Under the Shade of an Olive Tree

In Italian there is a beautiful word, meriggiare, which means to escape the heat of the midday sun by resting in the shade.

I love the word because it sounds like marinate, which conjures up images of languidly reposing, too relaxed, satiated, sun-warmed to do anything other than to be cocooned within your thoughts. Slow thoughts, that float and hover, within reach, but just barely. 

And then you come back to yourself, changed. 

This week our book club met to discuss Frances Mayes' book, Women in Sunlight. This is the third book I have read by Mayes and, like the others, it was as so achingly beautiful that it left me wanting, like having the need to take a big gulp of water but forced, instead, to sip through a straw. By the end of the book, I was a little sad, more than a little melancholy, but also infused with a deep joy and a reminder to embrace the basics: family, friends, food, and faith, blended with tradition, swaddled in the seasons, and served with a glass of vino rosso. 

And during our Book Club meeting, gathered around a table littered with wine glasses and dessert cups of homemade gelato and sorbetto al limone, all of us friends discussing a book about friendship, I realized that meriggiare also describes what it is like to read Women in Sunlight: the feeling when language, poetry, food, and the Italian countryside offer respite and wonder, all while sitting under the shade of an olive tree. 

Taking the inside ... outside

Like many of you, I am already thinking ahead to the holiday season. There is so much to do! Lately I've read countless articles on how to not only celebrate the holidays, but how to deal with the stress. To be sure, we all have ways to deal with holiday stress and busyness -- planning, shopping early, making lists (lots of lists!) -- but over the years I've come to realize that for my family there are two areas which make all the difference in helping us celebrate the holidays with purpose and mindfulness: keeping things simple and dining al fresco.

Simplicity is a topic all on its own, and it's one in which I am most passionate about. I am all about the simple life and striving for simplicity of mind, hearth and home. But in order to do this topic justice I will address in a future post. Stay tuned.

Today, however, I want to share how dining al fresco can offer a respite from the hectic pace set by the holiday season.

Let me set the stage: as I'm typing this, I'm sitting on our back deck under a rain of falling leaves. Colors of red, orange, yellow, and brown spiral downward to land ever so softly on the grass, the brick patio, my head. I hear them land, I hear them crunch as the squirrels scamper about. I have a steaming mug of tea and a yogurt next to me, and every few sentences I pause, take a sip of tea, and look at the raining leaves.

Of course, I could write this post and sip my tea while sitting at my kitchen table, but then I would get up to throw another load in the washing machine, look at my calendar, and put the breakfast dishes away. I wouldn't be as wholly present as I am now, out here on the deck.

I've said it before, and I've even given a talk on this, but there is something magical about taking a meal outside. Whether you're sitting on the back deck, at an outdoor café or under a park gazebo, dining al fresco is a gift of allowing ourselves to be removed from time; it allows us to savor our food instead of gulping it down, it encourages us to converse instead of talk, and most importantly, it reminds us to linger instead of rushing off to the next activity.

And for me, nothing is better for relieving stress during a busy holiday season than dining al fresco where, somehow, you discover time you didn't think you had.

I've seen the magic time and again, how something ordinary like a bowl of chili, a dish of lasagna, or a simple glass of wine is elevated into something extraordinary just by taking it outside. It's magical, this gentle reminder to sit.

To bide a while.

So now, my tea is finished, this post is published, and I will go rake because while falling leaves are pretty in the back yard, they are quite messy in the front. I'll be back tomorrow for tips and tricks on how to take your Thanksgiving table outside. In the meantime, take that cup of coffee and go sit on the front porch. ;-)

Preparing to dine al fresco for our Girls' Trip to Italy one year reunion.

We lingered over the table for more than three hours.

Dining al fresco with the Bunco gals.

Enjoying a glass of wine outside. Breckenridge, Co.

Why eat inside when there is all that magic outside?
Rome, Girls' Trip to Italy, June 2015

It's All About Giving Thanks

 

It's All About Giving Thanks
by Maria Novajosky, Guest Columnist


*published in the Columbia County News-Times, November 23, 2015

(delivered with Sunday's Augusta Chronicle)

            It doesn’t take much more than a holiday and a meal for our Italian-American family to gather in celebration, and Thanksgiving is no exception. People often ask if our Thanksgiving meal in any way reflects our Italian background, and while the immediate answer is yes (for with an Italian mother anything involving food reflects our Italian heritage), the answer is also no because Thanksgiving is the one holiday my mother uses to celebrate all things American, an opportunity to pay homage to a land which welcomed her with open arms.

