Simple Italy

Celebrating Your Inner Italian

Land of Honey

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honeyshopFull disclosure: I’m a honey consumer, a big-time honey consumer. I make a five-pound jug disappear every 6 to 9 months and I can find legitimate ways to enjoy honey three meals a day. I’m also intrigued about flavored honeys. The only one I ever met that I didn’t like was a buckwheat honey. I ended up diluting that bad boy with clover honey.

I was thrilled to see honey on the bar counters in Abruzzo . . . and even more excited to see the locals using it to sweeten their cappuccini and espressi. As we walked through Sulmona on market day we spotted the Non Solo Miele (Not Just Honey) shop. We popped in and were invited to sample some of the floral varieties, including a complex, slightly bitter, chestnut honey which the proprietor informed us was rich in iron.

I’ve since learned that Abruzzo has been a center of honey production since ancient times. Today a wide variety of blended and monofloral honeys are created by the people and bees in the region.  To read more about Abruzzese honeys, visit Discover Abruzzo.

Market Day in Sulmona

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The market in Sulmona is a feast for the senses.

The market in Sulmona is a feast for the senses.

You enter Piazza Garibaldi by stepping down stone steps and passing through a series of stone arches. From street level you see the tops of the arches and beyond them, in the distance, snow-capped Apennine peaks. The vast National Park of Abruzzo, a magnet for nature lovers, surrounds the city.

Down the steps, through the arches, you enter a different world. There are about 200 vendors, under a crazy quilt of dazzling canopy colors, selling everything from DVDs to gym shoes, house wares to flowers, clothing to produce. You want a New York Yankee cap? Someone has a deal for you.

fishgirl

We join the other market-goers . . . walking, talking, smiling, enjoying the sun, aromas, excitement and vendor engagement of market day in Sulmona.

Italian vendors reach out to their customers. They charm them, cajole them, spin a playful web of banter and soon you find yourself negotiating for something that you suddenly feel compelled to buy.

My favorite vendor is the fish lady. She has it going on in a brightly painted truck . . . and she attracts a constant stream of customers. She winks, sings, laughs and puts on a great show. Hell, I almost buy a fish.

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Ristorante Clemente

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Ristorante Clemente in Sulmona offers the genuine dishes of Abruzzo.

Ristorante Clemente in Sulmona offers the genuine dishes of Abruzzo.

We weren’t being fair to Ristorante Clemente. We knew it . . . but we couldn’t help ourselves. We had allotted one night, one dinner in Abruzzo, a region in which neither of us had passed time. We sought to “taste Abruzzo” in that one meal. No small order.

We were in the small city of Sulmona on our way to Puglia. Our Ital’guru Fred Plotkin, author of Italy for the Gourmet Traveler, picks Sulmona as his “Classic Town” of the mountainous region east of Rome. Ristorante Clemente appears first on his “Dining List” and his description appealed to us. For insurance, we inquired of our hotelier and a local barista where we should dine. “Clemente,” they both answered. We even scouted out the restaurant location, tucked on a tiny back street, so we’d have no problem finding it later in the dark.

So it was that Walter roused me from a my nap at 7:15 p.m. so we could arrive when the doors opened for dinner service. He worried that a place this touted would fill up fast. No such problem transpired. Upon entry, we were invited to choose our own table and selected one deep in the rear of the main room under a splendid stone vaulted ceiling. Stone and gesso walls the color of cantaloupe cream, exciting food-related art work, photos of family members and a couple canvasses and prints of Sulmona created a cozy setting.

Chef Clemente Maiorano (right), son Alessandro (left), and another sous chef in the Clemente kitchen.

Chef Clemente Maiorano (right), son Alessandro (left), and another sous chef in the Clemente kitchen.

Chef/owner Clemente Maiorano, with warm brown eyes and salt-and-pepper Julius Caesar haircut-greeted us with a one-page menu. We asked if we could place our appetites in his able hands. He seemed pleased and disappeared through the archway into the kitchen. The waiter took over and reminded us how perfect service in Italy can be. Not obsequious, not aloof, just professional.

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Chuck Olson: Art and Parma

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Artist Chuck Olson conducts a Springtime in Parma arts program for St. Francis University students.

Artist Chuck Olson conducts the Springtime in Italy arts program in Parma for St. Francis University students.

By Walter Sanders

We can find Inner Italians almost anywhere. And so it was that we encountered artist Chuck Olson’s Italian connection in Old City Philadelphia at the opening of his most recent exhibit at the Rosenfeld Gallery.

Sharon’s alma mater St. Francis University in Loretto, PA, hosted the event for Olson, 56, who is Chair of the school’s Fine Arts Department. He has been teaching there since 1976.

Look at Chuck Olson and you see a confident, polished and worldly gentleman. Yet, until he was 29, he had never traveled further from his western Pennsylvania home than Youngstown, Ohio. To polish his pronunciation skills of French artists and authors, he took an elementary French language class, then an additional 27 credits in French. “Studying a foreign language helped me understand and appreciate the power of a new cultural dynamic,” Olson said.

