Where to Eat when in Brisbane...

.....or what Shauna and Sheelagh ate in Brisbane.

Pie Face. 

The name says it all. Australians love their pies. I prefer the buttery, flakey pastry rolls, but the pies are pretty good too - especially when they have little faces on them, distinctly different for each of the assorted fillings. Both the pastry rolls and pies come in regular and mini sizes so you can have a wee taste of all the faces before you fully commit to your favourite pie personality. I wouldn't say Pie Face has the best pies in Australia, but it's hard to resist it's gimicky store signs to go in and check them out. There was a Pie Face just about to open in Perth before I left, there's a multitude in Brisbane, and I recently just learned that there's a 24 hour one in Melbourne: just another example of how Perth is just a bit slow, a bit behind the times, a bit far away but slowly, slowly catching up with the rest of Australia :)

Apparently there is now a Pie Face in New York that just opened in January! 

Carlton XXX Brewery & Tour

On a rainy, windy day we decided to go on the Carlton Brewery Tour for a little taste of Queensland. Our tour guy was a friendly, chatty old man who must've been giving tours at the brewery for years and years. Besides mum and myself, the rest of the tour consisted of five Asians, of which one definitely didn't know much English, and all of the tour guide's jokes went way over her head. We were fitted with hi-vis vests, safety goggles and made sure that we all had close-toed shoes before we were lead through the history, rooms describing the ingredients, and the production facilities for about an hour and a half. Maybe about an hour too long. The reward at the end: 4 beverages or beers of your choice - four!! That's quite a lot for anyone to drink. The result: Mum saying, "I might actually start drinking beer! I like this."

Although it is a much larger scale, I couldn't help but think about my time at Frankland Estate while viewing the production and bottling of the beer. There were a couple supervisors on the floor, but the machines and conveyor belts did all the work. There was no WWOOFer folding all the boxes for the cases. Nobody with numb fingers lifting the bottles individually into the boxes. Nobody lifting case after case onto pallet after pallet. I suppose that's why Frankland Estate wines are only found in specialty stores and it means so much more when I can say, "I put that label on that bottle."

Damper

"Damper and Dip" is on a lot of Australian menu's under the entree options (re: entree is not a main course; entree is a starter, an appetiser.) Traditionally, it was a simple bread brought into the Outback, but from what I've seen, it means different variations of the house bread served with dips. And if it's not damper on the menu, then it's bread with dukkah. Dukkah, a dry condiment mixture of herbs, nuts, and spices is usually served with olive oil to be dipped into by bread.

In Brisbane, you can have a "real" taste of Australian cuisine at Tukka. Although it may not be what the average Australian eats day to day, the menu showcases native foods from local farmers in a modern, innovative way. The menu has two degustation choices as well as a la carte. Luckily, we were able to experience on of the Discovery menu which consisted of 5 courses. 

Amuse Busche of Tasmanian possum. 

yes, possum.

Native Plate: selection of wild game such as kangaroo, smoked kangaroo, emu, crocodile with native berries and damper with dukkah.

Mum hasn't a clue what she's eating! 

Palate Cleanser after the Pepperberry and lime cured crocodile fillet cooked sous vide with cider braised pears 

yum yum.

Seared Queensland kangaroo fillet with with roasted winter vegs and a rhubarb lemon myrtle jus.

The Great Escape Menu consisted of seven courses of which we missed out on the Confit of Tasmanian possum and pork belly pie with sauteed brussel sprouts tossed with pepperberry pancetta and a davidson plum jus as well as Seared Marburg emu fillet with anisata onied dutch carrots, braised du puy lentils and a port jus. That was definitely our fill of meat for the week, and interesting exotic meat for the year!! 

