I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I definitely missed it a little here, but instead I went to Mac Dario's (scroll all the way down for menu) instead and had a feast of some of the finest meat you can find in Tuscany (if not all of Italy) in the lovely company of Josh, and I was happy (and so, so stuffed!).
In other thanksgiving news, if you want to know why it might be fun to be a food scientist, read this post which entertainingly details part of the scientific method of how to cook a great turkey and along the way discusses flamethrowers and dragons. That blog in general is terrific, but this post was just fabulous.
So I started work last week, and I thought it would be good to introduce you to the cast of characters. Running the kitchen is Giovanna, who requests that she be called "la cuoca" (the cook) rather than "la chef", and while I think this is somehow related to hubris and her desire to not be obnoxious, I'm going to ignore it here and refer to her usually just as chef. Life is simpler that way.
She really runs the kitchen like the matron of a family. At this point all of the daily work has been delegated to her two cooks, and she just oversees things and puts her nose in where she feels like it. Generally speaking she is extremely jovial, and you can tell she enjoys the work. She personally prepares staff lunch almost every day, but that's about the only thing she always does. Usually during prep time she will come in at a certain hour and start standing by the stoves. There's a little workspace there where she will slice things for sauces, and she takes complete control over all sources of heat for a portion of the day. It actually is nice because the prep area is not near the stoves, and so if you put something on and need to check it constantly, she will do it so you don't need to constantly be interrupting your work to run over there and see how things are going.
I guess its the way she approaches staff meal that makes me think of her more like the mother cook in the kitchen than anything else. She always cares about it, and if I stay working for an extra minute or two to finish a project before going to eat, she scolds me and tells me to stop and get some food. As well, she has an opinion about everything. In the first week she has delivered lectures on why black truffles aren't really good, the differences between various kinds of prosciutto (gray and red, I think), why chefs in American restaurants don't work in the kitchens anymore (hours are too ridiculous), why you shouldn't do pasta for an entree when serving lots and lots of people at once (though we did it), and I'm sure you get the picture.
Furthermore, she's a short, very large woman, who always wears this kind of work dress that is probably actually a maid's outfit. It is short sleeved, khaki colored, and stops just below the knees. She always wears hose and a pair of black mary-janes.
Susanna is from somewhere in South America originally (I couldn't get her to tell me where exactly), and has been working at the restaurant for about three years. For all intents and purposes she's the sous chef, and as such she always knows what's going on. She likes to ask me lots of questions when we're working (what are you doing for christmas? where is the rest of your family? do you like x?) and got very interested in the fact that I was Jewish a while ago (so you guys believe in the trinity but not christ, right? umm.....that doesn't even make sense) and I got questions all day long on what that's like. She was especially curious about what I do on christmas day if I'm Jewish (Japanese food).
Her workstyle doesn't remind me much of the cooks at home. She has intensity but for some reason lacks that kind of smooth confidence I associate with someone who has been doing their job for a long time and thinks they know it well. Maybe it's because she doesn't want to be in more of a leadership position, but something about it strikes me as a little strange. It's probably just me. She too is really short, which means that in my clogs (2 in platform) I actually tower over these women. Its a really strange sensation for me.
Keiji is the other person who works in the kitchen, though his Japanese accent is so thick and he talks so quietly that I often have trouble understanding him, which means we don't talk too much. But he's a really nice guy, and always smiles. He works hard, well, and has a good attention for detail which Susanna sometimes misses. It's probably for that reason that he's in charge of the pastry menu and doing our breads, and I think he does a great job at things.
So that's our kitchen! Small but kind, fun and relaxed. A very different experience than what I've had in the US, but I'm enjoying myself tons, and my Italian is improving so much!
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
On Learning (and a sidenote on lobsters)
First off, how wonderful is this?
So I guess just like Tony, I’m in a soapbox kind of mood.....
