Cooking with the Duchess in her Palermo Palace

Not just any Duchess. Nicoletta is THE Duchess. Her full name is Duchess Nicoletta Polo Tomasi Lanza and she runs occasional private cooking lessons in her palace on the sea in Palermo, Sicily. The delightfully full day's lesson was organized by Linda Plazonja of Morso Soggiorno. We met the Duchess in the early morning, outside of the hectic Viccuria market, where we shopped for the ingredients.

Duchess, banging through her shopping list

While shopping in the market, she was accompanied by our group (who mostly just helped carry the bags), plus her two young assistants. Then in her palace, her every need was serviced by her assistants plus her maid and butler. Dirty pots and utensils vanished as she finished with them.

Insalata Pantesca di Patate e Capperi (Potato Salad with Capers, Pantelleria Style)

Although she was raised in Venice, Nicoletta made Palermo her home when she married her royal husband and moved into his family's Palazzo Lanza Tomasi. The palace was built beginning in the late 1600s and was used in the 1700s as the Imperial College for the Education of Young Aristocrats. A bit of irony there.  The palace has been in her husband's family since 1850, and over the years, various pieces of it have been assembled by adding nearby properties. It is a grand and elegant place. After the cooking lesson in the kitchen, while the food was cooking, she took us on a walking tour through the public spaces in the palace, regaling us with its history.

We ate lunch in the dining room, with full service of china, silver and crystal. We were all grimy from cooking, but she tactfully overlooked it, including invited guests to join us at the table. They were properly dressed and coiffed for the elegant lunch we prepared - but which we dined on in our workout clothes and sneakers. Oh, and the Filipino waitstaff was crisply dressed in pressed whites.

Palace China with the Family Crest

Elegant Service for an Elegant Lunch

Me, looking ridiculous as I share a lovely lunch with a bank executive...conversing the whole time in French

Menu Cards Printed and Placed for each Diner (Doesn't everyone do that?)

Fish are Jumpin' at Viccuria Market, Palermo

I went fish-shopping at the Viccuria in Palermo. It is an outdoor food market -- one of several in Palermo, but this one is the oldest.  The fresh fish are right out of the Tyrrhenian Sea. The thing that struck me was that they are displayed like they are jumping off the counter. The heads are tied to the tails, putting them in a curvy pose, as if they are swimming in formation.

I was shopping in the market to procure the ingredients for a cooking class with a Duchess....more on that in a separate post. The Duchess is really picky about her vendors. First stop was for fish. She uses only this place. She had the fish monger slice the swordfish into very thin slivers, to use for rolling into Involtini di Pesce Spada (swordfish rolls).

The Duchess's Fishmonger at Viccuria Market, Palermo

Slicing Swordfish into thin Slivers

Involtini di Pesce Spada (swordfish rolls) ready for cooking

Bring on the Lardo

Lardo - All in its naked glory, Fat, Fat, Fat

While on a fabulous food trip through the Piedmont region of Italy, the pressure was on to taste the lardo. Linda Plazonja, who runs Morso Soggiorno, led this wonderful trip of off-the-beaten path artisanal food experiences. She insisted that I taste the lardo, assuring me that I would be glad I did. Lardo was not my first go-to item to choose from among beautiful meats, cheeses, olives and caponatas. Not being a big meat-eater, I was happy to eat the salami. It was heavenly. But Lardo?? A glistening wad of naked fat?  Well, I'm so glad I passed that slithery slab over my lips. Oh my!! I am now a lardo fan. It was delicious. Having read up on it, I now know that Lardo is not the same thing as Lard. Lard is a cooking fat, used like butter. Lardo (emphasis on the "OH!"), is a type of salumi, or charcuterie, sliced very thinly, and deserves its place on the antipasto plate. It is made by curing strips of fatback with rosemary and other herbs and spices.

Lardo sits on top of salami. It's almost like it's saying "Pick Me! Pick Me!", at Tra Arte e Quercia in Monchiero

Cheese and condiment sampler served with wine tasting at Cascina Val del Prete - different place, different story. Just showing this in contrast to the fat slabs of lardo

Truffle Hunting: It's all about the Dog, About the Dog

I always thought that without wild boar, the world would be truffleless.  Wrong. While the French rely on crazed pigs to find their precious truffles, the northern Italians use dogs. Really smart, really focused, well trained dogs.

