ok, a post about focaccia. One of the fears you must overcome while living in Italy is the fear of all things white. White bread. White pasta. Butter. Whole milk. Lard. White fatty bits on cured meat. It's just impossible. It''s inevitable. Not only is it everywhere and typical of the cuisine, it's delicious.
I have not been a fan of what is known as parma bread. I honestly don't think anyone is. It is hard on the outside. Pretty dry on the inside. It's boring. I'm sure if thrown at someone's head, it could lethally be the perfect murder weapon. I couldn't understand why northern Italy couldn't have better bread. That is, until now during my internship, I tried focaccia from Al Vedel.
Every day for staff lunch there is meat and potatoes or cheesey/meaty/buttery pasta and always bread sprawled out across the table. Carbs. White carbs. But it doesn't matter. << over the fear >> the focaccia is freshly made in the morning and so light and fluffy it just melts in your mouth. It sits on the cotton table cloth and taunts me. << thinking about the fear >> it's not the hard, dry, boring shit.
Today however, there was no bread on the table. for lunch, we had focaccia pizza. FOCACCIA PIZZA. foccaccia topped with red onions. focaccia topped with tomato sauce and mozzarella. focaccia topped with gorgonzola. focaccia topped with tomatoes. Even after three slices of this peppy pizza, I wanted more. Even after sneaking a slice during clean up, I wanted more. Even after bringing home three slices, I wanted more.
Bravo Mauro.
Thank you for showing me that the area can have good bread. No more micca di parma. No more merda di parma.
I told Mauro the other day I wanted him to teach me how to make bread. Now, I'm not so sure it's a good idea....I might make it every day.
I have not been a fan of what is known as parma bread. I honestly don't think anyone is. It is hard on the outside. Pretty dry on the inside. It's boring. I'm sure if thrown at someone's head, it could lethally be the perfect murder weapon. I couldn't understand why northern Italy couldn't have better bread. That is, until now during my internship, I tried focaccia from Al Vedel.
Every day for staff lunch there is meat and potatoes or cheesey/meaty/buttery pasta and always bread sprawled out across the table. Carbs. White carbs. But it doesn't matter. << over the fear >>
Today however, there was no bread on the table. for lunch, we had focaccia pizza. FOCACCIA PIZZA. foccaccia topped with red onions. focaccia topped with tomato sauce and mozzarella. focaccia topped with gorgonzola. focaccia topped with tomatoes. Even after three slices of this peppy pizza, I wanted more. Even after sneaking a slice during clean up, I wanted more. Even after bringing home three slices, I wanted more.
Bravo Mauro.
Thank you for showing me that the area can have good bread. No more micca di parma. No more merda di parma.
I told Mauro the other day I wanted him to teach me how to make bread. Now, I'm not so sure it's a good idea....I might make it every day.
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