last days in melbourne.

Melbournians seem to have an unpublished, secret list of underground, seclusive hot spots in the city. As much as I wondered the city on my days off, as mush as I would get off the tram early to walk home instead of transferring, or as much as I would read about places in the local magazines, there are still multitudes of places I would have never noticed, hidden behind undisclosed doors, up flights of stairs, down dark alley ways. It seems as though the less acknowledgement that something exists behind a closed door, the cooler it is. There are roof tops you can see from the street, people filing out onto decks laughing and drinks in hand, but try as you may, there isn't a sign or a door leading or inviting you to join. After my last shift of work in Melbourne, I met up with my super flattie to celebrate. She, having lived here for the last two years and knowing all the cool spots, took me to such an alley way I would have never stumbled upon. As you enter, it looks as though you are entering a house, an open door to someone's home. As we walked up the creaky wooden stair case, we wandered into a bright emerald green painted room displaying a few photographs part of an Icelandic art exhibition. Two ladies in the small adjacent room were sipping sparkly out of flutes and quietly nodded a cordial hello. We meandered back downstairs to another open door that led into what looked like used to be a living room with a cozy fireplace. Above it was a chalkboard displaying the handwritten menu, the room filled with high-seated tables, and an alcove window looking into the kitchen.

A backdoor opened unto a little alley, lined along one side of the brick wall with wire tables adorned with glass vases , leading to a single toilet around the corner. It's these types of places that are so unassuming, yet have so much character that attract people out with the sunshine, and protects them from the perpetual rain.












Wine and cheese were to be had, naturally, as we basked in the late winter warmth of the afternoon and the sun slit through the shaft between the brick buildings promising a warm evening and warmer days to come.

 a little boy, with a cheeky smile took this photo for us on steph's iphone. 

The following day, my last day in Melbourne, was toasted with a lunch at Golden Fields, where I had been working but only able to drool over the food as I served it (almost, but not quite literally) but not experience it myself. Stephanie, having eaten there before and me, having seen the food so many times knew exactly what we wanted to order. It was a multiple-hour-long feast, to say the least, that started with complimentary glasses of champagne and ended after copious dishes and a decanter of white wine with not-so-complimentary cocktails. It was a fine way to spend the last day in Melbourne and ended with two more rooftop bars saying goodbye and toasting with the friends I had made there.

First Weekend: First Great Southern Roadtrip

After a pretty work-intense, but not-that-bad-manageable first week of work, Friday finally arrived. We were presented with a variety of different options to start the weekend: pizza with Hunter and his family – a chance to get to know them outside of work; a night at the Rocky Gully Pub for a ticket-per-beer raffle and $10 burgers; or a trip to Denmark on the coast, about an hour away, depending on when we get out of work. By the time we got out of work and had our daily internet dose, we decided on the homemade pizza and would leave for Denmark the next morning. It was a good decision. The pizza was delicious and the hospitality was even more welcoming.

We left the next morning in our dinky car. I can’t complain, as we are lucky enough to have any sort of transportation out of this remoteness. The drive there wasn’t too bad, pretty straight forward, but our dinky little car was a bit of concern. It didn’t like to go above 100km (speed limit is 110km) and kept veering to the left. Talk about high-performance-vehicle-coughmonkeymiacough. It took us about an hour to get to Denmark and we were both pretty enthralled with the fact that we were in civilization again!

 Denmark seems like a nice town, pretty small with a  main street running through it, but a bit lively. The shops all seemed to be pretty eco-friendly: cafes with free-trade coffee, award winning bakeries, environmental agencies, boards with notices of shared-lifts and food drop offs, sustainably sourced and organic food stores…We had been told that Denmark was a bit alternative.  I like it.

It was drizzling rain, overcast and chilly, so we decided to skip the beach, obviously, and head towards the wineries, obviously. We followed the tourist scenic road signs with no clear direction of where it was going to take us, but we were on a loop road that seemed dotted with vineyards. We stopped at one called Kerriview (apparently, Frankland Estate used to own them, “disastrously - it was like making wine in the Sudan. But, we do still grow the grapes for their Pinot Noir”). The inside seemed like a safari lodge with a nice but typically-Australian-expensive food menu. We tasted their wines:  their bubbly was good, but there was no production facility on site and most of the wines were made elsewhere – in Frankland and in Swan Valley. That sort of lost its appeal of visiting a winery, and Felix thought the vines outside were probably just plastic for show.