I had the fantastic opportunity to go truffle hunting with Etzio and his dog Dora, in the Piedmont region of Italy. The trip was part of a terrific food-focused trip organized by Morso Soggiorno out of Boston. Etzio owns a large property where he hunts and occasionally lets visitors follow along with him. The property is located near Alba, and is about 35 miles southeast of Turino (known as Turin in English).
Etzio's land is covered with groves of trees, some maple, some oak and another whose name I didn't catch, even though it was translated into English. The truffles are like mushrooms, in that they are a fungus. But unlike mushrooms, the truffles are found about 6 inches underground, at the base of a tree, amid the roots, and within only a few feet of the tree's trunk. Truffles are an extraordinarily precious commodity. They are harvested for only a short period and because of the worldwide demand for them, a truffle broker waits nearby to purchase Etzio's findings. The white truffles are more valuable than the black ones; with white Alba truffles retailing at about $40 per ounce.

Etzio trained Dora to seek the scent of truffle around the tree bases. When she finds the smell, she begins to paw at the ground furiously. She would love to eat the truffle. Not happening. When Etzio sees that Dora has scored, he pets her enthusiastically, grabs her collar, pulls her away from the spot and bribes her with treats, usually pitching them far away as a diversion.

The first truffle we came upon was black. Its earthy aroma was more intense than any truffle or truffle oil I ever encountered. But, that was NOTHING compared to the perfect emanations from the white truffle. It's easy to understand in one sniff why the white is so much more precious than black.

Etzio carefully uses a tool much like an archeologist would, to unearth the impacted prize.

After about an hour of hunting, Etzio and Dora yielded 4 truffles, a mix of black and white. A broker weighed them, with two whites coming in at 65 grams.

Then, in the family-style trattoria near Etzio's hunting grounds, we experienced possibly the dreamiest pasta I ever ate. Shaved white truffles sprinkled over freshly homemade pasta.

Dazzling Golden Mosaics in Palermo Sicily's Monreale Cathedral

The Cathedral of Monreale is just 10 miles from the center of Palermo (20 minutes if the traffic is light - which apparently it rarely is). The church is one of the main attractions in Sicily, and all of Italy, too. It was built outside of Palermo during the time when the Arabs occupied Palermo, when the Catholic Bishop moved out. After the Normans drove out the Arabs in 1072, the Catholic Bishop moved back into Palermo. But this souvenir of the exile is a magnificent display of Arab influence through the use of Byzantine tiles. The brilliantly colored glass mosaics laid on a gold background cover the entire surface of the upper walls. The tiles are tiny and intricate, yielding art that looks like painting. The images tell the Bible stories to the probably mostly illiterate church-goers who have worshipped here since its dedication in 1182. This church is the largest display of Byzantine mosaics in Italy.

I am not exactly a Biblical scholar, so I was limited in my ability to pick out the bible stories from the pictures on the walls.

Depiction of the story of Noah's Ark (obviously)

Eve emerging from Adam's rib

The Adam/Eve story was tucked in the farthest corner of the top ceiling of the back of the church. A fellow traveler spotted it. Being virtually impossible to grab a decent photo because of the low light and the weird contortions needed to get the right angle, I resorted to the next best thing. I took a photo of a postcard in the gift shop outside the church.

Postcards in the gift shop - took a pic of the pic

The Tourists are Streaming

The stream of people walking on Newport's Cliff Walk thickens in the summer. As a regular cliff walker myself, my routine is a 4 mile round trip midsection which is also the part most heavily trafficked by out-of-towners.

Newport's Cliff Walk is an Elegant Backdrop for Wedding Photos

The path is flanked on one side by the Atlantic Ocean, bordered by bunches of flowering shrubs.  The other side of the path opens to expansive lawns of mansions built in the early 1900s as summer retreats for ultra wealthy industrialists, their families, friends and (of course) their servants. Today, many of the mansions are operated as museums, open for tours. The Preservation Society of Newport County manages the mansions. That's where the point of this blog comes in. The Cliff Walk is a tourist magnet too; just like the mansions formerly owned by the Vanderbilts and the Astors.  As visitors stroll the path, they pause to snap photos - of the grand homes and the ocean views.

The Vanderbilt's Breakers, seen from the Cliff Walk

Ocean side view of the Breakers' back yard

Here is a photo of some tourists as they are about to enter the tunnel that snakes underneath the Chinese Tea House on the property of Marble House.  Marble House was owned by the Vanderbilt family. http://www.newportmansions.org/explore/marble-house

By stopping to take this photo on the Cliff Walk, I probably looked like a
tourist too.