I went to visit Alle Murate yesterday, mostly because I had no clue when I would be starting, what my hours would be, or anything of the sort. Turns out their hours are easy and relaxed; I’ll be working from 4 PM on. I then assumed that it would mean I’d get off work around 2 AM, but they laughed at me: “Most nights you’ll be off at midnight, on occasion around 1.” A kitchen with an eight hour workday? I still haven’t totally wrapped my head around this concept. Though I suppose in exchange I’ll be working six days a week.
I also apologized for my stilted Italian where I don’t understand a ton of things. They laughed at this too. “You’ll be fine. You should have seen the last one.”
The chef herself seemed so relaxed. As you can see from this little vignette, she laughs, she smiles, she’s cheerful in general, and she didn’t seem particularly rushed, despite the fact that I had stopped in on a Saturday (not the best time to ever go into a restaurant if you aren’t a guest, but it was what worked for me). At the end of our conversation she excused herself and took her time reentering the kitchen. This was very strange for me. The executive chef in my head of one of the best restaurants in the city on a Saturday night is not a cheerful, bubbly person. I have a stereotype in my head of someone who is busy, working hard, strict, and not to be trifled with. Generally speaking I think I see chefs as hard-core, tough guys. And it could be that she didn’t want to scare me off before I had even started working. But reflecting on it I don’t think that was the case. I think that she actually is that relaxed and cheerful. When something isn’t going right, maybe then she turns on the heat (no pun intended), but it appears that for the most part she defies the stereotype entirely.
I’ve had a lot of time during class these past few weeks to observe the personalities of everyone in the class, and I’ve been using this as an opportunity to self-reflect about my own behavior (this is so atypical of me--I must really not be doing enough!). For manners and anonymity’s sake, I’ve flipped around genders on occasion, am splitting up different parts of everyone’s personalities, and it probably won’t matter and you probably don’t care. But I’m doing it anyway. One thing I’m not sure about is why I’m doing this, but I am anyway.
School is of course a place to learn. However, in an environment like culinary school whether or not you’ve learned certain material exhibits itself in a very different manner, as at the end of the lesson there’s a final product which illustrates the skills trying to be honed. Furthermore, you can’t really do that much “studying” at home--what you do in class is your main chance to expose yourself to the material and learn it.
One guy in the class came in with some experience, and as a native Italian he’s obviously had exposure to a lot of the material. It’s a little unclear why he’s doing the program, but it obviously isn’t for mastering the material, since he already feels he’s got a good grip on the material. When he does decide to grace us with his presence you can tell he’s not taking what he does particularly seriously, he isn’t asking questions, and he’s just going through the motions of the class. It’s a lot of money to not focus on the material. Perhaps he’s just doing it for the contacts during the stage, or perhaps the certificate at the end has more significance than I had imagined. And I think I would have less problems with this if he were doing everything correctly. But he’s not. His hubris has gotten in the way, and rather than taking the class at least as a chance to improve his palate, I feel like he’s just passing through.
Another person in the class also has issues with knowing how to learn. With the other person, hubris is clearly the issue blocking him from getting as much out of the class as he can. With this other person, however, it is more stubbornness. He knows that he has lots to learn, and as such is always getting up there to help out and participate in making the food. Doing is the best way to learn. But the issue is that he just puts on the blinders while working. When an instructor tries to correct his technique, he’ll at least not and listen, but almost never change whatever he’s doing. When a classmate mentions something not happening correctly or safely, it is as if nothing has been said. He doesn’t listen, doesn’t hear, and its gotten to the point where even the least experienced classmates often notice mistakes in technique now, because they’ve all progressed and he hasn’t. Whether this is some kind of machismo or stubborn streak I have yet to figure out, but whatever the reason is, everyone in the class is starting to get tired of things being poorly done.
There are also some people who are striving hard to learn. Not only are they trying to get involved in everything which is being made, but they ask a ton of questions and listen to the answers, no matter who answers. Especially in our class, with all the multicultural backgrounds, there is a lot of dispersed knowledge, and so sometimes the instructors aren’t the best people to answer a question because someone comes from a background where that thing is more common. Seeing these people take full advantage of that fact is really great, and it has actually been exciting to watch them improve.
