I consider myself  an amateur cook on the road to becoming more of a professional. Insert housemates, family, friends, limited budget, scarce ingredients and the confidence levels oscillate between very low and high with being a cook.

I have been trying to cook remembering all the things that I have learned through the course of my year in Italy: the good, the clean and the fair. It is challenging at times. But I've been told that as a cook, the challenge is what you are after. You need all the creativity and the inspiration you can find to keep up the opinion polls of those eating what you prepare.

In Southern Africa our seasons are not as distinct as other parts of the world so we always have some sort of fresh seasonal produce. Right now we are at the beginning of summer or some would call the rainy season. My challenge comes in the form of our family garden and its fertility. On an average season, whatever is planted grows successfully and leaves us with an abundance of it. Over the years we have had( just to name some of the produce): tomatoes, pumpkins, cucumbers, cabbages, beetroots, carrots and a lot of other fresh produce. As a cook that would be great as produce with the most robust flavour is that which is found when in season, when it has had the opportunity to be sun-kissed and harvested when ripe. Insert problem. What do you do with an abundance of one particular crop even after sharing it with the community? How do you prevent monotony in cooking when you have an abundance of <insert name of produce>?

Sheer creativity and experimenting. Open up the old cook books and surf the internet. Find some willing guinea pigs- preferably those with strong stomachs, who enjoy experimental cooking. Start cooking and preserving the food.

After years of making jams, chutney, pickles, pies, soups and everything else in between I have a new challenge. Herbs. This season we planted a lot of them in the family garden, not thinking that they would grow well), but alas we have an abundance them. I know that they can be dried, but I need something more alive and tangible. With an abundance of herbs:  mint, basil, sage and cilantro and soon rosemary, lavender and tarragon I have to be innovative. Suggestions are welcome!

My biggest problem are the cilantro (fresh coriander)  and the basil, they have to be constantly pruned to ensure continued growth so that they are available all season before they flower. This week they have been a part of almost all our meals. But when the monotony of fresh herbs hits and the family has exhausted their weekly experimenting quota (this week it was spicy Thai and Italian pesto) it’s always convenient when a friend has a birthday and can further experiment in the guise that one needs to make a special cake.

So thanks to Miss E who let me try out some seasonal baking experiments. Much to her surprise her birthday cake this year was a Sweet Tomato Cake served with a Basil infused Cream Sauce.

Under the African sun

Hello November. Where did September and October go? They moved by swiftly especially under the African Sun.
I spent some time on the Atlantic Coast, watching the sunsets, eating seafood, attempting to learn Portuguese.

I went further south to Southern Africa.
Then I had my second spring this year. One filled with purple horizons, ripe mulberries and carpets of purple jacarandas, jacaranda honey, papayas, strawberries and more strawberry jam. Fresh herbs:sage, coriander,basil grown from basil seeds from Bra.


Farm fresh eggs.


Spring quickly became summer, with the sweltering heat of the sun painting the grass golden brown.
When it became unbearable, the heavens miraculously opened up with the much awaited rain. The  dry dusty air was replaced with fresh crisp air.



Crisp fresh air not only came from rain, but in the form of nephews and nieces bringing in new perspectives of life, giving you an extra laugh and smile.
My time under African sun brought about cooking and writing with an enthusiastic bunch of young ladies. Scrumptious chocolate cakes and flavoursome savoury dishes.

Of Fish and Other Sea Creatures

Food Rule Number 24:

“Eating what stands on one leg [mushrooms and plant food]is better than eating what stands on two legs [fowl], which is better than eating what stands on four legs [cows, pigs and other mammals]”

Michael Pollan, Food Rules: An Eater’s Manuel, 2009.

Michael Pollan adds to this rule and includes fish and other seafood which majority are legless creatures which contribute to a good diet.

Being from a landlocked country, I plead ignorance with regards to the ocean, marine biology and anything sea related. I use this excuse when convenient.

Then, I moved to Bra and met people who know their seafood. Unfortunately for us as students, Bra is a two hour drive from the coast. The seafood that is found  in Bra has travelled a long distance to get to you. This brings about questions of freshness, and this limits the choice that is available. Your cooking experiences reflect what you learn through the Slow Food philosophy. This means that you are willing to try out new things, and innovation becomes a reality more than a philosophy. For example on Fridays, my Thai friend wakes up early and heads to the fish market to get her free salmon heads from the vendors. I had no idea what she was going to do with them until one Friday afternoon I stopped over for an early dinner and before me was a platter of a slowly baked salmon fish head! Chopsticks in hand, spicy flavourful dipping sauce of chillies, garlic and other Thai seasonings, I from the landlocked country devoured that fleshy fish head.

Armed with added knowledge about fish heads, I thought this was the pinnacle of all fishy knowledge. But alas I attend UNISG. Contrary to popular belief it is not a cooking school. You do learn about cooking but not trained to be a chef you would think that your close family members would remember that. My dear mother knows very well that I enjoy cooking but I’m not a chef. Nonetheless I received a desperate email about two months ago that my mother had been given some “sea creatures”. She took them home, alive and they were wiggling their antlers and legs all over the kitchen sink. To bring them to their death, she mustered up courage, stuffed them in a plastic bag and threw them into the depths of her freezer.

Upon hearing about the fate of the “sea creatures” who turned out to be either crayfish or crawfish I assured here that they were food, just in an alive state. I consulted a few of my classmates who knew a lot more about seafood  than I did. I also consulted Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking for a classic recipe. Her instructions on dealing with live lobster (or other crustaceans):

If you object to steaming or splitting a live lobster, it may be killed almost instantly just before cooking if you plunge the point of a knife into the head between the eyes, or sever the spinal cord by making a small incision in the back of the shell at the juncture of the chest and the tail.

It was too late for lobster wisdom from Julia Child, but nonetheless I sent the recipes and instructions. I expected to hear back from my mother saying that she had prepared the seafood and what she thought of them. Alas, she had not. They would  stay buried in the depths of the freezer until I came to visit, and then they would be cooked, by me.

