Thursday, December 31, 2009

A New Year, A New Path, A New Miracle

"The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of appreciation for goodness." -Dalai Lama

A new year is upon us, upon me, upon my family, and upon my friends. As 2009 comes to a close, the dawn of 2010 sheds a new light of hope, as with every new year. For most, it comes in the form of new goals, new plans and of course, the famous resolutions.

As the new circle begins, my mind is also churning with my new conceptions of what I want 2010 to bring, to represent, and my place in all of it. So I have come up with my own plan in hopes that my attempt at a true commitment in my endeavors will prove fruitful throughout the year.

My plan is called "Solo Bueno" and although I will not reveal what my plan entails, I can say that I hope it will lead me down a new path where miracles can happen.

Goodbye 2009, and I open my heart to 2010...whatever it may bring.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Tradizionale Italiano and the Witches of Triora

"Look deep, deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better." -Albert Einstein

Perched atop the alps of the Argentine Valley in Italy, lies an ancient mystical village where nature and spirits had once danced together in an evil macabre of witches and gruesome treachery. The medieval village of Triora had once been a place centuries ago with documented tortures and witch trials and as you walk through the dark and gloomy cobblestone pathways, you can silently feel the dread that filled the souls of the executed and the darkness of their executors.

As I looked out onto the valley before me terraced with agricultural beds, I acutely felt the delicate balance between humans and nature and how such remote places such as this, as morbid as it once used to be, was a place with sustainable agriculture that fed and nourished the entire village. What is most interesting to me is the amount of physical strength it took during these ancient times to cultivate the land without any modern day farming equipment or tractors, and the food preparation as well.
And where did I end up most fascinated in their Etnografico Museum? The kitchen of course.
The homeade tools they created to process and make their food like giant mortar and pestles made out of tree trunks requiring strong arms and back muscles is something I can barely imagine.

The type of cuisine of this region of Liguria in the province of Imperia which is adjacent to the French border is called "Cucina Bianca" where the emphasis on the cuisine was obviously energy driven for the hardwork in sowing and reaping the harvests. Starches, root vegetables, and dairy predominated their meals, however, a prized specialty of this region are all the mushrooms. I am now starting to wonder if all this witchcraft and heresy had something to do with some of the hallucogenic mushrooms found in nature.

Just below in the small village of Molini di Triora, where apparently the apparition of the Virgin Mary had once took place across the river, we spent a wonderful night with a special group of friends at an Antico Ristorante Albergo called "Santo Spirito" where this old family owned hotel and restaurant gave us warm Italian hospitality along with a 10 course authentic, homestyle meal made by noneother than the "Mama".

We started with the cold anitpasti plate, followed by a warm one. One plate of fresh ravioli with pesto and another of tagliatelli al funghi followed. A small digestive lemon sorbet called "Trou Normand" was served as an intermission, before the rest of the brigade. The Sanglier, Bambi, and Hens served with a creamy side of polenta squares were followed by Escargots. We were served at least 5 different types of local cheese accompanied with artisinal honey. Vanilla ice cream topped with caramel and a separate plate of fruit crostatas were for dessert while the homeade Limoncello and Grappa gingerly danced their way around the table. The meal concluded with a glass of champagne and Italian espressos afterwards.

As we all sat, ate and drank merrily surrounded in the warm dining room filled of antique radios, copper pans, and straw-woven witch dolls, I felt an incredible joy and appreciation for this special and unique moment, where I was transported to an ancient time. Savoring the traditional flavors, perhaps it was the wine, or the limoncello, maybe it was even the witches or the Virgin Mary across the river, but whatever that energy was, I understood everything better.




Mama de la cucina Italiana, Antico Ristorante Albergo "Santo Spirito"
Molini di Trioria, Italy

Thursday, November 26, 2009

The Mystery of the Pineapple Upside Down Cake


"Every age, every culture, every custom and tradition has its own character, its own weakness and its own strength, its beauties and cruelties;"- Herman Hesse

Although it is still a mystery to most food historians on when the first Pineapple Upside Down Cake was originally made, the cake has been dated back to 1924 (Fashionable Food: Seven Decades of Food Fads (1995) Sylvia Lovegren). Since this cake is one of my favorites, with caramelized sweet and succulent pineapple in combination with a light airy cake topped with Marachino cherries, it always makes me smile when I eat it. So, I chose to make a variation on an old theme by making Pineapple Upside Down Muffins.

