i guess i need to wrap this up. flew home and kept meaning to do it, but ive been either too tired, or forgotten about it, or just didnt know where to start. i'll keep this short and sans sentimentality, or try to.
the last day in rome i wandered around by myself, doing those little things i love to do that give me great pleasure. a cappuccino here, petting a kitty there. had the nice man at the cart in campo dei fiori make me a pork panino, and i sat in piazza farnese and watched the people, and the spot where it all started. when i first came to rome back at the beginning of all of this, antonio had me meet him by the fountain in piazza farnese (actually an ancient roman bath tub that they turned into a fountain, so beautiful). i was looking at it the other day while i ate, and i could see myself there, a hot august morning, my calvin klein outfit on in an attempt to feign composure and youthful elegance after an overnight flight, my ginornous backpack cracking my shoulder blades with its weight of excess provisions (soon to be sorted and ditched in greece, but we werent there yet...), and such a feeling of excitement and...confidence in my little tummy. i think it was real, this memory i have of being totally confident. i wasnt scared at all, i was excited mostly. i was standing there when antonio came out to greet me, securing my lack of nerves, securing that, as they say, tutto era a posto. i walked over after a time and stood there, in that spot. did a mental check of both physical and spiritual changes that may have occured. maybe a little bit heavier in the mid section, but i dont think so, my clothes fit just the same. my hair is definitely shorter. maybe im taller, but i doubt it. i dont have any fingernails, and when i arrived i was in a weird pocket of self-discipline and had grown them to a point of being able to paint them. more or less the same girl, though. and mentally, emotionally...i dont know.
after dinner that last night i broke away from aunt harri and uncle c, sending them on their way while i attended to some business. came to the trevi fountain, where be it out of sentimentality or superstition or something deeper, i knew i had to make a little peace. threw a .5 cent piece into the fountain for my father. then threw a whole euro, and said a prayer for myself, asking rome to take me back one day. threw another whole euro in there for my love, leaving it nameless and spaceless and ageless and general, but hoping...and finally a .1 cent coin, just for good measure. figured i had all my bases covered, and rome needs me as much as i need her, so i feel confident in our spiritual contract.
the flight home was so long, i was awake over 28 hours by the end. ate too many pistaccio nuts and got ill. arrived in atlanta to find cooper and parker and aunt kathi awaiting me, precious as always, like not a moment had gone by (though it definitely had, way too many moments, and parker made sure i knew it). went to late-night steak and shake and got my burger fix, and then came home, to my bedroom, just as i left it, and my kitties, just as i left them, and my mama, just as i left her. home is home, and always will be.
so in conclusion i will say only: thank you. thank you for reading, thank you for the support, the comments, the love. i hope you enjoyed reading this even a fraction as much as i enjoyed writing it, living it. She Considers Light and Heat will come to a close now but, who knows...maybe one day...
arrivederci!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
iPhones are cool. I want one. Also, stocking sized, so... Am typing on aunt Harris, which makes blogging a bit tiring but I will persevere. Florence was gorgeous! And David is bigger than I remember (har) and just astounding. We found a market with organic local cheeses, ham, wine, olive oil and crafts, so I was in heaven for a bit. Aunt harri was super adventurous and tried the cheeses and hams, and bought a bottle of montipulciano wine. Was so proud. Aunt h and uncle c are proving to be wonderful travel partners, totally laid back and open. Uncle c basically just lopes along behind us and looks either amused, tranquil, or amazed depending on the situation, always completely composed and pleasant, and offering finely tuned 8-word-max observations when needed. Totally chill. Aunt harri is amazingly proficient with decifering and pronouncing Italian, showing great interest in, like, everything: signs, train station announcents, the behaviors of homeless people and their dogs, architecure. V. G. Is fun listening to her point out odds and ends that I fail to notice anymore. We left the apartment at 7:30 this morning and returned 8 hours later after an extremely full day of movement. Is 9 and they are both in bed, and I'm not far behind them. Will find Internet tomorrow and blog properly. Love.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
oh, my lovely roma! the weather is holding up beautifully. spent the morning walking about, drinking cappucino, haggling for a good price on an orange belt. came home to find sweet aunt harri and uncle c had gifted me a beautiful gold pashmina, which i am now wearing around my neck. didnt know gold suited me so well. a whole new world of opportunities! all here is going well, today was a rest day. yesterday we walked for ages (as is the norm) to the bigger sites, and over to the colosseum. aunt harri and uncle c discussed the architectural procedures involved in building such a structure, and i dreamily watched pigeons fly and felt along the aged stone with my hand. dinner was made in-house by yours truly. i pan roasted some chicken with herbs and leeks, and made a rather yummy pasta with ricotta, brocolli, and tiny tomatoes. uncle c ate most of it, and it was decided that i should just cook again tonight. its actually pretty tough to find good food at restaurants in roma, as it is all tourist based. have picked up some good techniques, though ("piu simplice, piu italiano"), so i think i do a pretty good job. dragged myself out of the apartment afted dinner last night and over to trastevere, to say hi to the boys at the cook book bar. first glass of red wine i'd had in months nearly knocked me flat, some super strong varietal from sicilia, and after an hour of sipping on it and twirling it around in my glass i gave up and walked home. tonight i'll make another chicken dish, this time wrapped in prosciutto and stuffed with sage and ricotta (we had bought too much), try some lame white from orvietto, and go to sleep early, try to dream. and tomorrow: FIRENZE!
