Ciao Porky! Part I: ROMA

Our first full day in Italy we were free to explore Rome. After dropping my bags, stretching my body out and taking a long and excellent shower, I headed back down to the lobby of our hotel to link up with someone or some people to go explore the city. A group of sales reps from our distributor were heading out to explore the city, so I tagged along with them. They seemed like a good group to hang with for the day and they generously let me, a total stranger who could have been SUPER annoying, into their fold quite nicely. The first order of business was a round of Aperol Spritz. If you’re not familiar with this drink you should get to know it. Aperol is a bitter, bright orange aperitif which, in this particular cocktail, is poured over ice and topped with Prosecco and a splash of soda water. It’s fluorescent-colored, refreshing, relatively low alcohol and shamelessly Italian. I liked them before my trip, now I’m almost annoyingly obsessed. A Spritz is also one of the only ways, we found, that you could actually get an Italian bartender to give you a normal sized portion of ice. A few themes became apparent over the course of our journey: salami is inescapable, coffees are tiny and Italians hate ice. Getting ice cubes was almost as much of a challenge as getting solid wifi. Being that I was on a trip, I cared slightly more about the ice than the wifi.



All over the cities in Italy there are tiny shops, a bit like convenience stores, with lottery tickets, cigarettes and semi-grumpy looking proprietors, much like any corner store you might tuck into anywhere here. The difference is they also have a full bar stocked, an impressive cappuccino machine and usually a bakery case with some swoon-worthy cannoli and cakes on display. These are the spots where most people pop in to have their coffee in the morning. They drink it at the bar, standing up, out of actual glassware; I’m not even sure getting a café to go is an option. It’s the sort of thing that is not rushed. This respect for food, drinks and meal times and tendency not to rush was something I saw quite a bit throughout the trip. And this propensity to give meals and the sharing of meals the time and respect they deserve was admittedly my favorite thing about Italian culture. At these bars, they also give you snacks whenever you order a round of drinks. I don’t know if this is a sort of legal thing, or simply an extension of the cultural more that food is meant to share; but you know I was into it, because nothing pairs better with drinks than snacks.



We wandered through the city, exploring various piazzas and squares, tucking into a basilica here and a church there. The most humble looking church door, or crumbling brick structure would hide behind it seriously stunning architecture, sculpture and art. They know how to do churches there, and I’m just talking the everyday walk around churches, I didn’t even get to the Vatican. The other thing that I found so cool about Rome (and this is going to sound incredibly pedestrian and semi idiotic) but it’s SO ANCIENT. Like worn, weathered, hella ancient columns every which way you look. You wander around one corner and there’s a cordoned off section of ruins with stray cats poking around; you grab a gelato and turn 180 degrees and all of the sudden you’re in the hulking shadow of the parliament building; or craning your neck at the expansive beauty of the Pantheon. The depth and breadth of the city’s historical place is absolutely everywhere you look.

 

For dinner that night I met up with another faction of our group, including Dan (the one friend I knew prior to the trip). About 10 people including us headed to Trattoria Gigetto in the section of the city that was formerly the Jewish Ghetto. As we gathered around the table for dinner the energy in the air was electric. It was Saturday night and we were in Rome, at the start of a whirlwind week of wine, food and fun. Everyone breathlessly shared their Roman experiences of the day and practiced enthusiastically shouting “Buena Sera!”



As we pulled our chairs in and the last two people arrived at dinner, two ice buckets filled with about 8 bottles of Frascati (the local white) were placed at either end of the table and a hulking platter of fried artichokes, squash blossoms and salt cod was plunked down next to me. As I looked over the heads of the people across from me, I saw weathered columns and the remnants of an old brick aqueduct. My chair wobbled on the cobblestone sidewalk and an old man with a guitar played Volare (I couldn’t even make this up). It was so f*cking Roman I almost just about died. Dan and I toasted to our good friend Tim, my boss and the reason I was able to come on the trip. The week was just getting started and everybody was ready to roll.