This idea of making a variation on an old theme got me to thinking about modern day food and its evolution compared to tradtionaly prepared food and menus. It is no surprise that people eat different today than in years or centuries past. People have evolved, food products are readily available, and technology has played a large part in the evolution of food preparation. What once took several hours to prepare, might now only take an hour. Old traditions and cultures slowly have evolved and have been replaced with modern conveniences and new ideas of how life is to be lived with an emphasis on making things faster, quicker and easier.

As I began to emphatically study French cuisine since I have moved to France, with of course Julia Child serving as my reference Bible with her clear American explanations and instructions which I love, I decided to start looking into the nuances of French culture and traditions that I feel both are related to each other gastronomically and philosophically.


What strikes me as most interesting is the fact that one of the reasons that a country like France appeals to many people worldwide is its wealth in its preservation of its grandiose historical landmarks and architecture, and the way that the French live with this constant underlying presence of an ancient time with their small streets and old buildings, yet in a modern era with cell phones and laptops. It is this ancient influence that I as an American, believe that the French are rich in their traditions, even though globalization and new generations are tending to slack off on keeping these traditions as alive as they used to be.

So now, with all of this in mind, I fear that gastronomically, we are losing our keeness in traditional flavors of classic prepared dishes, that are either unappetizing now, because of their fat content and the long time they take to prepare. Lets face it, microwaves are in most kitchens, and in 2 minutes, Voila! I can have a hot dinner. Where does that leave the gastronomic imprint in our minds when a certain flavor is lost or forgotten over time.

As I obsessively study my cookbooks and food magazines, I see all the artfully prepared gourmet presentations, almost too beautiful to eat, but I wonder, if these plates would take me back to a historical time in France, or even to a grandmother's kitchen. I highly doubt it.

For me, food is passion, food is love, food is an experience of life, and a representation of what we grow, the time it takes to grow, the harvest, and how we transform these precious ingredients into a tradition that stays with us throughout our lives and the lives of our children. My fear, is that these traditions are slowly fading, and that generations before me will not reach the minds of generations to come.

I can study, cook and read to my hearts content, but I must not forget the flavors of yesterday since they are the basis and foundation of every plate I will cook.

But I have to say, these Pineapple Upside Down muffins sure taste good.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Reality Check

"The key is not to prioritize what's on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities."-Stephen Covey

Its been more than several months that have passed since I last made an entry. For a while my writing was flowing and my thoughts clear, but then it stopped once I realized people were reading my blog. All of a sudden, I got scared and felt under pressure hence began the writers block that silently agonized me over the summer and into the fall.

Call it a busy summer with endless visits by family and friends, or just plainly not having the time to collect my thoughts, or better yet, living life...but the truth of the matter is that I get scared when people read what I write which is terribly hypocritical of me since I am the one who created this blog in the first place into the great space of the virtual world for everyone to see.

The other day I had a "Come to Jesus" converstation with my husband Nicolas and asked him, "Is there any room in my life for me?". The house, taking care of the kids, Taylor's therapy regime, leave just about 1 hour in my day when I go to bed, for my personal time, which is usually spent reading. Since I have had some recent revelations and new ideas for the coming year, I finally told him about the inner struggle I was dealing with. His answer: Its all a matter of organization.

Perhaps he has something here. One of the famous self-help authors Stephen Covey, whose book "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People" has once said that "
The key is not to prioritize what's on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities." My tendency is to put my family's priorties ahead of mine, leaving me with only with whatever time there is left to do my own thing. However, my family is my priority, but I suppose self-preservation should come first since you really can't help others until you help yourself first. For me its kind of a selfish philosophy, but there is truth and value in it.

So again, I begin, on this personal journey to selfishy work on my own project.