Now, if you don't want pie, you don't want to go on a tour just to get 4 beers, and you're not into weird exotic meats, then I highly recommend two neighbouring restaurants on Mollison Street in Brisbane's West End. The first one, The Gun Shop Cafe, we went to for breakfast but would have been happy to go back for lunch and dinner if we hadn't stopped by The Burrow instead to try somewhere different. The article in which we had read about The Gun Shop cafe had talked up the potato and feta hash browns, so much so it seemed, that they were already sold out by the time we sat down. Instead, mum got the sweet potato hash browns with Toulouse sausages, tomato jam and rocket with a poached egg on top. I had a puff pastry tart with Persian feta, rocket and mixed wild mushrooms. It was more of a brunch option, but would have been perfect with a poached egg, but got my morning fix by going halfsies with mum. The breakfast menu offers something light, classics, and new dishes with an asterix proclaiming the menu is subject to change daily. The lunch and dinner menus seem a bit more substantial and enticing in a peculiar but trustworthy way. I would highly recommend going for breakfast. 

 The Burrow, also open for breakfast, lunch and dinner, was just as basic as Tukkah and The Gun Shop: beams and exposed wood, stairs leading up to another dining area with a balcony that looked as though it used to be a house, but just expanded the front of it with an additional tin roof and big open window seats. Both are casual and inviting with the types of menus that everything sounds so good, so appetising, so wonderfully odd the combinations of flavours and ingredients that you just want to order everything. Oh wait, that's usually just indecisive letsordereverythingtotaste me. I could've ordered all of the $10 pizzas: PNG: prosciutto, nashi pear, and gorgonzola; The Lucky Chick: harissa spiced with chickpeas; Mr Potato Head with rosemary potatoes; the one we ordered had silverbeet (chard). The crispy beer battered chips come with a herbed mayo and homemade tomato salsa. They specialise in craft beers and ciders. Every table had a different salt and pepper set you could imagine were collected over the years with stories to tell rather than just bought at a flea market. MMM just thinking about it makes me want to go back again!

If I were to go back to Brisbane, I would definitely want to try their local specialty: Moreton Bay bugs. Bugs are not bugs, but kinda like a cross between a lobster and a crayfish in which you eat the meat from the tail and hence quite expensive.

I would also go to Jo Jo's....

"Though their life was modest, they believed in eating well." — James Joyce (Dubliners)

My flatmate keeps making fun of me for continuously threatening myself with an instant ramen diet.

The first week of living here in Perth after moving up from Frankland, I wandered past the big chains and overpriced gourmet food stores to find myself in a little mart jammed packed with all sorts of foreign Asian goods with no English descriptions on the packaging. The only thing I could comprehend beyond the savory images were the numbers marking the price. Quite content on finding the so-far cheapest bottle of Sriracha in Perth and picking up two differently flavored packages of 5-packet ramens for $5, I thought I had found myself a bargain that my partime salary could compete with.

As I've mentioned before: Perth is a ridiculously expensive city. As I've implied before: to call Perth a city is relative. Let's rephrase: Perth is a ridiculously expensive place. Since living here for the last month - really living here - I have come to understand why.

I type this as the tab for ANZ's Internet banking is open, but I am hesitant to reveal the truth of it's accounts to make my survival until next week's pay day become a stark and dismal reality.

The main reason Perth is so expensive is that it can be. It's like a spoiled only child. Located in the middle of nowhere, the nearest city, Adelaide, is over 2,000 kilometers away; a flight from Perth in the West to Sydney in the East is about 5 hours - the same length for a flight from the American East coast to it's West coast; and driving 10 hours directly north of Perth only covers about 2 inches on a map. Part of this connection between its isolation and its monopoly over exuberant prices is that it is expensive to import things from around the world, let alone transport goods from other parts of the country. Indonesia is closer to Perth than Sydney is. Maybe because of this, and/or maybe they don't have any other choice, I have found that Australia is very proud in selling their own products: most bars serve a majority of Australian beers, most bottle shops predominately sell Australian wines, many bands are local artists, everyone claims to have known Heath Ledger - just kidding.