left cormons bright and early wednesday morning, my suitcase packed to the gills and tears in my eyes. before i left i went up to say goodbye to FL's mom, give her the parting gift i got her (a pineapple. she likes them and they're hard to come by) and a hug. as soon as i saw here i couldnt even talk, just shoved the present at her and gave her a hug and nodded repeatedly, trying not to cry, while she wimbled about how they'd miss me and how shes sure shell see me again, blah blah. backed out of the kitchen and down the stairs, closed the door, and lost it.
the night before i had gotten home from tutoring the babies (god, i will miss those kids, their english had gotten so good!! such angels!), to find FL already home from work, which was odd because he usually doesnt get home till 6. figured hed taken off early for our last night, which was going to involve cocktails at Paradise (the other when-porchis-is-closed bar), and then dinner at our favorite spot, Giat Neri. he was all dressed up in a nice shirt, and clean, and suggested we go get a coffee first. went to some random bar down the road from porchis, played the lottery, drank a couple of coffees, and chatted for a bit. the air smelled of grapes at the beginning of the fermentation stage, sort of moldy and forresty, a good sign. could see out the window that there were lights on at porchis, and i sighed a deep sigh and said, "oh how i will miss that place". FL looked at me sympathetically and said he knew it, how sad was it that my last night was a stupid tuesday, so we couldnt go there? went to Paradise for a bit, but no one was there, which was also odd. FLs phone rang, and when he got done talking he said fabbio (proprietor of porchis) had called and said that before i leave i should stop by and pick up some cotechino, one of the sausages that we made, so i could at least try something from the pusitar. since we had time to kill before dinner time, we said we'd run right over and grab it. got there to find the lights inside on, and some of our friends, sitting around drinking spritz. there were champagne glasses lined up on the table, and music on the stereo. gave nadia a big hug, and asked what gives, it's stupid tuesday, right? she said she bought a new car, and they were doing a dinner to celebrate. i said, "oh, congratulations! is it in the parking lot?" and everyone burst out laughing. FL took my elbow and said gently, "no, silly, this isnt a party for nadias new car, it's for you", and everyone cheered. burried by head into his chest and held him tight, both because of that same mortification that comes at birthdays when everyone is looking at me and my face goes all red, and because i didnt want everyone to see me cry. as the night went on, more and more people showed up, till it was everyone, a private wonderful party with all of my friends, gabi and condor, and luca and federica from this summer at the pool. FL had arranged everything, all the drinks on the house for everyone, and a big dinner of pasta and cotechino, plates of ham and cheese. a totaly surprise. i was gifted tiny trinkets of love and parting, and pictures were taken. Fabbio brought out the cotechino, basically a giant sausage that merely gets boiled in water and sliced into thick burgers. he let me do the honors, as it was a profound moment in friulian history, he said, for an american to make and slice their precious cotechino. FL piped in that when they write the history books on cormons, there will be a chapter dedicated to my time here, the age of the merecan, and everyone raised their glass in salute. kept bursting into tears all night at random moments, and was hugged and pecked by everyone, giving and receiving promises of my return, and giving and receiving thanks for my time there, for these friendships and the memories. the party was wild after a bit, and even fabbio was giddy with grappa and telling jokes in friulano (condor was watching me and laughing histerically during this, and when i went over and asked what was up, he said he had been watching my face, and thought it was hilarious to throw someone a going away party, and then sit there and tell bad jokes in a language they cant understand).