  We next drove along the loop road onto Harewood Estate as I had thought I had heard of them and they were definitely acclimated with lots of awards. The wine maker, James Kellie, used to work at Howard Park/Mad Fish and is also the wine maker at Moombaki. I was driving so I didn’t taste too many and the lady informed us of a meadery where we could have a honey tasting so we set off to find that. We came across another winery (Duckett's Mill - apparently also James Kellie) with a sign for fudge and homemade cheese and since I was driving of course I veered towards the cheese. I LOVE CHEESE. The cheese was all made on site from local cows’ milk. They had their own label jams and mustards, a huge display fridge of different types of cheeses, cured meats, pates, and vacuum-sealed roasted vegetables. We tasted the cheeses on offer and decided to buy a Morroccan marinated feta along with a small bit of hot chorizo, slices of smoked kangaroo, and an emu pate – how very Australian!

We never found the meadery and ended up around the loop back in Denmark so we decided to check out the ocean. Despite the weather, it was a successful first road trip, filled with things that we like: a perfect outting! I feel as though although we may have missed a couple things we wanted to see, but we saw a lot and there are more weekends to go back. 

A click of fate brought me to The Greatest Cheese Jokes In The World Facebook fan page. Copied and pasted, I must share, I take absolutely no credit...

A tornado destroyed a french cheese factory. All that was left was de Brie.

How do the Welsh eat their cheese? Caerphilly.

What cheese do you use to coax a bear from a tree? Camambert!

So I went to a party last night, and brought loads of cheese to share with everyone, but I don't understand why there is stiltons left?!

What cheese belongs in a psychiatric ward? Emental

Why did the greek woman stop eating cheese? Because she was getting Feta and Feta.

What did the cheese say when it looked in the mirror? Hallomi

What's the best cheese to hide a horse behind? Marscapone.

My girlfriend left me because she thought it was weird how much I love touching pasta. I’m feeling cannelloni right now.

Why does cheese look sane? Because everyone else on the plate is crackers.

A stone and a cheese were having a fight. The cheese was wining, but the roquefort back.


I hope you all have edam good day


what cheeses are good on a hot day? cooool bries


Someone threw milk and cheese in my face the other day..... I said how dairy!


what cheese is made backwards? edam


What did the quiet cheese say to the talkative cheese? Quit your chitter cheddar

What's the best cheese to hide a horse behind? Mascarpone. 


 what do you call a cheese that’s not yours? Nacho Cheese!


I went on a cheese diet in order to chedder a few pounds.


Three men are in a bar having a drink. When a gorgeous woman comes up to them and says Whoever can use the words ‘liver’ and ‘cheese’ in a creative sentence can date me for tonight.
The first man says "I love liver and cheese!" to which the woman replies "That’s not good enough!"
A second man gives it a shot "I hate liver and cheese!" and the woman says "That’s not creative!"
Finally, a third man says "Liver alone, cheese mine."


can we just start being a bit more mature?


all these cheese jokes go WHEY over my head but they are legendairy, Brieliant!




......and yes, I did click the thumbs-up Like button. 

A Walk to the Cheese Shop.

 Occupy Portsmouth's Prescott Park rally. 

 Dad taking a rest on the chess bench.

 Enjoying the crisp fall air. 

 the ground and the sky...

 the sky has fallen.

 roses in october.

 can only imagine little girls day dreaming here. 

 an intimate wedding in Strawberry Banke.

Peeking into someone's empty, but color-filled home. 

Pokey Cheesey Delivery

Text Conversation:

me: "what are you doing? going to the cheese shop?"

an hour later...

sc: "where you at?"

me: "mi casa."

sc: "meet me out front in 5"

me: "ok"

2 minutes later...

sc: "out front!"

sc: "come on pokey!"

me: "elevator"

sc: "about time!"

I expected maybe a walk to BNG for some coffee, maybe a walk even to the cheese shop but nope. Instead, the best doorstop delivery ever (ok, well, down the hallway, down the elevator, passed the theater foyer, down the front steps) : a bag cherishing Italian and Irish Cheese!! I am so happy right now, I just had to write about it to share about it - yes I am home alone, it explains a lot. A Tallegio from Italy and a Cashel Blue from Ireland - a favorite food from two beloved countries....wow. The real reason I asked SC if he was going to the cheese shop was 1. he has the day off and the cheese shop he lives by has weird hours and 2. I wanted to try the cambozola he keeps talking about -  a combo of soft French triple-cream cheese and Italian gorgonzola. But I'll definitely take the Irish and Italian cheese. Paired with torn croutons I made the night before, this is the most fantastic snack a sunny Friday afternoon, and a hungry girl, could ask for.