That’s what I did. After a day or two of rest I asked about the “sea creatures”. I retrieved them, heated and salted some water and boiled them. You must know that I have never cooked such kind of food. We (I made Mother assist me in the cooking that she was supposed to have done) removed the fleshy meat from the tails. Rich in flavour only seasoned with salt it tasted like it had been doused in a buttery sauce.

An instant hit with my family. At the end of the meal, Mother considered that on her next ‘fishing’ trip she would come home with a lot more of these delicacies and try the other recipes.

Mission accomplished, crayfish or crawfish whatever they maybe, cooked, enjoyed; I think I am now more knowledgeable about crustaceans. I have considered eating more of them while I am here, nearby the ocean where they are in abundance, and this way I can get closer to eating wisely by following Michael Pollan’s Food Rules.

Ten Travelling Tips

Twenty-eight hours, one bus, three trains, two airlines and three flights, four train stations, four airports, three bags, a backpack a handbag, two airline dinners of fish and rice, two panini, blueberries, overpriced water and coffee, three time zones, two swollen ankles and one exhausted Coco, I made it to the other side of the world with all my bags and sanity intact- just about.

I said earlier that traveling is a good thing and everyone should do it. I still say travel but now I’m going to modify this statement. Traveling, like chocolate tasting is not for the faint hearted. Before you travel you should know a few things:

1.) Make sure you have time to get to where you are going. If you live in a place like Bra, you need say about six hours to get where you are going, especially if you are traveling by Train Italia on a Sunday headed to Milano Airport. That’s where you insert the Bus to Carmangola-train to Torino-then another one to Milano- and a final one to Milano Malpensa airport. It helps if you have friends on the way to help you get there and keep you company on the journey. Thanks L and S.

2.) Always smile and be friendly to the check in and immigration people. Most people have bad experiences with them, having been made to pay a lot of money for having excess weight, even as small as half a kilogram. I have had my fair share of paying for excess baggage seeing as the fact that I have tried to travel light all my life but have failed drastically at it. My excuse is that you have to pack things to be prepared for all the unexpected possibilities. I get away with my excess by traveling with others who are light travellers, we end up sharing the weight. This makes one of my brothers, K, an excellent travel companion, he carries literally nothing for a long trip but somehow it is always enough, even for the unexpected things.

Back to the smile- I was blessed this time round, I approached the check in counter, with my three bags (you are only allowed two and you pay for the third one) prepared to pay for the third one and the check in lady smiled and almost violently waved me away when I was talking about paying for my third bag. Three bags checked in headed off to the Western Part of Central Africa, I prayed that they all got there in tack and did not get redirected to another airport or anything funny like that.

3.) Don’t wear too may accessories that have metal. When going through the security clearance sometimes I get really irritated. You wait on a line for so long only to get there, you have to take out your computer, which is in a case, inside your stuffed backpack, then if its winter you remove your boots and boots can be difficult shoes to wear. Then you take off all your jewellery- don’t be silly and go wearing an armful of bangles to the airport. I did it once, that was silly. And then you have to take of you belt. Make sure that you are wearing something that can survive a few footsteps without a belt otherwise you are in for embarrassing moments! All that for a few seconds through the security. If you are unlucky enough to cause the machines to beep you might just be frisked- Not fun.

4.) Take a look through the shops in the airport but don’t buy anything, unless you really have to. Why you ask? Because you are going to have to carry that stuff with you till you get to your destination and if you decide to be silly and get things that are heavy and overpriced well, you might regret it later. And you might come across an airline that is super strict about hand luggage. You will have to stuff all your purchases into you already over stuffed bag. How did I get away with it with a backpack and a handbag? Somehow the purchases squeezed into the backpack and I decided/ convinced myself and the guy at the boarding gate that that my handbag was actually a part of me and I only had one piece of hand luggage.

5.) Eat and Drink. While travelling it is important to keep hydrated, I would stick to water since the airplane wine is-well for me (a budding wine guru/snob) the wine is subpar. The problem with water is that you can’t bring any with you from home. You can only buy it after the security checks. That means you will fork out about €2.00 for a 500ml bottle of water. I found that water was conveniently only sold in 500 ml bottles so that’s was a dent in my pocket because a on a four hour layover you need to drink water lest you get dehydrated. If you are like me I have to munch a bit when I travel, it passes time and I do not like being a hungry traveller. A hungry traveller can be an agitated traveller. Carry snacks from home (home-made chocolate chip cookies, blueberries, peaches) you will save money and if you are like me with allergies some airports do not cater very well for your allergies and you will be stuck with a limited overpriced selection of things you can eat. And don’t wait saying that you will have a meal in the plane. You will have one but it will probably be an hour into the flight and you probably won’t like what is being served (another airplane meal of rice and fish?) but you will eat because you are hungry.

6.) Sleep or Watch the in flight entertainment. The only way you will survive a long journey is taking a nap between the flights/ buses. You will feel better and it will pass time when you are crossing the time zones. I started watching The Godfather, it made much more sense now that I have been living in Italy for nine months. My brother T, will be very happy that I have finally watched some of the movie. But I will stay away from the underworld gangs and bosses.

7.) There is no need to push! Honestly, you will all get in to the plane and you will all get out of the plane! Relax and don’t shove people. When travelling know that the concept of personal space is something that many travellers do not understand or want to understand. On the  last flight, fully booked, no leg room, people, their ‘hand’ luggage and me.  As soon as we landed they removed their seatbelts and decided it was time to leave (contrary to the cabin crew’s warning) opened up the overhead cabins and then stood waiting. I knew that we had a long way to go so I stayed seated and enjoyed another 30 minutes of sleep while the animated and agitated passenger kept complaining that everything was taking too long.

8.) Have you story straight. Remember I said that you should smile and be friendly to the check in people. Different story when dealing with immigration. Smile, but be confident and know your story. The immigration people like to make you sweat and ask you unnecessary questions when all the information is right in front of them. Sometimes you find some kind ones who put you at ease. The immigration gentleman in Frankfurt decided to have a long conversation with me about food and cooking when he saw where I was studying. If anything he was intrigued, in a good way. Seems like being at UNISG pays off for a conversation starter. On the last leg it was more difficult to explain. I had to go through two immigration officials. One strictly to check the visa and the final one to check my vaccine certificates. He held me hostage for a while, looking at my documents and looking at me, somewhat confused, I think my ‘straight story’ appeared to be dubious. His puzzled statement was: “You were born in country A, you hold a passport of country B, you live in country C, and you are coming here to country D, and finally you do not have the one required vaccine to enter country D because you are allergic to it”. I gave him a frank, yes that is my story and he let me through.