at one point i was standing with FL, watching the party, and i looked up at him and told him thank you, for this, for everything, every single thing. he sighed and said, "piccola, don't you know that the only thing i care about is whether or not you're happy? more then i care about work, about my friends, about Valentino Rossi racing on saturdays, it's you, and what i can do to make you happy. the only thing that matters is you, and i try my hardest every day, since that very first day, to make sure you have what you need, and what you want, and that you know how much you're loved. and thats what makes me happy." there were no words, still arent, from me, after hearing this. it was just gratitude and love, only those emotions and realities, that i felt then, and that i still feel now. i took his hands and kissed them and nodded that yes, finally, i know that.
around 1am we bid our fairwells (the hardest was gabi, the argentina girl whom i got very close to these past few weeks. we bonded in such a specific way, that saying goodbye to her was nothing less than profound) and went home, where i managed to about break my hand by falling out of bed while trying to plug in my cellphone (sort of thing that could happen to anyone after a gallon of spritz). when we woke up the next morning i saw a package at the foot of the bed that i hadnt, um, noticed, the night before. opened it and burst out laughing, crying, "your mother is a genius!". FL rolled over and said, "oh god, do not let me see what is in that bag". was a t-shirt with his baby picture on it, and the words (bascally) "kisses to eleanor, love the cecots". the baby picture is so absurd, i dont blame him for hating it, but i think the shirt is incredible. got another shirt also: the one that reads "Versace un altro litro", the greatest shirt in the world that i have coveted for months. so now my suitcase is packed with tiny treasures, and i have enough memories to make a lifetime. watched cormons fade out the window of the train for as long as i could. the mountain was green and red and yellow, the castle ablaze in the sun, and all behind it the dolomites icy white. was the most beautiful sight id ever seen, and ill keep it with me always.
as for now, is about dinner time. oh, lovely roma. will blog after florence! so excited, havent been in years!
love, e
left cormons bright and early wednesday morning, my suitcase packed to the gills and tears in my eyes. before i left i went up to say goodbye to FL's mom, give her the parting gift i got her (a pineapple. she likes them and they're hard to come by) and a hug. as soon as i saw here i couldnt even talk, just shoved the present at her and gave her a hug and nodded repeatedly, trying not to cry, while she wimbled about how they'd miss me and how shes sure shell see me again, blah blah. backed out of the kitchen and down the stairs, closed the door, and lost it.
the night before i had gotten home from tutoring the babies (god, i will miss those kids, their english had gotten so good!! such angels!), to find FL already home from work, which was odd because he usually doesnt get home till 6. figured hed taken off early for our last night, which was going to involve cocktails at Paradise (the other when-porchis-is-closed bar), and then dinner at our favorite spot, Giat Neri. he was all dressed up in a nice shirt, and clean, and suggested we go get a coffee first. went to some random bar down the road from porchis, played the lottery, drank a couple of coffees, and chatted for a bit. the air smelled of grapes at the beginning of the fermentation stage, sort of moldy and forresty, a good sign. could see out the window that there were lights on at porchis, and i sighed a deep sigh and said, "oh how i will miss that place". FL looked at me sympathetically and said he knew it, how sad was it that my last night was a stupid tuesday, so we couldnt go there? went to Paradise for a bit, but no one was there, which was also odd. FLs phone rang, and when he got done talking he said fabbio (proprietor of porchis) had called and said that before i leave i should stop by and pick up some cotechino, one of the sausages that we made, so i could at least try something from the pusitar. since we had time to kill before dinner time, we said we'd run right over and grab it. got there to find the lights inside on, and some of our friends, sitting around drinking spritz. there were champagne glasses lined up on the table, and music on the stereo. gave nadia a big hug, and asked what gives, it's stupid tuesday, right? she said she bought a new car, and they were doing a dinner to celebrate. i said, "oh, congratulations! is it in the parking lot?" and everyone burst out laughing. FL took my elbow and said gently, "no, silly, this isnt a party for nadias new car, it's for you", and everyone cheered. burried by head into his chest and held him tight, both because of that same mortification that comes at birthdays when everyone is looking at me and my face goes all red, and because i didnt want everyone to see me cry. as the night went on, more and more people showed up, till it was everyone, a private wonderful party with all of my friends, gabi and condor, and luca and federica from this summer at the pool. FL had arranged everything, all the drinks on the house for everyone, and a big dinner of pasta and cotechino, plates of ham and cheese. a totaly surprise. i was gifted tiny trinkets of love and parting, and pictures were taken. Fabbio brought out the cotechino, basically a giant sausage that merely gets boiled in water and sliced into thick burgers. he let me do the honors, as it was a profound moment in friulian history, he said, for an american to make and slice their precious cotechino. FL piped in that when they write the history books on cormons, there will be a chapter dedicated to my time here, the age of the merecan, and everyone raised their glass in salute. kept bursting into tears all night at random moments, and was hugged and pecked by everyone, giving and receiving promises of my return, and giving and receiving thanks for my time there, for these friendships and the memories. the party was wild after a bit, and even fabbio was giddy with grappa and telling jokes in friulano (condor was watching me and laughing histerically during this, and when i went over and asked what was up, he said he had been watching my face, and thought it was hilarious to throw someone a going away party, and then sit there and tell bad jokes in a language they cant understand).