Thursday, May 28, 2009

The Tale of Princess Nanny

by Juanita Viale and Isabella Viale

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess from Vienna named Princess Nanny. She was the most beautiful princess, no arugas, not viejita, but very beautiful.

One day as she was looking out the window of her majestic castle, she saw the ocean, and how pretty the waves of the crystalline ocean moved, she thought to herself, "ahhh, how much I would love to meet a prince and smell the flowers he would bring me."
Then in the distance she heard something, and it became louder and louder. What could it be?

"Tabouleh, tabouleh, freshly made, buy it today, Taboulehhhh!!!!"

She looked down from her window, and saw this tall, poor peasant selling Tabouleh. However, he didn't look like the usual peasant from the nearby village. There was something different.
He was tall, and she saw the reflection of the sun from the top of his head, and in that moment, as she saw the light, the poor peasant Tabouleh salesman, looked up, and smiled politely at her.

It was as if lightning struck, for the princess could not move, she was frozen. Her heart was racing, but she could not let anyone see her face, because a princess can never be caught with rosy red cheeks. Her dignity as a innocent royal princess might be lost along with her virtue.

She quickly turned around and went to her bed and sat there listening to her heart pounding not knowing what to do next.

The dinner bell rang, and the princess washed her face before she floated down the stairs to the dining quarters. She sat down at the table and the butler removed the sterling silver cover from her dinner plate. She gasped. She couldn't believe it. Tabouleh.

The queen mother Isabelle asked, "My darling Marie, you looked as if you saw a ghost, what is the matter?"
"Nothing Mother, everything is fine. It is just that this is the best smelling Tabouleh I have ever smelled" she quickly replied.
"Yes, we had it specially delivered because your father, King Segundo, tasted it the other day and immediately fell in love with it."

So did she, she thought to herself.

She ate the entire plate, and asked for seconds. She couldn't get enough. King Segundo was so pleased he asked his staff to go fetch the good man that made such a favorable Tabouleh.

A few moments later, the tall peasant walked in and the princess held her breath and kept her eyes on her plate afraid her parents would notice.

"Kind Sir, please tell us where you are from" the King politely demanded.

" I am of Russian descent my Lord, and I come from God's country", he proudly proclaimed.

In that moment, the princess accidentally knocked her wine goblet over, spilling the red wine all over her embroidered dress.

"Ahhh!", she screamed.

Immediately, the poor peasant ran over and took a dining napkin to her big bosoms to wipe of the wine. The princess fainted from the touch of his hands upon her breast and fell into his arms.

After the peasant carried her to the sofa, the King held his sword and knighted the poor peasant for saving his daughter. When the princess woke up, the peasant Tabouleh salesman was dressed in his new knighthood attire and stood on one knee before her.

He asked, "My kind princess, ,would you give me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?".
She looked at him and asked "Do you have Tatoo?".
"No", he replied, " I don't have Tatoo."
A moment later, she looked deeply into his eyes and faintly whispered, "Only if you give me another bowl of your Tabouleh."

And they lived happily ever after.













The End

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Taylor's 2nd Birthday BBQ

"A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world"-Leo Buscaglia

Nicolas and I decided to celebrate Taylor's 2nd birthday with a bbq with all of our new friends in our new life. Being that we are masters of orchestrating great bbq's, we thought the idea of spending an afternoon in our garden with our new friends would be a great way for everyone to get to know our family, especially the birthday girl.

The day couldn't have been prettier. Blue skies, warm weather and the shade of our wonderful olive tree made for the perfect place to have our special celebration. Nonna came in the night before and helped with the children and the decor. She said to me, "Saquier has changed, the energy is different now", and I replied, "We are here now".

That thought bounced around in my head for the next few moments as I vividly flashed back to all of my long and emotional days in Hosptial de Ninos. Back then, never would I have thought that we would be here in France, on Papi Paul's vineyard, in the same playground that Nicholas played in as a child. And now here we are, Taylor strong, progressing, reacting, smiling, thriving and all of us as well. Really....a miracle.