            My mother came to this country as a young bride on the arm of my father, a soldier in the U.S. military; she was only 20 years old and determined to embrace this new life. She took language classes, became fluent in English, learned to drive, and volunteered for the American Red Cross. When my parents lived in Washington D.C. during the racial unrest of the sixties, my mother studied American history to understand what was happening.

            When she was 32 years old she stood before a judge in Savannah, GA and was sworn in as an American citizen. She had her picture taken under the American flag, and her nationality would henceforth be hyphenated, a bridge between the words Italian and American, between the country she was from and the country in which she now lived.

            Those two words also meant my sister, brother, and I got the best of both worlds. We spoke Italian with our Nonna and English at home; we ate gelato in Venice and an ice cream cone in Disney World; we explored the hills of Tuscany and the streets of Manhattan; and while holidays in our family were a beautiful blend of both cultures, there were some things quintessentially American that my mother embraced – and the traditional Thanksgiving meal was one of them.

            She had a lot to learn, however, and it took years of trial and effort to get it right. In one of her earliest letters to her mother, she described this strange, white cooking stuff that came in a blue can (Crisco shortening); she had never eaten turkey, much less cooked one; she had never heard of sweet potatoes (why, in America even the potatoes are sweet!); and she definitely didn’t know what to think about cranberry sauce or Jell-O (all that jiggling red stuff didn't look like food at all).

            It took years of trial and effort, of studying Betty Crocker and cutting out recipes from Good Housekeeping, but today my mother has perfected the art of the Thanksgiving meal. The moist turkey, the perfect balance of brown sugar and marshmallows in the sweet potato casserole and, yes, the dish of jiggling cranberry sauce are all displayed with a sense of pride on how far she has come. Two ceramic pilgrims decorate the dining room table, and in the afternoon everyone heads outside for a family game of backyard football or softball.

            Of course, there are small concessions to our Italian heritage: we sip espressos with our pumpkin pie and have a small glass of limoncello as an after dinner digestivo. But it is an American meal celebrating an American holiday, and with a rousing Buon Appetito! three generations of our family gather at Thanksgiving to honor the American half of our Italian-American heritage.

Letters to Juliet ... Really

I have traveled all over Italy, visiting big cities (Rome, Venice, Florence, Naples) and small towns (Bassano, Padova, Assisi). I've traveled the winding roads along the Amalfi Coast, hiked through the Dolomites, and sailed to Capri. I've watched the sun rising behind a row of cypress trees, heard the rain pattering on ancient cobblestone streets, and marveled at bright red geraniums spilling over flower boxes, balconies, and windows.

But in all the boot that is Italy, my favorite place is Verona.

Verona is where my mother is from. It is the place where I rode with my Zio took on the back of his vespa, where my Nonna took me to my first opera, where I had my First Communion. Verona is where I brought my husband a few years after we were married and, later, our three sons.

And Verona is the perfect city for love; after all, it is the setting of Shakespeare's tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet -- a tale based on the Capulets and the Montagues who were prominent families of Verona.

Today, you can visit Juliet's balcony.

You can also see Juliet's statue,

and for good luck you can even touch Juliet's ...
well, I'll let my zio Luciano demonstrate.

A couple of years ago a very charming movie, Letters to Juliet, was filmed in and around Verona.

In the movie, Sophie is an aspiring writer who meets a group of women known as Juliet's secretaries. These women gather to answer letters sent to Juliet asking for advice on love.

Now, what many may not realize is that Juliet's secretaries actually exist. For more than 70 years, Juliet's "secretaries" (volunteers from Verona) have collected the notes and letters which arrive in the mail by the thousands from all over the world . . . and every single letter containing a return address is answered.

So, if you are seeking advice on all matters concerning amore, write to ...

Casa di Giulietta (Juliet’s House)

Via Cappello, 23

Verona, Italy

And as far as love stories go ... my parents met in Verona. They used to meet right under this clock tower.

And here, the same place 40 years later.

And under the clock tower, in the right hand corner, you will find a plaque containing
Shakespeare's description of Verona in Act III, Scene III of  Romeo and Juliet.

"There is no world without Verona walls ..."

What I Love: 500 Years of Tradition

This year marks the 500th anniversary of this church, Santi Nazaro e Celso (or San Nazaro as the locals refer to it).