9) Always mark your bags and know what they look like. On these fully booked flights from Europe to the Western part of Central Africa, there will be several stops. You hope and pray that you get your luggage and that in the journey it is not rerouted to some obscure airport or that it is not tampered with. That does not include acts of God such as a rain storm in East Africa. After being pushed around by the other overzealous passengers who kept grabbing pieces of luggage they thought was theirs then upon discovery that it was the wrong thing they would throw it back on the baggage claim. I got my luggage, although it did not look like mine. The rain storm in East Africa had changed soaked my bright red suitcase allowing it to be blotched by brown and black marks of the baggage handling. My grey suitcase has a few more battle scars added to its exterior casing, it lost one of its wheels but it is still usable. My third little bag, the one I feared for the most did well and came out a survivor- maybe because it was too heavy (it felt like I put some mercury in it) to be tampered with.

10) Rest. When you get to your destination, rest, breathe in your new environment and don’t have too many expectations, that only leaves room for disappointment. Have an open mind to new experiences, tastes, flavours, smells sights, sounds, and enjoy the adventure.

Bon Voyage.

Now an added disclaimer. After talking with my parents I found out I have nothing on them when it comes to travelling and adventures. If you really want to know about adventures talk to people older than you. They have seen many more sunrises and sunsets than you and possibly they are more adventurous than you give them credit to be. 

Don't be a Dinosaur...

“To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries.” – Aldous Huxley

Majestic Great Zimbabwe

One of the best things about living in Europe is the boarders, or lack of. In my humble opinion as a student in living in the European Union, I’m very happy with the creation of the Schengen area. There is a certain freedom you feel, time and money permitting you can travel and see the world- well at least Europe without the hassle of applying for a visa each time you cross a border. Other parts of the world make it slightly more difficult to cross into their borders.

In this way food travels allow us to engage with new ideas. Crossing the boundaries of food allows us to have a glimpse into cultural groups and their food ways. In the past year I have learned about sustainability of food systems and how communities and countries try to achieve the goals of social, environmental and economic sustainability.

My studies here in Italy have taught me to travel. One of our guest lecturers explicitly told us to get out of our bubbles and see the world. Exercise our palates and learn new flavours, rediscover the old ones at the back of our memories. Go places and engage. Try new food. Engage with people. Cross borders (the metaphorical ones, the tangible and physical ones) and have new experiences.

Travel is what I have done, and what I hope to continue to do. I'm so thankful for all the travel opportunities I've had in the past year and the ones that I hope to have in the future. The little that I have seen of the world has allowed me to debunk a few of the myths about other countries.

This means you can have weekend getaways in neighbouring countries. You can drive across the boarder, fly, walk, cycle. Do what you choose. While living in the western part of Switzerland, my family and I would drive the five or ten minutes across to do our shopping in France. It's surprising how just a few minutes away the road signs and street markings are different.

One of the many frontiers between France and Switzerland

In an effort to save some money while visiting Switzerland on a didactic trip our class spent the day in a border town in Switzerland. When our day was over we walked across a bridge that led us into Germany. Staying at a German hotel meant that each breakfast we had was a full on German breakfast: cured meats,fresh fruit juices, breads, yogurt, cheese, pickles- the complete opposite of the simple Italian breakfast of strong coffee and a sugary pastry.

Switzerland in the distance, across the river from Germany

I have been able to spontaneously fly across the border to visit a friend in Paris. It was great, just a short flight and there I was in a vibrant French city.

The Eiffel Tower, Paris at twilight

Living in Bra has its advantages, surprisingly. We are an hour away from the airport so we can get a quick escape (as long as the airport is open and not under some sort of renovations, as it happens once in a while, or if the trains are not on strike). Bra is also just a few hours drive down to the coast, the Italian and French Rivera. A quick spontaneous drive down for a dinner of mussels and French wine. Great things to do with housemates is go on spontaneous adventures.

Azure Skies and Ocean of the French Riviera

What about a business trip to a capital city. Its more interesting when the capital city of the country you live in happens to be Rome. A visit to Rome should be on everyone to do list, at least once in a life time. It’s a historic city waiting to be discovered. When you are there all those history lessons form years gone by about ancient Rome and the Roman Empire begin to make sense. There is something spectacular about seeing the grand structures and edifices for yourself. If you thought they were larger than life in the history books then you will have to prepare yourself  for the alluring grandeur of Rome.

Roma, Italia

In the words of our guest lecturer,Frank, a charismatic Italian-American restaurateur from New York City "Don't be a dinosaur". See the world, and talk to people. A trip to the other side of town or even to the neighbouring city is your start to breaking the boundaries and borders that separate us.

Travel makes you appreciate the place you call home. Yes, you can even appreciate Città di Bra and its 30,000 inhabitants.

“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” – Lin Yutang

Olives for oil

Its funny how the idea of food is universal, but in essence what each individual will end up calling food is very subjective. Sometimes what we call food has a dual role as a medicinal or even used for cosmetic purposes. Take olives for instance. Depending on where you are situated in the world and what you are interested in olives are either an ingredient for food, or for cosmetics or both.

I found myself in this situation and realization a few weeks ago on my adventure in Tuscany. For our last study trip (where did all the time go) our class once again got on a bus and somehow survived a week long trip with each other and a terrible heatwave. Sweltering is the word I would use to define it. It was assumed a few times that since I'm from the beautiful continent of Africa I would be used to this heat. Well, NO! If anything I avoid the sun as much as I can. I had never been so glad to come back to Città di Bra.

Back to the subjectivity. Tuscany is viewed by many as Italy. The romanticized idea of Italy is rolling hills of wheat, vineyards, olive groves and everything in between, but you wouldn't expect geothermal plants. The part of Tuscany we visited had several geothermal plants scattered in the valleys, you would smell the sulfuric residue before you saw the greenish grey power plant. That being said it still was beautiful but not quite what I had imagined.