All of our friends arrived, the music began, and the smell of grilling meats and sausages wafted through the air with the gentle breeze. The conversations flowed with Bellet wine, and the laughter of the kids playing echoed in the background. The surrounding scenery of the blooming vines, the olive trees and the rugged mountains across the valley embraced us and made for beautiful pictures bringing out the natural and kind essence of our friends.
As we sang happy birthday to Taylor and blew out the two candles on her Tarte Tropezienne, I noticed that we were in the center of the circle. I grinned as I knew Taylor and Isabella are the center of our universe.

The day ended, and as Nicholas, Nonna, Girla, Taylor and myself relaxed in the garden, the peaceful quiet returned and we sank back into our chairs and cushions and just felt the love.

Happy Birthday Taylor.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The Day that Everything Changed


"Experience is the teacher of all things." -Julius Caesar

When people bear their children, the feeling of one's life purpose sinks in. This new creation, is now the reason for one's existence. I felt it when I had my first daughter, Isabella, and as I was being wheeled into the delivery room for the second time on May 20th 2007, a month earlier than my due date, I knew that the next few hours would define who I am and who I would become for the rest of my life.

After 4 pushes, Taylor flew out, her two strong cries bounced off the walls in the delivery room, but then fell silent. I handed her to the doctor and told him she wasn't breathing. This would be the beginning of what would be the most emotionally painful experience of my life.

The fact that she is alive is a miracle. For her to be able to survive for so long with hardly any lungs is something that I give thanks to God every morning. I will not get into the details that followed, because she is here, alive and well. The obsessive play-by-play details that ensued after she was born and the months she spent fighting for her life in the hospital is more of my own issue, since she was the one who did all the work. I could only pray, and touch whatever part of her tiny little body that didn't have any tubes connected to it...her feet.

Anger, despair, frustration, but most of all, the pain and sadness from my soul that only a mother can understand, filled those eternal days in the waiting room, and the unbearable nights back in the hotel room. I wanted to know why. I wanted to blame someone. I wanted to blame myself. I wanted to blame the doctor. I wanted to blame God.

There was just no way for me to claw my way out of this deep hole, and all I could do was wait. I would agonize over the fact that my sadness had no place since Taylor was the one fighting. I could only give her strength, instead of focusing on my weaknesses. But how? I was an empty shell.

Every experience during those months, with my family by my side, with the families of the other babies, with the doctors, was an unexplainable moment in my life, and perhaps was the reason that I would never see life with the same eyes any more. The life that I had taken for granted so many times, would be the one that I now cherished in every moment and in every second.

It was during these moments, that I regained my faith in God and I what it is to pray. I do believe Taylor is a miracle, a direct message from God, and although the lesson has been extreme, I do believe that perhaps I would have never learned so much had this never happened. How could I? It is as if a rite of passage was laid out before me with no other option but to take it.

The raw painful feelings of those months and of the day she was born still surface from time to time, but have formed a special place inside of me that ironically fuels my strength. I know that her road ahead is long, and the mountain of struggles to climb will require a lifetime of dedication, strength and patience. But in the pool of her deep blue eyes, I can see the spirit of God who will help her every step of the way, illuminating the path. And it is the Love of our family surrounding her that will carry us up to the top.







Monday, May 18, 2009

A Girls Weekend in Corsica


"Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions."- Dalai Lama


As much as I love my house, I had to leave. Time for this bird to see new things as well as my little birds, Isabella and Taylor. The choice was clear. Corsica
.

Traveling to Corsica was alot easier than I had expected in that I was traveling by myself and the girls. Taking the car was the best idea, and was a breeze on the ferry. We boarded the Corsica Ferry, and within less than a half hour, we were comfortably set up in our handicap cabin, and already on deck with the other passengers waving goodbye to the coastline of Nice speckled with sunbathers.



Girla, well, she just made herself right at home, and by the end of our outward journey, she had won the affection of some Harley Davidson riders on board, as well as a few other passengers.

We arrived and headed south to a small understated town called Folleli. Our hotel was located on the beach on a vast private piece of lush property. For a moment, I thought I was back in Costa Rica as I watched the leaves of the palm trees sway with the gentle breeze.