Growing up in Verona, Italy this was the home parish for my mom and her sisters.


This is the church which contains a chapel dedicated to St. Blaise, patron saint of throat ailments. My uncle remembers when he was a little boy he and his mother would participate in the procession celebrating the Feast Day of St. Blaise. Following the procession they would go behind the altar and -- get ready for this -- LICK the altar. Oh how we laughed when he told us this story.


This was the church where my parents married.


This was the church where I received my First Holy Communion. On that day, I remember stepping out of my Nonna's house and walking to the church, my veil fluttering in the breeze.


Incidentally, the same priest (Monsignor Venturi) officiated BOTH occasions.


See? Tradition.

Parrochia Ss. Nazaro e Celso
1517-2017

Beating the Heat in an Italian Kitchen with ... Wine?

Honestly, who wants to cook in this heat? Not me. Who wants to grill when the temperature reading is in the triple digits?  Not Joe.


As you can see, it's a problem.


So last weekend, on a large wooden platter I arranged a meal of antipasti ... a beautiful assortment of herb coated salami, thinly sliced prosciutto, chunks of parmigiano-reggiano, Italian grissini, crusty baguettes, and vine-ripened tomatoes dressed in olive oil and vinegar.


#seewhatididthere?


No cooking required, but molto delizioso.


"Too bad I don't drink yet," Timothy announces. "All this would go perfectly with wine."


Chilled vino bianco. Now THAT is refreshing.

Not Your Mother's Day Tea

What am I doing on this beautiful, sunny Mother's Day? Since next Sunday I am hosting a one year reunion picnic of our Girls' Trip to Italy ...


I'm making limoncello, of course.

Capri and the Amalfi Coast ... lemons everywhere!

lemon zest + pure grain alcohol + sugar = limoncello

Thinly sliced lemon peels ... no pith!

Yeah ... so, those lemon peels aren't soaking in water ;-)

What to do with the poor, naked lemons?

Make lemon sorbet, of course!

Buon Appetito, compliments of the Pontifical Swiss Guard

The Commander of the Pontifical Swiss Guard, Christoph Graf, provided the recipe for our entrée in today's pranzo with i Nonni. His recipe contribution, Veal Cutlets in Cream Sauce (The Vatican Cookbook, p 81), was a huge hit despite the fact I made a few changes -- I substituted the veal with thinly sliced chicken cutlets, and instead of the roasted vegetables I served it on a bed of wilted greens. The recipe is definitely a keeper. Here is the menu for our pranzo ...

Chicken Cutlets in a Wine and Cream Sauce

served on a bed of wilted greens

Italian Roasted Potatoes

with olive oil and herbs

Salad with Strawberries and Almonds

tossed with a light, Italian vinaigrette

Gelato

choice of:

straciatella or peanut butter chocolate swirl

Espresso

Lt. Col. Christoph Graf, vice commander of the Swiss Guard, reviews Swiss Guards in Dec. 2014.
Photo: CNS/Paul Haring

Into the Kitchen

I’ve had so much on my plate lately (work, Masters prep, my parents’ 50^th anniversary party, spring break) that I’ve fallen off the culinary bandwagon; as a result, there have been too many quick meals, too many trips to the grocery store without a list, and all too little forethought, imagination, and creativity in the kitchen. Sadly, it’s been a while since I’ve …

-tried a new recipe

-cooked something that took longer than 30 minutes to prepare

-made homemade bread, pasta, ice cream, sorbet, or pasta sauce

-planned a week’s worth of meals

-organized my grocery lists

-shopped at a Farmer’s Market

 

And I’ve missed doing all those things. Planning meals, cooking, and setting a table that invites people to linger is a creative process for me; it’s what I like to do and it is how I give.  But now, with the boys coming home from college and schedules winding down, I have plans to …

-buy organic lemons -- lemon peels for limoncello and lemons for sorbet

-make homemade ice cream for the boys (several flavors)

-pull out my “recipes to try” file and … try new recipes

-update my recipe binder (file, purge, add recipes)

-cook homemade pizza on the grill

-keep a fruit salad and a pitcher of tea in the refrigerator at all times

-dine al fresco at least once a day (even if it’s just a cappuccino on the back deck in the morning, or a glass of wine on the patio in the evening)

-eat out: that is, make grilled panini, pack them in a basket with some bottles of San Pellegrino, and … picnic for dinner!

