C’era una volta. . . once upon a time. . . Max (Massimo Melani) met Wally (Walter Sanders) in Firenze. Here’s the story in their own words.

The Basilica of Santa Croce holds priceless artistic and historic treasures.

Massimo
First, a few words about the Leather School: Workshop, Laboratory and Show Room of the finest leather goods situated in the old Franciscan monastery of the Santa Croce Basilica in Florence. It was a marvelous place, as were the splendid people working there.

It all started with the Patron Marcello Gori, the owner and director of the Leather School.

Those years in the early 1970s were characterized by a kind of elite tourism. And the Leather School attracted many of these well-traveled, wealthy tourists from around the world. Marcello Gori ensured that his sales and service personnel were first class as well. The staff was multilingual, elegantly dressed, rather good looking and with long experience abroad. I was one of those.

One day in 1972, the owner presented us a colleague, an American boy from Chicago—a certain Wally Sanders, very smiling person, who looked like a survivor from Woodstock or San Francisco–absolutely the first foreigner who was going to work with us.

More about Max, Wally and Lampredotto

One in an occasional series of conversations with those who try to “live Italian” wherever they are.

"La Principessa" in Perugia

Linda Dini Jenkins is a freelance travel writer and photographer and the author of Up at the Villa: Travels with my Husband (more later on how to win a free copy!). She also blogs regularly about travel and travel writing at Travel the Write Way and teaches creative writing and journaling. She enjoys taking small groups of friends, to explore what Italy has to offer beyond the Florence-Venice-Rome triumvirate, and she can pack her suitcase in 15 minutes.

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Q: Living “Italian”. . . Is it a great way to live or the greatest way to live?
A: Well, I think it’s the greatest way to live. When you take into account the slower pace of life (outside the big cities!), the immersion in history and art, the fantastic cuisine, the love of design and music, the respect for taking time out to enjoy the simple things . . . whether it’s Italian or Mediterranean or European, it’s how I want to live.

Q: Why?
A: Are you kidding? Start with the food, the design sensibilities, the language, the arts, the vino, the pausa, the passeggiata . . . need I go on?

Q: When did you discover your Inner Italian? What is your Inner Italian named?
A: I always knew about my Inner Italian but, like other children of first-generation Italian-Americans who desperately wanted to assimilate, “being Italian” was something that just happened and was never really encouraged. In fact, I’d heard stories growing up of how hard it was for my father to be Italian in a New York suburb in the 1930s and ‘40s; even being Italian in my first job in New York in the 1970s was something of a liability. And I was always a little ashamed after that of being part Italian (my mother’s side of the family was English/Irish/German) until I met my husband and he took me to Italy in 2000. Since then, I have been a proud and vocal Italian-American. If my Inner Italian has a name and it needs to be something other than Linda, I suppose it’s Principessa . . .

Q: What does “living Italian” mean to you?
A: My grandparents came over from Italy in the late 1890s and they were anything but rich. So for me, living Italian has to do with cooking and eating together, always having crusty bread and wrinkled olives and green olive oil on the flowered oilcloth-covered table. It means not being afraid to be emotional—even if that involves fists and things flying when you’re angry. It means loving music and feeling the arts very deeply. It means trying to have a sense of style—of la bella figura—even if the clothes or table settings come from Target. And it means being a storyteller and a traveler and something of an adventurer.

Legge piu qui

Pesche in vino are an essential accessory for an Italian summer.

As sweet as a child’s hug and as cool as a spray from the sea, peaches in chilled wine is the Italian cure-all for a sweltering summer.

Choose fruit–yellow or white–that’s locally grown and lusciously ripe. Peel the peaches by submerging them in boiling water for 30 seconds before soaking in ice water for one or two minutes. The skin will practically shed itself.

Slice the peaches into a bowl and pour on enough dry white wine, sparkling wine, or fruity red wine to cover. Sprinkle on a little sugar if you like. Refrigerate for several hours—long enough so you can’t tell where the peaches end and the wine begins.

If you can wait for evening dessert, spoon the pesche in vino into a frosted wine glass. On heat advisory days, you may have to spear a slice or two every time you pass the frig.

Roberto Bompiani's depiction of an ancient Roman banquet from the Getty Museum.

By Emma Sanders

Guest Writer

Want to shake things up at your next dinner party? Take a cue from the early Romans. Pour Boone’s Farm, Yellowtail Shiraz, and a coveted Super Tuscan wine, but don’t offer your guests a choice. Instead, assign each guest to one of the three wines based on how much you like and value that person relative to his or her dinner companions. (Warning: you may lose some friends in the process.)

This kind of overt rank valuation was common at early Roman banquets, according to Dr. Nicholas Hudson of UNC Wilmington, who recently spoke on the topic at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. His lecture, Eat, Drink, and Be Merry:  The Changing Identify of Dining in the Roman World illuminates how styles of dining reflect a changing society.

On early Roman banquets, Pliny writes:

“He apportioned in small flagons three different sorts of wines; but it was not that the guests might take their choice: on the contrary, that they might not choose at all.  One was for himself and me; the next for his friends of lower order (for you must know the measures of friendship according to degrees of quality; and the third for his own free men.”

The Romans also applied this behavior to food, as hilariously summarized by the Latin poet Martial:

“Since I am asked to dinner… why is not the same dinner served to me as to you?  You take oysters fattened in the Lucrine lake, I suck a mussel through a hole in the shell; you get mushrooms, I take hog funguses; you tackle turbot, but I brill.  Golden with fat, a turtle-dove gorges you with its bloated rump; there is set before me magpie that has died in its cage.  Why do I recline with you?”