Our villa was so simple and charming, at immaculately clean. Just being able to wake up in the morning and go out onto the terrace laced with roof high roses made me instantly feel like we chose the right place. By 9am we were eating our 'petit dejeuner' on the restaurant's terrace over looking the blue meditteranean. By no means were we in the most beautiful part of Corsica, but it was the fact that since it was pre-season, and a gorgeous day, it really didn't matter. We were here. Most of the morning was spent on the beach, afternoon lunch in another nearby village of San Nicalao. Pizza, salad, and a small craffe of wine served in a charming little decanter...we were happy. I was continually amazed to see the beautiful flowers everywhere. I guess Corsicans have green thumbs. As for me, I seem to be really good at growing weeds!


The natural landscape of the eastern side of Corsica reminded me of a combination of Costa Rica and France. With the lush nature, high mountains, sprinkled with French villas and vineyards, it was like I had just found my new Tamarindo.

My time with the girls was so wonderful. Their faces beaming with beautiful smiles.

Corsica, we will see you soon.


Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Fighting the Weeds

“If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude"-Maya Angelou

We planted our first garden in November 2008 with broad beans, lettuce, fennel, onions. As soon as the spring came in 2009 I started adding to it. I planted peppers, tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini...expecting of course to grow some of the Meditteranean's finest harvest.

As our lettuce, beans, artichokes proved likewise, the rest are kind of in a standstill from flourishing. I am not sure why, although I seem to be growing weeds with no problem. I weed, I water, but the plants are still about the same size, maybe they have grown a little. To make my gardener's ego feel worse, Auntie Helen planted tomatoes, zucchinis, and eggplants in her large green house with the help of the vineyard worker, in a neat and professional manner, and the plants have grown so much in just two weeks!

Although I don't have such help at my disposal, I refuse to believe that my little fighters/survivors won't grow in the very soil that nutures and grows so many vines that produce the wine on this family vineyard. The weeding is endless, and just when I think I have pulled them all out, in a day or two, more creep out. I refuse to put any chemical...that is the whole point of this garden. Organically grown for our family.

It seems, that I can't even miss a day tending this struggling garden, otherwise all hell breaks looks.

One of the greatest joys is when Nicholas made our first Saquier Salad with our beans, artichokes, and lettuce. A real Nicoise specialty, and was absolutely divine. We were beside ourselves as we ate our wonderful salad outdoor in the late spring sun, convinced that no restaurant on the Cote d'Azur could provide a salad as fresh as this one. We relished this moment, and all of a sudden we wanted to plant everything possible.



But before I set out on this back breaking, daunting task, (since it is my back which has its own story to tell), I wanted to see what we alreay have in the garden grow.

Everytime I weed, I get into this meditative state and start thinking about life. I realize that this vicious weeds represent all of life's challenges, and if I miss or ignore just one, I know I can expect to see these weeds mulitply ten fold. If you don't pull the weed by it's roots, its like cheating, because the weed is still there and will continue to fester my innocent plants.

After a glass of wine, I relaxed, but the frustration of me being able to continue with the garden lingered, as well as my expectation of disappointment...dead plants.

However, I wouldn't make any drastic decisions, so I told Gira to water the garden while I took a nap hoping that when I wake up, I will have a different attitude. For now, its status quo...so I will go on.



Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Thoughts Speaks Louder than Words

“Unless a life is lived for others, it is not worthwhile” - Mother Teresa of Calcutta

When I search for some clarity, a deeper thought, perhaps an intellectual ephiphany, I ask myself if I would be able to recognize it? Would I be able to really listen and understand the message rather than just to hear the words?

So I began the search, but whose words would help me the most? And would their message be to complicated or too religious for me to comprehend or to use? And in what context? What is it that I am looking for?

Maybe I am thinking to much, for such a great answer, and maybe the answer I seek is in the simplest form. So perhaps, my answer is Love.
Such a long story, a pandora's box really, but maybe its time I open that box, and in doing so...find the obvious of that which I cannot see.

So I begin.