 

During the summer, I make one of these every 2-3 days

There are also some cookbooks I want to read. I like to collect Italian cookbooks, and I especially like the ones which feature great photography and regional recipes with historical background on each dish. My most recent addition is the Vatican Cookbook which I ordered solely because it’s published by the Pontifical Swiss Guard and I have a thing for the Swiss Guards (all of them). Of course, as you can see from the photo, not all my cookbooks are Italian. I look forward to reading, for example, Gwyneth Paltrow’s It’s All Easy (I know she gets a lot of grief, but I fundamentally agree with her approach to food that is not only healthy and simple, but also contributes to a feeling of wholeness).

And there you have it. If you need me, or want a cappuccino or a slice of homemade pizza, you know where to find me.

"One of the very nicest things about life

is the way we must regularly stop whatever

it is we are doing and devote our

attention to eating."

-Luciano Pavarotti, opera singer

The Fountain in the Piazza

In Italy, there is a city called Verona. In Verona there is a piazza. In the piazza you will find a fountain. And in front of the fountain generations have stood ...

 My mom (far left), and her two sisters, Paola and Tizi.

With my mother, in front of the same fountain, 1967

Zia Paola holding me, 1967

While I returned many times throughout the years,
in 2006 I returned again, this time with my husband and sons

Family in the piazza, 2010

Me, 2015

Bia's Pasta e Fagioli

I have lots of recipes for minestrone, but this classic recipe for pasta e fagioli is one of our favorites. It is perfect for a blustery winter day, and served with a tossed salad, freshly baked artisan bread, and a glass of vino rosso ... it is the ultimate comfort food. (In all honesty, sometimes we go without the salad and just have pasta e fagioli and bread.) (Oh, and wine. Don't forget the wine.)


This recipe makes enough for our family of five, with plenty for leftovers. If you have a small family, the recipe can be halved.


Bia's Pasta e Fagioli


Olive Oil
3 carrots, diced
2 onions, diced
2 cloves of garlic, chopped


2 28 oz. cans of crushed tomatoes (I use the Cento brand)
4 potatoes, cubed
2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
1/4 tsp. oregano
2-3 chicken bouillon cubes
salt & pepper, to taste


32 oz. carton low sodium chicken broth


1 can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
10 oz. pkg. frozen spinach, partially thawed and cut into small squares


1 small pkg. ditalini pasta
Parmigiano Reggiano, freshly grated (for garnish)


1. Cook carrots, onions, and garlic in olive oil for 20 minutes.
2. Add tomatoes and remaining ingredients except beans and spinach. Add one half of the chicken broth (or enough until everything is submerged in liquid). Cook until potatoes are tender.
3. Shortly before serving, add beans and spinach. Bring to boil. Add the pasta and more broth (if needed). Cook until pasta is al dente.
4. Sprinkle with freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano and serve.




Some additional notes:


-Even though I buy frozen chopped spinach, it is still too stringy for my crew. But when I partially thaw it and cube it ... no more spinach strings!


-Pasta e fagioli tastes even better the second day (it's true!), but because the liquid will have been absorbed overnight, simply add more chicken broth before heating it up. I keep the leftover carton of chicken broth in the refrigerator just for this purpose.


-The amount of chicken broth you add during cooking is a personal preference: if you want a thicker pasta e fagioli, add less broth; if you like it soupier, add more. We like it somewhere in the middle (see photo below).

Road Trip, Day Four: Timothy's History Lesson on WWI, Jesse James, and Chamber Pots

In Flanders Fields

the poppies blow

Between the crosses,

row on row …

Such began our morning. When we walked into the WWI Museum and crossed a glass bridge which spanned a field of 9,000 poppies (each representing 1,000 combatant deaths during the war), it set the tone for an experience which was thought-provoking and very, very moving.

 

I loved it, Joe loved it, Jonathan loved it, but Timothy … he got a little glassy-eyed. He learned a lot, mainly because we kept calling him over and spoon-feeding him bits of information: WWI began in 1914 with the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria; the poppy became the flower of remembrance; the war was fought in the trenches; yada, yada, yada.

 

After a while we could see information was going in one ear and right out the other … no processing whatsoever.

 

But later, when we visited the farm of Jesse James, he perked right up. Outlaws! Bank robbers! Murderers! Then he got to see some cool stuff (his words): the boots Jesse James was wearing when he was shot, his saddle, and the fire bomb that severed his mother’s arm. Timothy also saw a chamber pot and learned what it was used for.

 

Uhm ... remind me to lock up my pots and pans when we get home. I’m just saying.

