the 36-month Parmigiano Reggiano is like a grande dame

It's a fact, the 36-month old Parmigiano Reggiano is a diva, like la Gina Lollobrigida, quite a statement, but well deserved.

Like my friend Maria would say: “it’s like l’olio nuovo, you don’t waste it to cook, you sprinkle it sparingly and must be enjoyed in small portions”, and here you have to imagine the Italian gesture of touching thumb and index finger together emphasizing the small

La dame of the Parmigiano family elevates a plate and a meal in a dialogue of all senses.

Maria and I met at an event hosted by a local art gallery intended to promote UN Women – United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women because yes, 

"Where women are more educated and empowered, economies are more productive and strong. Where women are fully represented, societies are more peaceful and stable."

-UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon

The gathering turned out to be more than the usual air-kissed one, conversations spanning from Art Basel pandemonium we all equally long for and dread, the similarities and extreme differences of growing up in Italy vs. in Connecticut in a family of Italian (and a few other) origins and how to empower young women transitioning from orphanage or foster care to an honorable and brilliant life and avoid looming homelessness.

How did we end up talking about il Parmigiano?

Put two Italian women together, wait 10 minutes and a recipe will manifest, in this case the Thanksgiving stuffing was the culprit. What else to expect other than Parmigiano in the recipe? Every family recipe has one famous secret ingredient, and sorry, but we take our Parmigiano seriously and we drive miles, even through holiday madness. Same for Pandoro at Christmas or the Italian Nutella, which, if you didn’t know yet, is the only one that tastes the real deal.

We may not have resolved world problems, but we:

1.       made an action plan for those young girls,

2.       nominated the best place to find the real Parmigiano Reggiano in Miami (other than in my house right now), 

3.       spoke Italian with a good dose of hand gestures and irony,

4.       declared the 36-month old Parmigiano the 'great unifier', from a plate of pasta con le cime di rapa to the all-American Thanksgiving’s stuffing.

Il Parmigiano is that cheese that still holds up to its fragrance, flavor, taste, rituals and perfection of nine centuries ago and for it it’s now a POD (Protected Designation of Origin).

Straight from Fornovo, where it comes from  

The characteristics: it’s the old one of the family, grainy and sandy, bit dry and crumbly, aromatic, intense, tangy.

Wines to pair it with: red wines with a certain character, like Barbaresco or Chianti D.O.C., sweet wines like Passito.

One more from the curiosities: even lactose intolerant patients can eat it.

Happy Thanksgiving!

My second post as Parmigiano Reggiano Ambassador. Here’s my first post. 

That time we ate a 4-pound chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano

Tonight in Italy is #PRnight2016 that is the night dedicated to celebrate the one and only Parmigiano Reggiano #theonlyparmesan

I accepted the investiture of Parmigiano Reggiano Ambassador as it is: a diplomatic role of story teller and in the next three months it is my intention that you all become acquainted with the Parmigiano Reggiano. It's just a cheese, you say, but it's ingrained in our culture and lifestyle, in slow food and zero mile approach to nutrition that it can be adapted to many other cultures and experiences. But as usual, you must follow some rules.

Really, the only thing I have to say is that there is only ONE parmesan, which is the one produced in the province of Parma, in Emilia Romagna (the one in the middle of boot, north of Tuscany and south of Lombardia). Parmigiano means 'from Parma'.

Why? Because to produce it there’s one rule above all that must be respected: use whole milk from the cows that live there. Very simple: soil, sun, cold, winds, trees, vegetation, seasons it’s a whole ecosystem that cannot be reproduced anywhere else.

Thinking of what parmigiano means to us, I came down to many depictions and adjectives, none of them is related to calories-count, fat content or tin container in the supermarket aisle.

CURIOSITY: Italian pediatricians recommend introducing Parmigiano Reggiano to 9 mo children for its content of calcium, protein, vitamins easy to digest.

I know some friends will be shocked or maybe even offended, “here she comes again, with the Italians do it better” but if you spar me a few minutes, you’ll get the point.