Torn Croutons:

* made with The Good Loaf's Sharp Cheddar, Fresh Basil and Cracked Peppercorn Sourdough, 

highly recommended *

Tear day-old bread into bite size pieces. Pour enough oil into the bottom of a large pan to cover the bottom and add 3 garlic cloves. Heat until hot and then add the bread in a single layer. If you hear sizzling, the heat is too high and the croutons will become too dry – the key is to slow cook them for about 20 minutes so that the croutons absorb the garlicky oil and become crisp and golden brown on all sides. Just TRY to keep your fingers away from these. 

What I miss #7: Italy Revisited in New York City.

 After my cheese interview, I was craving some and had heard about this Italian food store that was in the area. As Di Palo's came into my view from across the street, I was really excited and even more excited when I stepped in and it was like being back in Italy. The store was filled with a great selection of high quality extra virgin olive oils, real balsamic vinegar, pastas and grains, jarred vegetables and sauces, counters and displays of various cheeses and antipasta dishes, and of course, huge cured meats hanging from the wall. 

 The signs indicated where the meats and cheeses were from in Italy, but the culatello one did not. So, I waited in line until I was able to get assisted by the guy who looked like he was in charge. "Where is the culatello from?" He explained to me that it was their own culatello because they are not allowed to import it from Italy yet due to US regulations. He asked me how I knew it and I explained about UNISG and said that a group from UNISG was just in last week and they were shown how they make their own mozzarella. I was like, wait, I know the tutor who was with them - Sandro! He graduated with me. So he knew all about slow food and UNISG because his brother also graduated from there. He brought me behind the counter to show me the window where they were making the mozzarella - THEY WERE MAKING CHEESE! He kept cracking jokes that I didn't catch on to fast enough (showing two different mortadellas he called male and female. He points to one with pistachios and he goes "you know why this is the male one right?" < insert my confused face, trying desperately not to seem like I didn't know anything after spending a year in Italy > "because this one has nuts." < delayed laugh > It was so fun, I felt like I was on my own stage.

 I asked him how he picked what he carries in his store because it all looked like pretty high-quality producers and he said that his brother and his son go to Italy a couple times a year and selects what they want and also have a Italian-only wine store next door and they know most of the producers - what a cool job! Even though the store was pretty busy, he took the time to talk with me - incredibly knowledgeable about the products and extremely proud of his family and their store. After he showed me a picture of his grandparents and the video of old photographs from the store and of his family, I left with my goodies absolutely delighted with what a great place, just like being back in Italy. I didn't think I'd ever make it out of Little Italy. He even said "ciao" as I left. I can't wait to go back. 

 All sorts of pasta in Little Italy. 

ciao ciao bene!

Come and visit Di Palo's Fine Foods, in the heart of Little Italy, 200 Grand Street in New York City.

M-Sat 9:00 AM- 6:30 PM

Sun 9:00 AM- 4:00 PM

what i miss #6

you know you're going to miss a place when "buona notte" comes out primarily more naturally than "goodnight."and to a non-italian friend....


...it's good to have everyone coming back to Colorno from their stages :) one week is not enough. 

"There is no love sincerer than the love of food." — George Bernard Shaw

One of the best things about living in Italy, Emilia Romagna, Parma, Colorno is the ability to drive, or even bike ride, to the local farm and buy fresh cheese. The other day, Brittany, Arina and I drove to Caseificio San Salvatore where we previously saw the making of Parmigiano Reggiano and bought freshly made ricotta. Ricotta is technically a whey cheese, made from the leftover liquid from the Parmigiano Reggiano production. The previous evening's part-skim milk is mixed with the morning's whole milk with rennet (stomach lining from the slaughtered cow which is washed, dried and chopped into a powder and preserved with sea salt) which causes the milk to coagulate - changing the structure from liquid to jelly-like. As the temperatures rise, curds form which will become the Parmigiano Reggiano. The heavy curds sink to the bottom of the copper cauldron and the whey on top will weigh down on the curds for about an hour until it has cooled. Then, the Parmigiano Reggiano curds are lifted out to be molded and the whey is vacuumed out. The whey is then recooked (the literal meaning of ricotta) until it creates its own cheese curd. 

