Archive | Lena

how to make Italian espresso like an American

September 19, 2011 at 7:16 pm

Our last morning in Venice dawned cool and rainy. Sicily, clear at the other end of Italy, has a climate like central California, and therefore it rarely rains in September. So to be in Venice on a rainy day felt just as exotic and cozy as it sounds.

Having neither umbrella nor rain jacket with us, and also lulled into peaceful somnolence by the rain, we decided to stay right where we were. We were renting our Venetian studio for $89 per day, so why not do some staycation in it?

So we watched our neighbors move. That meant loading all their belongings into a barge and puttering downstream to their new house. No moving trucks in Venice! No cars or motorized street vehicles at all. Just boats.

The psychotherapist who owns the studio had three espresso pots (moka pots, or macchinetta) on top of his refrigerator. We put those little pots to good use that rainy morning.

A little tutorial on coffee-making, Italian-American style. Begin with your supplies: ground coffee and your moka pot.

Fill the boiler/lower half of the moka pot with water. Spoon ground coffee into the basket. A lot of coffee makes espresso. A little less makes a strong, dark cup for an americana like myself.

Fit the basket into the pot. Screw on the top of the pot, which is currently empty.

Put it on the stove. Light the stove, which involves turning on the gas, a short match, and your hand. Watch out!

After a few moments, the water heats up in the bottom chamber. It bubbles up through the coffee and out a spout in the middle of the upper chamber. The upper chamber fills with rich, dark coffee.

Pour your fresh coffee into a teacup.

Add a little zucchero.

And a tad of whole milk.

And then sip and enjoy! While the creepy anthropological photo smokes in the background and your darling daughter (a future coffee aficionado, clearly) takes it all in.

We spent our last day in Venice day in the kitchen, reading silently and aloud, drinking teacup after teacup of strong dark coffee, and charming (and being charmed by) our daughter. Speaking of whom, we discovered this day that Lena has a tooth! A little sharp white nubbin working its way out of her lower jaw. Baby’s getting so big!

6 :: in eat this, Lena, travel

how to make Italian espresso like an American

September 19, 2011 at 6:16 pm

The psychotherapist who owns the studio had three espresso pots (moka pots, or macchinetta) on top of his refrigerator. We put those little pots to good use that rainy morning.

A little tutorial on coffee-making, Italian-American style. Begin with your supplies: ground coffee and your moka pot.

Fill the boiler/lower half of the moka pot with water. Spoon ground coffee into the basket. A lot of coffee makes espresso. A little less makes a strong, dark cup for an americana like myself.

Fit the basket into the pot. Screw on the top of the pot, which is currently empty.

Put it on the stove. Light the stove, which involves turning on the gas, a short match, and your hand. Watch out!

After a few moments, the water heats up in the bottom chamber. It bubbles up through the coffee and out a spout in the middle of the upper chamber. The upper chamber fills with rich, dark coffee.

Pour your fresh coffee into a teacup.

Add a little zucchero.

And a tad of whole milk.

And then sip and enjoy! While the creepy anthropological photo smokes in the background and your darling daughter (a future coffee aficionado, clearly) takes it all in.

6 :: in eat this, Lena, travel

Venice, Part III

September 18, 2011 at 5:24 am

After a whirlwind Saturday where we hoofed ourselves all over Venice, we were ready to relax on Sunday. We enjoyed our peaceful apartment that morning and then set off for a long walk around the city.

Before long we got lost. What looked like a bridge on the map turned out to be a dead end. Or at least a potentially very wet end.

Undeterred, we journeyed on. Signs pointing to St Mark’s Square and the Rialto Bridge were generally helpful, unless they pointed the same way. They are not very close to each other.

We went back to St. Mark’s Square to get a picture with the famous lions, the symbol of Venice. I think Lena looks so stinkin’ cute in this picture!

Later that day we went back to the Rialto Bridge to watch part of the regatta (boat race).

I love doorways like these in Venice. I mean, what is this used for? A gondola garage?

Later that evening we found a grocery store and I cooked up dinner in our little kitchen.

Spinach gnocchi, vegetable and pork kebabs-cum-stirfry, and peaches. And wine, which is the red liquid in the plastic water bottle on the table. Elliott bought this wine in a shop full of old wine kegs. He studied the labeled kegs, chose a Malbec, and then the shopkeeper tapped the keg and filled an old 2-liter water bottle with the wine. And it cost 2 euro!

Lena is ready to eat real food. Elliott offered her a taste of his peach a little while back, and now when she sees us eating peaches and nectarines (of which we eat about 3 apiece these days) she reaches for it and sucks on it. Rice cereal–the standard first food for babies–is going to be such a let down after sweet peaches!

1 :: in family, Italy, Lena, travel

Venice, Part III

September 18, 2011 at 4:24 am

Before long we got lost. What looked like a bridge on the map turned out to be a dead end. Or at least a potentially very wet end.

Undeterred, we journeyed on. Signs pointing to St Mark’s Square and the Rialto Bridge were generally helpful, unless they pointed the same way. They are not very close to each other.

We went back to St. Mark’s Square to get a picture with the famous lions, the symbol of Venice. I think Lena looks so stinkin’ cute in this picture!

Later that day we went back to the Rialto Bridge to watch part of the regatta (boat race).

I love doorways like these in Venice. I mean, what is this used for? A gondola garage?

Later that evening we found a grocery store and I cooked up dinner in our little kitchen.

2 :: in family, Italy, Lena, travel

rainy morning in San Antonio

September 16, 2011 at 5:36 pm

The crash of thunder and sudden torrential downpour woke me from restless sleep. I looked in the bed beside me. Elliott was gone.

He had slipped out of the house at 4:30am for a PT (physical training) test at Ft Sam. I had been sleeping lightly and praying urgently ever since. Elliott’s performance in today’s PT test was critical. His shoulder had been sore for the past few days, sore enough that he had several times asked me to carry Lena and her car seat while he carried lighter things. We were concerned the test wouldn’t go well. If Elliott collapsed in the middle of 50 push-ups, we’d be heading back to Sicily.

The rain kept pouring. Suddenly I sensed a movement in the apartment. Through a foggy haze, I realized Elliott was home, shuffling around quietly to avoid waking me or Lena. I wanted him to come so I could ask him how PT had gone. But I was too sleepy and he was too far away to call to him over the sound of the rain.

Vaguely I thanked God for the rain. We’re in the middle of the potentially worst drought in San Antonio history. (This seems to happen to poor San Antonio every two years.) Perhaps this torrential rain shower would stave off the record for another summer.

When I woke again, it was to Elliott slipping into bed beside me and Lena stirring awake. There’s no putting her back to sleep after she wakes up. I turned to Elliott, suddenly scared. Maybe he’d been hiding his PT results from me so I could get a good night’s sleep? He does that. He waits till I’ve eaten most of my dinner before he tells me he’s being deployed for a year, and so on.

“PT?” I asked, tense. “How did it go?”

A simple nod. “Fine.”

“You passed?”

Another nod.

I sank back into the pillow, grateful. So we would be here for the next two months, making a home (making room) in San Antonio while Elliott attended the mandatory Captain’s Career Course at Ft Sam Houston. Elliott scooped up Lena and sat her on his stomach. Still waking up, she surveyed him with glee, a huge smile spreading across her face.

“Lena, do you want to see the rain?”