We had three hours the next morning before our bus departed for the first winery visit; so I linked back up with my buddies from the day before. We swapped stories about the prior evening’s dinner experiences as we walked the 30 minutes through the city to the Colosseum. Like all great monuments, the Colosseum is, um, pretty awesome. Now I use the word awesome a lot. I think it’s because I’m a bit of a valley girl in my speech patterns. But I do love that the wonders of the world, like the Grand Canyon and here, in front of me, the Colosseum are places where the only possible descriptor is “awesome”, because they truly are. We came upon it walking up a hill on a narrow side street and then there it was hulking at the end of the road: massive and strong. Despite the fact that part of it is crumbled it is by no means a crumbling structure. It dominates its surroundings, colossal as it is, and grounds everything in sight. Banking its right side were a few gentle hills and more relics and ruins. We drank in the view for a bit and then hopped the metro back up to our hotel. The crowds were too thick and our time too short to take the tour inside. Back up by the hotel the bus was waiting and we hit the road for a five hour drive all the way down to Puglia.



So that was Rome, experienced in a flash of about 36 hours: fueled by espresso, Aperol, adrenaline and the infectious energy of new people embarking on a shared experience. I have to say, it was an excellent start.

molto bene

It's been several days since I landed back at home and I feel like I am just now shaking the crust off. Eight places in eight days and a constant stream of gorgeous vistas, warm hospitality, glass after glass of wine, and plate after plate of cured meats. My salami tolerance is through the roof right now.



I'm sorting through all my notes and photos trying to make some semblance of order to the story of my trip to Italy. It was a non-stop barrage of movement, food, wine and people. I documented it copiously and I'm still sorting out how to best give the details of the trip here without writing 95 pages and providing you with 517 photos of stainless steel tanks and oak barriques.



It was a blast. It was a whirlwind. I'm happy to be home but sad it's over. Until I've worked out what to say and how to show it here, enjoy a couple stunning views and unashamed examples of 100% XXX NSFW food porn.



Ciao, dudes. I'll be back with words and photos (probably more than you're even going to want).

it's happening

I’m so into the new Justin Timberlake song that I should probably be arrested; or at the very least, taken into custody. Anyways, now that I got that out of the way I should tell you something: I’m going to Italy. Like, tomorrow. You can’t see this from where you’re sitting but I just did an embarrassing chair dance/ jazz shoulders move that I normally do right when the food comes whenever I’m out to eat. I do believe that to say I am pumped about this trip would be the understatement of my life to this point. I mean, it’s Italy. And I think, I thiiink they might have pretty good food there. So I hope the entire continent of Europe is ready for the aftershock of one jazz shoulder shake after another, because Porky Dickens is going continental.



I’m headed out on an incredibly cool eight day educational wine tour with a distributor and importer we work with at the store. This is hands down the most radical “work” opportunity I have ever gotten. I mean when I was an office manager there was this one time the free gift with our Staples order was a pump top coffee pot and I got to keep it. That was pretty cool; but this is slightly better. When I decided to make the move to completely change directions in my career, I never even thought that I would get an opportunity like this. I didn’t even know they existed! I’m totally humbled by the chance and was sincerely so superstitious about it actually happening that I hesitated to even tell most people until I received an email with plane tickets attached. This is happening. Life is happening and I am super pumped about it (high kick!).



So today, I’ll leave you with pizza. Of course pizza! Not just because I love pizza deeply, but also, because it's Italy. I know it's not like I haven't covered pizza ad naseum on here before. I've told you how I like to make it in summer, how sometimes I use a skillet or even fire one up with a salad on top. So I had to ask myself: is there such a thing as too much pizza? And you know, I’ve never been able to answer that question thus far in my life, so I’ll assume the answer is no. I also have happened to have made this or some form thereof at least three times in the past two weeks, so it’s fresh on the brain. This is our go-to weeknight pizza, with a chewy, puffy Sicilian style crust. The process is more about technique and temperature than anything else; this pizza is deceptively simple, yet ridiculously good. So enjoy it my friends, I’m gonna go gain some weight. Ciao!