The fresh ricotta is so moist and soft in the mouth, it delicately melts on the tongue. It exudes evocations of the country land and tastes distinctly of the cow. As much as it reminds me of the farm just down the road, I can't help but taste something sweetly ethereal, almost like a home-made marshmallow. It is delicious on bread, stuffed in zucchini flowers, eaten as a herby dip with celery, or just plain irresistible to eat it straight out of the tub with a spoon - if my fingers can grab a spoon fast enough before delving in...

I don't know why I haven't gone to S. Salvatore more throughout the year given it's locality, convenience, and deliciousness....damn. But I feel spoiled already, almost undeserving, just having this opportunity. 

UNISG Internships

"you can develop taste, but passion is certainly a genetic thing, like a good ear for music." Judith Jones

Not only have I loved my experience during my stage so far, I love being in Colorno with my friends/other students who are doing their own independent studies and get to learn what they are experiencing. 

Arina for example, is studying the "obscure" left-over/less popular meats like brain, liver, tripe, and pork skin for example. Not only has she been cooking and eating with nonnas and Italians all over the boot, she made a delicious chicken liver pate the other day. (liver is apparently, according to Massimo Bottura, very good for the health of women). and yes, it was very good. 

 Brittany is exploring birra artigianale -  artisinal Italian breweries and brought over a P.i.L.S beer from Pausa Cafe in Torino. I believe it is a brewery inside a jail where prisoners can learn a course on brewing beer. Not only is it a good cause, it's full of floral hops and bright gold in colour. deliciously sinful.

Poppi also went with Brittany to Piemonte to discover the legal world of Robiola di Roccaverano. She brought back cheese that was made 4 days earlier (four days!) as well as an aged Robiola. The fresh cheese was moist and melted in your mouth, not too sticky like some goat cheeses. The mature cheese was full of flavour and relentlessly irresistible to eat. 

"I am not a glutton - I am an explorer of food"
— Erma Bombeck

Eataly in Italy.

Arina and I took a road trip to Piemonte one weekend in November. The main reason for going was that I wanted to speak with a winery I visited in September about a possible work experience after graduation in March. I also didn't get a chance to go to Eataly while attending Terra Madre in October. I don't know what I expected from Eataly. It certainly carries some beautiful products but it feels more like a gallery than a grocery store. The vegetables are displayed as though they are being sold from a cart on a cobblestone street. There aren't crates on top of crates like most supermarkets, but a limited selection of carefully placed vegetables as though they are being set up for a still life painting. They burst with life as a woman sprays each with a water spritzer as though they are a rich couple lying on chaise lounge chairs on a beach in St Tropez and being cooled down by a tanned strappingly-good-looking butler. The same woman scurries over to us with plastic gloves before we even dare to touch a vegetable ourselves.

The seafood section carries curious varieites of fish, both fresh and packaged, as a young boy sits at a table looking completely bored as he offers passer-byers some samples.

origin: "medit" 

 The cheese counter is glorious and we pass by a couple times to taste the samples being offered.

The meat counter brightly showcases red cuts of meat from head to trotters to rolls of skin. All of it is from Italy, mostly Piemontese, none of it is Chianina. 

testa = head

feet smell better with rosemary.

i'm not sure what you do with pig skin.

We were overwhelmed by oodles of olive oils and a slew of pasta shapes and sizes. 

Over a margharita pizza (I really like the in-store dining option - who isn't hungry when surrounding by beautiful food?), we raised some questions which lead into a discussion and brought us to a shared confusion. We had thought that Eataly and Slow Food were connected, however, it appeared too fancy and seemed like the people that are able to afford to shop there would not be the same people that Slow Food is trying to protect. Maybe it just felt expensive because it looked expensive. My poor student's empty wallet refused me the ability of looking at prices or even considering a small purchase. The Slow Food Presidia products, which are part of Slow Food's face towards the world, were  kept downstairs with hardly any information about them (or at least from what I saw...) We were confused too about the qualifications to have products be sold in Eataly - how does Eataly choose which brands and what farmers to include and do they have to pay for shelf space - in which case many farmers would not be able to afford an inclusion in Eataly. While slowly devouring the last bite of thin crust pizza - saving the best bite with the most mozzarella and little sprig of basil - I couldn't help but think that it seemed like a big contradiction that only reinforced the idea people have about Slow Food being elitist. We learned in class that consumers can change the market, but if so, what does Eataly in Torino and opening up recently in NYC say about the current market? I couldn't tell if the shoppers were locals, regulars, or tourists, but they certainly were not the people we saw selling their products in Terra Madre. Maybe the prices are fair, and it is worthwhile to pay for high-quality products, maybe it was unusual to have such a shopping experience that was a combination of Whole Foods and Dean & Deluca that's so different from walking to the corner A&O, but regardless of what it is or what it represents, it's certainly good to be curious and discuss these questions. But then again, that's what we do all the time - talk about food, the future, the university, life in Italy and eat good pizza.