Napa or Sonoma: Can't Decide? Choose Pride

My son and I had only enough time to visit one vineyard in the area north of San Francisco. Just one hour drive north of San Francisco, we could be in the vast wine growing region of Napa County and Sonoma County. With hundreds of potential places to go, the possibilities are numbing. Napa or Sonoma? How to see the region without feeling trapped in a tasting room?
We chose Pride Mountain Vineyards as the perfect solution. Pride is on top of a mountain, called Spring Mountain, which straddles the Napa/Sonoma county line. It is in the northern area of the wine sector. That meant traversing almost the whole region up the western side through Sonoma County (on the 101) and allowed a return by a different, easterly route down through Napa, via the charming town of St. Helena. Pride's mountain access road is a 30 minute climb on a sun-dappled country lane, up a sinuous path of linked switchbacks. The isolated rural road was a welcome contrast to the bumper to bumper, stop and go traffic crawl out of San Francisco. Maybe we passed 4 people; tops.
Pride Vineyard's tour of its cave and tasting experience took about 45 minutes and was particularly well done. Host Scott pointed out the distinct line cutting through the property to demarcate the Napa side from the Sonoma side.

Napa/Sonoma line runs right through the vineyard, jiggles across the parking lot, and continues into the processing area

He emphasized the importance of segregating the grapes by county of origin. For wine labeling, they need to accurately track where the grapes were grown. The origin regulations allow some wiggle room for a small percentage of the non-dominant wine to be blended in.  To enjoy the status of being produced in Napa, he explained, with a hand motion pushing his nose into the air (meaning Napa is snobby?), the vineyard must certify that the grapes were grown on land in Napa County.
My brother in law, the wine expert told me that Pride's 2012 Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve is particularly well regarded, and I should get "a few bottles" if I could. At the end of the tour, I asked. That wine is $135 per bottle and it's not for sale -- unless you are a member of their wine-buying club.  I'm not. I didn't go home with that wine.  I'm not proud.

Pride Vineyards Host Scott

George Washington Wrote Here

225 years ago, George Washington wrote a letter "To the Hebrew Congregation in Newport", which is now known as the Touro Synagogue in Newport, Rhode Island. To mark the historic importance of the letter, the congregation and the Touro Synagogue Foundation conduct an annual "Letter Reading", around the time that the letter was sent. The setting is the beautifully restored Touro Synagogue, built in 1763.
 
The letter was only four paragraphs long, but they were four powerful and significant paragraphs and they are regarded as critical in the history of the Jewish people in the Colonial United States.  The letter reading evolved into today's two hour event filled with greetings from dignitaries, announcements of scholarships and an award to Teny Gross, leader in the Institute for the Study of the Practice of Nonviolence. The colonial costumed color guards pumped up the pomp, as did the reception in the garden, where cherry pie was served.
George Washington wrote his letter as a reply to the August 17, 1790 note of thanks from Moses Seixas on behalf of the Jewish congregation in Newport at the time. Mr. Seixas had written to President Washington of gratitude for "a Government, which to bigotry gives no sanction, to persecution no assistance..." and "For all these Blessings of civil and religious liberty which we enjoy under an equal benign administration..."
George Washington replied that he rejoiced in the fact that the Citizens of the United States of America have a right to applaud themselves, and "May the Children of the Stock of Abraham, who dwell in this land, continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other Inhabitants...."

Actor portraying George Washington, reading his letter to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island

The program wrapped up with a singing of God Bless America. It was difficult to avoid get teary-eyed.

I loved this photographer with a Star of David stamped on his head.
Note the paper fan with George Washington's picture, handed out to everyone on a hot August day without air conditioning.

AFAR Magazine Published my Panama Pool Pick

AFAR Magazine put together a report on 21 insanely cool hotel pools in the world. They picked my Panama City story. Of course it means that I am insanely cool, too.

"FLOATING ON THE TALLEST BUILDING IN LATIN AMERICA

One of the coolest places to stay in Panama City, Panama is the tallest building in Latin America. The Trump Ocean Club International Hotel is the hotel du jour in this city of exploding construction. The multi-storied lobby is peppered with edgy art, including a large mural made of American pennies forming a woman’s face – that can only be perceived from a distance. The rooftop pool deck is the end-of-the-day magnet. An infinity pool dares to protrude out to the skyscraper’s edge. It is hard to detect where the pool’s water ends and the Pacific Ocean begins. The lounge chairs’ feet are submerged in a few inches of shallow water, inviting you to wade in to grab a chair. It is completely delightful to saunter out to the pool area after a long hot day of sightseeing or canal-traversing. With an icy drink in hand, you can look across the waters’ edge and take in the Panama City skyline".