WEEKNIGHT SICILIAN PIZZA

Store bought or homemade pizza dough
Crushed tomatoes (San Marzano or Pomi are good brands)
Shredded mozzarella cheese
Basil
Salt
Pepper
Garlic powder
Olive oil



The crucial steps to making this pizza delicious all revolve around two themes: temperature and technique. With temperature: take a “more is more” approach, cranking your oven as high as it will possibly go and letting your dough sit at room temperature until its almost so expanded and bubbly that you get worried about it. With technique (i.e. dough wrangling and topping) take a “less is more” approach, you don’t want the whole thing getting bogged down and soggy. The end result will be a puffy, bubbly, chewy, thick-crusted pizza that is light and airy and so easy to eat that two people will very handily crush it in one sitting.



Heat your oven as high as it will go: 500 degrees if you can; 475 if not. If you have a pizza stone, you can feel free to use it here. I do not have one, so I really don’t have a lot of experience with them. While your oven heats, let the dough sit out at room temperature. Once the oven is fully preheated, then begin to prepare your pizza. To stretch the dough: lightly flour your countertop and hands and gently press the ball of dough out into a small circle. Then, take that circle in your hands, hold it vertically and just pass it from hand to hand, letting gravity and the weight of the dough stretch it out. If you’re good and meticulous, you may even end up with a circle, mine always looks a little ragged and oblong. You want the edges to be thicker than the middle and the dough in the middle should be thinned out to about ½ inch or less, but not so thin that there are holes in it. If you do get a hole simply pinch it shut with your fingers. You have to be patient while shaping your pizza: doing it this way the dough won’t tighten up and snap back, but will gently ease out into its shape. Whatever you do, don’t use a rolling pin.



Grease a cookie sheet with about one tablespoon of olive oil and place the dough on top. Take two or three tablespoons of crushed tomatoes and spread onto the dough in a thin layer. A crucial trick that I read a few years back is to use just unseasoned, uncooked crushed tomatoes, not a cooked sauce. That’s what pizza parlors do and they’re the experts, right? Sprinkle a little bit of garlic powder, salt and pepper on top of the sauce and then top with shredded cheese. Don’t get nuts with the cheese. Remember: less is more. Pop the pizza in your oven and let bake for anywhere from 12 to 18 minutes. Check it periodically. If you had a wood-burning pizza oven, you would have pizza in less than five minutes, but since we’re all using conventional ovens, it takes a bit more time. Ideally your cheese should be melted and bubbling and the crust should be golden brown. Use tongs to peel one edge up and check to make sure the bottom is cooked and remove it when it looks ready. Scatter torn basil leaves on top and devour immediately, maybe with a salad if you're feeling virtuous and definitely with a cold beer.

Top with whatever else you would like, just don’t get crazy heavy-handed with the toppings. Some of my favorite go-tos: sautéed mushrooms and onions; sliced kalamata olives; sliced banana peppers; or, swap the sauce for basil pesto and top with blanched broccoli rabe if you want to get funky with it.

a pretty nice time

This happens to me a lot because I work in a fancy grocery store. I see something in the produce department, while I’m rattling by with a bunch of empty wine boxes on my cart, and it lodges itself into my creative culinary subconscious, because it is simply too adorable not to cook. Such is the case with these Sicilian eggplants. Up until last Tuesday my favorite small thing from Sicily was Sophia Petrillo. She still ranks high without a doubt, but these tender, flavorful, sausage and veggie stuffed little globes of yum are holding a serious spot in my heart right now. I guess because they kind of saved me last week, by pulling me away from the news and into the kitchen, offering a very necessary (accidental Salt n Pepa reference and it stays!) reprieve from the mire of last week’s headlines.