at one point i was standing with FL, watching the party, and i looked up at him and told him thank you, for this, for everything, every single thing. he sighed and said, "piccola, don't you know that the only thing i care about is whether or not you're happy? more then i care about work, about my friends, about Valentino Rossi racing on saturdays, it's you, and what i can do to make you happy. the only thing that matters is you, and i try my hardest every day, since that very first day, to make sure you have what you need, and what you want, and that you know how much you're loved. and thats what makes me happy." there were no words, still arent, from me, after hearing this. it was just gratitude and love, only those emotions and realities, that i felt then, and that i still feel now. i took his hands and kissed them and nodded that yes, finally, i know that.
around 1am we bid our fairwells (the hardest was gabi, the argentina girl whom i got very close to these past few weeks. we bonded in such a specific way, that saying goodbye to her was nothing less than profound) and went home, where i managed to about break my hand by falling out of bed while trying to plug in my cellphone (sort of thing that could happen to anyone after a gallon of spritz). when we woke up the next morning i saw a package at the foot of the bed that i hadnt, um, noticed, the night before. opened it and burst out laughing, crying, "your mother is a genius!". FL rolled over and said, "oh god, do not let me see what is in that bag". was a t-shirt with his baby picture on it, and the words (bascally) "kisses to eleanor, love the cecots". the baby picture is so absurd, i dont blame him for hating it, but i think the shirt is incredible. got another shirt also: the one that reads "Versace un altro litro", the greatest shirt in the world that i have coveted for months. so now my suitcase is packed with tiny treasures, and i have enough memories to make a lifetime. watched cormons fade out the window of the train for as long as i could. the mountain was green and red and yellow, the castle ablaze in the sun, and all behind it the dolomites icy white. was the most beautiful sight id ever seen, and ill keep it with me always.
as for now, is about dinner time. oh, lovely roma. will blog after florence! so excited, havent been in years!
love, e
Thursday, November 12, 2009
am partially ok and partially want to die. rome is beautiful, as always, the weather is wonderful. i think aunt harriett and uncle charlie like it alot, so far, except for the beer. wanted to blog but feel too tired. will try to sleep and perk up and write tomorrow. i think we do the colloseum, and maybe saturday take a day trip to capri or florence, we havent decided.
Monday, November 9, 2009
i leave really soon, and i'm trying to remember now exactly why i thought that that was the best option. is so sad. do not want to leave this wonderful place and these wonderful people, and especially not him. must remember that life is an open book and that i do not need to be afraid of leaving (the fear is, of course, that once i leave i'll realise that oh my god i had it made and want to come running right back but when i turn around cormons and italy and my love will be dissentigrated into a pile of smoldering sulfur, smelly and foggy and everything ive done and worked for and loved these past 15 months will be gone, only an illusion, and ill cry and dry up and die finally, old and alone, blabbering about this magical land full of dimples and pork products that i once came from and everyone will laugh at me and think i'm crazy), but know that i need and really want to finish school, and that is a good thing, and that there were other reasons anyway for this decision and that i know in my heart it is the right one. also do not need to be afraid of going back to scary athens because it is not scary, it is lovely, and full of education and people and life. told FL how actually kind of oddly terrified i am about returning, because most of my friends have move away and ill be all alone. is so strange. feel like i was one person when i left athens, with a life and a place, and now that i'm going back its all sort of entirely different, i'm different. not sure where ill fit in this time. FL told me not to be ridiculous, that ive been all alone before and that i am always terrified before i go someplace new but that it always works out wonderfully. pointed out that i came to italy hardly speaking a word and with no one i knew and no point of reference what so ever as to how to live, and look at me now, i have a real home. so athens? please. i can do that.