However learning in the class isn’t directly dependent on getting involved. One person in the class has what I would term some kind of stage fright--despite the fact that there are only nine of us plus the instructor, she gets extremely nervous about doing things for the class because of everyone watching. When she does do something, it’s almost always precise and excellently done, but her nerves get in the way of her trying many things that can be messed up. I try to encourage her to step up and take more risks--these aren’t extremely complex dishes where one step wrong will result in a disaster, but even so she hesitates. However she is clearly learning a ton--her notes are detailed and done in such a way that I have little doubt she will be able to recreate all the recipes when she wants to with little ado.
So where do I fit in on this spectrum? I don’t think I’m either of the first two people, where I refuse to learn. I’m definitely learning a lot from the class, though probably not the same things that the people without kitchen experience are learning. More I’m discovering new flavor profiles, different ways to bring depth to dishes, and cooking techniques demonstrated in a new way. However I don’t think I’m learning much about basic cooking techniques like roasting and sautéing, but I also don’t think that that’s where I’m looking for improvement. I definitely sometimes cross the line between student and teacher, especially when there’s trickier knifework to be done or trussing to happen, but for the most part people don’t seem to mind that, and I try not to force knowledge on others unless there’s a safety issue involved. I know that sometimes I get a little academic in my knowledge and start on diatribes, but again I’m trying to be more aware of it.
At the same time, I’m definitely not always getting my hands in every dish. I am perfectly happy sitting on the sidelines on many occasions, and I think that’s in part because the basic production of Italian food in my head is not technically involved such that if you haven’t felt it yourself you can’t learn it. I think it is much more about timing and quality of ingredients, which are both things you can get from watching and tasting almost exactly as effectively.
Or maybe its because of the trajectory of the course. I was definitely more engaged--both mentally and physically--at the beginning, when everything was new. After almost two months we’ve covered all the basics, and I think a lot of what is going on now is theme and variations. However I’m itching to start the stage to see new material, and have had enough of the repetition. I definitely feel myself more mentally checked out now as the novelty of the coursework wears off. But I also feel like there is not much for me to gain by doing, which could mean my pride is just as pronounced as that one guy’s, but I still feel like I am learning and getting something out of the class. I don’t feel like I’m wasting my time, and I suppose that’s enough.
So I guess just like Tony, I’m in a soapbox kind of mood.....
I went to visit Alle Murate yesterday, mostly because I had no clue when I would be starting, what my hours would be, or anything of the sort. Turns out their hours are easy and relaxed; I’ll be working from 4 PM on. I then assumed that it would mean I’d get off work around 2 AM, but they laughed at me: “Most nights you’ll be off at midnight, on occasion around 1.” A kitchen with an eight hour workday? I still haven’t totally wrapped my head around this concept. Though I suppose in exchange I’ll be working six days a week.
I also apologized for my stilted Italian where I don’t understand a ton of things. They laughed at this too. “You’ll be fine. You should have seen the last one.”
The chef herself seemed so relaxed. As you can see from this little vignette, she laughs, she smiles, she’s cheerful in general, and she didn’t seem particularly rushed, despite the fact that I had stopped in on a Saturday (not the best time to ever go into a restaurant if you aren’t a guest, but it was what worked for me). At the end of our conversation she excused herself and took her time reentering the kitchen. This was very strange for me. The executive chef in my head of one of the best restaurants in the city on a Saturday night is not a cheerful, bubbly person. I have a stereotype in my head of someone who is busy, working hard, strict, and not to be trifled with. Generally speaking I think I see chefs as hard-core, tough guys. And it could be that she didn’t want to scare me off before I had even started working. But reflecting on it I don’t think that was the case. I think that she actually is that relaxed and cheerful. When something isn’t going right, maybe then she turns on the heat (no pun intended), but it appears that for the most part she defies the stereotype entirely.