Convivial is the first adjective that comes to mind because:

1.   There’s no Italian fridge without a chunk of parmigiano

2.   My maternal grandparents

3.   My childhood

Imagine being in front of this nearly 4-pound slice from a 14 months Parmigiano Reggiano wheel at room temperature? All I can think of is a house full of people, wine and chatter, bread crumbles allover, maybe a fireplace, laughter and clicking glasses, something organized last minute, where friendship or family are more important of the formality of all glasses and plates matching.

Some of my friends and people that I have met in these two American decades of my life, had no idea THAT was parmigiano. It comes down to a cultural divide that the cheese itself will reconcile.

My story is very simple, and it’s a window to a typical Sunday in an Italian province.

After Sunday mass, we’d go to my grandmother’s for lunch, the five of us and it was a jovial and happy closure of the week (except for my father, the son-in-law, but that’s for a different time.) We’d buy the fresh pastries at the “pasticceria” and we’d make it to my grandparents’ apartment where the aroma of ragu with the bone of the “arista” simmering was mixed with the pungent smell of the shoe creams my grandpa used to polish his repertoire for the week, dark brown and black.

It all revolved around the kitchen and the covered balcony while the table was already set with embroidered table cloth and linen napkins in the living, where life was shared with a slow lunch, lots of chatter, maybe figurines, games, lots of laughter and screaming, no TV and limited infiltration of the scents of the kitchen.

When the water was boiling and grandma was ready to “buttare la pasta”, pour salt and past in to cook, my grandfather’s task was one of the best ones I have ever enjoyed: grating the parmesan to pour over the steaming pasta on the table.

The best part of that grating business was that he had two different chunks of parmigiano, quite the treat. My grandmother would always buy two different ages, 24 months to grate and 14 months “per I bimbi”, that is “for the children”.

And boy if we knew!

We would roam around grandpa like bees around the fig tree, he would let us have chunks “without anyone seeing you” (and by that he meant his daughter, aka my mother, because if we ate before sitting at the table, we wouldn’t eat the meal.) And that wasn’t it: when we’d seat at our designated post, which sometimes was a separate table just for the kids, the secret was to look on the main course plate, hidden by the pasta bowl, because chances were it was decorated by mini morsels of parmigiano all around.

Now that’s my story, a very sweet and tender one because yes my grandfather Bruno was a sort of a Santa all year round, but I am sure thousands of my Italian peeps and readers have their own grandpa version of the Parmigiano Reggiano.

HOW TO ENJOY THE 14 MONTHS:

·         Room temperature

·         Over a wooden board

·         Cut in bites

·         Enjoy profusely

·         Red wine (don’t tell my brothers, but I even go with prosecco and rose’ in the summer)

·         In the fall: pears, grapes, olives, the first sausages, artichokes or mushrooms under oil

·         In the spring and summer: strawberries and the real aceto balsamico or why not figs

·         Aperitivo and also when you have last minute friends over, remember it’s a perfect meal that provides the right amount of calcium and there’s no kid who doesn’t like it

SOME THING YOU NEVER DO (to look like a pro):

• Ask to pour it over any pasta with seafood or shellfish. That’s one of those things like asking for a cappuccino after a meal, that’ll give you the foreigner passport.
• Throw the rind away. Secret is, when you make il minestrone, the vegetable soup, you scrape the dirt off the rind and throw it in and let it simmer. You are welcome.

THE ITALIAN WAY: according to our grandmother’s recommendations, you don’t buy grated cheese punto!, because “you don’t know what they grate, they use the left-over of what they cut from the rind” and I spare you from the rest of the horrifying conspiracy theories of what we were told it was contained, but rat’s pee was the most decent.

TRUTH is the real Parmigiano Reggiano cannot contain shelf-stabilizing additives nor can be dehydrated. NOW you know why the whatever brand powdery stuff they sell in a non-refrigerated aisle at the supermarket is a sign that it’s not an Italian thing. Makes sense?

MAKE IT TO THE COMMENTS, I WANT TO KNOW YOUR STORY OR HOW THIS WILL MAKE YOU CHANGE YOUR FAMILY STORY

Hurricane Matthew: before, after and all in between

Florida has this thing (too) besides from being the state that everybody makes fun of, we have hurricanes and pretty much nothing else to brag about, except those pink sunsets.

Prepping for a hurricane is something else. 