 

And on that note I’ll sign off for tonight.

Murder, robbery, and outlaws turned out little guy chatty.

The words on Jesse James' tombstone were written by his mother, Zerelda.
Warm and fuzzy she wasn't. Yikes.

Dining al fresco (this weather has been great!) at the Crown Center.

Sunday Dinner with i Nonni (il menu`)

primo

pasta alla puttanesca

secondo

pollo al forno con rosmarino (baked chicken with rosemary)

panzanella (panzanella salad)

pure` di patate (mashed potatoes)

dolce

sorbetto al lampano fatto in casa (homemade raspberry sorbet)

espresso

digestivo

limoncello fatto in casa (homemade limoncello)

A Presentation at the Sacred Heart Garden Festival (so, how did it go?)

"Open my heart and you will see, Graved inside of it, Italy."

Robert Browning, British poet

Andiamo a fare una passeggiata, my Nonna would often say to me, Let's go for a walk. Those walks are the reason why Verona -- and indeed, all the boot that is Italy -- holds a special place in my heart. I've visited the big cities (Rome, Venice, Florence, Naples), driven along the winding roads of the Amalfi Coast, hiked through the Dolomites, and sailed to Capri. I've watched the sun rise and set behind a row of Cypress tress and heard the rain spattering on ancient cobblestone streets.


This past Saturday, I spoke at the Sacred Heart Garden Festival and invited my listeners to accompany me on a different passeggiata as we explored the mystique that is Italy and delved into the reasons why so many non-Italians have fallen in love with the country.


Ultimately, Italians have been shaped by land, climate, history, food ... and when you throw in the quintessential Italian attitude and passion ... there isn't a single (or simple!) reason that can adequately explain why people are so drawn to the country. Like the people themselves, it's complicated; however, just as all ancient roads led back to Rome, part of the answer of discovering Italy's charm somehow seems to always circle back to food.


Italian food and Italian people are inseparable, and their love affair with food spills over into lifestyle. Robin Leach once said, "In Italy, they add work and life on to food and wine," and there is an element of truth to his words. The food makes the people and the people make the food, and this marriage translates into all areas of life: how they entertain, socialize, do business, and celebrate life.


To begin our passeggiata, I quoted the opening lines of Carlo Collodi's book, Pinocchio: "Once upon a time there was ... 'A king!' my young readers will instantly exclaim. But no, children, that's where you're wrong. Once upon a time there was a piece of wood."


Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. Not a wood carver named Geppetto, not a puppet named Pinocchio, but a block of wood. Ultimately, the author is reminding his readers to go back to the origins of the story, to the essence of what is. The block of wood represents the roots of our humanity.


And so our passeggiata began at the hearth of the Peasant Kitchen, where most of the foods we know and love today found their origins. From there we moved forward in history to 1986 with the grand opening of the first McDonald's restaurant in Italy ... an event that threatened not only Italian food, but contemporary Italian lifestyle and culture. As a result, the Slow Food Movement was founded as a way to preserve a way of life which revolves around producing and eating great food in a relaxed, sociable way.


Our passeggiata ended with an invitation to a garden party in which I demonstrated how to incorporate concepts from the Peasant Kitchen and the Slow Food Movement into our lives here, in Augusta, Georgia. Some of those concepts included simplicity (simple does not mean easy!), the magic of dining al fresco, the importance of embracing the seasons, a reminder to slow down, and how the company around the dinner table is an ingredient in and of itself.


Of course, this is just a synopsis of my presentation. I actually spoke for almost 50 minutes, during which I told stories, passed out recipes, and used a beautiful farm table to create several tablescapes that corresponded to various stopping points along our passeggiata.


It was a beautiful and fun way to spend a Saturday, and the Sacred Heart Garden Festival is one of the most beautiful events our city has to offer. I want to thank  Mary Louise for taking a chance and inviting a pretend gardener (me) to come speak; all the wonderful organizers at the festival for making me feel welcome; my friends who, despite a ridiculously busy Saturday (can we say prom?), came to listen to my presentation; and finally to Joe, Jonathan and Timothy who lugged that farm table from antique store, all the way home, to the festival, and back again.

 

"One of the very nicest things about life

is the way we must regularly stop whatever

it is we are doing and devote our

attention to eating."

-Luciano Pavarotti, opera singer

La Cucina della Nonna

This afternoon I am cooking peperonata. It's a lovely Italian side-dish made with red, green and yellow peppers, olive oil, a little salt and pepper, and a whole lot of memories.