Another tie in to the expensiveness and remoteness is that Perth is a booming hub for the resource industry. With all the surrounding nothingness, there are a lot of mining jobs to be had with a lot of work to be done. These unfavorable locations and long hours pay a lot of money for these jobs. Called FIFO - fly in fly out - people fly to remote destinations for jobs that will last maybe 2 weeks at a time working hard with nowhere or no time to spend their money, then they fly home to Perth for a week with pockets filled with money to burn. Apparently, part of the lure to bring people to work in these desolate areas is to have tremendously nice facilities. Perth then has to compete with keeping people in all sectors of the economy in Perth. Why work in retail or hospitality when you could have a cleaning job at the mines earning $100,000 a year? How can the schools compete with teachers salaries in the city and providing quality education when the teachers can get more money up north? People are literally changing career paths to earn more money in the mines. With these incredible incomes and salaries, Perth can get away with charging such high prices that people now have the money to spend. I would say that the standard employment pay is relative to the standard of living in Perth, but it's not necessarily fair to the people who do not have jobs in the mining industry who are still trying to survive. This has caused a huge discrepancy between the population. My hourly rate isn't bad, but that doesn't mean I can afford a $16 sandwich for lunch or can buy a round of $10 beers. Once in the night. For two people. It's tempting, really tempting, to go work for $80/hour at one of the mines to put away a couple grand, but at the same time, I would feel like a tremendous sell out. Money can't be everything, it can't be the driving force in life.....oh! but the prospect of the promises that financial security offers is so so tempting. I haven't necessarily ruled it out yet. The ANZ tab is glaring at me, daring me to face reality. But, what would my friends and family think if I worked in a MINE?!

So if Perth is so expensive and I'm trying to save money to travel, you must wonder: why am I living here, currently in fear of my bank account, and with the packets of ramen still uneaten? You must wonder, if it hasn't already pissed you off, why have I resorted to buying terrible ramen noodles like a poor college student, which I never ate in college, when I KNOW how to eat better than that after a year of apparent studying in Italy?

Which brings me to two points I want to discuss:

Despite feeling quite proud in my bargain shopping of cheap ramen, even doing a comparison shopping of different brands and prices and flavors, there is a reason why they are still sitting in the larder. I thought I was doing the right thing, buying cheap food to save my money and thinking this $5 would feed me for at least 10 meals (10 days actually, I don't think I could even attempt to endeavour eating more than one packet in a day). But the more I thought about it, the more I understood how I was dooped into the negative way people think about food these days. I felt, without thinking about it, that I had to buy crap in order to not spend a lot of money. But didn't I just spend a whole year studying the culture of food, the economy of food, the politics of food, the effects food has on the environment and on our health? Why did I immediately think I had to buy instant processed food in order to save money? Shouldn't I be preaching better purchasing decisions and better eating habits to show people that they can buy quality food without breaking the bank? Isn't that what made me so frustrated about customers and their thoughts towards buying foods at the farmers market last summer - didn't I want to prove them wrong? Isn't this what I want to educate people on: how can a 69 cent bag of instant just-add-hot-water food with dehydrated vegetables and high sodium flavoring from Asia actually cost 69 cents? What is the nutritional content of 69 cents (I don't know, it's all in Chinese). Here I was going into "survival mode" of bulk instant ramen - the spicy kind of course, I might add - and getting angry and frustrated at the way food is treated and marketed and even more so, embarrassed at myself.

Instead, I bought bags of red, green, and black lentils, chickpeas, couscous, whole wheat penne, and flour to make homemade bread to slice and keep in the freezer. I'm not sure where the food comes from, but the Subiaco weekend market has terrific prices and all sorts of produce. If you go at the end of the day on Sunday they are literally trying to give away the food for $1 a bag. The little Asian shop down the street in Maylands sells discounted food that most places would throw out because of a few blemishes or is on it's last day on the shelf. My body craves vegetables, not instant food, and despite every purchase being a comparison shop and being conscious about what I want and what I need and what I can afford, I am more aware of the price of the food and wondering how certain bags of carrots or a head of lettuce can be so cheap. I know I shouldn't be complaining because I'm trying not to spend money either - I expected 10 meals from $5 - but it's ridiculous what people expect out of food. How they will pay $4.50 for a small cup of coffee or $3 for a soda, but then complain about the cost of milk or not have any comprehension surrounding the efforts put into production or the cost of transportation or the wages for the labor. *sigh

dilemma. 