I’ve had a lot of time during class these past few weeks to observe the personalities of everyone in the class, and I’ve been using this as an opportunity to self-reflect about my own behavior (this is so atypical of me--I must really not be doing enough!). For manners and anonymity’s sake, I’ve flipped around genders on occasion, am splitting up different parts of everyone’s personalities, and it probably won’t matter and you probably don’t care. But I’m doing it anyway. One thing I’m not sure about is why I’m doing this, but I am anyway.
School is of course a place to learn. However, in an environment like culinary school whether or not you’ve learned certain material exhibits itself in a very different manner, as at the end of the lesson there’s a final product which illustrates the skills trying to be honed. Furthermore, you can’t really do that much “studying” at home--what you do in class is your main chance to expose yourself to the material and learn it.
One guy in the class came in with some experience, and as a native Italian he’s obviously had exposure to a lot of the material. It’s a little unclear why he’s doing the program, but it obviously isn’t for mastering the material, since he already feels he’s got a good grip on the material. When he does decide to grace us with his presence you can tell he’s not taking what he does particularly seriously, he isn’t asking questions, and he’s just going through the motions of the class. It’s a lot of money to not focus on the material. Perhaps he’s just doing it for the contacts during the stage, or perhaps the certificate at the end has more significance than I had imagined. And I think I would have less problems with this if he were doing everything correctly. But he’s not. His hubris has gotten in the way, and rather than taking the class at least as a chance to improve his palate, I feel like he’s just passing through.
Another person in the class also has issues with knowing how to learn. With the other person, hubris is clearly the issue blocking him from getting as much out of the class as he can. With this other person, however, it is more stubbornness. He knows that he has lots to learn, and as such is always getting up there to help out and participate in making the food. Doing is the best way to learn. But the issue is that he just puts on the blinders while working. When an instructor tries to correct his technique, he’ll at least not and listen, but almost never change whatever he’s doing. When a classmate mentions something not happening correctly or safely, it is as if nothing has been said. He doesn’t listen, doesn’t hear, and its gotten to the point where even the least experienced classmates often notice mistakes in technique now, because they’ve all progressed and he hasn’t. Whether this is some kind of machismo or stubborn streak I have yet to figure out, but whatever the reason is, everyone in the class is starting to get tired of things being poorly done.
There are also some people who are striving hard to learn. Not only are they trying to get involved in everything which is being made, but they ask a ton of questions and listen to the answers, no matter who answers. Especially in our class, with all the multicultural backgrounds, there is a lot of dispersed knowledge, and so sometimes the instructors aren’t the best people to answer a question because someone comes from a background where that thing is more common. Seeing these people take full advantage of that fact is really great, and it has actually been exciting to watch them improve.
However learning in the class isn’t directly dependent on getting involved. One person in the class has what I would term some kind of stage fright--despite the fact that there are only nine of us plus the instructor, she gets extremely nervous about doing things for the class because of everyone watching. When she does do something, it’s almost always precise and excellently done, but her nerves get in the way of her trying many things that can be messed up. I try to encourage her to step up and take more risks--these aren’t extremely complex dishes where one step wrong will result in a disaster, but even so she hesitates. However she is clearly learning a ton--her notes are detailed and done in such a way that I have little doubt she will be able to recreate all the recipes when she wants to with little ado.
So where do I fit in on this spectrum? I don’t think I’m either of the first two people, where I refuse to learn. I’m definitely learning a lot from the class, though probably not the same things that the people without kitchen experience are learning. More I’m discovering new flavor profiles, different ways to bring depth to dishes, and cooking techniques demonstrated in a new way. However I don’t think I’m learning much about basic cooking techniques like roasting and sautéing, but I also don’t think that that’s where I’m looking for improvement. I definitely sometimes cross the line between student and teacher, especially when there’s trickier knifework to be done or trussing to happen, but for the most part people don’t seem to mind that, and I try not to force knowledge on others unless there’s a safety issue involved. I know that sometimes I get a little academic in my knowledge and start on diatribes, but again I’m trying to be more aware of it.