When I was growing up, Nonna would do most of the day's cooking early in the morning in order to beat the summertime heat, and as little girls, my sister and I would wake up to the most delicious smells. We would entere the kitchen to bubbling pots on the stove, balcony windows thrown wide open, and my Nonna in an apron who would drop everything to give us kisses . . . and yes, that would be kisses in the plural.

This afternoon, my kitchen smells like Nonna's kitchen.

Simplicity and Mindfulness

I've been sitting on this since last November, but now that it's official I'll formally announce it here as well: I am honored to be one of the scheduled speakers for the Sacred Heart Garden Festival (April 25-27, 2014).


It's funny how life is sometimes. Last year I attended the festival for the first time, and little did I know that one year later I would be returning to give a presentation entitled, The Peasant Kitchen and Slow Food: The Italian Approach to Food, Dining and Healthy Living.


In Italy there is a saying: Per capire una cosa, devi guardare alle radici, which basically means that in order to understand something, you must first look at its roots. And that's what I'll be doing in my talk ... going back to my Italian roots to demonstrate how simplicity and mindfulness in the kitchen can go a long way in not only how we think about food, but in how we approach life.


The schedule for the speakers series is not up yet, but I will post it here when it becomes available. In the meantime, I hope you will come. Si`?

Back to the (Pepper) Grind

Well. After weeks of big meals, clever leftovers and invites here and there, we are ready to get back to our normal routine. We will not be easing into Monday, but meeting it fully head on, and after late nights and sleeping in I foresee a case of the grumpies by 5 p.m. tomorrow afternoon. Even our college student, who has an 8 a.m. class three days a week this semester, is in for a rude awakening ... literally. And just to mix things up, I am doing a three day detox. But more on that later.

Anyway. Meal planning. This week I didn't assign a meal for a specific night; rather, I made a list of seven meals and tomorrow I will shop for all the necessary ingredients. Then, depending on our schedules, each morning I will decided what we're having for dinner. No muss, no fuss.

1. Sloppy Joes w. carrot "fries"

2. Chinese Chicken and Rice (Eat Clean Cookbook p. 162)

3. Roasted Chicken Thighs with Mustard and Thyme Sauce (Best of Cooking Light Magazine, Apr. 2013)

4. Homemade Pizza; Root Beer Floats

5. Scaloppine di pollo; cooked greens (Jamie Oliver's cookbook, Jamie's Italy, p. 11); creamy polenta

6. Pasta with Lentil Bolognese (http://www.italianfoodforever.com/2014/01/pasta-with-lentil-bolognese/)

7. Minestrone (Nonna's recipe) w. homemade crusty bread

 

An Italian Mercato and The Barnyard Flea Market

There is nothing quite like meandering through an outdoor market, whether it's a farmer's market, a flea market or a flower market. Of course, my favorite is an Italian mercato where you can purchase a leather handbag at one stall, and at the very next stall indulge in a panino con prosciutto. I love the variety, I love the colors, and I love the song and dance routine of doing business the Italian way (how much...? would you take...? can you give me a sconto ...?)

An outdoor mercato in Sorrento, Italy.

Some of my favorite things around our house have come from a mercato. See my café curtains below? They are actually handmade linen kitchen towels which I purchased at a mercato in Tuscany. The elderly man who sold them to me was so thrilled I could speak Italian that he gave me a sconto for the three towels I wanted to purchase and gave me two extra ones for free. Just because. When I got home I converted them into café curtains, and I love looking at them because they tell a story.

So, I can't help associate Saturday mornings with a visit to a mercato. About twice a month I visit the Market on the River, but this morning we decided to explore the Barnyard Flea Market by the airport. It's not an Italian mercato by any stretch of the imagination; there was junk (and lot's of it) but there was also a lot to see and explore and, truthfully, we had a fun time.

In the end, we didn't purchase linen towels or a leather handbag, but everyone did come home with something: Joe purchased some golf balls, Jonathan a video game, Timothy a deck of Duck Dynasty playing cards, and I got a cocktail ring. Of course, shopping at flea markets means taking a chance: Will the golf balls explode on contact? Will the video game work? Will the Duck Dynasty cards be a full deck? Will the cocktail ring turn my finger green?

Who knows?

Who cares.

We had a mercato adventure, and that's all that matters.


Every time we go to Italy, I have purchased many, many things here ...