6 bottles of cheap wine may seem like a good deal, but 2 bottles of quality good-tasting wine really make a difference. Same goes for olive oil. For local fruits. For vegetables in season. For making homemade bread.

buy less for your budget. buy better for your life. 

I am still tempted to do a full-on ramen diet week - I have the packets already, why let them go to waste (if there even is an expiration date). I've tried already, but once mixed in a jar of kimchi and another time added some sauteed bok choy and cut up tomatoes into it with drizzles of Sriracha. I physically can't bear to empty the packet of powdered flavoring into it, knowing how much sodium is in it, but maybe, just as an experiment, I could see what it's like to really live on a ramen diet.....thoughts?

And so to the second point from that previous discussion:

I like Perth a lot. Despite being one of the most expensive cities in the world, it is also ranked as one of the most livable and one of the highest qualities of living (is there any oxymoron somewhere there?) Just seventeen years short of being 200 years old (!) it reminds me a lot of California. Yes, the sunny weather and beach side proximity do help in this comparison. It's clean, pretty, budding, walkable, manageable.  Sure, there are a lot of ugly buildings, but there's a lot of breath-takingly unique ones. I love the neighborhoods in the suburbs where each house is distinctly different as though each plot of land had its own architect with a freedom to design whatever they wanted and took advantage of that opportunity. I could go on and on about the houses, but I can't find the right descriptive vocabulary right now.

What I like about Perth, and part of the reason why I decided to come to the west coast first, is that despite all the travelers, backpackers, and heavily populated foreigners, there aren't a lot of tourists (differentiation: tourists don't live here). It's kinda its own hidden gem. There aren't a whole lot of touristy sights in Perth in general and maybe that observation has something to do with me making fun of it being called a city. Before I left for Australia, most people I had talked to who had been here had been to the east coast, but said they never made it to Perth or Western Australia as it was too far away. I haven't been to the east coast yet, so I can't say anything about that, but for now, I like Perth. A lot of people rave about Melbourne and say Perth is 10 or even 20 years behind it, but I think Perth has a lot of potential. And for that, I'm rooting for Perth.
For the last couple "moves" I've always had a time frame: a year in Italy, a few months in Ireland, a summer in Portsmouth, a little over a month in Ireland, then a few weeks in Perth before 3 months in Frankland. Now I have no time frame, no future destination or plan, and I kinda like the freedom of it. I applied for a job in a restaurant because I thought it'd be still along the food lines slash hospitality side of things in terms of learning all the in's and out's of the food industry while at the same time being flexible, social, and non-committal so that I could test out the Perth waters to see if I liked it or at least get some cash before deciding where I wanted to go next. But for now, I like it, and think I might look for something a little more serious until something else comes along. I like the paychecks, the routine of work, the rent responsibility, the budgeting of money I've worked for, the "real life" I haven't had in a while. I love my little home with my own room and my flatmate, but living out of a backpack still makes me feel a little "unreal." For now, it's ok. For now, the ramen will be there for cases of starving emergencies in between paychecks and as a reminder that although life can be tough, there's always a lesson to learn from it. Sacrifice may mean learning how to prioritize, but it doesn't have to mean sacrificing the quality of your life or disregarding your standards, no matter where you are.

I have since opened up the ANZ tab. Let's not talk about it. 

What's in Season: Peaches & Nectarines

Peaches. There is nothing that tastes like summer than biting into a recently picked, perfectly ripe peach that when you bite into it, juice just oozes down your chin and drips down your arm. Pure pleasure.