had my last night at porchis last night (is closed mon and tues). nadia, the beautiful blond proprietess whom i am possibly in love with, was in tears off and on all night, trying to convince me not to go. we decided to leave it merely as a temporary glitch, that i have to go finish school but that ill be right back, and really it wont take that long. in the meantime she'll do her best to keep FL afloat and hold down the fort with all of those silly boys. who knows, maybe i will come back and start a friuli-america export wine company, or an agrotourism travel agency for the masses of americans who have never experienced this beautiful place in thier dreamy italian vacations, or have pretty blue-eyed babies plop plop plop with FL while we open a bed and breakfast in a gorgeous, ancient farm house where i can make cheese and prosciutto and give wine tours and have a horse (his idea, was quite impressive). or maybe not. the best way to think of it, obviously, is that there are nothing but possibilities and i must follow my heart. yes. am trying to keep this in mind so i dont completely lose it. how did i get myself into this situation?
saw all of the salami that we made last night, took pictures. there's already mold on it, muffa, and a type of mold that only grows in friuli thanks to the mountain\sea air. it gives the salami and other cured products here a special flavor. we bought 4 sausages from fabbio last night, as there are some that we made that are better cooked than air-cured, and tonight we'll make a wonderful dinner. FL has requested steak au poivre (as well as sausages with kraut, the boy can eat), as he says my steaks are the best he's ever had and he loves the pepper sauce and watching me masterfully wield a flaming skillet. this is a good request, because it means i get to go to bonelli's, the butcher down the road from our house. bonelli's is an old family-run butcher shop (they also have a pasticeria e panificcio), and the boy, the son, is too adorable for words. i had never seen him before, or at least not in his butcher uniform, so the first time i wandered in there i was a little surprised when his face broke into a huge grin when he saw me. "girl friend of pierpaolo!", he shouted, "i'm so honored, what can i get you?". helped me pick out the perfect cuts, and gave me some pointers on my recipes. go to him all the time now when we want meat, and it is always so fresh and good. the family bakery is next door, so i pop in there, too, for warm pumpkin bread, and then there's a little vegetable shop where the old man always gives me an apple for free.
the weather is kind of grusome right now, cold and rainy, but the vineyards look unbelieveable, each row a different shade of red, yellow, orange, or beige. we took a long drive through collio saturday and the land for miles and miles looked striped and patterned with colors. went up into the mountains, where there was snow, and watched the sunset as we climbed. such a beautiful autumn. in this weather, the cold, the mountains are more beautiful than ever, stark white and grey and blue, and blinding when the sun hits just right. love marion for getting me good boots, my feet are staying warm and dry. no pnemonia this year.
i go to rome on wednesday morning. aunt harriett and uncle charlie are coming over for 6 nights, and we've found an apartment near campo dei fiori. they've never been, so im excited to show them around, see the sights again myself. i decided that it might be a good idea to go to rome for a bit before i fly home, as going directly from cormons to marietta might be too much of a shock. roma, i think, being what it is for me and my soul, will do nicely as a buffer, give me some time in a neutral place to think, help me to ease out of my life here, remind me what it was i came for (have found and done more than i ever imagined, more than i have ever dreamed, so: success!) and who i am, how wonderful it has all been here, and how wonderful it will be to go home, to my family and friends. the truth, i know, is that i never have to worry; rome can be a metaphor in it's eternity, and proof that sometimes all that's needed to go back to a place you love is to toss a coin into a fountain, or to have someone there who loves you, too.
btw, saw Shindler's List for the first time the other night, and i found it surprisingly uplifting.