 With our heads filled with dizzying questions about our association with Slow Food and everything we have learned this year, we didn't leave empty handed - especially after we drove 3 hours! A 5L glass jug could be filled with 2 euro per litre of red Piemontese wine. This was within our budget, priorities, and was justified by deciding to share it with the neighbours ;) Anyways, the glass jug was beautiful - how could it not be filled with cheap yet drinkable wine?

  I wonder how the NYC Eataly will compare and if the words "food miles," "carbon footprints" or "local" will briefly escape my thoughts....

My 15 Minutes of Fame.

or shame. I'm not sure. I blacked out. I couldn't tell you what I said. 

When we were organizing the Terra Madre/Salone del Gusto weekend, we were asked to sign up for our preferences on which meeting we wanted to attend to write a report about. We were also offered the opportunity to pick three different Taste Workshops or Meetings with the Makers in which we were asked to help out. For each of the three, if any, we had to write a little excerpt on why we wanted to participate and what we could contribute to it. I requested Hot! Hot! Hot! (I love spicy food), The Master of Barbaresco: Alberto di Gresy (I love Barbaresco), Luciano Pedettris 257,235 Cheeses (I love cheese).  Apparently I had done complimentarily well on our cheese exam and may or may not have been an influential factor in being chosen by our cheese professor, Cristiano de Riccardis for the Luciano cheese-maker one.  I was thrilled, but I was informed that the meeting was on Sunday at 7pm and the bus was leaving to go back to Colorno at 6:30. An opportunity not to be missed, I decided to stay. A couple days later, I received a hieroglyphic email from de Riccardis, but from what I could decode from the Italglish was that I had to speak in front of the attending audience for 15 minutes. 15 minutes?! me talk in front of people?! about parmigiano reggiano?! holy crap. not only did I have to pay for an extra night in Torino and find my own way home, I had to present in front of people? I thought I would be helping pass out cheese samples and pour some wine. Elbow scratching and hair pulling ensued as I made my way to the library to do some cheesey research. 

Eventually, Sunday arrived. 7pm arrived. I sat up on the little platform stage next to our professor, the cheese-maker and his wife, and a head guy from the Parmigiano Reggiano Consorzio. The crowd trickled in, maybe about 20 or 30 people, mostly middle-aged. As I read over my scribbled notes from the paper I had written in preparation, I laughed at the absurdity of it all.  de Riccardis introduced the cheese maker, who has been making cheese every day for 47 years, except for 6 days when he was sick, and Sunday, his 7th day to attend this meeting. He was so nervous and he's hilarious in his quirkiness, however, it wasn't quite so communicated through the translator.  He also appointed Naama as official photographer and would beckon her over to pose for pictures. Luciano talked about dedication to, pride in, and love of cheese making, then his wife chatted away about how such dedication to cheese making has had its hardships on personal and family life, and then the guy from the Consorzio took over and unfortunately described the tasting session, which is de Riccardis forte - he's the king of cheese and describing what he tastes and smells. Then it was my turn. I remember apologizing for being so nervous and then describing how my opinion of Parmigiano Reggiano has changed since living in Italy. But I don't have a clue what I said. I thought that I was going to go first and was ready to chat away, but going last and watching the audience throughout the hour, I felt as though I had to gage what they wanted to hear from me - regardless of what I had prepared. So, I think I tried to wrap it all together, to make sense of why we were listening to someone talk about his long dedication to cheese making and why I was even invited as a speaker.  de Riccardis was nervous throughout though because many head-of-the-department important people from the Consorzio were there and they wanted the cheese to be portrayed in a certain way so we had to be careful about what we said. I don't know if I said the wrong or right thing - I don't even know what that means in Consorzio terms - but Luciano beamed at me afterwards and invited me to visit his farm. 

being introduced.

Cristiano de Riccardis: Cheese Expert.

Posing.

Luciano Pedrettis: Cheese Maker.
such admirable dedication.

Parmigiano Reggiano and
wines from Camillo Donati in Arola, also near Parma.

hoping the audience is looking at the slide show behind me.
and hoping the translator is reading my paper instead of
translating what i'm blabbering about.

trying to remember to say parmigiano reggiano instead
of parmesan b/c the consorzio wouldn't approve.