I am allergic to peaches - they are related to the almond family - so I generally stay away from them. Plus I always thought they weren't that great, a little tasteless and not sweet enough. I thought that I was less allergic when they were a bit hard and under-ripe. However, my interest peaked as everyone at the farmers market started asking about the arrival of the peaches and how they were their favorite part of summer. So when they finally came in season, I couldn't resist to biting into one. Minus the incredibly itchy fuzz which makes me maniacally scratch, they definitely are delicious when juicy and ripe with the juice running down your chin and all over your arms as you try to wipe it off.

Buying: Peaches are either clingstone or free-stone. Clingstone are ones where the flesh is pretty securely attached to the flesh and are usually sent to the canning industry whereas free-stone peaches have pits that hang about the flesh pretty freely. There are a lot of different varieties of peaches and nectarines but realistically, they can be interchangeable. Pay attention to the smell of the fruit as well as the background color. Red, although appealing, doesn't not equate with ripeness or maturity, but with with variety of the fruit.  You can tell the type of peach by looking at the ribbed shoulder on the top of the peach - the little strip will be yellow-orange for a yellow fleshed peach and a lighter yellow for a white flesh skin. Look for pieces of fruit that have an orange or golden, not green, hue to their background. Like tomatoes, always trust your nose and smell your fruit - should be peachy keen!

Storing: If you want to keep peaches for longer, keep them in the refrigerator after they have begun to ripen (do not put under-ripe fruit in the fridge as it will dry out the flesh and turn mealy). If you're looking to eat them sooner, leave them out at room temperature. If you want to eat it even sooner, place it in a brown paper bag with a banana (or any fruit that exudes ethylene) and it will expedite the ripening process. They are very fragile and delicate, any damage or bruising will cause them to start decomposing which is why farmers markets may have boxes of "canning" peaches and nectarines. The juices will cause the other fruits to start to rot prematurely as well so they are separated. These are often ready to eat, fallen, bruised, split-pit, even ugly fruits that are perfect for canning, obviously, or making jams, pies, and tarts. Peaches and nectarines, like tomatoes, are climacteric, which means they will continue to ripen after they are picked. So, if you buy a peach or nectarine from the farmers market that is pretty hard, it is because the farmer knows that you might not eat it right away, so leave it on the counter and it will be excellent to eat in a couple days. I'm not quite sure what to answer when people ask me if the fruit will ripen and become softer....what do you think? It will stay hard or just get harder? Of course it will ripen. However, if you go pick your own peaches and nectarines, follow your nose to find the fruit picked off the tree that is just bursting with liquid sugary syrup that will drip down your arm as you take that first bite......

Split Pits

"she obviously has a lot of respect for you. none of our friends know what a split pit is, let alone be able to talk about it for hours."

What's the difference between a peach and a nectarine? Not too much. 
Fact: peaches and nectarines are so closely related that sometimes a peach seed will germinate a nectarine tree and a nectarine seed with grow a peach tree! There is just one differentiating gene. Because peaches have hair on their surface - which causes all sorts of uncomfortable itching for me - they are considered to be "pubescent" whereas nectarines have no fuzz, just a smooth surface. Although preferred by some, nectarines are firmer than peaches so they don't have that melt-in-your-mouth effect and therefore don't really fall apart messily all over your hand, half in your mouth like a ripe peach often does.

Medical: Lots of Vitamin A & C and potassium. They are virtually fat-free (less than 1 gram), very low in calories (about 40) and the skin is a good source of fiber!

I AM ITCHINIGLY INCREDIBLY ALLERGIC TO PEACH FUZZ! 

....hours of itching at work....

Cooking: When cooking peaches, peel the skin as they will easily peel away throughout the cooking process, however, nectarines do not need to be peeled. To easily peel a peach, put an X with a sharp knife at the bottom of the peach and pop in boiling water to blanch for a couple seconds and then quickly put into a bowl of ice water. The ice water will stop the peach from continuing to cook and the skin will easily peel away. If the fruit is incredibly ripe, blanching is probably not necessary.

If you are using cut fruit, sprinkle some sugar over it to stop it from browning as the exposure to air will cause enzymatic browning.

