Sunday morning I put on a sweet cotton dress I bought 10 years ago for church going - although my church going habit comes and goes, the dress remains a feminine, modest closet staple. The dress was also getting me in touch with my inner June Cleaver (except I probably use the F-word a lot more than June, and am not nearly as concerned about 'the beaver'). The weekend was spent in domestic goddess bliss - cleaning, entertaining, and lovingly preparing a fresh, joyful feast for my friends.
Ragu!
Yesterday after church (that is, after my friends went and got their usual praise on) we had planned to open a few bangin' bottles of Tuscan wine my friend (a native Tuscan) wanted to share. I was in the temple that is my kitchen worshiping at the alter of my stove, the heartbeat of my home, one of my sacred spaces (the other being the yoga mat). The whole morning was spent meditating my way through fresh, hand-made tagliatelle and a long, slow-cooking sugo (ragu) building layer upon layer of flavors that would complement the '96 Brunello.
Friends arrived as I was covered in flour, still cranking out the last strands of tagliatelle and hanging them on my ghetto pasta rack I constructed with some Tupperware and wooden spoons (hey - it worked!).
The table was set, the older wines were decanted and opening up nicely. We started with 1999 Castello di Ama Chianti Classico. When we finally were able to get our noses out of the glasses, we snacked on this:
(Props to Whole Foods, by the way, for stocking a selection of Caccio di Roma, Bel Paese, and Sottocenere con tartufo (truffle) cheeses - a nice surrogate for the soft Pecorino that I miss so much from Italy.)
Then the Brunello course:
The bottle of 2001 Guidalberto allowed us to finish off the ragu, nibble some remaining antipasti, and play with various artisan dark chocolates just for fun.
We moved to the front porch as a storm rolled in, toting the chocolates, our glasses, and I whipped out a bottle of this:
We were laughing, toasting the gustatory goodies and spirit inspired by Italian passion, watching the lightning, hearing the thunder outside while music drifted from the stereo inside. We reveled in feeling the cool wind and mist of the downpour infiltrating the porch, smelling the bouquet of fresh rain, wine aromas, and "Mmm-ing" repeatedly as we mixed, matched, and played with the textures and flavors of the chocolates and wine on our tongues. It was a special afternoon for the senses - all of the senses. It is my firm belief that when all the senses are involved, that an experience is heightened to a divine state of exhilaration - of being in sync with all the energies that came together for that moment. (Paulo Coelho explains this in his book Brida, if you don't know what I mean here).
As darkness fell, we gathered around the dining room table for more decadence (you guessed it, TIRAMISU)!
Paired with a bottle of my secret Tiramisu weapon:
Then on to cappuccino and more talking. It was during this conversation I passed my precious hard back copy of Eat, Pray, Love across the table to a friend who hadn't read it. [I still have hopes that Hollywood won't have bastardized another beautiful book like they did with Under the Tuscan Sun]. Incidentally, two of these girlfriends at the table were the ones I dragged down to Cortona five years ago just to see how beautiful it really was (and at least the film got that much right).
FLASHBACK: On July 5th, 2008, I had written this in my journal while traveling back from Iraq for the last time: "A new day, sitting in Amsterdam with a glass of cider and a renewed vow to refresh myself and end this career next year. Travel seems to be the focus right now. Although I tagged Morocco and Italy, I'm thinking I should stay gone longer - just to find myself - and experience more of the world." Weirdly enough the book I mentioned earlier, Brida, was purchased right before I wrote this in Amsterdam. A month later I stumbled across Eat, Pray, Love and knew I was ready to make the leap of faith to change my life - or my way of looking at life. Two weeks later, I dropped my retirement papers and the rest is history (otherwise known as this blog).
Like Elizabeth Gilbert, I was also someone who'd been in (or getting over) relationships since I was 15 and refused to allow testosterone to spoil what was to be a precious experience. I still roll my eyes at stupid comments like, "Maybe you'll meet..." applying that ridiculous stereotype that I'm one of those women who think going to Italy is all about meeting a dude. The words, "Maybe you'll meet ... " just confirm yet another person who doesn't get it - or me. They must have watched too many movies, read too many Harlequin Romances, and didn't understand happiness as a single person. I needed a break from it all. From "them" all.
Eat, Pray, Love was my touchstone for getting in touch with my own passion for life, and myself, without the fog of a relationship. And Italy was where I was able to get in touch - and fall in love - with an appreciation for life and simple joys that I don't believe in my 44 years I ever experienced. So it was my pleasure to introduce this book to one of these special ladies last night - who are among the very few friends that DO get it. [I made my friend promise to read the book BEFORE going to the movie.]
Sitting at the table last night, marveling at ... everything. Every flavor, sensation, moment, song was perfectly paired, shared, and savored. We talked of plans to meet up in Florence next month (to taste more wines!). We all agreed that the energies just aligned, and that love was, indeed, along with a little divine intervention along the way, what brought us all to the table to share all our gifts. We toasted Italy, being blessed, and love itself - around us and within us (along with the five bottles of great wines).
It really was an Eat, Pray, Love kinda day - ironic, as the movie opens this week. What a gift this last year has been. And my friends? I love you all!
(Thank you A for these lovely photos!)