Over time, banquets shifted from the model of assigning guests social worth. Large sharing dishes became more common. These sharing dishes tended to be very similar in color and design to emphasize consistency of food served across a table. This growing egalitarianism of banquets demonstrated a social and cultural shift from the elitism of early Roman banquets.

In late Rome, a fissure grew between Romans who adopted the newer style of banquets and those who clung to elitism. Dr. Hudson espouses that the newer style of banquets ‑‑based on unity and sharing‑‑ even provided an early precedent for the rituals of Christianity.

To read more about Nicholas Hudson’s work,

visit http://www.archaeological.org/lecturer/nicholashudson

Ossobucco bonus: Use a tiny spoon to capture the succulent marrow nestled inside the hole in the veal bone.

All happy families are alike (in their tradition of birthday meals). All unhappy families are different in their own way (I guess they don’t have the birthday meal tradition).

At our house, the birthday recipient gets to choose his or her birthday meal. It’s a great deal. From first course to dessert, from soup to nuts, from music to candles, it’s the whole package. And the advantage at our home is that the meal is prepared by Sharon. So it is flawless, fun, and flavorful.

I was in a bit of a quandary on February 7^th, my birthday. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Sharon and I were out and about that day, and she suggested we go to Wegman’s, the superb, Rochester-based food retailer, to see what “spoke” to me.

I started with dessert…and chose the Wegman’s mini-marble cheesecake. That’s the birthday dessert I always want. Sharon makes the best I ever had, but as empty-nesters I didn’t want  a sweet that would be savored for days, and would last on our hips for months.

Next to the meat department: When we lived in Florence, I lusted after grilled Lombatina, the succulent veal chop served at Trattoria Benvenuto. I didn’t see any in the custom case. Not a surprise—it’s not a common cut in the U.S. Then, a brilliant entree concept…“Wait, how about veal shanks for ossobuco?”

Sharon looked at me, and admitted she had channeled that thought into my birthday-meal brain. “That’s exactly what I had in mind!” she said.

The rest was easy. We added lascinato kale and fixings for a risotto alla Milanese. I served a 2001 Castello di Brolio Chianti Classico. It was a perfect complement to the splendid meal.

The only thing better than ossobuco for your birthday? Savoring leftovers for lunch.

Ossobucco alla Milanese

(adapted from 1,000 Italian Recipes by Michele Sciccolone, Wiley)

Makes 4 servings

1/4 cup all-purpose flour

4 meaty slices veal shank (about 1 1/2-inches-thick)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1 small onion, finely chopped

1 small carrot, finely chopped

1 rib celery, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 cup dry white wine

1 cup chopped canned plum tomatoes with juice

1 cup chicken broth

2 anchovy fillets, minced

1 tablespoon minced fat-leaf parsley

2 teaspoons grated lemon zest

Preheat the oven to 300°F. Spread the flour on a piece of waxed paper. Dredge the veal in the flour, shaking off the excess. Season both sides lightly with salt and pepper.

In an ovenproof pot with a tight-fitting lid, melt the butter and oil over medium-high heat. Add the veal.

Cook for about 10 minutes, or until browned on the bottom. Turn and cook for about 5 minutes, or until browned on the bottom. Remove to a plate and set aside.

Add the onion, carrot, celery, and garlic to the pot. Reduce the heat to medium-low. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes, or until tender.

Add the wine and cook, scraping up any browned bits, for about 5 minutes, or until the wine no longer smells of alcohol. Add the tomatoes, broth, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Bring to a brisk simmer. Return the meat to the pan, pushing gently to submerge in the sauce. Cover the pot and place in the center of the oven.

Bake for 1 1/2 hours. Carefully remove the lid to check the consistency of the sauce. If it is too runny, continue baking, uncovered, for about 30 minutes longer, or until the sauce is thickened. If the sauce looks too thick, add 1/4 to 1/2 cup more broth, cover and bake about 30 minutes longer, or until the veal is fork tender.

Remove the pot from the oven. Place the anchovies in a small bowl. Ladle some of the sauce into the bowl and whisk to dissolve the anchovies. Pour into the pot and stir gently to incorporate.

In a small bowl, combine the parsley and zest. Plate the shanks with the risotto (recipe follows). Spoon on the sauce and sprinkle on the parsley mixture.

Risotto alla Milanese

(from Cooking Up an Italian Life)

Serves 4 to 6 as a side dish

2 1/4      cups chicken broth

1              tablespoon butter, divided

2              teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil

1/2         small onion, finely chopped

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons Arborio or other superfino rice

1/8         teaspoon saffron threads, crumbled

1/8         teaspoon salt

1/4         cup dry white wine

1/2         cup (2 ounces) grated Parmesan cheese

Heat the broth to a boil in a saucepan. Reduce the heat to low.

In a heavy saucepan, melt 1/2 tablespoon butter and oil over medium-low heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes, or until soft. Add the rice, saffron, and salt. Stir to color the rice evenly. Add the wine. Increase the heat to medium-high. Cook for about 4 minutes, or until the wine is absorbed.

Reduce the heat to medium-low. Add 1/2 cup of broth. Start timing the cooking.

Simmer the rice, stirring constantly, until the broth is absorbed. Continue adding broth, 1/2 cup at a time, and stirring frequently. After 18 minutes of cooking, start testing the rice. The rice should be tender but still hold its shape. When it is cooked, remove from the heat. (All of the broth mixture may not be needed.) Add the remaining 1/2 tablespoon butter. Stir. Add the cheese and stir.

What Italian dish will you have for your birthday?

Share your pick by leaving a comment.