I had prepared the bulk of this meal on Tuesday morning, where in the silence of my sunny kitchen, chopping and stirring, blanching and roasting and yes, even doing the dishes, made me feel a little bit of peace on a very sad day. And then later in the week on Thursday night, after I had said my piece, had seen the photos and refreshed the news feed for the millionth time, I shut it all off: TV, facebook, boston.com. All of it (thank god, because I guess I needed to reserve energy for Friday. Holy shit. Friday. I can’t even believe it still). Then I turned on some music, opened some wine and invited a friend over to eat. And this is what we had. This is a fairly simple dish but it does take a considerable amount of time to prepare. It’s not a throw together dish, but something to make when you’ve really got time to devote to your food. Or maybe you just need a few hours to avoid the TV.



TWICE BAKED, SAUSAGE STUFFED SICILIAN EGGPLANT

3-4 Sicilian eggplant (or equal amount graffiti or Japanese eggplant)
Olive oil (approx. ¼ cup, divided)
2 links sweet Italian sausage
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 red pepper, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
½ cup dry white wine (such as Sauvignon Blanc) (optional) 
¾ cup pureed tomatoes (I like Poma brand)
Pinch crushed red pepper
Salt
Pepper

1 cup cubed day old bread
¾ cup milk
¼ cup parmesan cheese
¼ cup finely chopped fresh flat leaf Italian parsley
¾ cup shredded mozzarella cheese

 Basil for serving (optional)



Bring a large pot of water to boil over high heat. Heat about two tablespoons of oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Squeeze sausage out of casings and into pan; brown, breaking up into smaller chunks with a wooden spoon. While the sausage browns and your water heats prep your vegetables:



Use a large knife to cut a “lid” off of your eggplant; then working carefully, edge a paring knife down into the meat of each eggplant. Score slices vertically and then horizontally down and use a large tablespoon to scoop down into the center of each eggplant, removing the flesh in ragged chunks. Reserve the eggplant flesh for use in your stuffing. You’ll want about a ½-¾ inch rim around the edge of each eggplant. Prepare the remainder of your veggies and finely chop the reserved eggplant, checking your sausage periodically for a stir.



Once the sausage is sufficiently browned, remove from pan, chop through with your knife and set aside. If needed, add a few more tablespoons of oil to your skillet and then add onions and red pepper, sautéing together for a minute or two, until fragrant. Add eggplant and turn heat to high. Pour in wine, if using, and boil until the wine is reduced, scraping the bottom of the pan to free any browned bits of sausage or onion that are stuck (this should take just a few minutes, maybe 4-5). Reduce heat back to medium; add garlic, crushed red pepper, tomato puree, sausage and a generous shake of salt and pepper. Set to simmer, cover and let cook; stirring occasionally, until all the vegetables are tender: about 15 minutes.



While your vegetable mixture simmers, blanch the eggplant shells. Salt boiling water generously, with about a handful of salt, drop the eggplant shells in, using tongs to submerge them (they float!). Blanch for about 2 minutes and then remove and set to drain on towels. At this point you might get sad because they have turned from a beautiful lilac purple to a sad brown/pink color; but console yourself with the knowledge that their color would have turned at some point or another during the cooking process.



Once your vegetable-sausage mixture is cooked through, remove from heat and set aside to cool. Place the bread crumbs into a small bowl and pour the milk over to absorb. In a large bowl, combine the cooled veggie-sausage mixture with the parsley, parmesan cheese and finally your bread crumbs, squeezing out any excess milk from the crumbs before adding. Salt and pepper and toss together with your hands to combine.



Coat the bottom of a small baking dish with a bit of olive oil and then use a barbecue brush or your fingers to paint each eggplant shell with a nice slick of oil, both inside and out. Nestle the shells close together in your pan and fill each with a generous pile of stuffing. Top the stuffed ‘plants with shredded mozzarella. At this point in time, you have two options to choose from. The first option, which is what I did, is to essentially twice bake the stuffed eggplant. I’m not sure if this is entirely necessary but sweet mother, it is delicious, so I’m suggesting it here. If you think that baking a simple dish not once but twice is straight crazy and you’re like “Jess, ain’t nobody got time for that”, please proceed to option 2.