At the same time, I’m definitely not always getting my hands in every dish. I am perfectly happy sitting on the sidelines on many occasions, and I think that’s in part because the basic production of Italian food in my head is not technically involved such that if you haven’t felt it yourself you can’t learn it. I think it is much more about timing and quality of ingredients, which are both things you can get from watching and tasting almost exactly as effectively.
Or maybe its because of the trajectory of the course. I was definitely more engaged--both mentally and physically--at the beginning, when everything was new. After almost two months we’ve covered all the basics, and I think a lot of what is going on now is theme and variations. However I’m itching to start the stage to see new material, and have had enough of the repetition. I definitely feel myself more mentally checked out now as the novelty of the coursework wears off. But I also feel like there is not much for me to gain by doing, which could mean my pride is just as pronounced as that one guy’s, but I still feel like I am learning and getting something out of the class. I don’t feel like I’m wasting my time, and I suppose that’s enough.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Brazilian night
So after my last post where I perhaps wallowed a bit in misery, only a few hours after putting it up my fate changed. So if you remember a post from September when I mentioned some people I had already met, including one Brazilian maid named Fernanda. Well I decided to text her to see if she was free, and she called me back. Our conversation (translated for your convenience) went approximately like this:
"Hey Jenny! I am so glad you called, me and a friend are going out tonight! Want to come?"
"Sure! When and where?"
"Well, where are you?"
"I'm at home near Campo di Marte."
"Oh, well can you do [garbled stuff I didn't understand]."
"Huh? Speak more slowly, it is hard to hear."
"We're doing [lost in the background noise]."
"Sounds fun. Where should I meet you and when?"
"What do you think? She keeps asking the same question, why don't you talk to her?"
"What?"
"Okay, here, you try."
[new voice] "Hi, Jenny? Do you know where St. Jacob's piazza is?"
"No, but I can find out. Is that where you are?"
*"No. That's where she lives. [More stuff in fast Italian blotted out by background noise. Clearly asking me a question.]"
**"I can't hear, I can't understand you, what do you want me to do already??????"
We went back and forth between lines * and ** until they gave me instructions to get ready to go out and leave now for the stazione, and then call them. Well I didn't know what kind of going out was going to happen (it was still way before dinner time even), and so I just threw some makeup on, threw the bread that I had rising in the kitchen into the fridge, along with a prayer (cinnamon buns, they turned out fine and my whole family really liked them, they're almost gone only a day after I baked them! More on baked goods after the story), and I ran out the door.
I got to the statzione and asked where they were, they told me, but because of the noise again I heard wrong, and so while I kept asking everyone where the Sabaionni was, apparently I was supposed to be asking for the Baglioni (a hotel). I even asked the doorman of the Baglioni where the Sabaionni was, and he said that he had no clue. The girls could have told me that I was looking for a hotel. That would have helped a lot. Stupid cell phones. Anyway I did eventually find them. We took a bus from the stazione to Fernanda's house, and she called lots of people and we all ate dinner together.
Then they decided that I wasn't dressed appropriately for dancing (I wasn't, I didn't bring clothes for that) and so Fernanda pulled a suitcase full of dressed out from under her bed and picked out an outfit for me. They dressed me, did my hair, did my makeup, and at the end I was in an all-black getup with my hair down and extra curly and lots of volume and eyeliner and glitter and perfume and I thought I looked like a jersey girl. They told me I looked like I could be from the south of Brazil, where people are white and pasty like me. I'm waiting for the facebook photos to go up, I will add them to this post for sure!
After finally getting ready we got into a car with some of her friends and drove about a half hour to the other side of the city to this place called Otel Varietie (or something near that). It was a dinner/theater variety show for the beginning of the evening, and at midnight they remove all the tables and turn the place into a giant discoteque. We caught the end of the show, which included dance acts, a woman with lots of hula hoops, someone singing aretha franklin who clearly didn't have an idea of what the words meant and hardly knew what the words were, and the charming announcer. Then when the club started they revealed that the stage actually had a gigantic bar behind it, and they opened the disco part by lighting the bar on fire while the barmen did crazy tricks and spit fire and juggled flaming bottles. It was pretty cool. Apparently all the bartenders in the club did those kinds of spinning tricks, or at least mine did. He was tossing ice into the air, spinning glasses, pouring from an arm's distance away, shaking with extra flourishes, and all sorts of fun stuff.