Recipes:

Peach Bellini
The Bellini is a popular drink in Italy made famous from Harry's Bar in Venice, owned by Giuseppi Cipriani. I always wanted to meet a Giuseppi while I was living in Italy. Anyways, a Bellini is a long drink cocktail served without ice. It is two parts (100mL) prosecco, one part (50mL) white peach puree. The peach puree can be made by blanching a peach to remove the skins, then blending it with a dash of prosecco (a lot of recipes will call for water and lemon juice, but why not prosecco?!). The puree is then added to the glass and topped off with prosecco. A virgin version can be made also by using club soda instead (with the water and lemon juice in the blender).


Tomato Peach and Basil Salad
4 Tomatoes (or to match the amount of peaches, depending on the size)
4 Peaches (2 yellow, 2 white)
Basil
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1-2 teaspoons dark brown sugar, optional
2 cloves chopped garlic
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup quality extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon of Dijon mustard

Roughly cut the tomatoes and peaches into bite size pieces. Tear basil into the salad. Whisk together the remaining ingredients to make the vinaigrette. Gently toss and fold into the salad.


Grilled Peach Salad
Dressing:
2 1/2 oz goat cheese, crumbled
Salt and Pepper
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
juice from 1 lemon
1 oz Parmesean, freshly grated

2 large peaches, halved, pits removed
extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper
2 frisee or endive leaves, washed and dried
small bunch of fresh mint leaves

Put the goat cheese in a pestle and mortar with sea salt and pepper - easy on the salt because the cheese will already be salty. Add the olive oil and lemon juice and mix. Add the parmesean and mix again, but not for too long. 

Addicting Potato Salad

This recipe was one of the first ones I tried from Yotam Ottolenghi's Plenty cookbook. I made it first, back in the spring however with garlic scapes instead of the parsley and basil and I had a mixture of baby blue, red, and white potatoes. I think I exuded fumes of garlic for the rest of the week. I couldn't stay away from it, snacking on the little potatoes that I didn't get a chance to take a picture of all the pretty colors blended together. 

I did get a pic of the garlic scapes though. 

I had a quart of potatoes from the farmer's market, fresh parsley and basil so I couldn't be tempted to make anything else. 

15 quail's eggs (did not use0

1 cup frozen petite peas

1 3/4 lb new potatoes, washed but not scrubbed

1 cup basil

1/2 cup parsley leaves

1/2 cup pine nuts

1/2 cup grated Parmesan

2 garlic cloves (i think i actually put in 4 or 5)

1 cup olive oil

1/2 tsp white wine vinegar (i sprinkled over some Spanish sherry vinegar)

bunch of sorrel or mint leaves, shredded (did not have)

salt and pepper

Place the quail's eggs in a saucepan and cover with cold water. Bring to the boil and simmer for 30 seconds (soft-boiled) or 2 minutes (hard-boiled). Refresh in cold water and peel. 

Blanch the peas in boiling water for 30 seconds then drain, refresh, and set aside. 

In another pot of boiling water, cook the potatoes for 15-20 minutes, depending on their size, until soft but not falling apart. 

While the potatoes are cooking, place the basil, parsley, pine nuts, Parmesan and garlic in a food processor and blitz to a paste. Add the oil and pulse until you get a runny pesto. Pour into a large bowl. 

Drain the potatoes, then cut in two as soon as you can handle them (they will absorb more flavor when hot). Add the potatoes, vinegar, and the peas to the bowl of pesto and toss well (oops, just realized I blitzed the peas too). Mix well, gently, slightly crushing the potatoes, so that all the flavors are mixed and the pesto is evenly distributed. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cut the eggs in half and gently fold in. 

Going to go blanch another cup of peas to add to my salad! 

"The primary requisite for writing well about food is a good appetite. Without this, it is impossible to accumulate, with the allotted span, enough experience of eating to have anything worth setting down. Each day brings only two opportunities for fieldwork, and they are not to be wasted minimizing the intake of cholesterol." AJ Liebling

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

First Meal in Ireland.