Let me explain what’s it like to be told to wrap-up all your shit because winds and rain can wipe off your windows, car, roof, doors, power and shoes.

did you say hurricane?

They come with an announcement, the watch (36 hours to T time) and then a warning (24 hours to show time) and pandemonium ensues.

Why? Because we are in Florida, bro!

If you have hurricane shutters it’s time to put them up and then make peace with the fact that you’ll be living in prison for the next days.

The line at the gas station rivals the one at the supermarket where you also have to brave the fight for the cart. First aisle you go to, the water, is obviously emptied.

It gets physical, in my 20 years and several hurricanes I have had fully loaded carts running over my feet. Search for candles, oil lamps, batteries, because the ones you loaded the flashlights with last hurricane may be bad, but, wait, which batteries to buy? Because, bien sur, you left the house without checking, typical.

TIP: calculate 1 flashlight and candle per room, 1 gallon of water per person per day (what to do with the dog?)

Ice, lots of ice split in mini ice bags that will serve the purpose of maintaining food fresh if power goes off and freezer thaws.

Water, still water: when the time comes, fill in the bathtub with water because … you know by now.

Make sure laundry and dish washer are all done … because you know the drill.

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coming through, where's the caviar?

Then there’s the food thing.

By now school and office will be closed, the unknown is how long you will be stuck in prison. I am Italian, there’s that. Ain’t no hot dog, rice and beans, buns and corn that will cut the chase in da house. There are several reasons, one is because you can do “junk” with a certain aplomb, you can bake a frozen pizza, but you can also bake a quiche with leeks and camembert (first of the season, BTW), while younibble on brie, pears and walnuts with honey and pop a bottle of Prosecco (I know a chardonnay would be best, but prosecco has bubbles and puts everyone in a good mood), you can bake potatoes and lamb, you can make tagliatelle with lobster, you can have Zak the baker bread with butter and anchovies.

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Let them eat cake 

FACT: My “ritual” is to cook and bake while waiting for shit to hit the fan, because that’s when I unofficially start freaking out. Believe me, nothing that a few bubbles will not calm down.

That’s all the physical stuff that goes on a crescendo until when  we are in it and you realize that you ran like an ant to secure everything, you have more food that the house has ever seen in the past 6 months, and now you gotta wait.

That’s when you cross the legs and the foot starts twitching and you pour another glass of prosecco and open the book, page 42. And then "let me check if laptop, phones, iPads are fully charged" (which they are, because you checked 30 minutes ago and nobody used them).

And you go back, page 42 and you attempt to remind yourself that you promised you were going to catch up on all shows of fashion month you hadn’t been able to watch.

Why can’t you run like a maniac and then stop right now, relax and enjoy?

Because they call you from home and they ask you “How is it going? Did it pass by already?” and you have to go back at explaining how does it work and please don’t listen to whatever they are telling you on the Italian TV, and, anyways, we are stuck inside, we can’t see outside from this Alcatraz and we still have a roof and power and I was at page 42.

FACT: during the hours when what-s-its-name hurricane is supposed to hit, you have no clue if it’s really hitting where you are at, if trees are being ripped, if power poles are taken down, you are in an isolation room (or at least what looks like from the movies). 

TIP: do NOT watch the TV, they tell you "it'll kill you and we can't save you". 

FACT: when the power goes down, that’s when you can begin to freak out, legally. 

Hurricane attire: I don’t do sweats or pajama, too depressing.

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Rossella Jardini SS17 (See? I caught up with some shows)

Imagine for a moment: you are forced inside, locked in with shutters on every glass surface, literally taped with masking tape in an OCD attempt to prevent water from trickling in. You have compulsively showered one too many times (in case, you know, power goes off), it's understandable that there’s no reason to dress up, neither to slumber.

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how about being the first celebrity to wear Gucci SS17 off the runway?

FACT: AC is supposed to be blasting at the lowest temp manageable, get your winter stuff out and pretend it's the fall: cardigan, socks, beanie

TIP: when the power goes off and you are stuck with no window or door to be open you’ll remember how smart you were.

FACT: in 20 years, my first hurricane, insignificant as in cat.1 and can’t even remember the name, I evacuated after having moved the entire apartment in the only two rooms with no windows. Rookie move and I never evacuated again.