I was looking forward to our trip to  meet the olive oil producer. I had never been to an olive grove and coming from Southern Africa, olives are something that I had grown to appreciate and still find fascinating. As a fruit, the meaty flesh is bitter and peppery and yes oily. An acquired taste and sensation for many but one I have come to love. 


We met our producer and we were shown around the ancient olive groves. We met an old tree about 800 years old and stopped to converse under the shade of this ginormous olive tree. 

Moving into the production phase, it was a hypothetical demonstration since olives are extreeemly time sensitive and olives are pressed immeadiatly after harvest, literally they are taken straight from the tree to the press. If you take your time the quality of the oil changes due to the oxidation that occurs, changing the organoleptic charecteristics of the olive. In short the quicker you get your harvested olive to the mill the better the quality of your oil. 

After the hypothetical pressing we had a tasting of the olive oil. Always a memorable experience because you are sipping on thick, rich, bitter and pepper oil. While the oil is in your mouth you are supposed to inhale some air through the mouth (make sure you make a lot of noise while doing so) and allow the flavour to develop. Its easier than it sounds. Then you spit out the rather disgusting concoction of olive oil and your saliva.The brave ones swallow but its really thick going down your throat. If you start coughing or better yet chocking know that its a good sign.It means that the oil is thick and full of flavour. The more bitter the better!

So after our tasting I thought to myself that I have always considered olive oil as an ingredient. But not necessary one for cooking but more in the lines of cosmetics. In Southern Africa, if you as a young black girl about olive oil, let me clarify that this also includes me and my crazy mysterious friends the conversation might end up being about cosmetics and hair products. Olives and the residue are great for cosmetics, soaps and a lot of other things that I have no idea about. I'm more intested in the cosmetics and the hair, seeing as we have a lot of high quality brands for hair products that use a base of olives for their products. Not only is it wonderful for cooking with, and baking, but the quality of the oil is also very good for the hair and the skin. Hence me having a little pot of a olive oil for my hair and skin, (something that my brothers have laughed at me for doing). But you should try it. It works wonders!

Sono italiana

Its June already! I feel like time is passing me by. Since I last wrote I’ve done a bit of travelling. I spent a week in Greece with my classmates. Definitely somewhere to go back to! We were situated in Thessaloniki. A beautiful city, with ancient ruins, a harbour and buzzing with history, good food and simply enjoyable.

Sunset in Thessaloniki

My only problem was that I did not speak any Greek. I think I would have had a richer experience if I was able to understand some of the jokes and proverbs that the producers were saying rather than hearing a diluted translation. Although the fact that it is quite a big tourist destination many people around spoke English, I found myself reverting to Italian when shop vendors asked me a questions.

Six months into living in Northern Italy I can slowly begin to say that sono italiano, I am Italian (well I’m becoming Italian to say the least). That is  because I can now understand the language- well quite a lot! I had my last Italian lesson this past Thursday and I've realised that I really like the language and the people, their food is a given like. Who doesn’t like Italian cuisine?

I found myself at a party last week and everyone their spoke Italian. Solo italianao- only Italian. Well some of them reverted to English for a few sentences when my face expressed incomprehension of the conversation. I made it through the few hours with my basic vocabulary, rudimentary grammar skills. Somehow the Itailan speakers were gracious enough not to laugh too much at my attempts of using correct Italian grammar but actually corrected me and praised my attempts and encouraged me to continue speaking.

I find myself thinking in Italian, well only for shopping purposes. A friend of mine pointed out that our shopping and food Italian is close to excellent. We can order food and drink and do our grocery shopping comfortably without any hassle. When it comes to real life, that’s another story. But I’m working on that. I stumbled upon a book, Labella Lingua: My Love Affair With Italian, The world’s Most Enchanting Language by Dianne Hales. I relate so much to the experiences of navigating the Italian language and the people. It’s a complex but worthwhile process.

As E.M. Forster once said, “Love and understand the Italians, for the people are more marvellous than the land”. I share this sentiment. As an anthropologist you learn that it is the people who shape your experience. Learning about food culture here in Italy not worthwhile without the addition of all the characters you meet in the process.

For example, going to the local shop for frutta e verdure is not just a trip for seasonal vegetables and fruit, there is always a conversation with the shop keepers and a smile and a pleasant arrivederci e buona giornata/serata/domenica- goodbye and good day/night/Sunday,when you leave the shop. The same goes to visiting the butchery. The singora at the macelleria is always willing to tell me how to cook a particular cut of meat. A while back, I got a cut that was “solo per bolito” only for boiling or a stew. I paid for my cut of vitello-veal, and off I went to make a stew.  When I returned about a week later the singora asked how my stew turned out. I replied, with recently acquired knowledge of the use of the past tense lo stufato era buono- the stew was good.

At the moment I think the busiest shopkeepers are from the gelaterie- ice cream shops. With the heat of summer gracing us here in Northern Italy, there is a constant demand for cool, refreshing and sometimes comforting gelato in all flavours. I’m partial to the fruit flavours especially, fragola, lampone e frutta di bosco- strawberry, raspberry and berries. After my friend’s persuasion; because of her love for the flavours, pistachio e nocciola- pistachio and hazelnut are growing on me. The safest option is always fior di latte, I would describe it as vanilla, but so but better and creamier!

So here I am writing and throwing in the odd Italian word and thinking in Italian, not to mention listening to some Italian music in an attempt to make sure that by the time I leave Italy sometime in the near future I'll have understood the Italian people as well as their food. But for now, arrivederci.

Sweethearts

Echoes of “Strawberry shortcake cream on top tell me the name of your sweetheart…” fill up the school yard as little girls chant the rhyme while jump-roping. The chants are only stopped by the outburst of giggles that erupt when the girl jumping stops and declares the name of her sweetheart. It is determined by the letter of the alphabet that is shouted out when she stops.

That was then, many years ago in a school yard in North America. Now present day. I don’t have a sweetheart, well not a conventional one that is. If you asked me now, living in Italy, during late spring/ early summer I would and I will answer you. Have you guessed what it is?

Yes, strawberries.

Right now they are in season and I love them. There is no epitome of the perfect strawberry; but a description of bright red, juicy, sweet sometimes tart berries with brown spotted surfaces and a green hat is a good place to start.