So after living, eating and drinking my way through Italy for the last year, what did I have as my first meal in Ireland? Rose Petal Risotta, brought from Italy

 as well as some 24 and 30 month old Parmigiano Reggiano from the farm in Colorno as well as some slices of Culatello di Zibello from Al Vedel.

Still not sick of it. 

Mum Comes to Italy: Modena (aka Osteria Francescana)

Massimo explained to us how UNISG appreciates food and likes to teach us whereas if he taught at ALMA, he would take their money from teaching the class, but they wouldn't get anything out of it. Teaching and living should be two-sided, giving and taking - learning together. 

By the time we arrived in Modena, everything was closed for lunch. We wandered and wandered until we headed back to the main piazza. I don't know if it was because it was Monday and everything was closed, but I didn't like Modena as much as the other cities of Emilia Romagna. It is much smaller and definitely does not cater to as many visitors as Verona or Bologna. The main reason we went there, ok the only reason we went there, was to have dinner at Osteria Francescana - rated #6 in the world and #1 in Italy - my UNISG graduation gift. Chef Mossimo Bottura came to teach us one afternoon and inspired many of us with not only his food, but his philosophy towards cooking and life.

After ringing the doorbell to enter, we stood in the front room until we were brought to our table. Each of our coats were taken and the two girls stood there with them, in silence, until we sat down. Awkward. Massimo came out and talked to every tables and would come to explain what each of the dishes were. Servers would bring the dishes to the tables out together, so that everyone was served at the same time. Glasses of water were never empty, never even half full, as they were constantly refilled as though the servers couldn't walk by without pouring some water. The wine list was incredibly heavy, with mostly Italian wines but ranging in an enormous stretch of prices. 

11,500 euros for a bottle of wine. no big deal. happy graduation.  jk.

Mum had the traditional tasting menu and I had the classic. I thought everything was perfect. It was a lot of food although I wasn't completely stuffed by the end of it. It was very meat heavy though and would have been nice to have another vegetable dish in between, but that's not very typical Italian. Everything was "typical" but reinvented very creatively. 

Massimo's take on spuma di mortadella - served with fluffy, salty focaccia, pistachio and I think mayo?

top 10 dishes that changed cuisine: foie gras popsicle covered in hazelnuts and almonds with aged balsamic in the middle

my non-nut foie gras served with aged balsamic, freshly ground black pepper, course salt and greens

my leeks with black truffles - can actually smell the truffles when they were placed on the table. and they tasted like truffles. take that ristorante diana. and your armpit.

my parmigiano reggiano 5 ways.

mum's tortellini en brodo

my "soup" - Massimo's take on pasta e fagioli - foie gras, rosemary foam, parmigiano crisp that tastes like the "pasta"....amazing. maybe my favourite. 

mum's bolognese

my ravioli - Massimo's take on cotecchino e lentiche - typical italian dish served on New Years Eve, but now in pasta. 

mum's short ribs served with truffled jerusalem artichoke and creamy potato

my bollito misto...non bollito - head, tongue, cheek, belly, tail, and cotechino. 

"orange salad" shot with Massimo in the background

vanilla ice cream with warm cherry sauce.

chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream and a fruity film. 

another dessert tray. profiteroles, fruity gel, chocolate truffles, cream cake, and chocolate with pop rocks!

Delicious and perfect. We even got a book of the restaurants in "Les Grandes Tables du Monde."I think this was once in a lifetime though. I loved it. 

Mum Comes to Italy: Bologna

Bologna.

Our next stop was to Bologna. I love Bologna and wanted Mum to see it too because I knew she'd like it just as much. Sundays in Italy though meant that most places were closed so the city wasn't quite as alive as I had remembered the last time I visited. It was still wonderful to stroll aimlessly throughout the streets, staring in disbelief at the intricate details in the architecture and creak our necks as we looked up at the massive, yet incredibly old buildings. Mum mentioned that she felt small in the city and pondered over the possibility of men erecting such grand buildings so many years ago. We ate in Eataly and lost the calories by climbing a never-ending staircase up a tower to overlook the city (impressive views, but I think Bologna is much prettier from the street). Despite the antique interior feeling of the tower, the stairs had no backing, which gave glimpses of the potential fall below. I don't consider myself to be scared of heights, but I walked up the steep stairs looking only up, feeling blind and helpless. If it wasn't for our motivation not to give up having already walked up so many flights, I would have been completely unable to go any further if I looked down.

wondering if we should keep going...