had my last night at porchis last night (is closed mon and tues). nadia, the beautiful blond proprietess whom i am possibly in love with, was in tears off and on all night, trying to convince me not to go. we decided to leave it merely as a temporary glitch, that i have to go finish school but that ill be right back, and really it wont take that long. in the meantime she'll do her best to keep FL afloat and hold down the fort with all of those silly boys. who knows, maybe i will come back and start a friuli-america export wine company, or an agrotourism travel agency for the masses of americans who have never experienced this beautiful place in thier dreamy italian vacations, or have pretty blue-eyed babies plop plop plop with FL while we open a bed and breakfast in a gorgeous, ancient farm house where i can make cheese and prosciutto and give wine tours and have a horse (his idea, was quite impressive). or maybe not. the best way to think of it, obviously, is that there are nothing but possibilities and i must follow my heart. yes. am trying to keep this in mind so i dont completely lose it. how did i get myself into this situation?
saw all of the salami that we made last night, took pictures. there's already mold on it, muffa, and a type of mold that only grows in friuli thanks to the mountain\sea air. it gives the salami and other cured products here a special flavor. we bought 4 sausages from fabbio last night, as there are some that we made that are better cooked than air-cured, and tonight we'll make a wonderful dinner. FL has requested steak au poivre (as well as sausages with kraut, the boy can eat), as he says my steaks are the best he's ever had and he loves the pepper sauce and watching me masterfully wield a flaming skillet. this is a good request, because it means i get to go to bonelli's, the butcher down the road from our house. bonelli's is an old family-run butcher shop (they also have a pasticeria e panificcio), and the boy, the son, is too adorable for words. i had never seen him before, or at least not in his butcher uniform, so the first time i wandered in there i was a little surprised when his face broke into a huge grin when he saw me. "girl friend of pierpaolo!", he shouted, "i'm so honored, what can i get you?". helped me pick out the perfect cuts, and gave me some pointers on my recipes. go to him all the time now when we want meat, and it is always so fresh and good. the family bakery is next door, so i pop in there, too, for warm pumpkin bread, and then there's a little vegetable shop where the old man always gives me an apple for free.
the weather is kind of grusome right now, cold and rainy, but the vineyards look unbelieveable, each row a different shade of red, yellow, orange, or beige. we took a long drive through collio saturday and the land for miles and miles looked striped and patterned with colors. went up into the mountains, where there was snow, and watched the sunset as we climbed. such a beautiful autumn. in this weather, the cold, the mountains are more beautiful than ever, stark white and grey and blue, and blinding when the sun hits just right. love marion for getting me good boots, my feet are staying warm and dry. no pnemonia this year.
i go to rome on wednesday morning. aunt harriett and uncle charlie are coming over for 6 nights, and we've found an apartment near campo dei fiori. they've never been, so im excited to show them around, see the sights again myself. i decided that it might be a good idea to go to rome for a bit before i fly home, as going directly from cormons to marietta might be too much of a shock. roma, i think, being what it is for me and my soul, will do nicely as a buffer, give me some time in a neutral place to think, help me to ease out of my life here, remind me what it was i came for (have found and done more than i ever imagined, more than i have ever dreamed, so: success!) and who i am, how wonderful it has all been here, and how wonderful it will be to go home, to my family and friends. the truth, i know, is that i never have to worry; rome can be a metaphor in it's eternity, and proof that sometimes all that's needed to go back to a place you love is to toss a coin into a fountain, or to have someone there who loves you, too.
btw, saw Shindler's List for the first time the other night, and i found it surprisingly uplifting.