But I’m not the best person to ask about epitome, since I have a known love affair with strawberries. I’m told that my ‘perfect’ strawberries, a long time ago were miniscule, half- eaten, sometimes semi-squished pale pink berries covered in red clay soil. My mother claims that barely walking, wearing my clean rompers I would crawl the 200 meters from our family home to her vegetable garden. My mission would be to bring her back a gift of strawberries-more like a macerated strawberry since my tiny hands would drop them on the grass leaving a trail of berries for the birds. There must have been something good about the barely edible berries since my mother has fond memories of receiving the gifts.

Bite size strawberry shortcakes

She still does receive my strawberry gifts, probably with a bit more appreciation since these strawberries are manipulated into something that is actually edible. My housemates too have had a chance to receive these edible gifts.

While at our local fresh produce grocer my housemate and I got a bit excited. There was a huge crate of freshly picked strawberries looking at us at the cash counter. Each time we took a breath in it was like we were breathing in strawberries. Literally intoxicating to the point that we couldn’t leave them there, they were giant, bright red and they were talking to us telling us that they wanted, and needed to come home with us and be devoured. So that’s what we did. Laden with a week’s worth of fruit and vegetables we somehow made room on in our bicycle baskets and took the strawberries home.

It might not be obvious but the strawberries did not last for long. If anything they have made our apartment smell like strawberries. Well that's what a friend of ours said when they dropped by to visit on the same day as our strawberry intoxication. As soon as we got home we started making jam. Filling the house and probably our whole apartment block with the rich aroma of  rich jam. Not the ordinary type of sweet, strawberry jam that you are used to. Thanks to a recipe from a classmate of mine I have learnt a way of making some extraordinary jam. This strawberry jam is now made with an infusion of blood oranges, vanilla bean and the secret ingredient of chili flakes- I haven’t quite mastered the chili flake proportion as I may have been overly generous with the amount I put into the pot, well it gives the jam an extra kick!

Strawberry jam ingredients minus the vanilla bean and the chili flakes

Besides making jam, I have tried and succeeded at making strawberry shortcake cookies, strawberry granola, strawberry juice and breakfast smoothies and last night, my housemate made us try out strawberry cocktails- not too shabby. Next on the list might be strawberry ice cream.

Food Bubbles

Today was the first day of class after a two week holiday. As the norm is, you meet your classmates and ask about the holiday. One of my classmates said that she had a realization. One that she shared with me and I one that I think sums up my experience so far at UNISG.

Read into the statement as much or as little as you like but the comment "We live in a food bubble" says a lot. I cannot begin to tell you about everything that goes on or even sum up most of the experiences. UNISG has a great blog which gives an insight into the lives of the students and what goes on behind the scenes. Take a look, I'm sure you will enjoy it. I posted an article on the blog today entitled,  "Eating my Mutupo".

The UNISG blog can be found at www.ergolabcom-unisg.it/blog/

the in-between moments

In the process of getting my bearings today I instinctively looked for Table Mountain. After four years of using Table Mountain as a personal GPS, I sometimes find myself looking for it to lead me safely home. When I did not see it, it dawned to me that this weekend marks exactly a year since I 

have seen the majestic Table Mountain. A year since I said farewell to a season in my life called Cape Town to begin an adventure to the seemingly unknown. I remember being asked a version of this- ‘so you’re leaving…what next, where are you going’? A year on that series of questions is still asked by everyone including myself.  No distinct answer has been found but in the process I savour the moments in-between finding an answer to those questions.

Primavera in Italy

One moment is such: driving through the rolling hills of the Langhe Region in Piedmont, trying to find the way back home to not so little Città di Bra. The views are spectacular, breath-taking and all those other adjectives that you could throw in there. Primavera having begun a few days ago the hills are literally alive- there are green budding leaves on trees, pinkish clouds of blossoming trees hovering over the landscape. The vineyards appropriately trimmed for the winter as slowly beginning to awake from their winter slumber. Simply put, the picturesque romanticized Italian life that everyone imagines, even myself.

The rolling hills of Langhe

 At moments like this I feel extremely blessed to be living in the Piedmont region of Northern Italy in this season of my life. When else will my academic calendar consist of actively participating in 15 hours worth of wine tasting lectures? Learning about quality and taste analysis of wine? When else will I say that a day-trip with my friends through Barolo, Barbaresco,La Morra, Neive and Alba can be considered as an academic extra curriculum activity? One to cement in the knowledge of the wine growing regions of Piedmont, and Italy in general. A road trip that allows you to see the towns and villages that are synonymous with some of the finest Italian wines-dare I say some of the best wines in the world. When else will it be possible to walk into a food related shop, say that you are a student at UNISG, have the shop keepers get animated and decide that it is their God given right  to tell you everything about every product in their shop and convince you that it is the best in the world?

As idyllic and picturesque as these adventures all sound, there are grey dark clouds that hoover over the sky line, gusts of wind, thunderstorms, torrential rains, fog, hail and snow storms. Days when the icy rains of reality fall, questions are asked, prayers are sent, and the waiting game is played. On these days navigating through the adventure that is life is nothing short of difficult. Locating my metaphorical Table Mountain is a challenge. In its beautiful nature as my Solid Rock, my Mountain always reappears through the storm, (not that is has actually ever gone anywhere) leading me safely home.

These darker moments are savoured as well, as they are the ones that allow for the idyllic ones to be as wonderful and memorable as they are. None of the ‘good times’ would be as good as they are without the humorous, generous, loving and utterly amazing people who have been a part of the adventure. I am eternally grateful for having these people in the adventure that is life.

Cape Town Farewell with my 2011 housemates

A spring road trip with my 2012 housemates

A Bittersweet Symphony

A bittersweet symphony. Rather poetic is it not? But what is bittersweet? In the past few weeks I have learned that these are two of the five flavours that one can experience when tasting food and drink. It is a desired taste combination especially with regards to chocolate. I speak from first-hand experience since yesterday I had a four hour chocolate lesson. In the class we flew through the basics of the technology behind chocolate, slightly brushed the political economic side of it but did not have time to discuss much about the technology of chocolate.