The disco played American top 40 hits for the beginning of the evening, which I enjoyed because I knew them, and then slowly transitioned into the stereotypical Eurotrash house stuff. By that time my feet were starting to hurt because the shoes weren't quite right for me and had no padding, so I was perfectly happy to sit a few dances out, enjoy my caipirinha (I was with Brazilians, after all), and watch the festivities. Of course I was in one of the most scantily-clad groups of the whole club (again, I was with Brazilians, after all), but luckily I had borrowed a big, bright, flashy ring which happened to fit right on my ring finger, and showing that off was an easy way to keep the casanovas at bay.
The night ended with us stopping at a roadside truck for hamburgers (or at least ground beef on bread with condiments) and I spent the night at Fernanda's house since we got back after 3 and I didn't want to make my way home at that hour. I got up the next morning too early and made my way home.
When I got home, after a long, hot shower I finished the cinnamon buns I had started the day before. They turned out terrifically, and my host mom told me twice that she liked them and needed the recipe. So after the success of the banana bread and now this, I've decided I will keep up a rotation of baked goods to keep around, at the very least so I have something to eat for breakfast, and also because it seems to make people happy. So I'm taking advice and suggestions for what to make! Vote in the poll on the right, and use the comments section or email me with other ideas.
"Hey Jenny! I am so glad you called, me and a friend are going out tonight! Want to come?"
"Sure! When and where?"
"Well, where are you?"
"I'm at home near Campo di Marte."
"Oh, well can you do [garbled stuff I didn't understand]."
"Huh? Speak more slowly, it is hard to hear."
"We're doing [lost in the background noise]."
"Sounds fun. Where should I meet you and when?"
"What do you think? She keeps asking the same question, why don't you talk to her?"
"What?"
"Okay, here, you try."
[new voice] "Hi, Jenny? Do you know where St. Jacob's piazza is?"
"No, but I can find out. Is that where you are?"
*"No. That's where she lives. [More stuff in fast Italian blotted out by background noise. Clearly asking me a question.]"
**"I can't hear, I can't understand you, what do you want me to do already??????"
We went back and forth between lines * and ** until they gave me instructions to get ready to go out and leave now for the stazione, and then call them. Well I didn't know what kind of going out was going to happen (it was still way before dinner time even), and so I just threw some makeup on, threw the bread that I had rising in the kitchen into the fridge, along with a prayer (cinnamon buns, they turned out fine and my whole family really liked them, they're almost gone only a day after I baked them! More on baked goods after the story), and I ran out the door.
I got to the statzione and asked where they were, they told me, but because of the noise again I heard wrong, and so while I kept asking everyone where the Sabaionni was, apparently I was supposed to be asking for the Baglioni (a hotel). I even asked the doorman of the Baglioni where the Sabaionni was, and he said that he had no clue. The girls could have told me that I was looking for a hotel. That would have helped a lot. Stupid cell phones. Anyway I did eventually find them. We took a bus from the stazione to Fernanda's house, and she called lots of people and we all ate dinner together.
Then they decided that I wasn't dressed appropriately for dancing (I wasn't, I didn't bring clothes for that) and so Fernanda pulled a suitcase full of dressed out from under her bed and picked out an outfit for me. They dressed me, did my hair, did my makeup, and at the end I was in an all-black getup with my hair down and extra curly and lots of volume and eyeliner and glitter and perfume and I thought I looked like a jersey girl. They told me I looked like I could be from the south of Brazil, where people are white and pasty like me. I'm waiting for the facebook photos to go up, I will add them to this post for sure!