Option 1: Cover pan tightly with foil and set to bake in a 400 degree oven for 40 minutes. Remove pan, let cool and store in the fridge until you’re ready to serve, later that day, the next day; or, in my case, two days later. I would not advise waiting over three days, but speaking from experience can tell you that two days in the fridge didn’t hurt them a bit. When ready to serve: bake in a 375 degree oven for one hour, tightly wrapped in foil. Remove foil, and set pan under broiler to brown and melt cheese on top, for about 2-3 minutes. Scatter fresh chopped basil on top, if using. Serve immediately with a mixed green salad, or a side of pasta in tomato sauce.



Option 2: Cover pan tightly with foil and bake in a 400 degree oven for one hour. Remove foil and broil, 2-3 minutes until cheese on top is browned and bubbling. Scatter fresh chopped basil on top, if using. Serve immediately, perhaps with one or both of the sides suggested above.



Extra filling and what to do with it: I ended up with quite a bit of extra filling and my guess is you will too. In the interest of not wasting this goodness I rolled them into very loose, squishy meatballs and set them on a parchment lined baking sheet and popped them into my already heated 400 degree oven. They only took about 10 minutes before they were deeply browned. They were a little loose and a little rustic looking, but I tossed a few of them on some lightly dressed arugula for a really nice salad. The next day for lunch I heated a couple of these little hockey pucks and had them on toasted bread with crumbled goat cheese, a few leaves of basil and some arugula and that was a pretty nice time as well.

take away

The finish line of the Boston Marathon is about two blocks from my favorite yoga studio, which is about as close as I get to going to church. I head in two mornings a week, roll out my mat and reset. My practice is tremendously important to me; it is the one way I know to recalibrate every part of myself: physical, emotional, mental. This morning was no different and I needed to be there a lot. The city itself was alive with people, headed to work, grabbing coffee and, as always, jaywalking in front of my car as I edged around the corner from Berkeley Street on to Boylston.



I have struggled a bit over the past few days on what to say about what happened on Monday here. After all, this is just a simple spot where I share photos of my lunch and maybe a couple self deprecating jokes or funny stories; hardly the place you would look to seek words of comfort or wisdom at a time when the world stops making sense. Besides, everyone that knows me knows that I am the world’s biggest cry baby and nobody ever looks to be soothed by the person crying the hardest. After all, they might get boogies on them during the hug.



But as my most favorite instructor said this morning, echoing my sentiments more eloquently than I ever could, it would feel fairly negligent to ignore what happened on Monday. So I won’t. But I’m not going to try to offer advice on how to make sense of the senseless or prove how much I love my town (I don’t have any, anyways (do you?); and believe me: I do very much). I’m not going to even attempt to pretend that I could possibly say anything as immensely good hearted and necessary as this, or even try and be as perfectly appropriately funny as this.



Instead I will just say that among the horrendous images that I’ve seen this week I’ve noticed a lot of one thing in particular: people hugging, clinging to each other, offering everything they possibly could to comfort someone else. Because when the shit hits the fan, we turn to each other, we don’t turn our backs. Not just people from Boston, but human BEINGS. We’re so much better than we even think we can be, so much stronger and nicer and more honest. And this has been thematic in most of the things that I’ve read this week. Horrible things happen all over the world, every day to people who don’t deserve it. FACT. But in the face of this we have to choose to be good to one another, not just in the aftershock of unspeakable violence, but in line at the grocery store. So while it goes without saying that I am sad about Marathon Monday and I am grieving for all the lives traumatized, gravely injured or cut way too short, I really want to take away from this a renewed sense of faith in people’s innate goodness. And next week I promise, I’ll get right back to baked stuffed eggplant and fart jokes.

rocky mountain high

If you’ve been hanging around here much it should not surprise you to know that I still think about a burrito from 1997. The burrito in question was from Big City Burrito in Fort Collins, Colorado and I don’t know if it was the expertise of the establishment or the crisp, Rocky Mountain Air that made it so memorable. The shocking thing is that it wasn’t even MY burrito. It was my sister’s and I only got one bite; but that bite lodged itself into my subconscious only to be unearthed 16 years later in a small kitchen in Quincy, Massachusetts.