The actual tasting was quite rushed as well. My preconceptions were that tasting chocolate would be a simple process and rather enjoyable. After eighteen different types of chocolate in the space of an hour I beg to differ. It is hard work and not for the faint hearted, or anyone who really despises chocolate. There are proper ways of tasting chocolate, and then there is the way I had my first chocolate tasting.

Basic steps for a successful chocolate tasting as a UNISG student: 

Have an exam on cured meat in which you taste three types of Salame di Felino and be in desperate need of something to cleanse your palate from the meaty, humid, animal, peppery and umami persistent flavours and taste of Salame di Felino.

Have looming at the back of your mind that you have a chocolate exam in exactly two weeks and you have to pass the exam, so you need to grasp the concepts.

Have at hand: two paper plates with nine pieces of dark chocolate in each plate (some of the finest world class chocolate to be exact and some ‘artistic’ inventions as well) a glass of water to cleanse you palate after each nibble.

Have a great professor with a passion for his subject. Twenty- six classmates all with different levels of appreciation and knowledge of chocolate: a Belgian, a professional chocolatier, some students clueless about chocolate (that would be me).

Have a piece of paper to write down all your taste and flavour sensations.

Now begin: Pick up the little piece of chocolate, probably about 4grams. Observe the colour and the texture and the smell. Now bite into about half of that piece. Concentrate on the way the chocolate melts or does not melt in your mouth. Consider the texture, is it smooth and silky and does it melt in your mouth or grainy and almost a sand like texture. Now what do you taste: bitter, sweet, umami, sour, salt? And the aromas, do you sense the fruity notes, floral ones: maybe raisin, cranberry. Note that as you are tasting all of these chocolates the classroom is not silent, rather everyone is blurting out what they taste, and the aromas they sense and do not sense, the occasional shout of sweet, cauliflower, bitter, and avocado! Compliments are given to those who have deciphered the general idea of the tastes.

Have a sip of water and wash out your mouth.

Repeat this another seventeen times and then have a craving for something extremely umami afterwards. The best way to deal with this is having some of your classmates make dinner for you- well that’s how I fixed my umami craving problem!

Essential for the tasting lesson: An open mind, and a sense of humour.

Umami dinner: Bistecca, Polenta and Burrata

Just incase you do not have all the above mentioned components (especially a dynamic group of classmates) to have a classic UNISG tasting of your own you could always have a tasting in a more traditional way. A great resource for this is www.allchocolate.com.

Enjoy!

"Let them eat cake"

I decided it was time for Italy to taste my somewhat self-proclaimed famous chocolate cake. A version of a cake I have made for the past 14 years. It must have been on one of the many rainy weekends in West Africa that E (my dear friend and fellow February baby) taught me how to make this cake. Come to think of it I have been baking for a while, from a very early age-from about the age of three according to my mother (that includes making sausage rolls with her). A more vivid memory of baking is set in West Africa. Just about every weekend for a year J,E,J and I would go to each other’s homes and either spend our weekend swimming outside or baking cupcakes and brownies when the violent West African thunderstorms would chase us indoors for a few hours.

Baking for me is a calming experience-sometimes. I enjoy baking cakes for others and the joy they have when they receive their special cake. I have wondered why people smile and are excited when they get a cake? Why do you get a cake on your birthday?

A blue birthday cake I made for my brother

I decided to do some research on this significance. In Italian I would say: Cosa significance per la torta?

the research is on going but so far I have found that cakes are healing, and celebratory and a source of joy. One of my favourite books,"Baking Cakes in Kigali" by Gaile Parkin tells of the healing power of cakes in Rwanda after the 1994 Genocide. I know nothing about the lived experiences of genocide but I can relate to giving a cake to someone in a time when cake was a luxury.

During the darker days of the recent past I found myself baking a lot. Somehow the needed ingredients would be sourced: sugar, flour (bought in bulk from SA), milk (from a generous cow willing to share its milk, or powdered milk), eggs (fresh protein rich eggs from my aunt's layers), oil (high quality sunflower oil from my uncle) and if it was a super special cake some butter, well probably margarine. With all the ingredients ready you would then find yourself playing a game with the powers that be who decide how much electricity you have for a day. I found myself on numerous occasions waking up to bake cakes in the early hours of the morning as that is when I was be sure that I would have at least an hour of uninterrupted power supply. At times like this baking was far from calming, but rather a race against time with the electricity supply company (ZESA). I am so thankful though that I had the opportunity to bless others with these cakes. It brought smiles to the recipients’ faces and temporary escape from the reality of the everyday life.

“Let them eat cake” Marie Antoinette is thought to have told the starving French peasants this when they were crying for bread. Many have speculated that this snide comment and disassociated attitude influenced the onset of the French revolution.

Is cake really an elitist luxury that separates “us” from “them”? How much significance is there in cake? Does it really speak of politics and social economic states of people? Does cake really address issues of gender politics? At this moment I have mixed feelings about the discourses that surround cake, and the fact that I have cake and baked goods so often now, I no longer find myself asking those important questions. But I think I should. The questions will change my experiences with cakes, which I think is necessary especially while I live in Bra.

My university has several characters. Many gourmet cooks and baking enthusiasts. Cake and baked goods are no longer a super special thing, not the luxury that is alluded to by Marie Antoinette. In my little community of Bra there is cake or a baked good of some sort all the time from somewhere. The element of surprize and awe from getting a sugary treat almost gets forgotten as we (I speak for myself and possibly my classmates) know that a week will not go by without a sugary fix. It feels like déjà vu. In 2011 I lived with 3 friends. As the ladies of 105 we all had our birthdays in the space of 5 weeks so we had cake for dinner on several occasions. To honour the ladies of 105 and my loved ones who are fellow February babies Italy gets its first taste of my chocolate cake. Buon Compleanno!

                                

                                                

The cake making process from the beginning to the final product

Becoming an Anthropologist

This past week I celebrated another year on Earth. My mind began to wander. Wondering when exactly it was that I started to consider my life as an anthropological adventure. Was it the day we were in the car on the way back to Mamaroneck that I was told I was moving to West Africa? Or was it the day that I cried my eyes out and not so silently wished I had failed the entrance exam to Loyola Jesuit College? Or was it at the Southernmost tip of Africa where I learnt about anthropology and realized that I was a living anthropologist?