After finally getting ready we got into a car with some of her friends and drove about a half hour to the other side of the city to this place called Otel Varietie (or something near that). It was a dinner/theater variety show for the beginning of the evening, and at midnight they remove all the tables and turn the place into a giant discoteque. We caught the end of the show, which included dance acts, a woman with lots of hula hoops, someone singing aretha franklin who clearly didn't have an idea of what the words meant and hardly knew what the words were, and the charming announcer. Then when the club started they revealed that the stage actually had a gigantic bar behind it, and they opened the disco part by lighting the bar on fire while the barmen did crazy tricks and spit fire and juggled flaming bottles. It was pretty cool. Apparently all the bartenders in the club did those kinds of spinning tricks, or at least mine did. He was tossing ice into the air, spinning glasses, pouring from an arm's distance away, shaking with extra flourishes, and all sorts of fun stuff.
The disco played American top 40 hits for the beginning of the evening, which I enjoyed because I knew them, and then slowly transitioned into the stereotypical Eurotrash house stuff. By that time my feet were starting to hurt because the shoes weren't quite right for me and had no padding, so I was perfectly happy to sit a few dances out, enjoy my caipirinha (I was with Brazilians, after all), and watch the festivities. Of course I was in one of the most scantily-clad groups of the whole club (again, I was with Brazilians, after all), but luckily I had borrowed a big, bright, flashy ring which happened to fit right on my ring finger, and showing that off was an easy way to keep the casanovas at bay.
The night ended with us stopping at a roadside truck for hamburgers (or at least ground beef on bread with condiments) and I spent the night at Fernanda's house since we got back after 3 and I didn't want to make my way home at that hour. I got up the next morning too early and made my way home.
When I got home, after a long, hot shower I finished the cinnamon buns I had started the day before. They turned out terrifically, and my host mom told me twice that she liked them and needed the recipe. So after the success of the banana bread and now this, I've decided I will keep up a rotation of baked goods to keep around, at the very least so I have something to eat for breakfast, and also because it seems to make people happy. So I'm taking advice and suggestions for what to make! Vote in the poll on the right, and use the comments section or email me with other ideas.
Friday, September 25, 2009
People I'm meeting
Today I met Barbara, an older South African jew. She asked me if I knew where her hotel was, and I helped her find it. We then decided to have lunch together, and she went with me to one apartment to help me look, and because she was curious about local Italian life, not that I could show that terrifically. Turned out the bedroom for rent in the apartment had no windows, so her company helped the walk go by.
While talking with Barbara I went upstairs to her room for a few and met Fernanda, a Brazilian girl about my age who moved to Italy after vacationing here and falling in love with the country. She didn't speak any Italian then, and still doesn't speak English, so was very excited about my rudimentary Italian. She must see a lot of foreigners who don't even try to communicate with her. We're going to get together for dinner or something sometime soon.
Then there was Kelvis, a Jamacian fashion photographer who spends most of his time in Milan, who was trying to not only get me to rent his apartment but also ride his motorcycle 20 minutes away to help assist him in a photo shoot of something he was trying to do, as assistant photographer. We ended up taking photos of a crazy artist who looked like a leprechaun and who put on funny costumes. He complained that I was too timid to be a photography assistant, and I explained that this was the first time I had ever attempted a photo shoot and was on an unfamiliar camera. Oh well.
While talking with Barbara I went upstairs to her room for a few and met Fernanda, a Brazilian girl about my age who moved to Italy after vacationing here and falling in love with the country. She didn't speak any Italian then, and still doesn't speak English, so was very excited about my rudimentary Italian. She must see a lot of foreigners who don't even try to communicate with her. We're going to get together for dinner or something sometime soon.
Then there was Kelvis, a Jamacian fashion photographer who spends most of his time in Milan, who was trying to not only get me to rent his apartment but also ride his motorcycle 20 minutes away to help assist him in a photo shoot of something he was trying to do, as assistant photographer. We ended up taking photos of a crazy artist who looked like a leprechaun and who put on funny costumes. He complained that I was too timid to be a photography assistant, and I explained that this was the first time I had ever attempted a photo shoot and was on an unfamiliar camera. Oh well.
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