At the time, my sister was a vegetarian so in lieu of carnitas or pulled chicken her burrito was loaded with garlicky wilted spinach and crispy roasted potatoes. At the young age of 17, even though I only ate a very limited number of (mostly) animal-based food groups, with that one bite I knew the combo was something special. I mean, potatoes in a burrito!? Why I NEVER! My mind was BLOWN.



So it’s no wonder the memory of that burrito came back into my brain, on a Wednesday evening in late winter when I found myself without much in the fridge beside tortillas, a big bunch of Swiss chard and some leftover roasted potatoes. Since we always have black beans and avocados in the house this Veggie Taco spread is what came together. The resulting meal was so tasty that it has assumed a permanent position in our weeknight dinner repertoire. Everybody can dig on taco night, here’s a tasty, healthier way to hit that Mexican food craving right where it counts.



VEGGIE TACOS 
a/k/a TACOS del BENSON

Everything for these tasty tacos comes together in the time it takes to roast the potatoes. You can slice the potatoes any way you choose, I prefer to cut them into thin disks, so they end up like fat potato chips. These are fairly messy, but not impossible to eat. Have napkins handy and for best results, layer ingredients as follows:

Whole wheat tortillas
Shredded cheese (Jack or Cheddar works)
Quick Simmered Black Beans
Crispy Roasted Potatoes
Garlicky Swiss Chard (easily sub spinach or kale here)
1 avocado, thinly sliced
Salsa
Hot Sauce



While the potatoes roast and the black beans simmer: prep the chard, slice and set out the avocado, grate the cheese and set the table. Wilt the chard, or whatever greens you’re using just before serving. To heat your tortillas, you have two options: you can wrap them in aluminum foil and set them in the oven for a few minutes; or, you can toast them abuelita style like I like to do: on an open flame, for just a few moments on either side, almost burning my fingerprints off every time (I think it adds a little something special—an element of danger!). Serve with chips and salsa, a green salad or seasoned rice.



QUICK SIMMERED BLACK BEANS

1 can black beans
½ small onion, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tsp. cumin
Hot sauce
Salt, pepper

Bring all ingredients to a simmer in a small sauce pan. Season to taste with hot sauce, more cumin, salt and pepper, as needed. I think depending on the brand of canned black beans some need a little extra help. Just adjust the seasonings to your liking. These quick simmered black beans are one of my favorite things to toss into a tortilla with some cheese and hot sauce for a supremely messy, five minute burrito.



CRISPY CAYENNE ROASTED POTATOES

2 russet potatoes, washed and thinly sliced
Oil, canola or olive
Salt, pepper
Cayenne

Heat oven to 400 degrees. Toss potato slices in olive oil on two baking sheets and sprinkle with salt, pepper and a few small pinches of cayenne. Set to roast for 30 minutes, turning over once about halfway through. Do your best to only open the oven once or twice, this will ensure the taters crisp up real nice.



GARLICKY SWISS CHARD

1 bunch Swiss chard, trimmed and chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
Olive oil

Heat oil in a pan over medium heat. Add garlic and sauté until fragrant, about one minute. Add chard and cook until wilted, about five minutes.



Serve everything taco bar style, with condiments on the side. Pile the fillings high on blistered tortillas and thank me later. Do not wait 17 years for your first potato-burrito/ potato-taco experience. Double starch is on point.