A Different Kind of Journey

NOTE: This entry also appears as the start of a different blog, called "Ready For Death But It Just Won't Come". Go to http://readyfordeathbutitjustwontcome.blogspot.com

Flying over the Serengeti in Tanzania

Bags ready to go. But where?
My mother is ready to depart this world.  She is tired of living and has announced that she wants to die. She said that she is all packed up and she is just waiting. She's not suffering from a terminal disease, or even from a chronic disease. Rather, she has sustained loss after loss after loss, until she just feels beaten down. She is blind. She has trouble hearing. Her balance is terrible, making it impossible to walk without someone constantly by her side. She was asked to leave the singing group in her elderly home because she could no longer follow the words. The bridge group squeezed her out a long time ago. She outlived two husbands. She needs 24/7 aides to get through the day safely. Moving in and out of a car is just too hard. So she stays in her apartment. Recently, she started opting not to get up to go the kitchen for a meal, choosing instead to sit on the edge of the bed to eat. Scooping her food onto a utensil is history. Now she must be fed like a baby. Sticking with reality for the duration of a phone conversation is also gone. We can talk about the here and now just for now, but then she drifts into fantasy which has become her reality. "Guess what? I went to China yesterday for the day". "I made reservations at Claridge's in London because I haven't been to the Tate in a while". "The company is sending me to Russia because I'm the only person who speaks Russian and they know it".
I got my wanderlust from mom. Ever since she was a little girl growing up very poor in rural Virginia, she knew there was an exciting world to be explored and she resolved to see it all. She loved a photo book of the world's wonders that she used to leaf through with her grandfather. It's called "Shepp's Photographs of the World". For her 70th birthday, my stepfather hunted down a copy, long out of print, and gave it to her. She wept in gratitude when she opened his gift.

She has promised to leave the book to me. The usual suspects were her early checklist -- Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, Roman Colosseum, Matterhorn, the Pyramids. But, the more she traveled with my stepfather, who made it possible for her to realize her travel dreams, the more exotic her goals became. She just had to go to Mongolia and sleep in a yurt. She went to Djibouti -- well, just because. Of course, African safaris were early items on her list. I remember her telling me about when a baboon crept into her hut while she was at dinner, dumped out the contents of her purse onto the bed, twirled open her lipstick, and ate it. After my stepfather passed away in 2001, she kept traveling, into her 80s. She hadn't been to Antartica, so she signed up by herself for a cruise, stocking up on the thick socks and long underwear that she lacked in her Florida residence. She traveled with the Philadelphia Art Museum's trip to Bhutan. Later, she confessed that she had confused it with Angkor Wat, which she had also wanted to see. Bhutan was nice -- but too much walking, she said. So much, in fact, that the Museum later clarified some capability requirements for its travelers on subsequent trips. The trip leader probably did not appreciate having to keep mom safe while touring the temples, wobbling on her cane. She parasailed off a cruise ship in the Caribbean and when she had trouble landing after her flight, she mentioned to the crew attendant that she had a recent knee replacement. He told her she should have notified him before going up. Mom said, "If I told you, you wouldn't have let me go". That's my mom. Always charging forth for the next adventure. She is preparing for this trip, too.  But it is so terribly hard for me to watch her get ready to leave.

Mom and Me, Just Going out to Dinner

Don't Pass Up the Mustard in Middleton, Wisconsin

National Mustard Museum in Middleton, Wisconsin

I had about an hour to fill during a visit to Madison, Wisconsin. Flipping through the tourist brochures of things to do in the area, I noticed the National Mustard Museum in nearby Middleton, Wisconsin. It claims to hold the world's largest collection of mustards. A quick drive away, it was a great little excursion. The Museum is the lower floor of a gourmet food shop that mostly sells mustards of all flavors from around the world. Admission to the museum is free, and you can stand in the center of the floor and see the whole thing by turning around in a circle. But you won't want to. The cases on the walls will draw you in. There are cabinets displaying mustard jars, categorized by country or state of origin. The operators of the museum have a groan-inducing sense of humor. The Mustard Piece Theatre in the back of the room runs loops of educational films about -- mustard. In the gift shop, you can buy a post card or even a poster saying "Feeling Condimental?" or better yet, a Julie Andrews look alike in the Alps, in the "Sound of Mustard". Fifteen minutes is plenty, but worth it for the grins - or the grains.
7477 Hubbard Ave, Middleton, WI 53562 · (800) 438-6878

To Blur or Not To Blur? Newport Mansions upstaged by Millions of Daffodils

Newport, Rhode Island's Cliff Walk popped with color last weekend as the millions (or trillions) of daffodilians burst into bloom. The brilliant yellow blossoms look like carpets running along the pathways and into the woods. After such a long, dreary winter, the flowers were a very welcome sight.

I just wanted to focus on the flowers....Everything else was a blur.

The Mansions look dreamier when they are just a smudge in the background

Actually, the mansions look awfully nice when they are in focus, too

Flowers front and center; Mansion a gray blob.

This mansion is Ochre Court of Salve Regina University