F is for Focaccia and Freakish amounts of Carbohydrates.

This week marks the end of the week in which I have eaten, tasted, re-tasted and devoured the most ridiculous amount of carbohydrates imaginable. We began with pasta fresca, moved into more pasta like pasta asciuta and pasta ripiena (dried and filled), then gnocchi with potatoes, with ricotta, with bread. The next day was risotto, as many times as we could make it in an attempt to master it (all'onda - like a wave so to speak). Tasting and tasting. Tweaking and re-tweaking, all the way through, each dish, each time, over and over. Mind you, I am NOT complaining about this. I have been given this magical license to do so. So, I will eat, as my waistline now shows. Damn you delicious food and your protocol for more butter and salt. The following day was a slight break, working with eggs.  However these little uovo's couldn't stop us from dipping crusty fresh, warm baguettes from the downstairs bread kitchens, into a luxurious poached yolk, which melted out onto a plate like paint escaping from a bucket.
Then of course, the mecca of all carb days, Pizza day, to end the week.
Why no pictures you ask? Well, first of all, my hands were perpetually greased with di olio extraverrgine d'oliva for one. Two, the pizza's were either devoured instantly, or shipped off to other floors of the school (in hopes of a trade for pastries, cakes, breads and the like) faster then I could whip my camera out to snap a shot. Our hot pizza stone oven cranked out about 30 pies that day, all of which were gorgeous. But all this pizza talk aside, I will say a certain pizza purist in Southern California still makes the best pies I ever had. I'm looking at you M and M.  

My favorite fun fact of the week came from our Chef Jessica stating, "Pizza is a triumph of imagination over a scarcity of ingredients." I couldn't agree more.
So my week of self loathing for eating all of these deliciously carbo-loaded fantasies came to  a close over a nice drink with some school friends, and a few fantastic slices of Focaccia with Sea Salt and Rosemary from a fellow student who really nailed their dough. Mine was more like a cardboard flavored version of his, which was donated to the compost.
So, this dream of making and eating all these starchy items for weeks on end. Mastering the Art of Fullness.  This, a craft or design of the gods. A fantastically bright beacon of light which has decided, fate and good fortune,  will shine on me? I get to eat Carbs? Loads of them?! Non-stop! And HAVE TO for quality control purposes?! (Sounds incredibly ideal right?)
Not such a dream for my jeans or personal satisfaction with myself. It has sent me straight to the gym in a full sprint.
So if you see me running down Lafayette to get to my destination of sweaty glory and hopefully back to a size 27, don't be alarmed, I probably just ate a mountain of Pasta Fresca alla saliva de burro or a new favorite Risotto con Fungi e Pomodoro. 


If you don't desire to make your pizza or focaccia at home, no judgements. There are loads, hundreds, millions of places where they serve up the best of the best. Here is a link to an article from the lovely and wonderful Magazine La Cucina Italiana all about where to go to get the best pizza imaginable across the globe. Brooklyn's own Motorino made the list!

The Perfect Pie - From La Cucina Italiana