J is for Just Plum forgot!

Saint Peters Basilica.
I think the Roman's and the Church had some money back in the day.
Gorgeous. 

Ciao tutti! (Hi everyone!)
I am alive, sorta.

I just realized that in under a month will be the 1 year anniversary of  The Cauliflower Lollipop!
How much this little "nutrition and food" based blog has grown. Well actually, not as much as this cultivator had hoped. I'm guessing blogs are a little like children. You must put in all of your effort to reap any rewards. So, my one year blog resolution: put in more effort. Thats that. Get ready to be bogged down, with blogness (probably not, I'm working 6 days a week 10 hour days currently. One of which is a 14 hour day, Sunday. Apparently even though this country is Catholic no rest for the weary in the kitchen on Sunday's, so maybe, you will only get mildly blogged. More like, a poco blogged).

Isla d'Elba on the beach of Sant 'Andrea. Wonderful. 

J is the letter for the post. Which can represent alot of things. The last J posting representing the many words I could conjure that began with J. This time, in a few short words, I will try to express what this J(oy) has been up to in the past few months, here in Italy.
Jealous yet? Aspeta (wait...)

I have traveled back and forth, up and down (as much as I can) on my days off. I have darted from Milian to Parma, to Cinque Terre, up to Torino. Down to Siena, and even further down to Isla D'Elba, to Florence, Peasaro and Ancona, to the Northern Veneto and Tuscan coast, Bolonga and Reggio nell'Emilia (where I currently live) Of course, Roma, just last weekend.

Tuna, cured in Olive oil from Sardegna, with picked Tropea
Onions, fennel, sprouts, lemon vinegrette... it goes on and on.

Eating, tasting, re-tasting (for quality control, this does not get old) my fair share of food. Cheese has taken my heart and gone off in a full sprint. Particularly fresh, or semi aged goat cheeses. Although, Castelmango, mamma mia. But, if you ever get a chance to come here, you have to go to region they make the cheese. Buy Burrata in Apulia, or Mozzarella di Bufula in Campania. It will be fresher the closer you are to the producer. As far as your life, consider it changed. No joke. The sweet smell of fresh cream and a taste as if kissed by milky gods.

On our many mini vacations I have had the privilege to dip into the Mediterranean Sea. Crystal blue, warm and justifiably one of the best bodies of water I have ever been in.  Isla d'Elba is a world all its own; green and lush, wild like Kawai, warm and sun ripened, Tuscan, but not quite so. Just go.

Lunch at the most amazing man's home in Romanga.
Later a cheesehole (Fossa) lesson. 

The Adriatic Coast where Le Marche meets the sea, Peasaro, Fanno and Ancona remind me a bit of the beaches of Rhode Island, a little rough around the edges, although lovely and different in their unique simplicity. There was one area we found which housed little beach "caves" in the mountain side. Families and friends gathered to play cards, swim, read and relax. My friends and I, to rejuvenate and regroup after long days at school.


Which brings me to school, if I could describe ALMA it would mostly be describing the outstanding professors. I know in my last post I touched upon them, but leaving for stage was hard because I wasn't going to wake up saying  "Alright, I have Bentley today, awesome" or "good, kitchen with Bruno, region Campania, score" sometimes "wine at 9:30 AM, gotta keep sharp for Matteo" and even, "Ok, Chef Paolo is teaching today, should be interesting..." and it was. Everyday was interesting. Everyday I learned something new, something brilliant and something worlds larger than myself.

Couches set up on the hill side in the Northern Veneto.

We would ride our bikes through the warm, thick air in the  Pianura Padana, the Po River Valley, down the road to our castle. While changing attempt to not begin sweating (some of my classmates referred to this time as suiting up for a game, as if changing into uniforms was the build up to a battle against the odds), grab an espresso and await the fate of the day. Will it be a tall hat day, a no apron day, a central kitchen day or a standing in the kitchen day. 


Summer here can be fondly thought of as infernal, since air conditioning is hard to come by, and the ALMA's remained broken for the 2 months we were attending. Sometimes we would see attempts being made to fix it, holes dug all over the grounds, only to be filled a few days later. It was assumed they were looking for some kind of electrical line. Nonetheless, the weather is similar to New York in the humidity level as well as temperature. Some days swelled to 1oo's (or above 40 Celsius as we can now recall it) but most of the time the Demo room and kitchen still remained a positive learning environment. Well, for me. 


We were able to share with each other. We talked, socialized, exchanged and became a small tight little family. Sometimes a little too tight, and just like all families, some had a fair share of squables. Although, most family arguments do not end in bus rides to Tuscany at 6 in the morning the following day to a winery and goat cheese farm with your Chef and a group of misfit American Chefs (also sanz air conditioning). 

Fresh Goat Cheeses from Santa Margarita Farms between Firenze
and Siena. ALL of them phenomenal. I have notes
on each one.  

But looking back now, having been away from school, from Colorno, from the little-tribe-that-could at ALMA Due, for only a month, I miss it. I knew I would. I miss coming home to a space bigger than a hotel room. I miss having my own stove, pots and pans. I miss the idea that I could walk down stairs and see friends  sitting on a couch eating chicken salad out of large pasta pots watching a pirated copy of Hot Tub Time Machine which had been sent in a box also including Frank's hot sauce (a highlight moment I must say). Upon seeing this, I would think nothing more to my self than 'I love those guys'. I miss that our 'dorms' fostered a profound sense of familiarity for me. Who knew I would miss Colorno?  Mostly, though, I miss my friends. 

Sun setting amongst Processo Vines in Valdobbiandene before
the feast of a lifetime. 

There are a plethora of memories I can take away from this, and I cannot wait to share them with you. Like, for example, how in Italy 'music' consists of 3 people on the radio, Madonna, Michael Jackson and Lady Gaga. Everyone in the kitchen waders about humming the tunes, pretending to know the lyrics to the songs and singing random giberish. Hilarious. Sometimes there is some Sting and Seal, but otherwise, solo Jackson and Gaga. Alejandro is mos-def a top fav for Italia. 

An obelisk in Roma, there are hundreds. 

More to come, but I have work in 40 minutes. Yesterday I deboned 5 rabbits, which is not an easy feat, amongst other tasks. Today I will cut the Zucca Cheesecake I made into little circles for our Piccola Pasticceria. 
I will work for 10 hours, standing the entire time, in my sweat. Toil. 
Attempt to speak Italian (which every day I get better at surprisingly), pretend to understand most of it, but actually understand quite a bit. 
Get in the weeds, and then get out of the weeds. Clean up, sweep, mop, eat delicious bread my chef makes.  
Feel like and outsider, and have a 16 year old Sicilian kid tell me what to do(at which point I have to control my eye rolling), and respond to him sarcastically in English (which he cannot understand) and love it. 


Must love it. And I do. I want this so badly.

Tuscan sand and the Mediterranean Sea. 

Check back for more quips. Also, recipes, lots of recipes...