The most indispensable ingredient of all good home cooking: love, for those you are cooking for. ~Sophia Loren
Yesterday after church (that is, after my friends went and got their usual praise on) we had planned to open a few bangin' bottles of Tuscan wine my friend (a native Tuscan) wanted to share. I was in the temple that is my kitchen worshiping at the alter of my stove, the heartbeat of my home, one of my sacred spaces (the other being the yoga mat). The whole morning was spent meditating my way through fresh, hand-made tagliatelle and a long, slow-cooking sugo (ragu) building layer upon layer of flavors that would complement the '96 Brunello.
Friends arrived as I was covered in flour, still cranking out the last strands of tagliatelle and hanging them on my ghetto pasta rack I constructed with some Tupperware and wooden spoons (hey - it worked!).
The table was set, the older wines were decanted and opening up nicely. We started with 1999 Castello di Ama Chianti Classico. When we finally were able to get our noses out of the glasses, we snacked on this:
(Props to Whole Foods, by the way, for stocking a selection of Caccio di Roma, Bel Paese, and Sottocenere con tartufo (truffle) cheeses - a nice surrogate for the soft Pecorino that I miss so much from Italy.)
Then the Brunello course:
The bottle of 2001 Guidalberto allowed us to finish off the ragu, nibble some remaining antipasti, and play with various artisan dark chocolates just for fun.
We moved to the front porch as a storm rolled in, toting the chocolates, our glasses, and I whipped out a bottle of this:
We were laughing, toasting the gustatory goodies and spirit inspired by Italian passion, watching the lightning, hearing the thunder outside while music drifted from the stereo inside. We reveled in feeling the cool wind and mist of the downpour infiltrating the porch, smelling the bouquet of fresh rain, wine aromas, and "Mmm-ing" repeatedly as we mixed, matched, and played with the textures and flavors of the chocolates and wine on our tongues. It was a special afternoon for the senses - all of the senses. It is my firm belief that when all the senses are involved, that an experience is heightened to a divine state of exhilaration - of being in sync with all the energies that came together for that moment. (Paulo Coelho explains this in his book Brida, if you don't know what I mean here).
As darkness fell, we gathered around the dining room table for more decadence (you guessed it, TIRAMISU)!
Paired with a bottle of my secret Tiramisu weapon:
Then on to cappuccino and more talking. It was during this conversation I passed my precious hard back copy of Eat, Pray, Love across the table to a friend who hadn't read it. [I still have hopes that Hollywood won't have bastardized another beautiful book like they did with Under the Tuscan Sun]. Incidentally, two of these girlfriends at the table were the ones I dragged down to Cortona five years ago just to see how beautiful it really was (and at least the film got that much right).
FLASHBACK: On July 5th, 2008, I had written this in my journal while traveling back from Iraq for the last time: "A new day, sitting in Amsterdam with a glass of cider and a renewed vow to refresh myself and end this career next year. Travel seems to be the focus right now. Although I tagged Morocco and Italy, I'm thinking I should stay gone longer - just to find myself - and experience more of the world." Weirdly enough the book I mentioned earlier, Brida, was purchased right before I wrote this in Amsterdam. A month later I stumbled across Eat, Pray, Love and knew I was ready to make the leap of faith to change my life - or my way of looking at life. Two weeks later, I dropped my retirement papers and the rest is history (otherwise known as this blog).
Like Elizabeth Gilbert, I was also someone who'd been in (or getting over) relationships since I was 15 and refused to allow testosterone to spoil what was to be a precious experience. I still roll my eyes at stupid comments like, "Maybe you'll meet..." applying that ridiculous stereotype that I'm one of those women who think going to Italy is all about meeting a dude. The words, "Maybe you'll meet ... " just confirm yet another person who doesn't get it - or me. They must have watched too many movies, read too many Harlequin Romances, and didn't understand happiness as a single person. I needed a break from it all. From "them" all.
Eat, Pray, Love was my touchstone for getting in touch with my own passion for life, and myself, without the fog of a relationship. And Italy was where I was able to get in touch - and fall in love - with an appreciation for life and simple joys that I don't believe in my 44 years I ever experienced. So it was my pleasure to introduce this book to one of these special ladies last night - who are among the very few friends that DO get it. [I made my friend promise to read the book BEFORE going to the movie.]
Sitting at the table last night, marveling at ... everything. Every flavor, sensation, moment, song was perfectly paired, shared, and savored. We talked of plans to meet up in Florence next month (to taste more wines!). We all agreed that the energies just aligned, and that love was, indeed, along with a little divine intervention along the way, what brought us all to the table to share all our gifts. We toasted Italy, being blessed, and love itself - around us and within us (along with the five bottles of great wines).
It really was an Eat, Pray, Love kinda day - ironic, as the movie opens this week. What a gift this last year has been. And my friends? I love you all!
Wow! What a wonderful meal and I just loved your fabulous wine selections:) You have some seriously lucky friends - look forward to your next post - Cheers!
ReplyDeleteThe wines were all drinking amazingly. The thing about opening great bottles is sharing them with the friends you know will 'get' them. And they are happy to be the guinea pigs for my kitchen antics - how I love them. Thank you, Stephanie!
ReplyDeleteI wish I was there eating that ragu, pasta, and tiramasu, and of course drinking ridiculous amounts of that amazing wine!
ReplyDeleteLove the Sophia Loren quote, I'm going to put it on my chalkboard in the kitchen :-)