Friday, November 6, 2009
PURSITà (the "à" key doesnt do capitals)
**details of carnage ahead, stai attento
ugh. completely disgusting. arrived at porchis 9am tuesday morning, to find it dark and cold inside. a sign on the door read, (i pieced together because it was written in friulano) "private party today! come back tomorrow and reap the benefits!", and 4 already grungy and jolly friulian men were sitting inside on bar stools, sipping espressos splashed with grappa. Fabbio, who is always robust and adorable, shouted, "merecàn! the pig is almost here!", and passed me an espresso and grappa as well, which i drank greatfully, both out of respect for tradition, and as an attempt to regulate my body temperature, which had dipped below normal in the frigid morning air. the butcher arrived and unloaded an already dead, already partially disassembled pig, nice and cleaned (boiled a bit) and pink. it still had its eyeballs and curly tail and internal organs intact inside the rib cage. fabbio pulled out the organs first thing and hung them on a hook, slicing the lungs with a long knife to release the blood. did not realize lungs held blood. thought only oxygen? my god, those things dripped blood in a slow steady stream for 8 hours. ok, am fine. trying not to think about it. anyway, the men went to work cutting the pig into probobly 800 little parts, meat and fat (good and bad) and bones, and every tiny piece went into one of five piles, and the bones went in a big bucket on the floor. this took a long, long time, but the norcett (friulian word for the guy who does the pursità, in charge of how to cut and trim and seperate and season and spice and grind and case and hang), a legendary cormonese norcett named Eric (FL told me i wasnt allowed to go to the purstià when he found out eric was going to be doing it, cause he's too pretty, but i told him not to worry, theres no other boy for me...especially not one who spends every day up to his elbows in dead animal. i bet the smell never leaves him, acidic sort of, sour, bloody...ok, i'm ok) knew exactly what to do, and did it with precision and an almost 6th sense, his hands just moved as though he wasnt even thinking about it. the pig seemed to just fall apart, parts connected by tissues and tendons that fell away like puzzle pieces when the knife came down. the talk was jovial, and fabbio explained wonderfully why each piece went into each pile, and what was to be made, and how. we were making salami, salsiccia, something in friulano that i had never heard of before that i can't remember how to spell, lardo, and pancetta. for the lardo the fat was cut out of the animal, and in some places there were slabs of fat 4 inches thick! fabbio explained the necessity of cutting off the bad fat from the good fat, which was obvious enough to see with the naked untrained eye: the good fat was pretty, white and firm and made a sound "thwok" sound when it was layed down on the metal table. the bad fat was gross, gooshy and pink and i guess just cellulite-type nastyness. with the good fat some was dispersed among the other piles, and some was layed out in giant blocks, then seasoned heavily with salt and pepper (some people use rosemary as well) and layed in a cool storage room, where it would sit for only 3 days before being ready to eat. the pancetta came from the meat in the ribs and chest area, good red meat and fat cut directly from the bones. it was in beautiful slab form as well. eric put the slabs piece by piece in a bucket, and seasoned each side with salt and pepper and white wine vinegar. after a could of hours the slabs were rolled into thick fat tubes, tied with string, and then cased in intestines. tiny airholes were punched (by yours truly) and the pancetta was taken to hang in the storage room, where it will stay for a year or two until its ready to eat. the salami was made by grinding the good parts from the rest of the body, the legs and thighs and back. seasoned with salt and pepper, coriander and cinnamon, and a little white wine vinegar, it was all mixed together by hand, like a ginormous hamburger, something like 101.3 kg of ground pork. while all of this was going on, the room was full. not only fabbio and the three norcetts and myself, but all the local youth and friendly porchis faces kept popping in, drinking beers and cracking pig jokes. it was really a community party for the porchis VIP. music was playing out in the restaurant and the grill was going, fabbio tossing the boys good cuts of tenderloin and ribs as he saw fit for them to grill and snack on. we ate a feast of fresh sausage and the livers (ew, but a friulian classic so i tried it), spritz and light grappa for lunch. when it came time to make the salami, it was like a crazy assembly-line of porchis kids, all of us finding a job. il biondo con il accindino (not so cute anymore, poor thing, puberty caught up with him) was there soaking the casing skins, and some others helped to grind, others to season. i did the hole punching and string tying. we knocked it out in 4 hours, other boys bringing beer and aqua as need be. every part of the pig was used. the bones were made into soup last night, and the bad fat shipped off to some lady in cormons who does god knows what with it. ears and feet and snout were pickled, and the chewy parts and other organs are made into a special salami, solely for the norcett, as a gift at the end.
FL came in at the end to retrieve me, and i stunk like blood and ground meat, but i was happy as a clam and ready for a bath. fabbio asked if i wanted to come the next day, to see the actual killing of another pig, but i told him no. id seen enough.
ooh, tutoring time! and tonight i think im talking FL into taking me to Al Giardinetto, the restaurant where the iron chef of italy works! will try and be real sweet and see if i can persuade him.