He met Marie, a French woman, in the United States and in 1987 they married. Marie shared her roots in western France with Chuck, and eventually, their two children. Every summer, the family rented a French farmhouse. “We prefer really experiencing a place, rather than collecting destinations.”

In 2006, Olson was given the opportunity to direct the Springtime in Italy arts program in Parma. “I took a risk. Many people in their 50s tend to withdraw but I jumped at the chance. Initially I didn’t know the language, I didn’t know a soul in Parma, but the journey has been amazing. After three years, I can stroll into the Mayor’s office after a warm welcome by his security people and discuss our programs,” Olson said.

“Italy was a different experience for me . . . the light, the foliage, the language. The food was different, even the bread. The people were more open and sharing. That helped me shape my teaching philosophy. My students’ experiences won’t be limited by lack of imagination. So I encourage them to travel on the weekends, participating in and sharing every cultural difference they can. The students come away with experiences that are legitimately their own.”

Italy has been fertile ground for Olson to develop interpersonal relationships. “I enjoy making connections between good people. Many of these relationships blossom, and a few whither on the vine.”  It is the magic of Italy that inspires people to connect with others.

To view more of Olson’s acrylic paintings, visit The Rosenfeld Gallery.

But I Don’t Want a Jaguar

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A car with a view . . . .of the Alfa 147s that got away.

A car with a view . . . .of the Alfa Romeo 147 that got away.

By Walter Sanders

As far as I’m concerned, it’s been a good year for U.S. Airways. Sully landed safely in the Hudson, and we survived steerage on a flight to Rome.

Groggy, ragged and raw after landing 10 minutes early in Rome . . . things smoothed out after the first cappuccino at a bar in Fumicino. Lots of local color: A Miss Italy look-alike was strutting around and she twisted the necks of a bunch of Italian guys who were sipping their coffees.

Then it was upstairs (2 stories) to the well-hidden autonoleggio center. The couple ahead of me in line at Dollar/Thrifty were Brazilians. The gent seemed confused and spoke in halting Italian with a German/Portuguese accent.

It took awhile . . . but it was finally my turn . . . and I handed over the pre-paid web reservation for my carefully selected, long anticipated, sleek and speedy Alfa Romeo 147 . The signorina at the counter, who looked young enough to be playing hooky from 10th grade, reviewed my paperwork, and then looked at sheets on her desk. “We have a Jaguar for you.”

I thought she was joking. “That’s wonderful. But I want the Alfa Romeo,” I said.

“I’m so sorry, but we don’t have an Alfa Romeo available right now.”

“But I have a reservation.”

“Sorry.”

“Well how about something comparable-a BMW, a different model Alfa, a small Mercedes?”

“No, I’m sorry. In the same class as the Alfa you reserved, all we have is a Jaguar,” she said.

I called Sharon over, and reviewed the situation with her. “I don’t think the Jaguar will work for us. It’s big, it consumes a lot of expensive benzina, and it sends the wrong signal.” Sharon agreed.

“The Jaguar offer is very nice, but I don’t want a Jaguar. What other options do I have?” I asked.

The signorina looked at her sheets again. “Well, your Alfa and the Jaguar are a class F. All we have available now is class B. Sub-compacts like a Ford or a Lancia.”

A Ford? There’s no way I’m going to tool around in a Ford in Italy! A Lancia?

“Tell me about the Lancia, please.”

“It’s the Ypsilon. Nice car. Smaller than the Jaguar. Smaller than your Alfa.”

Yes, my Alfa, my lost Alfa. My Alfa that, throughout the trip I would continue to lust after as they sizzled past us on the Autostrada, ‘Hey, there’s my Alfa Romeo . . . .”

We ended up with the Lancia. Sporty, not very sexy, but more than adequate . . . .and about five-feet shorter than the damn Jaguar parked down the row in the class F section.

What experiences have you had with car rentals in Italy? Did you get your elusive Alfa? Share your stories with us.

Tuscany in Texas?

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I sniffed to myself when I scanned this morning’s Wall Street Journal “Relative Values” real estate column. A 3,700-square-foot house resembling a casa colonica with five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and one powder room on 60 acres-in a development called the Vineyard at Florence-is listed for $5.5 million. “Hah,” said I, “if I had 5-and-a-half mil, I’d high tail it to Tuscany, not the Texas hill country.”

Since the aforementioned assets are not even a blip on my radar screen, I took a free trip to The Vineyard at Florence. Gorgeous scenery, fabulous amenities, 30 acres planted in vines  . . . what’s not to like?

The site explains that the developers are The Dionysus Group, LLLP, comprised of “members who share a desire to combine the best elements of life-community, exceptional living, natural beauty and wine.”

Guess they’re nurturing their Inner Italian-just like I am . . . albeit with much better funding.