I want to believe that it is the latter. If I had known more about anthropology in 1997 I would have savoured each moment spent in West Africa. I think that my sojourn in West Africa was a pivotal point in my life. I attribute my love for anthropology, my interest in the food-culture dialectic to Nigeria as well as my supposed academic prowess.

Not only do I celebrate another year on Earth but this year marks ten years since I was in West Africa. Ten years ago I left behind memories, friends, classmates and my deep American accent which was replaced by a knowledge of Nigerian pidgin English, a desire to learn and hope that one day I would reunite with people who changed my perspective of life and who helped to shape the person I am.

For the past ten years I have shared my experiences in Nigeria with people I have met. I have left out so much detail though as it is a country where you have to go to and live in to experience it to the fullest. The hardest part of my explanations has always been the three years spent at a Local Jail for Children- the codename for the prestigious Loyola Jesuit College-LJC. I have tried to explain all the moments, the highs and the lows. I doubt that my explanations have done any justice to the school. I have always wanted to recall my days spent there and the only people who would understand were my former classmates and other alumni. How do you begin to explain to an outsider who was not in jail with you about: eating five times a day, trading half plates of spaghetti, going on ‘report’, Saturday lunch, hostel inspections, exams, feast days, socials, assembly, study hall, mangos, honour and merit roll?

Living in Southern Africa meant that the chances of meeting up with any LJC alumni was quite slim. In the turn of events that characterises my life I moved to Europe, but not the United Kingdom where many alumni reside. But I got another surprize when my former classmate got in touch and let me know that they were in Italy. Needless to say a reunion was necessary. So that is what we did. To celebrate my twenty-fourth year of life and my tenth year away from my other homeland I met up with my fellow Connelly House classmate.

My former classmate photographing the sites in Milano

I have not laughed till I cried in a very long time. But I can now tell you that I have done so recently. It felt good to know that you are not the only one in the world that will forever have the motto “Service of God and Others” deeply embedded in them. That there are others who remember the first line of their school notes of Introductory Technology, “Technology is not a new thing in Nigeria….”. There are others who have tried everything to forget the opening lines of the play the Wives Revolt by JP Clark but to no avail. There are others who will always remember the impact and dedication of our teachers:  their punishments of “sitting on the wall”, or frog jumping; their strict marking; their desire for the best education possible for us; their smiles and laughter that you shared with them at your dining hall table.

When laughing with my classmate in Milano, Italia, I realized that those were three years that I would not exchange. Three years that I learnt about a country by being fully immersed in it, even if I was in jail. As one of the very few foreigners in our school in Gidan Mangoro, I unknowingly became an anthropologist. Everything was participant observation. I learnt of the customs, the traditions and the rich heritage of the vibrant oil rich nation. I can almost say that I became a native of the nation-a daughter of the soil. I can only hope to one day return to the vibrant nation.

So as I continue in the adventure that is my life I will always remember Nigeria and LJC. The people I met (some of the brightest minds I have ever encountered), the food I tasted and my dislike of black eyed beans (thanks to the mass cooked beans and garri as well as the deep fried bean fritters-akara twice a week for three years). I will always remember the educational impact and the community that is LJC. I believe that my time there laid the foundations of many of the adventures that I have already had, and mostly the point at which I began to be an anthropologist- even if it was done unconsciously. 

Who would have thought that I would meet a fellow LJC "in-mate" 10 years later in the middle of Italy

Pizza Pizza Pizza Pizza Pizza

This past week I escaped from cold snow covered Bra to the region of Campania in Southern Italy to begin my second study trip with my classmates. We arrived in Napoli and  we were so glad to see the bright sunshine and streets without snow.

Pizzerias are everywhere in Napoli

As with our other study trip there was a lot to see, eat and learn. Particular products and dishes of the region that are unforgettable were pizza, pasta and mozzarella di buffalo. If its not obvious to you yet this post is about my pizza experience.

The perfect pizza. That is something that does not exist as the notion of perfect is one founded on opinion and bias, and as I have learnt this week passion and emotion are integral to creating a satisfactory if not nearly perfect pizza. If the elements are not well mixed you get an unsatisfactory pizza. 

Ingredients for pizza

I do not claim to be a pizza guru by any means, but I can tell you that I am now more informed about pizza and I have a better appreciation for it. In the space of six days I had pizza on five different occasions each made by different pizza makers. I had good pizza and bad pizza and surprisingly I think my pizza experiences were linked to emotion and occasion.

Pizza experience number one: As close as I have gotten yet to a perfect pizza. When our class arrived in Napoli we had a lesson on pizza and the traditions that surround the loved dish. Our class sat down to for local pizzas made in the classical Neapolitan style with the best ingredients possible, baked for 90 seconds in a wood fire oven. Maybe it was the ambiance that made the pizza taste better or it was the fact that one of the five slices was a pizza covered in chocolate, or that we were famished and were in need of some food. I do not know but it was a delicious and memorable experience.

Pizza experience number two: Paraphrasing my classmate, “Why are they giving us this? Do they want us to know what bad pizza is?” We had slices of pizza at our hotel in Gragnano. After having had some delicious pizza two days before the hotel’s take on pizza marinara and pizza topped with buffalo mozzarella and mushrooms left a lot to be desired. It was a gastronomical experience I would rather not remember but one that gave me the opportunity to differentiate between a good pizza made with high quality ingredients and passion from that of mediocre pizzas that leave you wondering about the mood that the supposed chef was in.

Local vegetable friarielli being sold on sidewalks

Pizza experience number three: Street Pizza. On Friday morning we had a bit of free time to walk around in Napoli and we happened to be hungry. It seemed to be a good time to try out some of the popular cibi di strada of Napoli. Due to my allergies I tend to stay away from the more appealing and colourful pastries. I decided to spend my €1 three little Neapolitan pizzas. They were good for me for that particular time as they were warm and salty as I need a little bit of tomato, cheese and bread in me at that moment. Would I recommend these little pizzas all the time? No but if you need a little quick pizza fix-yes.