ugh. completely disgusting. arrived at porchis 9am tuesday morning, to find it dark and cold inside. a sign on the door read, (i pieced together because it was written in friulano) "private party today! come back tomorrow and reap the benefits!", and 4 already grungy and jolly friulian men were sitting inside on bar stools, sipping espressos splashed with grappa. Fabbio, who is always robust and adorable, shouted, "merecàn! the pig is almost here!", and passed me an espresso and grappa as well, which i drank greatfully, both out of respect for tradition, and as an attempt to regulate my body temperature, which had dipped below normal in the frigid morning air. the butcher arrived and unloaded an already dead, already partially disassembled pig, nice and cleaned (boiled a bit) and pink. it still had its eyeballs and curly tail and internal organs intact inside the rib cage. fabbio pulled out the organs first thing and hung them on a hook, slicing the lungs with a long knife to release the blood. did not realize lungs held blood. thought only oxygen? my god, those things dripped blood in a slow steady stream for 8 hours. ok, am fine. trying not to think about it. anyway, the men went to work cutting the pig into probobly 800 little parts, meat and fat (good and bad) and bones, and every tiny piece went into one of five piles, and the bones went in a big bucket on the floor. this took a long, long time, but the norcett (friulian word for the guy who does the pursità, in charge of how to cut and trim and seperate and season and spice and grind and case and hang), a legendary cormonese norcett named Eric (FL told me i wasnt allowed to go to the purstià when he found out eric was going to be doing it, cause he's too pretty, but i told him not to worry, theres no other boy for me...especially not one who spends every day up to his elbows in dead animal. i bet the smell never leaves him, acidic sort of, sour, bloody...ok, i'm ok) knew exactly what to do, and did it with precision and an almost 6th sense, his hands just moved as though he wasnt even thinking about it. the pig seemed to just fall apart, parts connected by tissues and tendons that fell away like puzzle pieces when the knife came down. the talk was jovial, and fabbio explained wonderfully why each piece went into each pile, and what was to be made, and how. we were making salami, salsiccia, something in friulano that i had never heard of before that i can't remember how to spell, lardo, and pancetta. for the lardo the fat was cut out of the animal, and in some places there were slabs of fat 4 inches thick! fabbio explained the necessity of cutting off the bad fat from the good fat, which was obvious enough to see with the naked untrained eye: the good fat was pretty, white and firm and made a sound "thwok" sound when it was layed down on the metal table. the bad fat was gross, gooshy and pink and i guess just cellulite-type nastyness. with the good fat some was dispersed among the other piles, and some was layed out in giant blocks, then seasoned heavily with salt and pepper (some people use rosemary as well) and layed in a cool storage room, where it would sit for only 3 days before being ready to eat. the pancetta came from the meat in the ribs and chest area, good red meat and fat cut directly from the bones. it was in beautiful slab form as well. eric put the slabs piece by piece in a bucket, and seasoned each side with salt and pepper and white wine vinegar. after a could of hours the slabs were rolled into thick fat tubes, tied with string, and then cased in intestines. tiny airholes were punched (by yours truly) and the pancetta was taken to hang in the storage room, where it will stay for a year or two until its ready to eat. the salami was made by grinding the good parts from the rest of the body, the legs and thighs and back. seasoned with salt and pepper, coriander and cinnamon, and a little white wine vinegar, it was all mixed together by hand, like a ginormous hamburger, something like 101.3 kg of ground pork. while all of this was going on, the room was full. not only fabbio and the three norcetts and myself, but all the local youth and friendly porchis faces kept popping in, drinking beers and cracking pig jokes. it was really a community party for the porchis VIP. music was playing out in the restaurant and the grill was going, fabbio tossing the boys good cuts of tenderloin and ribs as he saw fit for them to grill and snack on. we ate a feast of fresh sausage and the livers (ew, but a friulian classic so i tried it), spritz and light grappa for lunch. when it came time to make the salami, it was like a crazy assembly-line of porchis kids, all of us finding a job. il biondo con il accindino (not so cute anymore, poor thing, puberty caught up with him) was there soaking the casing skins, and some others helped to grind, others to season. i did the hole punching and string tying. we knocked it out in 4 hours, other boys bringing beer and aqua as need be. every part of the pig was used. the bones were made into soup last night, and the bad fat shipped off to some lady in cormons who does god knows what with it. ears and feet and snout were pickled, and the chewy parts and other organs are made into a special salami, solely for the norcett, as a gift at the end.
FL came in at the end to retrieve me, and i stunk like blood and ground meat, but i was happy as a clam and ready for a bath. fabbio asked if i wanted to come the next day, to see the actual killing of another pig, but i told him no. id seen enough.
ooh, tutoring time! and tonight i think im talking FL into taking me to Al Giardinetto, the restaurant where the iron chef of italy works! will try and be real sweet and see if i can persuade him.
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