Bologna from up up above

We climbed it.

We wandered under the shade-providing porticles which block out the summer soaked sun and the humid winter rain. I wondered why Irish architects didn't think of such a thing with all their annual rain....We looked everywhere for silver bridesmaid shoes and we stopped outside the church in the main piazza to watch a parade go by, celebrating Italy's 150 years of unification.

confetti everywhere!

Later, amongst the empty, quiet streets, we came upon a gelateria (per Catherine's suggestion) with an incredible line outside where we each had a cone of two flavours. delicious! 

For dinner, we got a reservation at Diana - which the NYTimes, Mario Batalli, Food & Wine, etc all talked about, so I was looking forward to some typical Bolognese food. The restaurant was busily packed, brightly lit from large chandeliers, and it seemed like a scene out of the 1950's. The servers were formally dressed and carved meat off carts served table-side. Mum and I figured we should order the mortadella appetizers - so she ordered some sort of mortadella with parmigiano reggiano and I ordered spuma di mortadella. Her plate arrived - an obnoxiously large amount of cubed pink meat with three slivers of cheese. 

Mum just laughed.

Mine was a pot of mortadella pate with a large romaine lettuce leaf sticking out, served with three thin slices of toasted bread. 

Maybe the cubes of mortadella were unappealing to look at, bright pink with white spots of fat, maybe it is the disconnect between the amount of meat and the amount of cheese, maybe it was the association of mortadella with the gross bologni in America, maybe it is the chewy texture - but it was just too much meat and not even presented well with any effort. The spuma was nice as a pate, with a mild flavour and soft texture, but it was also too much for one person. Oh well, we thought, with our "when in Rome" mentality, we tried. We wondered if mortadella is still popular with the Bolognese locals, or if it's on the menu as such for the tourists. Not to be compared with anything found in America, I like the flavour of mortadella, I have a better appreciation for it, but mostly when it is sliced thinly. Next, our pasta courses came. Mum ordered rigatoni with melanzane, pomodori and mozarella. 

I ordered tagliatelle with tartufo. 

Mum took one of the shaved truffles off the top to taste it, as did I.....we tasted nothing. Maybe it tastes better with the pasta. Twirled the pasta with the black truffles and tasted nothing. The truffle tasted like soggy paper and all I could think of when I ate it with the pasta was "armpit." I took another bite and refused to eat anymore. The waiter came over and asked if anything was wrong and I said this isn't good. The headwaiter came over and assured me that the truffles were fresh, that it was the right season for them, and that he had just shaved them. I said, I know, but this is not good. The taste of the pasta wasn't even rich with creamy butter. He looked at me utterly confused as I refused to be tempted into eating it. Somewhere inside, I too was confused as I hardly ever send anything back. But this was not edible and not worth it. He asked me if I wanted anything else and I said no thank you, just a check. Maybe if the appetizers had been better I would have given something else another shot, but even Mum's rigatoni was ok, but not amazing. What a disappointment. Maybe we ordered the wrong things (is that even possible to consider? Shouldn't everything be good?). Trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, I started to doubt my own culinary taste - maybe I don't know what truffles should taste like - but these thoughts about this dish couldn't be justified. I think that I do know**, and these freshly-shaved but not-fresh truffles tasted like absolutely nothing. Armpit. I'd like to think I know more what truffles taste like than armpits....

**confidence regained the following night


The next day, Bologna was bustling. The food markets were sprawled onto the little streets. We wandered around the shops until we headed to Modena.

love the food in Bologna

so many types of mortadella!

(oh, and Mum did like Bologna as much as I knew she would).