Experience is the teacher of all things.
-Julius Caesar
France has been so good to me and my family I really should not complain.
But, as in life, some days are harder than others.
One of my biggest challenges living here in the south of France is I am not French, neither in my spoken language nor my ideologies. In that sense, I am very American. However, since I consider myself a Gringa (an American with an open mind to other cultures that has spent many years outside of the United States), I have earned and honed my adaptation skills to any kind of environment and culture. So in that aspect, I am learning from this new experience and welcome it, even if its difficult.
What I find hardest about living here is the fact that my friends and family are so far away. I really miss them since they are an important part of my life. I can talk, Skype, email...but the fact is, I miss their physical presence next to me. Although I am happy here with my husband and kids, I do miss cooking, shopping, and just spending time with my friends and family.
I really miss that. I really miss them.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Praying for Haiti
When catastrophic events happens, it touches our hearts, and we turn to God for prayer. As the people in Haiti affected by the catastrophic 7.0 magnitude earthquake centered in Port Au Prince, I pray for all of those injured, killed and displaced people and I ask the Lord to help each and everyone of them.
As the news reports continue to flow on CNN, I am awestruck that it was reported that the people in the streets with no home to go to, with nothing left, had enough strength in them to sing in prayer for help. Their suffering souls are singing to the Lord for help.
When there is nothing left, we look to the Lord. But why do we wait until something bad happens? Why does it take catastrophic events to get countries to help each other, to lend a hand, to give aid to the needy?
We need to Love as we are Loved.
May God Bless the people of Haiti, and my God help me find a way to help them.
As the news reports continue to flow on CNN, I am awestruck that it was reported that the people in the streets with no home to go to, with nothing left, had enough strength in them to sing in prayer for help. Their suffering souls are singing to the Lord for help.
When there is nothing left, we look to the Lord. But why do we wait until something bad happens? Why does it take catastrophic events to get countries to help each other, to lend a hand, to give aid to the needy?
We need to Love as we are Loved.
May God Bless the people of Haiti, and my God help me find a way to help them.
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.
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 th
e 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
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 th
e 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.
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