Pizza experience number four: Dinner at -. I do not think that the establishment is worth mentioning but if anything, worth avoiding. Experience four was a disaster. A group of nine of us ventured to the supposedly good pizzeria for our last dinner in Napoli. We were expecting delicious pizza for our last night. I think we deserved a delicious meal. I mean we had ventured the pouring rain and walked through the puddles of water, dodged the cars and scooters in the narrow Neapolitan streets only to reach our destination soaking wet, cold and hungry. We anticipated amazing mouth-watering pizza since the pizzeria in question had been featured in one of Heston Blumenthal's television shows.

Pizza con Nutella

There is little positive to be said about this pizzeria. One of our classmates is a professional food writer so he has had his share of bad food. He had no comment for the pizza from this particular establishment. To sum up the evening and the pizza: the people were wet (meaning us wet with rain), the ambiance: cold and not welcoming.The establishment was possibly too large for its dining cliental as on a Friday night we were the only occupants of the vast underground dining area. The pizza was wet-calling it wet is being generous; it was more soggy than wet. The cheese had drenched the pizza dough and the tiny visible basil leaves were chargrilled from the fiery oven.

Pizza experience number five: Pizza and meal in Sant' Antonio Abate. They say they save the best for last. This pizza ticked all the boxes for me. Although the pizza was not prepared in a wood fire oven the ambiance at the farm: "Terra, Amore e Fantasia"  made up for the lack of a wood fire. Our hosts were more than welcoming and my classmates were in jovial spirits. Our chef for the day: Chef Antonino Esposito made sure we enjoyed all the pizza and the various dishes he created for us. Maybe we enjoyed the food more because we only had a taste of the pizzas. The pizzas were skilfully served in individual portions- bite-size so you had to savor that piece and take it all in. Luckily for us we had several bite sized pizzas to sample. Pizza topped with meatballs, a simple pizza parcel with the local friarielli and sausage, pizza margarita, deep fried pizza, deep fried stuffed pizza, and those were just the appetizers! Chef Antonino further showed us how to knead the dough and make it elastic and stretch to unknown lengths. My classmates had their turn at stretching the dough and gaining some expert tips.

Feeling the stretched pizza dough. It was very elastic and soft.

It could have been the ambiance- our pleasant hosts and music in the background, or the bite size pieces or possibly the sumptuous San Marzano Tomatoes used, or even the fact that we were all drinking red wine at 10am. From these five experiences I would have to agree with the expert pizza makers that it must have been the passion. Experience one and five were filled with passion as we saw the pizza makers demonstrate their skill and feed a group of hungry gastronomes. 

I hope that the next pizza I have is delicious. One that allows me to taste the passion and emotion that the pizza maker should have for his or her pizza. 

Around the World in Five Days

Some of you may find it hard to believe that I'm actually a student when I tell you that by the end of this evening I would have been to five countries in less than seven days. 


I am a student, but a student of food. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly I'm doing here at UNISG and what my ambitions and goals are. In the midst of this 'confusion' there is clarity,revelation, and  sometimes confirmation. I know that the sense of adventure runs through my blood, but it been reaffirmed that I like traveling. 


My adventure this year with food and people has afforded me the opportunity to be transported- figuratively- to several countries and have a glimpse of life and society of these no longer foreign and far removed places. China, Thailand, the Netherlands and Australia are no longer places on a map but places with gastronomical significance, people and  memories attached to them. 


I started the week off celebrating Chinese New Year. Our classmate tastefully educated us on the customs and the traditions associated with the new lunar year. We welcomed the year of the dragon with sumptuous dumplings, fried rice, noodles, fermented rice wine and the phrase 新年快乐 meaning happy new year. By the end of the celebration our classmate let us know that we were probably now qualified to work in a dumpling shop somewhere in China. I think we deserve the qualification since we spent a good part of the afternoon making dough, rolling the dough, filling up the dumplings, cooking the dumplings and finally after our hard work eating the yummy dumplings.


I had a taste of Thailand on my way home from school when I stopped by my friend's apartment. I was tasting her Thai dessert she had made the previous night. I cannot remember the names of these dishes but a warm banana and coconut dessert and a  warm bean and ginger sort of dessert soup were very different  for my some what under developed palette. I can't wait to taste more of her Thai creations.


Last night my flatmates joined me on my journey. They had their first taste of Southern Africa. I prepared a meal I have prepared countless times in my life; nonetheless, I believe that they enjoyed their sadza, nyama and muriwo. As I showed them how to mold the sadza into their hands and how to properly clap their hands in thanks, I realized that these every day customs and traditions that are intrinsic to me are not mundane, but something special that gives me a sense of belonging. 


As far as I know (excuse my ignorance) we do not have any traditional baked desserts in my country. That makes me sad since I like dessert and baked goods. I was unable to offer my friends a 'traditional' baked dessert from my homeland but lucky me we had a birthday to celebrate, and I believe that birthdays call for dessert.


The celebrant went out for her birthday dinner were she was not allowed to order dessert. Unbeknownst to her, in the cold dark night nine of her gastronomy classmates walked through the silent streets of Bra to deliver a delicious delicately designed Dutch Apple Pie her. We sang and toasted to our classmate and she generously shared her dessert with us. I believe the surprise dessert was well worth the wait. I have never been to the Netherlands but I hope that when I go there I'll have an equally delicious apple pie like the one my Dutch classmates made. 


To end this world tour tonight I'm headed to Australia. Our Australians have decided to celebrate Australia Day with us with an authentic Aussie barbie (BBQ). I know nothing about Australia except from what I learnt while studying English Literature and reading novels by the Australian author Peter Carey. Oh and how can I forget to include the "knowledge" gained from watching hours of Neighbours and Home and Away! 


But I wish I could make one more stop to South Africa today to celebrate a very special birthday.Today my friend celebrates another year of life. I am so thankful to have met her. She changed my life for the better. She is the friend who you call at 4am just to say hi (even though she would not appreciate it), the friend with the cute dimples and the beautiful smile.The friend with a high tolerance of crazy, the friend who cooks from the heart and makes sure you are always well fed and full, the friend who is the voice of reason. The friend who loves you just because you are you. Buon Compleanno L! I pray that your life is full of love just like you.