FACT: with Katrina a humongous ficus fell on my car 2 hours before the hurricane hit, and for three days it remained under. So much water had accumulated on the floor that tadpoles were born in it when the towing track removed it (in Florida we make up stuff). 

It had never happened to me that we were told: the office will be closed the next two days (which  meant a 4-day weekend) but then the same day the hurricane was supposd to hit, the first one when you did all of the above and you mind is finally OK with being in the dark and no sun you are told: we go back to work tomorrow. Maaaan, my mind doesn't go that fast, i just told you it took me all afternoon to calm down and read. 

Story short: I am still at page 42, quiche's gone, cheese is still good, prosecco finished. 

Slow living: it's a movement

Is it a Dolce Vita lifestyle as relevant in Italy as Hollywood stardom is in the States? 

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via Tortona 

Yes if that means the impromptu coffee because there's always a good reason for one, an old friend in town or closing a deal.

Yes if that means taking time for a real lunch free of rush and calorie counting.  

Yes if that means cherishing the bespoke navy cashmere blazer that makes a pair of ripped denim shorts look chic or sleeping in hand embroidered bed linen instead of keeping them just for special occasions.

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the magazine & some vintage emblems 

Then yes viva la Dolce Vita, we just call it in a different way, the very Millennial 'slow living'. During my visit at la Biblioteca della Moda in Milan I was introduced to a magazine dedicated to it, called The Lifestyle Journal and its essence is a Diary of Slow Living as one of the editorial explains.

A movement that invokes living life by taking your sweet time. Think when you rewind a movie to detect details, colors, words, a musical note that were gone missing: when you rush through time with the pressure of beating time itself you end up disregarding all the senses. You miss the flavor of the unsuspected herb in the sauce, the subtlety of a fine fragrance, the bells ringing at noon.  Slow life is an authentic life, surrounded by items collected throughout the years and handed from generation to generation, without excess or waste. Slow life is made of traditions, heritage, gracious random acts that make your life a fine and luxurious one. Slow living is discreet and understated like a fine cashmere sweater with elbow patches.

(image from The Lifestyle Journal @ Pinterest)

When you grow up in the Old Continent and then move and live in the New World, you are keen to notice the cultural bias and realize the golden treasure chest you carry without knowingly admitting it. You are brought up being conscientious and thoughtful, to the point that it is hard to part from things that accompanied you in special moments or that remind you of a vacation, a person, a family moment.  It is common to cradle family memories that revolve around the kitchen, whether preparing the pomarola or story telling or just playing dress up and hiding in the cabinets. There's a gastronomic culture that goes beyond taking cooking classes (which you don't really do, on the contrary you learn by assimilation observing your grandmother cooking while life revolves around the table). Food is serious business and regulates the heartbeat of your lifestyle.

(image from The Lifestyle Journal @ Pinterest) 

How does that connect with fashion? 

A typical interview to an Italian fashion designer ends up talking about food, fashion and family, the order varies the result is the same. We are passionate and can't help it. Memories of an armoire of haberdashery,  of summers spent cross stitching or creating the Carnival costume by grabbing garments from your mother's closet are common to all of us. Those are the rudiments, the roots that slow fashion wants to go back to. A time when things were done with time or like my grandmother says: le cose belle ci vuole tempo per farle bene, it takes time to make beautiful things.  Just guessing how many hours it takes for an atelier of alta moda to embroider a gown is a gamble, however it doesn;t mean that you have to wear couture, not at all. It is the exact opposite to voracious consumption, fast fashion. We are all guilty of falling into the temptation of walking into H&M and grabbing that trend trapper that will have a one-month lifespan before either disassembles or fades in the misfits lane. 

Moderating a fast paced life requires technique, tweaking modern habits and reinstating old ones like table manners, honoring time at the table for conversation, playing classical music. Let timeless elegance, style, culture, passion, originality go freely and savor the slow rhythm of quality. The pace of quality is slow and it helps touching an embroidery and recognize it from a print, indulge in a bite of a loaf of bread hot off the oven. 

Being Italian is a privilege, how hard could it be to acquire the sophistication of the Italian style?  Maybe if a book were written? 

Here's a day in Milan, when you are a tourist in your own country you look up and smell the roses.